Adeline Morris
Adeline Morris Poems
Dense, black tar has mended these streets.
Cracks will no longer be a troubled matter.
Repairing an inadequate dilemma
still remains a simple task.
...
You're little melt-downs
rise upon us
so suddenly, abruptly.
Asthma medicine?
...
Yes, for tonight
I am a jazz cat.
Nothing complements this jam
...
No, I am not
a feminist.
If I was,
do you honestly think
...
A stumble in my walk
transforming into
a stumble in my personal
state of being.
...
It's almost as if
a white peacock
has spread her feathers
across our lawn.
...
On the free loose
trains will collide.
With the pillow's spring
eyes urge to fright.
...
Let me swing through
the fall the precedes.
Bring the rain and the gloom
to my feet.
...
Something about
it being sung
an octave higher
is not giving
...
She would say
that I am dull,
unreliable,
and bring slow exhaustion
...
Hands tremble, eyes wince,
all silently inflated with laughter.
Rosy, glowing cheeks
let loose from stress and sorrow.
...
I'm so dried up today.
The files of my mind
have been crumbled up,
left on the floor for the dust to possess.
...
Pretentious, hedonistic hopefuls,
think of what we would be
if you had it your way.
Unable to immerse ourselves
...
Scratch away all your fear,
melt to the floor where your stomach grows.
Bend into dreams so thin,
howl at the moon through the glass.
...
When the lights flash through my eyes
you should be able to see the moisture trapped within.
You're so busy without me,
I'm so locked up, dreaming.
...
The Best Poem Of Adeline Morris
Dilemma
Dense, black tar has mended these streets.
Cracks will no longer be a troubled matter.
Repairing an inadequate dilemma
still remains a simple task.
However, when the deeper situations
form a barrier around our shoulders
control seems more perplexing to possess
and our mind and conscience exit from underneath our feet.
When faith slips away from us,
like sand through our fingers,
who is it we reach out for?
The stage of evil and denial
plays out like a book
and performs for months at a time
right in front of our repulsive eyes.
When the sky turns dark
and depression sags on your face
what is it that you turn on?
Fantasies of joy in another world
will sneak into your brain,
being set free
by hallucinations of thoughtless wonder.
When an ideal figure fades away
and one's sense of love refuses,
who are we to agree with ourselves?
That presence who once screamed
through every chamber of our hearts
turns cold and desolate.
Each day will walk through
slow and unforgiving.
When death slides through
in every pore of our epidermis,
where is it that we hide?
Dark corridors with tightly sealed locks
transform into a refuge of our own sorrow.
Time goes on a stand still, waiting,
for the sun to sneak through the window.
So in what way are we to tackle life?
In what matter do we overcome anxiety?
Distress becomes a parasite,
sucking away at our inner happiness.
The only cure is optimism.
Is there any easier way?
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