Shadow Chasers

on the edge of reality

shadows seduce

the chase begins

to catch reality

is the chase futile

duality of shadows

chasing the illusion

reality can crumble

the most elusive shadows

are those hidden

in the dark recesses of our minds

skirting the shadows of the mind

embracing, dancing

romancing the shadow

of the past, present

possible future

they cannot be ignored

but not always caught

inability to see

all the shadows

at times, they are an illusion

but oh, so real

our inner struggle

 on a quest to constantly grasp

those elusive shadows

it is a winless race

but worth running


© 2016 Michael D Emmerich

Break that Spell

morning sun is breaking

like my heart

bleeding out across the sky

I need your heart

my beloved’s heart

the spell is cast

the die is set


but never this lost

my city is in ruins

your sweet kiss

rebuilds this city

tears on my pillow

as I lay my head down

emotional ruins

time to break the spell

my princess can

fairy-tale becomes real

midnight fast approaches

come on break the spell

heaven is in your heart

your kiss, your touch

breaths new life

my faith rests with you


© 2016 Michael D Emmerich

#micropoetry No. 6

Continuing the challenge to keep writing poems of 144 characters or less. Here are two more #micropoems. Poetry for twitter 🙂



colours of lust

the setting sun

eclipse of your heart

tears on your cheeks


rise of your breasts

mist of your breath

mist on the moors

it doesn't have to make sense

still you turn me on


© 2016 Michael D Emmerich

That Never-Ending Story

as I lay dying

eyes wide shut

voices, I hear voices

under the bridge

is death the end

present but temporal

through the looking glass

destined to be wandering

in a lost land

all that you’ve held sacred

falls down

chances missed, opportunities avoided

does the misery continue

is it all a mystery

peace, settlement, nothingness

melancholy morbidity

a moment of eternity

an eternity of moments

emerging from the rabbit hole

remember that death need not

be the end

or is it?


© 2016 Michael D Emmerich

#micropoetry No. 5

Continuing the challenge to keep writing poems of 144 characters or less. Here are two more #micropoems. Poetry for twitter 🙂



a sense of expectation

it's never to dark

always a new beginning

cycle of life keeps moving

light dark light dark .. light



let’s have the adhan chanted

in the same tower that tolls the bell

instead sounds ring out

reaffirming our separation


© 2016 Michael D Emmerich

#micropoetry No. 4

Continuing the challenge to keep writing poems of 144 characters or less. Here are three more #micropoems. Poetry for twitter 🙂


my finger is on the trigger

needle is in the vein

my blood is on my hands

my soul is in disarray


lost is the answer

question remains’ uncertain

all that is certain

is mortality


red mist clears

sun breaks through the clouds

my soul is in my hands

red poppies look beautiful

in the cold morning light

© 2016 Michael D Emmerich

Down to the River

After writing an article; The Art of Silence, and upon further reflection, I penned the following poem. In light of the books and music I have been indulging in of late; this took the poem down a darker path, than initially intended.

everybody should be quiet

near a little stream

where the wild roses grow

and just listen

down to the river we ride

be silent, listen to your heartbeat

take my hand, I'll take yours

to much madness and sorrow

the loudest words are not spoken

living in this age of rage

down to the river we go

walking towards the light

this beautiful place

wearing many guises

sending me down the river tonight

my baby and I

the river runs clear in the night

no words needed to uncover

an ability to let things go

take solace in the silence

an inner absence of preoccupation

masks the hidden messages of compliance

do you know where

the wild roses grow

down by the river

together you may get away

baptised in the river


be delivered

© 2016 Michael D Emmerich

the Zen of not F#%king Up

Being reading “War” by Sebastian Junger, and he writes about “the Zen of not fucking up” and the consequences thereof. On an aside, it’s an excellent read of modern day warfare. Highly recommended. That comment got me thinking, reading, writing and then thinking some more.  This poem grew out of Zen, War, Dylan and Junger! If you have an aversion to swearing please don’t read this 🙂

down in the valley

going to the mountaintop

find your Zen in the valley

take it with you on your way on high

no Zen up there my brother

its all down here below

deal with the concrete, the grit

take wisdom from the now

not invisible stuff from ancient books

shame on your greed, your wicked schemes

modern times thunders in the alley

causing a ruckus in the valley

everything has potential consequences

push for the high mindfulness

of not fucking up

don’t worry about being worried

care about what you care about

don’t give a fuck about the rest

learn how not to worry about being worried

be more joyful, kinder to others

plant and see what the earth brings forth

follow the zen art

of not fucking up

enlighten up

don’t take yourself to seriously

you don't need any guide

you already know the way

if things don’t work for you

then just say, fuck it!

© 2016 Michael D Emmerich

#micropoetry No. 3

Continuing the challenge to keep writing poems of 144 characters or less. Here are three more #micropoems. Poetry for twitter 🙂



a moment in time

when worlds collide

when lovers unite

chaos and disorder

we gaze into this abyss

we see life, love

lust and eternity



the beat of your heart

touch of your tongue

heat of your skin

silk of your hair

welcome to the seduction arcade



dew glistens across the valley

casting fast disappearing rainbows

chased by bleeding colours across the sky

a new palette of shades awaits

this ephemeral beauty

must not escape


© 2016 Michael D Emmerich

#micropoetry No. 2

Continuing the challenge to keep writing poems of 144 words or less. Here are two more #micropoems.


sun breaks through

red mist parts

your breath across my cheek

river runs through life

rubicon, styx

which ferry to take



the comfort of new skin

we gaze at discarded masques

the face in the mirror is more loved

by the ego & the beloved


© 2016 Michael D Emmerich