Category: Portraits & Human Connection

Studies in the unmediated gaze—turning outward to witness the hidden depth, fragile beauty, and quiet resonance of the lives we encounter.

Portraits & Human Connection

A Gothic Beauty

courtneybosworth

Her eyes ignite the quiet, shadow realm,

A bright and shining star against the night;

Though dark adornments seek to overwhelm,

Her inner radiance turns the darkness bright.

Her sultry gaze captures a restless heart,

She glides with grace through shadows soft and deep;

A mysterious grace where quiet visions start,

And secrets that the gentle night will keep.

Her tempting lips, in crimson or in black,

Are framed by winged eyeliner, sharp and fine;

A subtle spell that draws the spirit back,

To seek the beauty in her dark design.

Though lingering shadows mark her chosen place,

The morning light reveals her gentle grace.

Portraits & Human Connection

The Whispering Poet

courtneybosworth

The poem is just a whisper,

Of what the poet wants you to hear.

He speaks the soft words,

The ones he holds so dear.

The poem reflects the feelings,

So deep inside his soul.

He shouts them in his head,

But writing them is his goal.

A poet speaks the feelings

That so many others feel—

The ones they cannot express,

To help an aching heart heal.

The poet feels obligated

To put into words others cannot.

He toils with expressing the feelings

To turn the whisper into a thought.

Portraits & Human Connection

The True Master

courtneybosworth

The master walks with quiet, humble grace,

And seeks the truth where deeper questions lie;

No boastful words are spoken in this place

To lift his pride before the public eye.

He does not hoard the wisdom he has gained,

Nor hold the craft above another’s head;

But offers light where shadows once remained,

That others too may walk the path he tread.

Yet shallow minds will loudly claim the crown,

And peddle truth they never lived to know;

They seek the quick applause of all the town,

Content with all the pompous seeds they sow.

For wisdom never needs to shout its claim:

Only the empty play the expert’s game.

Connection & Healing, Portraits & Human Connection

Just Not Tonight

courtneybosworth

There she sits, a country entirely on her own.

A voice inside whispers: Go ask for her phone.

But the old walls rise up,

heavy and tight—

No, I can’t do it. Just not tonight.

She is too sweet for the scars that I wear,

Too bright for the shadow I bring to the chair.

She must be waiting for someone, I think—

So back to the borders I quietly shrink.

I turn from the table, I step from the floor,

Leaving tomorrow to guard the front door.

But days turn to months, and the months into years,

Until loneliness hardens and swallows the fears.

And the old ceiling questions circle the dark:

How does a stone ever find a bright spark?

For I cannot see through the ghost of my history, Why anyone like her would want someone like me?