Kevin Moore Poems

Spring thunderheads are giant ships of war -
a vast armada set upon the heavens' sea -
with billowed sails filled well of wind; before
them scudding skiffs in warlike ecstasy
...

I write because my heart demands I must
(verse and rhyme, my pulse upon this page flows
hot) - though measured life is so much mortal dust,
my crafted, metered life outlives death's throes.
...

We burn within the measure of a single heartbeat, marking the passing whisper of each breath as (in this moment, this instant frozen in time) our spirits rise into a midnight storm and our bodies become as racing rapids,
...

I love to live each moment that
in the next, this one
might be relished, not regretted.
...

Hope as iamb flows
in verse upon blank page, yet
love in haiku soars.
...

I cannot help but stare at her
When I think she looks away –
Her beauty and her grace still
Stun me, quit my heart and force
...

She rises slowly
from concrete slumber, freshly
bathed by falling rain.
...

Rain dances light upon the window pane -
skitters and skates as though in 4/4 time
(driven to a frantic arcing crest) , then
once again to patient chorus rests - four
...

Subtle sonnet substance simply spoken, still
sincerely seeking seconds swift, such softly stolen
(slowly savored, sweetly searching) soaring Sunday
sunrise splits stark space, storms steaming sky surrenders
...

Snow drifts down as old wives' whispers - piling
up in gossiped heaps against the house we built -
covering the earth with unstained pictures of what might
have been - now dormant truth (not postcard perfect)
...