erie morganmaples Poems

Have you fallen from the sky of chalk
Feather whispering against the clouds
Waiting for them to crumble, singing
Softly with nobody to listen in rooms that
...

My thoughts are torn from my
Throat faster than my pummeling
Chest can punish me for breathing
Yet another word of poison.
...

Poetry,

A loving heart, joyfully right
To a soul screaming in the night,
...

He holds all of her essence in those
Leaking lines of black along lids
That wish and dip with a fight
To stay above waters lifting and cold like
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Come walk with me, and I will tell
What I have read in this scroll of stone;
I will spell out this writing on hill and meadow.
This is New England's entablature of rock,
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i'm now left here to figure
out how and what all i've
accomplished and even achieved
in my life over the past few
...

MISERY is manifold. The wretchedness of earth is multiform. Overreaching the wide horizon as the rainbow, its hues are as various as the hues of that arch, -as distinct too, yet as intimately blended. Overreaching the wide horizon as the rainbow! How is it that from beauty I have derived a type of unloveliness? -from the covenant of peace a simile of sorrow? But as, in ethics, evil is a consequence of good, so, in fact, out of joy is sorrow born. Either the memory of past bliss is the anguish of to-day, or the agonies which are have their origin in the ecstasies which might have been.

My baptismal name is Egaeus; that of my family I will not mention. Yet there are no towers in the land more time-honored than my gloomy, gray, hereditary halls. Our line has been called a race of visionaries; and in many striking particulars -in the character of the family mansion -in the frescos of the chief saloon -in the tapestries of the dormitories -in the chiselling of some buttresses in the armory -but more especially in the gallery of antique paintings -in the fashion of the library chamber -and, lastly, in the very peculiar nature of the library's contents, there is more than sufficient evidence to warrant the belief.
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my baby,

i know that you are gone away from me and your father, your spirt will always live inside our hearts, your smile is the one thing that we will miss from you, your words, your laugh, and your ways of making our worlds a better place to live,
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Poe brought his anger
and sinister desire
to his poems and to his
stories that he wrote
...

In fear of what you'll see,
this mirror is a painting
colored with memories
of your dying life.
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