by J.F. Pringle Tough thumb skin scratches against the imperfections of that damn glass.Scroll up. Scroll down. Feels the same.But tough skin is wanting as the display of words changes.Exchanges of hatred.Imperfect people.Feeling isolated, naked. What am I seeking as I read and reread?I guess I hope the words change.To sweet things. Comfort things. Love […]
by J.F. Pringle It’s like flickering light,In a dark, empty room,The walls are plain,Nothingness illum’ned. I reach for what I feel,Reaching for me,And I find my arms,Extended towards indifference. A hollow place,In my chest,Filled with hopes.Filled with nothingness. The love I give,Is vigorous and true.The effort I make,Unreciprocated by you.
by J.F. Pringle Silken robe passes over supple breast,And gracefully falls to endless pit.Virgin made new as ecstasies unfold.Like garment never to be worn the same,So, visage fell from innocence grown cold. Flynt paths score soft feet,The way made red with heart’s bleeding wounds.Pain, now, on which to reflect; memories that vary.Nursery stories of love’s
by J.F. Pringle She tried to ask,They shut her up.Questions are for the apostate. Now positioned to hear things clearly,A tender heart is best for listening.Adoration, a quiet assembly. The noise of silence broke her. His voice at the center.It’s Me again, He said.Her purpose in a letter. One day she’ll know,Until then, these things
by J.F. Pringle Sweet nectar,Just a sip.Bitter wine,Drink deep—to the dregs. No, don’t pinch your nose.Taste that shit. It’ll put hair on your chest—Like weavings of Kevlar.Makes a great blanket,To keep your lonely ass warm when the chill comes. And it will come—Like a good lover, over and over.And it will ravage you—Like the lover
by J.F. Pringle Memories drag like a rake across open wounds,Specters of things that were,Musings of heart-stir. Broken things shatter again in empty rooms,Blank paged baby books,Unfilled picture frames. Come with me damaged one to your closet,Unsightly trappings,Of dried up bones.Unfilled hearts need to be alone.
by J.F. Pringle I was dead: a rotting corpse in a sun-drenched land.A heap of other dead men to my left, a pile of them to my right.It was like a dream, as I sat in my decay and I wished to wake up.But I had wandered into the void of endless night. Hope was
by J.F. Pringle I am the sun.I break through with my light,Great hope that’s found,In your dark…in your plight. I am the dawn.Peaceful and welcoming,Beautiful on my own.You sit and watch,The many colors of morning. I am the noon.An apex in your heart’s sky.Free, you forget the night.Growing in majestic strength,We climb to passion’s height.
by J.F. Pringle A Voice compelled her into darkness unknown.Afraid, she went in anyway.And found courage to enter the watery cave:The place she’d run from every day. Her trembling hands grasped at the wet walls.Cold and drab, the stones at her feet.Her will to go forward was quickened by His.But a beast for sure, she
by J.F. Pringle Silent repose in clamorous ambiance,Sitting in a world gone mad:Crooked necks staring into glass squares.A sea of lighted faces in which to find you,Steady confidence long overdue. Old Faith, tried and enduring, still guides.And strength is a tide, washing away yesterday’s errors.Failure floats away into a sea of forgetfulness.But not glad memories