Sun-Bathed Mountains

Morning light gives birth,
To the sun-bathed mountains afar,
Armed only, with thistle and madness.

When the high-noon’s hatred has passed,
They are so kind to cool
And cool
Into deep shades of blue.

Until motionless sets in my bones,
Like a cold dead weight
And I’ve stalled inside failure’s shadow.

I’m spared over for tomorrow,
To be savored by suffering;
To be bathed, again and again,
By the high rolling sun.

As new heights afar,
Come roaring into life.

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Greater Despair – Author William Wright, Jr.

A poem that I worked really hard on is featured here. Thank you to the wonderful people at Creative Talents Unleashed

Creative Talents Unleashed

Daily I sway

In their scowling shadows

Far above

The earthbound womb

In slanderous words

I coil

Braving their might

The scorn

Of their fearful refrain

By daylight’s hand

I sway and turn

Wrung dry

Depleted and cold

Extinguished too soon

By each foul

And tormented gust

Brimmed

With a greater despair

© 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: www.ctupublishinggroup.com/william-wright–jr.-.html

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A Dying War

There was a late autumn shower
When the battles died down,
From havoc, to bones, then mud

The war had grown solemn and quiet
And every shredded white flag was set free
For all the young shallow graves

In that late autumn shower
A struggle was lost
And the seeds of its vengeance,
Were carefully sown

Make it Real

Dare to make it real
The swerve of your moss-covered trail
On its way to the throes of your passions

Draw it, from out of your mind
To be truly beloved
To be worn, with constant affection

Dissipate the fog
Let it starve, let it wane
To the honest blue skies

Let the clarity of a dream
Unfurl with new courage

New Age of Burdens

I have had too much
I’m reduced to a wandering wretch
A staggering fool, chock-full of emotion

I have had too much
I’m reduced to a lost wavering rube
In the backwoods, consumed, in the rise of his broth

I have had too much
But this night is so criminal and young
And I’m far from the kind-hearted warmth,
From the tenderness of home

I have had too much
And it is all too fine with me
In this new age of burdens
Of faux and sensational fears

I have had too much of this world
So I heartily indulge
To dull and to silence its fury

Another Day of Remembrance

On the day of the parade
Some were easily shaken
Some were razed, to the depths of themselves
Some were tearful and silent

On that day
The same bells, that called them to arms
Set out for their revenge

Reverence was alight from inside that day
As droves poured out in cold streams
Of affection and grief

A lone day of remembrance
In the eyes of most
Yet another for some

Cheap Conversations

I only grow fonder of silence
In the trudge of conversing
The hot spill of strangers
All the prized words of the wise

They know the ins and outs of the clouds
They know the brisk wind and its promises of rain

And gradually I yearn for the silence
To be a servant of myself
As the ego so demands

At the sight of hoisted shrines
All the star-stricken banter
That pounds at my eardrums, day after day
I grovel, for just a chance of silence