Biography of Marcus McKinley
do you really understand the correlation between the words?
it is the feed back i seek.
week after week.
so, if you read.
to leave a review.
thanks for reading my poetry, .
generations from now the poems i write will only be known as 'anonymous'. and only then will i be known.
Marcus McKinley Poems
I like, your taste... I like, your style... I like the thoughts behind your smile.
A Sea Of Dreams (A Bedtime Poem)
Gradually rocking, drifting, swaying Your whole life viewed, through a sliver Soft ocean waves gently tucking in Cherished is, this final glimmer
It is in your actions, your words Your backwards glance In the moments of chance it manifests Deep within a heaving breast, a sigh
More Than Love
Lead me there To your favorite chair Sit me down Fingers through hair
A Kiss For You
Your existence makes my spirit rush Pressed lips upon my skin Quivers my soul with a simple touch Stoking the gemstones fire deep within
A New Day
Morning starts with my ringing alarm It pommels my senses Like a seasoned pugilist Taunting me to strike back
I close my eyes and the lids like screens reveal my dreams It seems, time has aged all hopes of any accomplishment the future holds
She Is My Sun, She Is My Love, She Is Th...
Her soft touch and soft smile Stayed with me awhile but, for tonight Distant are the shores and cries of my plight Not in this life, not in this light
A Work In Progress....
I have yet to write my greatest work Pondering and postulating, in words diverse Each poem ‘till then a mere rehearse Toward the work of greatest verse
Close Your Eyes And Wait
I have recently discovered Beauty is in kindness Due in part to my recent And gradual blindness
A Long Journey Along A Narrow Path
Can love exist on the back of a pack mule? Occasionally resting to drink in the hopes of a dream Exhausted and weary, dreary the journey Thirsting unperturbed with no in-between
The darkness looms Evil blooms An effervescent aroma Fills the air
Amid A Summer Heat
Strolling through, I with you Blooming, colorful meadows. Anxious sweat in palms.
I knew you were trouble That very moment You caught my eye
Your Repetitious Death
Of course someone who only writes about
Dark, death, sorrow and pain
At this point has no idea of
And therefore will feel no emotion or gain
From humor, relation, joy or inspiration
Only seeing the destruction of creation
And death to be the only way out
Of any situation of his hearts elation
Sulking in the rain of his own red shower