Amelie Ison

There is a crow that always follows me:
A master of shadow—
His dark black wings full of mystery and evil;
His cunning dots for eyes.
...

When you can no longer walk up the stairs,
I will carry you to bed. My darling friend,
I will cradle you in my arms so you can feel my heartbeat—
Beating strong. It will light the fire within you to carry on.
...

Why do people fear the pitbull
When the chihuahua is the most terrifying of them all?
But what makes a chihuahua so terrible
When it is so small?
...

The best poets lived a hundred years ago—
They ate fruits from trees of words,
And drank from lakes of structure.
They had bones made from song
...

Man cannot surpass dying—
He cannot live past his own death.
Power fades and falls. Like the tide,
...

There is a grave with no name
That stands lonelier still.
It has no flowers nor despairing mourners
And the grass grows thick and bushy,
...

Why does the mouse disguise itself as a rat?
Because it has delusions of grandeur.
The mouse thinks it must win in life,
And to win in life is to be intimidating;
...

When the gun points at that delicate spot
Between your eyes—
The point where I like to rest my lips—
I know you will not be afraid for your own death.
...

I have no words
So I'll say this instead:
I'll write a verse
For the missing;
...

Truly, it is sad to see the leaves so dead;
To see them fallen and shrivelled—
Taken by life's seasonal Grim Reaper.
The melancholy to see a tree so bare,
...

A bee that cannot pollinate a flower
Is no bee at all.
It is deemed useless; it will surely die—
A bee must do its job to survive.
...

I stare into the soul of death:
She has eyes like nothing I have seen before,
And she exhibits her wrath by staring right back.
...

Do poets die like mortal men?
Or do they live forever in the shadows?
Hidden from our view,
Yet they are there, making notes:
...

A poem is someone's soul on paper:
It emits a feeling,

Perhaps of great rage or warmth or sadness—
...

The mother did not want to eat her young—
Her bloodline; her babies; her sweet devotions—
But she was forced to make a great sacrifice
To keep herself going strong.
...

Would you remember me
When there's not much of me left?
When I'm faded,
Like a rock chipped away by erosion.
...