Sometimes I write poetry because why not. Here’s some of that!

---

midtown, midnight

black car, street light

footsteps, concrete

briefcase, backseat

handshake, diamonds

spotlight, sirens

---

This one is a line palindrome (lines appear in same order if reversed):

“Indeed, I am the lord of all I see”

The king observes with mood to match his place

While deep within the dungeon far below

Cry countless voices echoing as one

 

“The time of tyrants ends upon this day!”

Begins a farmer, gathering a crowd

The end of whom no one but God could know

Is tied around the once and final king

 

An unrelenting chain of sharpened iron

Destroys the king’s defenses with its rage

And then, a horrid cry that stills the air

As royal blade finds home in farmer’s breast

 

And then, a horrid cry that stills the air

Destroys the king’s defenses with its rage

An unrelenting chain of sharpened iron

Is tied around the once and final king

The end of whom no one but God could know

Begins a farmer, gathering a crowd

 

“The time of tyrants ends upon this day!”

Cry countless voices, echoing as one

While deep within the dungeon far below

The king observes with mood to match his place

“Indeed, I am the lord of all I see”

---

And here’s a word palindrome:

Please God, will my writing begin to resolve my ruined memories?

Still, it hurts, remembering.

 

Heart broken, my withering Angela lay grave,

Somber in her consumed illness.

Time with Angela dragged and flew.

 

Hours suffering without her love,

I would then only exist to cease to exist.

Only then would I love her without suffering.

 

Hours flew and dragged Angela.

With time, illness consumed her.

In somber grave lay Angela,

Withering my broken heart.

 

Remembering hurts it still.

Memories ruined my resolve to begin writing my will.

 

God.

Please.