Justin Short

Justin Short Poems

The princess looks and sees the drips,
Dripping from her lower lip
It flows onto her precious dress,
Her majesty is now a mess
...

Disease dealers
Famine forgers
Fueling fires like fortunes of flint
(Here lies my hero)
...

There lives a man who cannot attain
He can no longer walk and his legs become lame
The legs that won’t work have feet that are bowed
And far to his south are ten broken toes
...

The cutters are plagued by the words that they hear
The closest of kin shouting hatred and fear
The cutters will see only shreds at their veins
They chop as they try to cut out their pain
...

The pained will continue to struggle to breathe
Pushing pollution past whimpering trees
The journey they take on crumbling knees
The chains that they wear are so hard to free
...

The bully gets under your skin
He fights and claws, all with a grin
He’ll shove your face into the mud
He’ll make your new shirt stained with blood
...

The child cries, yet cannot see
Her mother on the balcony
Just one more dose to take away
The pain, abuse, the disarray
...

Justin Short Biography

J Kyle Short has been writing for over seventeen years, only recently taking a serious turn at attempts to become published. He writes somewhat darker poetry, that speaks about life and his personal viewpoint on the current standings of society. Albeit 'dark' writings, there will always be a source of light trying to peer through into the eyes of the readers or characters involved. His true stories have sparked an interest in persons going through struggles themselves without ways of finding help or seeing hope. J Kyle will continue to write as long as others will find use of his words.)

The Best Poem Of Justin Short

Dark Days

The princess looks and sees the drips,
Dripping from her lower lip
It flows onto her precious dress,
Her majesty is now a mess
The fractured blade lay by her head,
As she stumbles from her bed
The mirror shown beauty no more,
But blood and filth upon the floor

To the staircase, through the tower,
Seeing white on this dark hour
The last sound that was heard that day,
Was as the Prince did run away
Despair had raged his calloused soul,
The love that burned had now grown cold
Like ivy gripping to its stone,
He takes his final glance at home

A note well placed in strangers hands,
A motion set that changed the lands
Assassins aimed and took at will,
A beating heart does now grow still
He’d never know what brought this day,
An idol worshiped will decay
He gave his people more than seed,
She gave him tombstones for her greed

He took a gasp, and he did sigh,
As he said his last goodbye
The servants who stood at his feet,
Watched his blood run down the street
The rumor spread and rain began,
Diluted red mixing with sand
The calm repose of a shocked crowd,
Now begins to weep aloud

No song was heard, no story told,
Of what the prince did once behold
The people came and gathered 'round,
They saw the princess grab her crown
And to her feet she stood again,
The King had followed his son's sin
She's now the Queen of all her land,
The two were dead, just as she planned

Justin Short Comments

Austin Eseke 27 January 2014

Nice and wonderful poem indeed

1 0 Reply

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