Tag Archives: Poetry

Baby Romantics

Posted on November 13, 2017 by John Biscello

Baby Byron didn’t yet have language, so he twisted and contorted his face into a mask, a distressed aria sounding his discomfort. That it was existential, and not hunger, thirst, tiredness, or physical pain, meant nothing to him. Without language … Continue reading →

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Dive

Posted on November 12, 2017 by John Biscello

Writer’s deep sea task, how to breathe underwater– Air of faith, no mask.

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Cherish

Posted on November 10, 2017 by John Biscello

Blossom, hue of vetted contradiction, between cherish and fade– Hours, like thorns, slow burn to chasten.

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Josef Sudek

Posted on November 10, 2017 by John Biscello

It was his mantra– Hurry slowly, syllables resigned to vigil.

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Yoko Ono

Posted on November 9, 2017 by John Biscello

Woman, vimming grace, there is no need to explain– Your fire, your fate.

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Perish

Posted on November 9, 2017 by John Biscello

Man’s crisis of faith, bailing, fiercely, flames and dearth– How to birth perish.

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Musing

Posted on November 9, 2017 by John Biscello

Birdless solitude, Winter’s song, slow, deep, solemn– Musing upon spring.

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Virginia Woolf

Posted on November 9, 2017 by John Biscello

Through a glass, darkly, splitting of selves by prism– Wide berth for one’s I.

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Mother, Daughter

Posted on November 9, 2017 by John Biscello

Mother, without your touch, blood-lush access to eternity’s grasp, I am rudderless, and adrift, in a world that shits on innocence. ………………………………….. Daughter, without you to hold, a promise illumined into love’s totem, I am sunless, and moonless, a  stray … Continue reading →

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Wish

Posted on November 9, 2017 by John Biscello

Floating syllables, woolen sheafs of memory– Heaven’s lent ear, toned.

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