The Humbling Fall

A failure, flames red hot
On a scorned patch of ground
Charred, beyond hope

For miles
There are smoldering remains
Which bleed me of strength
Of life, compassion and love

From the pale-blue skies
It charged
For the bowels of the earth
Overcome, and burdened with death

When humility was lost
From the heart
Of a proud
And prospering dream


Affluent Youth

These days become gristle and bone
With little to offer
This aimless and wavering soul

I yearn for the flesh of old times
What I gorged without hunger
Shoveling and stoking
The hearth of my greed

I was always in bound
For some generous feast
From moment to moment
Until exhaustion was king


Ignition awaits
At some distant hour
When I’m suddenly overcome
And quaking with life

When my worries grow starved
And my head has been ground
Into a weary daze

When the airborne salvos
Have fallen
To a hateful flare of red

When all emotions
Are restless
And feral

Shelter’s Mercy

From afar
The fires are immense
A plentiful rage
That savors mankind

From the fairest of ground
I see only villains
Who pillage and kill
In their flight from remorse

From this heavenly perch
I see only waves of dismay
The farther, I sway in retreat

From nothing and nowhere
All these worries of the world
Are sparked
To deceive from a distance
To trouble, the silenced and meek

Idle Time

Idle time
Inhales, all the strengths
I brandish from dawn
And dispassion is swift

A sinful and sickening
Demise of the mind

A self-imposed death
By wallowing
And fuming ’til sunk

Time is unfazed
By my flailing
And faltering aims

By each whimpering hope
That stalls
In this swamp

Catastrophe’s Path

Who will yearn for these years
For the oil slicked seas
And the slow, hateful burn of mankind?

The sorrowful seeds
Who will flourish by dawn
Will they fervently dream
Of this era long past?

And what will we share
With tomorrow’s new travelers?
In their voyage through the lands
That we’ve carved and defamed?

Who will remain
Beyond, the ongoing haze
In the wavering blaze
Of our faithful sun ?

Dirt Clod

Under heel
I am not much,
But the mangled earth
That remains
In the great strides of men

No mind
No train of emotions
No hopes to ascend
To dream, to conceive, to command

There are no roots
In this bad patch of earth
No purposeful seeds to sprout
And embrace the foul world

Torn up by the heedless
I am the unknown filth
That stains every ruthless mile

World of False Notions

Gnaws at my hide
In the clutches of night

As they prod the remains
I have strewn
Through the day

I burn and I dive
Alight with the worry
Of a world of false notions

Perhaps I have fallen
Painfully short
Of the prosperous son
My former and shed away skin

Perhaps I’ve prevailed
As I’ve faithfully feared
And I’ve landed in glory
Emblazed with light

Isles Amid the Surf – Author William Wright, Jr.

Creative Talents Unleashed

His former trials

Were waning isles


The truth-bearing swell

As he steamrolled on

Lamenting in circles

Faithfully spiraling

To his last stream of breath

His former ills

Were dissolved

At the tide’s

Beck and call


In the foam

Of kindred hearts


By their bounty


By the mere winds of chance

© William Wright, Jr.

William Wright

Excerpt from the book “The Slums of Nightfall”

William Wright About the Author

 My name is William Lorenzo Wright, Jr. I am the youngest of three children, as well as the only son to two loving and hard-working parents. I am a college student from San Diego California and I hold a deep passion for reading and writing poetry. I was sixteen years old when I first fell in love with poetry and I have been faithful to the craft ever since.

Visit William’s Author Page At:–jr.-.html

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