Tag: poem

By on

What lives
You learned to fight
Have never gone
Unnoticed

In ways
My heart takes ransom
These dreams
You’ve won for me,

Not from
Easy scars
But means
I’d never envy

When swords
Of inner demons
Bear hilts
Most cannot lift

Which always
Seem to share
Such weight
We hold regardless

Of the difference
Left unspoken
During battles
Waged on time –

Our separate
Kingdoms come
Like answers
Better silenced

For sins
Called understanding
Where resentment
Takes its toll.

Your sacrifice
Never scared
Even if
Staying angry

And keeping me
Fairly nourished
At expense
Of taking hits,

Too sad
To see your gifts
Fall among
Such freedoms wasted

Perceived
Not by your child
But a man
Who’s barely strong –

Nowhere near as you
Crushing pasts
Under conquered
Mountains

Claiming
Raging soldiers
Where death
Is certain choice

And accepting
Daily pain
For the sake
I may not have it

Admitting
Daily bloodshed
Is the way
You’d stay alive,

As fathers
Make their sons
Out of courage
Breaking limits

Combatting
Countless armies
Each day
They long to give.

– J. Pigno

By on

This blood
I spit
Is real,

Each organ
Fails so
Slowly –

I’m neutered
Weak
And thinning

But yet
You keep me
Still,

With moans
And angry
Screams

When being
Held
For comfort

From the ways
You know
I battle

Without
That voice
To speak.

What love
I show
Is faith,

To the point
I’m meant
To suffer

Close
As God
Can answer

For a soul
As small
As this.

These shots
Don’t hurt
Too bad,

I prefer
Long sleep
Regardless –

Put me down
Like a dying
Cat,

In truth
It is more
Humane.

– J. Pigno

By on

What chance
We’re given breath
Is the sum
Of early mornings
Our forebears spent
With passion
Where legacies
Joined in flesh –

That number
Fixed by fate
Between these sheets
Disheveled
On beds containing
Answers
Far greater
Than measured days

Between
Each empty race
And need
For failed successes
We chase like mice
Through mazes
Confused
There is no end,

Tempered
By our nights
When sunlight
Quickly settles
Through tallest trees
Now witnessed
Outside these windows
Shut

As mundane
Thrills at best
But profound
And easy whispers
Of the voice of God
So diligent
Who suggests
That gentle breeze

Is a meddling
With our hearts
As His hands
Excite these feelings
Among what fingers
Restless
Explore our urge
To care.

Idle
As we lay
Immersed in frantic
Nothing
But alive
As rest intended
Where dreams
Create new birth

By turn
Of simple math
Not answered
With our questions
But deducted
From each image
All life
Is blessed to share.

– J. Pigno

By on

My dark
Is nearly lost
With brightness
At its peak

Gleaned
From second guessing
New light caught on
Your face

As hope’s
Demanding twist
For fate to learn
From reason

What source
Of glowing wishes
Still keeps me
Burning strong

As dull
And steady warmth
Flameless
Though resistant

Returns
When night is bearing
Far down
Like fallen weight,

Considerate
Of these stars
Man-made
But too revealing

Each bulb
A tiny fixture
Containing
Giant dares

Calling out
All fears
Amidst such
Shattered answers

Where bulbs
Are broken quickly
Despite this
Flipping switch –

That grin
You always gave

My daydream
Unrelenting,

A sun
Within our distance

So small
Yet fairly close.

– J. Pigno

By on

My gear
Is standing
Still

Though faith
May never
Fix it

Or turn
That hanging
Second

From a feeling
Locked
In time,

And mend
This broken
Piece

As hours
Caught
On waiting

For answers
Lost
To minutes

Where clocks
Can somehow
Change –

That face
If etched
With pain

Or hours
Raised
Like phantoms

At the edge
Of pointed
Needles

Near arrows
Held
By choice,

What fate
Is spun
Each day

Through redeeming
Breaths not
Taken

When counting
Fear
As passing

Such deathly
Pause
We take.

– J. Pigno

By on

No length
Of frantic texts
Holds words
To do us
Justice

In breaths
Of honest waiting
For that chance
We’d come
Alive

Like stars
Within our space
Between lies
And glaring
Distance

Upon
Such heavens wasted
As these fingers
Dance their
Curse

Where screens
Not feelings dwell
Amid answers
Cold
But fitting

For fixtures
Hurt
From bearing
What gifts remain
Unseen

Bright
As futures
Sold
By the persons
Praying solace

All love
Which stays
Unnoticed
Need not break
Their curse

Beyond
That phantom touch
Of a heart
So rarely
Captured

Among
Those quiet wishes
When each day
Falls into
Dusk

Finding
Lonely tasks
Are the fuel
Which spur
Resistance

Despite
What reaches
Challenge
False skies
Of empty worlds

Typed
Yet never
Sensed
Or shared
As flesh intended

While smells
And other details
Fade quick
Like hinted
Bliss

Proving
Fate can last
If only
Phones were
Human

Programmed
Not for telling
But an app
Which takes us
Home.

– J. Pigno

By on

All truth
Remains elusive
In the context
Of this speech
When phrases
End abruptly
At these margins
Of our voice

As pages
Tell their edge
On point with
What’s been written
Between such answers
Riddled
By the worpdlay
Of said games

Like tantrums
Boldly fed
Through lines
In tattered papers
And rips
Depicting weakness
Where hands
Had tore one piece

From walls
Holding displays
So the angry eyes
Can fester
As we pass them
Unobservant
To our feelings
Sorely shared

Revealed
As tiny print
But read like
Rawest nothings
Dismissed
For empty closure
Among dreamers
Dared to care

Conversing
While we lie
Across those notes
Left scattered
From fragments
Losing meaning
Like static
Upon our breath

Cause silence
Has its cost
But talk
Is being greedy
If parties
Bleeding idioms
Are hanging
Endless woes

Forgetting
Verbs are gray
As the actions
We attribute
To morals
Keeping purpose
Alive
Within this book.

– J. Pigno