Tag: verse

Bonus Poem: Into You I Fall

~ S.M. Nolan ~ Leave a comment

Sleep;
wrap me in velvet,
and keep me warm.
For the nights are long,
and I am just born.

I’ve entered this world,
in the most usual of ways.
Reincarnated,
from the last of my days.

Once more I’ll live,
and one day die,
but until then I’ll give,
my all– or at least try.

For life is a gift,
not one from deities,
but rather for all,
whom share its proclivities.

When again I am forced,
to close my eyes,
and from life be divorced,
then I will sleep like no other.

Until then,
swaddle my soul,
in an endless abode,
of love and warmth,
and happiness untold.
For I am just born,
and this world it’s cold,
but I’ll know nothing of that,
until I am old.

Sleep;
hold me in dreams,
for heaven it seems,
is not a fiction,
but a place without seams.

It is on the Earth,
inside of us all,
so hold me close, sleep,
while into you, I fall.

For my gorgonZola…

Poetry-Thing Thursday: The Grave

~ S.M. Nolan ~ Leave a comment

A million to one,
the shot from a gun,
death on the run,
and a life come undone.

We should’ve known better,
than to trust in man’s sanity,
or that blood can’t get wetter,
when mixed with depravity.

But “so what” you say,
“My life’s good and okay,
good job and good pay,
no need for rebellion today.”

But what about when,
the gun’s turned in at you
will you admit then,
that the world’s gone askew?

Maybe, perhaps not.
Even if, you’re forgot.
Then again, you’ll be sought.
If so, quite a lot.

In the end all that matters,
is that life is a lesson,
and when the world’s in tatters,
we’re all a shoe-in.

Bonus Poem: Named Her…

~ S.M. Nolan ~ Leave a comment

Mythos of war,
cries out for more,
with a viral pathogen,
that afflicts all that’s human.

It is not of this earth,
but sours its worth,
a genocidal concoction,
the worst man-made toxin.

There are but a few,
to save me and you,
but brow-beaten, betrayed,
their world’s been frayed.

With one foot in the grave,
they fight to save,
even hatred’s ferocity,
from unthinkable atrocity.

Fight for what’s right,
but know now their plight,
for we’ve no hope unless,
upon them freedom we bless.

It is a weapon,
insidious to threaten,
the curious nature,
of our genetic paper.

A drop of blood,
with science-like mud,
a dash of forethought,
and by death you are caught.

You need not inject it,
nor take a hot hit,
just breathe in,
or absorb through skin,

And you’ll be brought down.
Your genetics a clown.
For mad-men hath built her,
named her Syphon Filter.

Poetry-Thing Thursday: But a Whisper.

~ S.M. Nolan ~ Leave a comment

It Begins,
as always,
with a whisper.
Then like tendrils,
unfurling in the Earth,
the whisper echoes.

It becomes,
a ripple,
in a lake–
emanates outward in waves,
to flow along rivers,
that meet an ocean downstream.

There those waves,
become a tsunami,
that across a sea of time,
floods land with the strength,
of a billion new whispers.

Only after,
can the waters recede.
Evaporate.
To fall once more,
into the ocean,
and ripple all over again.

So here I stand,
across time,
with a whisper,
perched on my lips.

If I spoke,
the water would ripple,
and you across time,
would feel my strength.
Devotion of spirit.
And certainty of mind–

That it takes but a whisper,
to conquer,
the oceans, the rivers, and time.