Fallen angel at my feet
To what purpose have
you brought me here?
To look at this with
...
So what if the sky looks like
the ocean from here?
So what if I've never
been to New Orleans?
...
Living in the halls of the dead;
mouth and eyes filling with sand-
Cries and pleas for help go unheard
as birds of night with razored talons
...
Implements of a Murder:
The smoking gun,
the silken rope, and
other cliches
...
I have given you everything:
you could say that I've
made you what you are today
I've built you up until now
...
After I had contemplated
all the possible delights
of the internet garden,
searching for things I would
...
</>Early rising, not with but just after the sun
Comfort of pleasure at the scent of coffee
cooking in the pot
pondering the man with fifty thousand poems-
...
I have lived on the North Shore of Massachusetts all my life. I began writing poetry at around age 14. I hope to enhance people's perspectives through my poetry. My books are available through amazon.com (search word: Bryan P.T. Riley) Through my writing, I am attempting to leave my mark on the world, however small that mark key be, and to leave something behind for future generations to enjoy.)
An Ending
The magic is gone
The song is done
I am as old as
the world is cold
and greyness and
shadow pursue me
wherever I go
All warmth has flown
The sun is down
I am not wooden,
nor made of stone
- a wounded animal,
flesh and bone;
and wrought of such,
I feel the pain of the
lance and the twist of
the blade once again
My life runs before me
and I, out of breath,
am trying to catch it
before it is spent
Too cold
Too dark
Too empty
Too late...
And as the last light
fades from my eyes
and my time on this
earth is all but done...
I cry out to you from
the depths of my soul
but you hear me not,
for the magic is gone