and everyone wants to be discribed as the guy with the eyes that burned like rocket fuel, eyes that burned like a jealous sunset or a lonely hell and no matter what he did, it couldn't be hidden more »
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Ben Paynter Poems
And Her Face and Her Words and Her Promi...
she says that my face is the last she sees before sleep takes her, and she cannot sleep
all my pen ever says
there’s been many a night in the darkness of alone where I sit with
a night spent unalone
leave me to my silence and I will leave you to your laugh leave me to my darkness and I will leave you to your past
a blueprint of how it was
photograph this now because I don’t think it will last for very long.
but when the flames of fires touch your ...
The leaves are gone; the world’s gone to sleep The grass is brown the earth is dark and bare And if you look beyond that silent peak Silence is there
dance quickly now
- Dance, I said to the boy in the glass Staring back at me with a darkening mask Dance, I begged, with love and pain
and the sun slept on
And the sun slept on into the day and lay buried deep where the wisemen say its gone to find some peace.
a mockingbird, it isn't
It isn’t much I’ve seen, just a couple sunsets in the great grand scheme of things.
and, i write a poem
I write a poem, cross it out write a song with no melody and hum to myself and make up a story where a character steals the sun
create me a world
Create me a world with words my dear, with pen and hand. Where we can read love on river bed so clear, written in sand.
and we watched as the moon turned to sto...
Please smile your eyes to the rhythm Of your heart and your heart alone Watch as the night grows darker And the moon turns into stone
A form of looking
Were you to know me, as I have known myself, to watch the night moon fall heavily alongside the river, let the current take you anywhere, as my heart has led me by a tattered string. you
a statue's dream
I walked a street I’d walked before a road that led to home and watched a lonesome bystander who’s face was hard as stone
the only honesty i ever saw was a blind man giving the finger
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
(10 December 1830 – 15 May 1886)
(26 April 1564 - 23 April 1616)
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
Edgar Allan Poe
(19 January 1809 - 7 October 1849)
(1 February 1902 – 22 May 1967)
(31 May 1819 - 26 March 1892)
(16 August 1920 – 9 March 1994)
And Her Face and Her Words and Her Promises
she says that my face
is the last she sees
before sleep takes her,
and she cannot sleep
but I know that
there are other faces
that float above
and the stars are out
tonight and I
need them to dance.
“have I said too
much” she says with
a halfhearted question
no, but you have not
kept your promise
and your promise
has not kept
and all the while
the clock spins circles
on the wall
and a dog barks
at the moon.
and her face sits
resting on my
I say ...