Pressed down, held still,
it learns the language of waiting.
Light enters and does not return,
trapped in angles too sharp to escape.
Fingers pass over it,
names are given,
none of them true.
It does not ask to be wanted,
but it is.
poems
-
Clear
“Hollow, Waiting”
It holds nothing until it does.
Clear, but never empty.
Full, but never satisfied.
The outside sweats,
the inside never does.
A mouth with no voice,
only the sound of what leaves.
-
Where it stays
“Where It Stays”
It moves without moving,
folding itself into walls, into skin.
Everything remembers it,
but no one holds it.
A shimmer, a breath turned solid,
the air tasting of distance.
It leaves,
but never fully.
Brendan Ragan
-
Ring
“Held Light”
stone hums in silence,
frozen fire—
a circle swallows time.
fingers press against forever,
gold bends,
but brilliance stays.
-
filtered glare
“Filtered Glare”
shadow-tinted eyes
borrow daylight —
reflections scatter,
fractured truths.
the horizon blinks
in tempered hues;
plastic veils
the ache of looking.
-
burning verse
silent tremor
in melted breath —
a flicker splits the room.
wax remembers nothing;
shadows weave
their own forgetting
as heat unfastens
the dark.
-
ambiguitecht
Lines blur,
typed by unseen hands.
A code whispers
into the void,
building bridges
and walls alike.
Shadows shift,
not by light,
but by intention.
Brendan Ragan poetry 