http://www.blogit.com/Blogs/Blog.aspx/DenaMaria6522/Poetry for those melancholy days...hourly12000-01-01T12:00+00:00http://www.blogit.com/Blogs/Blog.aspx/DenaMaria6522/169299He died alone in a Southside motel, But was loved by generations. Babes conceived on a bed of verse Mourned with parents their true progenitor. In youth, his words came with ease, Philosophical pap on expensive bond, Ink manufactured by Smirnoff, Scented with opium dreams. Eyes half-closed, he...http://www.blogit.com/Blogs/Blog.aspx/DenaMaria6522/168014The mountain road twists and turns Beset with fog-swept mysteries. The stately guardian pines, Ghostly indistinct sentries, Her only company. She drives with hesitancy, The road obscured with haze, Her vision shadowed with The worries of the past Mingled with tribulations yet to be. She travels...http://www.blogit.com/Blogs/Blog.aspx/DenaMaria6522/167644Here lies the storyteller poet A woman who died alone With but her words for comfort And characters for company. Her words traveled computer byways Read by the kindest of critics And the harshest of censurers. Darkest heart and deepest soul Open to strangers in a virtual world. She died of the...http://www.blogit.com/Blogs/Blog.aspx/DenaMaria6522/167643From the forest trees Hang the bodies of the dead, Swinging gently with the rhythm Of nature’s breath. By choice, the lonely souls arrive To take their final rest Among their fellows. They spent hermetic lives Yearning companionship, Finding only isolation Until they wrap the rope Around their...http://www.blogit.com/Blogs/Blog.aspx/DenaMaria6522/164032Do you see this unmarked grave, my son, Covered with weeds and dirt? This is the grave of a poet, son, Whose soul has left this earth. He left behind his words, my son, Eloquent and lush. His words could move the mountains, son, And turn the moon to dust. Do you know what he could do, my son,...http://www.blogit.com/Blogs/Blog.aspx/DenaMaria6522/162408Once a month or so Her husband is called to work. He takes his black hood And sharpened blade And kisses her lips lightly Before leaving. Under cover of darkness His work is performed. Away from the eyes Of the innocent and untried. When he returns home, His blade covered and cleaned of blood, He...