The First Breath of Birth
Empty, without thought, all but self remains, remote, unattached, a void without, the soul within. What thoughts struggle when shut
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Author: Tony DeLorger
Molding Expectation Into Life
Clean, this acceptance, no longer the burden of irresolution, and the soul sighs with relief, the grief too much to
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The Provocation of Intellect
Who stands provocative, stands to face their own inadequacies, and in that arrogance of stance, the tipping of balance, that
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To Face the Enemy, Eye to Eye
Reticence is laced with fear, fear in turn, laced with imaginations wrath, as imagination, a doubled edged sword, our fondest
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One Touch, She Gave of Herself
She touched the sky and clouds, like a rising mist, did flee, and blue as deep as an ocean glimmered
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Impending Rage, a Pointless Stage
Impending rage, poised to unleash, a penny dropped, a startled breach, nerves on edge, limits reached, and the vile acrid
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Her Every Countenance
Restored I am within the day, a glorious Spring day of nurturing warmth, and even clouds have stayed away to
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As Selfless as the Sunrise
Sunrise… Until certain, romantic love is a delusion I cannot abide, for so many clothed in their chosen masks forever
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One Day We’ll Meet
I saw your face today, in the chaos of the crowd, and from that one single moment, as if
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What She Was So Glorious
She lingered on the lips of men, salacious thoughts for a Goddess, yet beneath a frightened little girl, unseen, the
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The Demon and the Maiden Afeared
Upon her breath, aphonic words she dare no utter, as darkness did betray the light, and seep ignominiously into thoughts,
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The Weave In Which My Soul Appeased
So wound in layered weave, thoughts that strangle, deeds that bleed, and no matter my resolve, the depth of wrapping
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Despite the Darkness, Rise
The flow of life is relentless, struggling to survive, to replicate, and death like birth, is intrinsic, the cycles so
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Too Much to Bear
All it seems, displaced by dreams, is likely untrue, delivered askew to truth’s elusive ride, its layered ruse, too deep
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What if there was a War, and Non-one Turned Up?
Two children in a sandpit…War Who starts wars, it is certainly not you or I, just one or two individuals
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Words of Elegance and Grace
Dust gathers in the shadow of my page, where words ignored and fears allayed uphold the pillars of thought, transfer
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To Welcome In the Day
Colored dreams, like mist collides with sweet mornings rhymes, intent on infusing with engaging hues, my muse of infinite shine,
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Too Late Regret, the Template Struck
And so the boom lowers and light fades, desperation in cascades falls like the lies that dripped from lips cursed
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In Springs Attention
You have my attention…. The citrus bite of mandarin, orange green spotted pleasure, adorns the season of fading grey, as
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I, Singular, One Soul, Know
Tortured by reality’s lies, I cannot but suffer the resistance of physical life, to get to the heart of my
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Softly, Softly, Catchy Monkey
What we see is so filtered, our so called reality becomes just an echo of a dream we propagate as
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Light…the beginning of change
We need to change… This simple poem I wrote over thirty years ago and still, it represents my mission as
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We Are Not Islands
Not Islands but Connection… Be as it may the ragged paths of wanton souls, bereft of direction, immersed in their
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