The Road I Travel
Posted by Barry Hurd in Coffee - Volume Two, Inquisitive
Beyond the realm,
of fallen thoughts
and peaceful hope,
between my life
and my dreams,
Is where my spirit
lays quietly,
rustling in tall grass,
encumbered by thoughts,
that defy nature,
as if it was figment.
Serendipity,
random chance,
revolving doors
finding themselves,
at the crossroads
without any sign.
I am, simply
forgotten amongst the leaves,
a path of lost memories
and unheard laughter,
held closely, without recall
of the very things I forgot.
Illicit Lover
Posted by Barry Hurd in Coffee - Volume Two, Featured, Lust, Romantic
She said,
whispering through
her passionate breath,
that she liked me.
I smiled,
pulling her against my chest,
pinning her arms,
kissing her without asking.
We lost ourselves,
two bodies holding on
to the dreams we embraced
as our lips succumbed to lust.
Neither of us noticed,
the small wounds of indiscretion
finding ourselves being ravaged
as only lovers can detail.
The Fall of Rome
Posted by Barry Hurd in Coffee - Volume Two, Defiant, Featured, Survival
It was not truth,
as I had witnessed in life
but spires of blackness from society
The death plume of innocence
and compassion,
of both heart and love.
The heartiest soil,
broken beneath mighty morality
and fundamental ideology.
This was not democracy
the fallacy of hope
chastised by false religion
It was the corruption of mankind
as we tried to fail
in passionate blindness
falling upon the very swords
that our most courageous held
and the purest believed in,
symbols that were thrust upon our enemy
the very flesh and blood of kin,
finding our only purpose,
to be conquerers,
of the thing no one wanted.
If the world hates, hate me
Posted by Barry Hurd in Creative Writing, Loss, Survival
I was cold, even though the warm summer wind was blowing across my neck. My hands were covered in blood and I looked at Ray for a moment as I tried to keep going. I could see desperation in his eyes, the acceptance that we had failed in our duty to save someone. I couldn’t feel my arms anymore. My hands felt like ice, the gash on my leg had lost a lot of blood over the past few hours yet I had found some strength to keep going through the motions of breathing for someone else. My chest gave me a feeling like I had broken a rib, but I knew that I was well. The pain wasn’t from my bones, it was from a conflicting spirit and a damned soul. I simply didn’t know who was being damned and who was being saved.
I remember the look in Ray’s eyes, and the look I saw in the man. I swear that there was a reflection there for a moment when I was lost. Circumstance and fate.