Joseph Wraithbone

Why do we always want something we can never have?
Something so impossible...
Something you can only dream...
...

The poet of heart writes not what is,
But rather what is always dreamed of.
He does not boast his talent,
Lest word of his want get out.
...

The lone black cloud shuffled in,
It was the start of the darkness on the wind.
The people were indifferent about the shadows above,
But the lone black cloud was getting bigger each day.
...

I'm here to find some paper for graphing,
Just looking around being curious.
Then all the sudden you walk around the corner,
And I am filled with a new curiosity.
...

I only hear the sound of one clock ticking in the midnight.
Tick, tick, tick...
Over and over again.
...

The pebbles on the shore are black as the soot on a miner's face,
The the dark gritty sand shuffles into the ground like a dancing couple,
...

He's not invincible you know...

Not like some superhero from the comic books
...

The greenish rainbow of colour shines in the pools of water
The sound of the wind and falling water fills my ears
I hear the whispers of an unheard voice
I feel the presence of the Lord all around
...

She was a pretty girl
With black hair and reddish-pink tips
Those deep brown eyes like the sea
So big and mysterious and beautiful
...

Silence is deafening,
When no one is listening.
...

Countless petals, in jars, bowls, drawers
From past lovers, placed in odd spots around their lives
A myriad of colors: red, pink, yellow, even blue
I remember picking out each set of flowers
...

How can you see a poet
Through the disguise of an everyday man?
How does the little girl in the corner
Write with the perspective of a grown woman?
...

I look straight into your eyes
And I see the ring of green.
I dance 'round in it
As if it were a meadow's grass coated with dew.
...