Ryan Welch

Joined November 2022

0 stories

Bio

I wander through the fog that is my life. Writer of poems, music and stories, for those feeling misunderstood. Welcome

Stories (16/0)

Reflections
The sky opens up and swallows us whole A drop in the sea we can't possibly find Delve into pools of unconscious tale And I find I can and see all what is real
By Ryan Welchabout a year ago in Poets
Lungam
Lungam: Watch the colossus crumble down I see the mountains burning The darkness and light entwine Filling my mind with the ocean
By Ryan Welchabout a year ago in Poets
If these trees could talk
If these trees could talk: I will build for you, a path of coal and ash and stone Cold upon flesh, expended, marring, broken, and damned
By Ryan Welchabout a year ago in Poets
Hesitate and drown
Hesitate and drown: The void calls incessantly Words I don't intend to hear Crawling; opal spiders in my ears Weave their pearl webs on my mind
By Ryan Welchabout a year ago in Poets
Vernal Dreamscapes
Vernal Dreamscapes: Fallen illustrations of man We all reside in devil’s fire Erect another monolith Men and their disgusting desires
By Ryan Welchabout a year ago in Poets
Clandestine
Clandestine: Calm white eyes Look above us all Cleansing tears Falling from the sky Drowning us all Mountain peaks
By Ryan Welchabout a year ago in Poets
Every day
Respire certainty Rise, do I have to wake up Monochromatic
By Ryan Welchabout a year ago in Poets
If These Trees Could Talk:
If These Trees Could Talk: I will build for you, A path of coal and ash and stone Cold upon flesh, Expended, marring, broken, and damned
By Ryan Welchabout a year ago in Poets
Absurdity
Absurdity: Crimson eyes Piercing through the veil Unchanged lives Float along the fog Settle and cry Oh son of sun
By Ryan Welchabout a year ago in Poets
Chalice
Chalice is an entry from a collection of poetry I produced called "Smoke and the Withered Ground" Art is done by Nate Hillyer of Wyrdica
By Ryan Welchabout a year ago in Poets
Burning Arrow
Burning arrow: The languishing soil Rank of death Can it be that this is our fate Tourniquet unbound Burning plagues upon our soul
By Ryan Welchabout a year ago in Poets
Rough day
I wouldn't say I grew up in the worst of homes. However it was by far not the best place to be, between having two parents in an unhappy marriage, to a difficult split, and then both of them hating whoever the other was seeing; made for uncomfortable home life.
By Ryan Welchabout a year ago in Confessions

Ryan Welch

Bio

Stories .css-19zxm0z-Text{display:inline-block;color:var(--text-default-mute);}(16/0)

Reflections

Lungam

If these trees could talk

Hesitate and drown

Vernal Dreamscapes

Clandestine

Every day

If These Trees Could Talk:

Absurdity

Chalice

Burning Arrow

Rough day

Stories (16/0)