Poetry
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Blood echoes on wind, The screams and cries of nature Fallen on deaf ears. Giuseppe Gillespie – November 2021
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Easel lies untouched, A skill I’ve yet to pursue. True madness awaits. Giuseppe Gillespie – November 2021
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Breathing in and out, Conscience is clear and tranquil, A peace that won’t last. Giuseppe Gillespie – November 2021
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Two halves together, Seam runs down diameter. An odd symmetry. Giuseppe Gillespie – November 2021
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Blew through fever flu, Snort sniffling sinew stew, Pot honey on brew. Giuseppe Gillespie – November 2021
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These primitive shapes: Circle, square, and triangle, Our world’s built upon. Giuseppe Gillespie – October 2021
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My hopes and dreams, like Cloistered lambs to the slaughter, Shuffled, squeezed, breathless. Giuseppe Gillespie – October 2021
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Lids lay half open, Drooped heavy fighting with sleep. A losing battle. Giuseppe Gillespie – October 2021
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Bad moon a’ rising, The werewolves are in full view, Their howling is through. Giuseppe Gillespie – October 2021
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Oh the sea greens and iridescent blues, Bleach-blended hues in patches construes…
Giuseppe Gillespie Writing 