Tim was born with a natural talent for various art media such as painting, prose, poetry and music.
Unique life experiences and struggles have provided Tim with numerous stories and a perspective, observed by a thought-filled, truly modern day renaissance man. more »
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Tim Labbe Poems
a Fading Torment
Dumpsters contain discarded words, bringing them slowly to obsolescence. Our story boiling in sweltered silence, the compost of our gluttonous wreckage.
Another snuffed-out cigarette butt lays in a darkened basement of decay buried in secrecy, running fingers through oil-spilled hair while poverties remains
Remember me this Christmas
Remember me this Christmas, fleeting are the moments where past loves dwell two shooting stars fade in the distance once heart-songs chime, now are muted bells
Howls heard in Depravity incite absurd accolades to Madmen and Beast deemed as Saviors
dimness of dawn timidly sifts through twill spun drapes-
Newtowns Angels Prayer
They pressed their hands together, one, against the other and prayed.
Grabbing the tattered book off the toilet tank
a poets curse
Darkness, behind the cloak- random words
a War Lost
Friday's Depression refused to wait until Monday
Angst of Passion
Blustery bellows thrust frozen winds and sleet, unto rebelling angst as inner passions secrete
You don't understand poetry or poets, youth or age…, walks in the rain,
Flight of Love
Passion envelops the dormant heart Yearning tugs its string of desire Anticipating touch against wanting skin Blazing are the emotions set afire
She returned to the twilight, as many often have.
Life's Last Hurrah
Flesh, you had your chance
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
(10 December 1830 – 15 May 1886)
(26 April 1564 - 23 April 1616)
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
Edgar Allan Poe
(19 January 1809 - 7 October 1849)
(1 February 1902 – 22 May 1967)
(31 May 1819 - 26 March 1892)
(31 October 1795 – 23 February 1821)
a Fading Torment
Dumpsters contain discarded words,
bringing them slowly to obsolescence.
Our story boiling in sweltered silence,
the compost of our gluttonous wreckage.
Plumes of black smoke that followed us
blanketed our skin beneath the moonlight.
Trapping our vulnerable shadows
underneath affection's smothering silhouette.
Feeling the weight of your vacancy,
a pendulum moon glints off of your ghost.
Beneath every one of the tormented rainfalls,
__________________your storm still haunts me.