Tag Archives: John Biscello

Sun

One of those days, sun bathing in elliptical gold– No clouds to obscure.

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Caution

Vigilant tracking, she stalks life in wary frets– Caution testing fire.

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Lyric

Between passages, the molten birth of Lyric– In labor, she chastens.

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Sylvia in Blue

Gauging twilight’s depths, the poet draws blinds to dream– Hope, worn to silence.

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Fuse

Air chastens itself when given room to circulate, its holy charge the generous breath of God respiring toward Grace’s fused ends.

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Recourse

To fade, with no recourse, into the annals of unreality is to lose grip on Love’s touch, to raise cinema from warm ashes on a Sunday afternoon in autumn.

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Ulysses

Pen-wielding pirate, charting armchair odyssey– Vision beyond scope.

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Sunflowers

Maned blessings of sun, honored by fugitive brush– Love’s feral design.

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Roses

Roses near to grief, how petals kiss death softly, then fall, just because.

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Drawn

Storm’s furious lash, pane of glass caulking sorrow– Home drawn in softly.

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