Alex the Scribe

Exploring the craft of writing. Sharing resources for writers.

Category: Poetry


Leur avarice fait pâlir Midas,
ils font l’envie de Crésus,
ces Gargantuas
rasant les récoltes,
razziant les troupeaux,
asséchant les sources.
L’océan n’est animé
que de remous épars.
Où sont les vagues scélérates?
Pourquoi l’écume
ne fouette-t-elle pas les rives?
Les côtes du Panama
sont pourtant
à leur merci.

Midas blanches at their greed,
they are the envy of Croesus,
these Gargantuas
razing fields
slaughtering herds,
drying up springs.
Scatterings of wavelets
mar the mirror of the ocean.
Where are the rogue waves?
Why isn’t the spray
lashing at the shore?
And yet
the coasts of Panama
are at their mercy.



Threshold of my Mind

Cross the threshold of my mind
Abandon all control
Reality blurs my line
Novocaine for the soul

Pull the trigger shoot your gun
Whistle a happy tune
Fly across October sun
Fly me to the moon

Maybe I’m afraid to die
My red pen takes a life
Blood and ink were spilled tonight
Am I living a lie

What do I feel sorry for
Unwelcome accidents
Flying knives and slamming doors
Unforeseen consequence

Little kids and parasites
We live inside a wheel
Go to hell and fly a kite
Spittle ‘n hardened steel

Rot the system from inside
Goliath cannot stand
Take a stand and choose a side
Escape to Lalaland

Do You Dream of Them at Night

Do you dream of them at night
humming through the walls

Are they waiting there outside
waiting for your call
listening for the glittering
slicing through the bark

Expose the innards of your rings
exclamation mark

This Pain | Cette Douleur

The wound can scar

or stay open,

it can scab over

and bleed


Never allow it

to fester.


This pain

is the testament

of the love

you shared.


Cherish it.

Que la blessure guérisse

ou reste ouverte,

qu’elle devienne escarre

ou plaie

à nouveau :

ne la laisse jamais



Cette douleur

est la preuve

de l’amour





golden leaves tumbling—
empty clearing alive with
dancers on the breeze

Golden leaf falling

Photo by Melissa Rebelo


Angel’s Death

I’ve seen things you cannot imagine:
the gates of Hell;

Heavenly armies fending off swarms
of fiendish beasts;

Seraphims and cherubims fighting
hellish archdemons;

Torn leathery wings, bloodied feathers
filling the skies;

The victorious trumpet blasts of
celestial beings.

All these moments will be lost in time,
like tears in rain.

Nothing’s left for me but to accept
it’s time to die.

[Inspired by this timeless monologue from Blade Runner]

Winter haiku

Rainy winter night:
She mourns her lost husband like
Nature mourns the sun.