4 poems-Carl Scharwath

Twilight Embrace

Walking the razors edge of jeopardy.
There are days when existence takes a dual form.
The second one is no more than a recollection of the first.

A haunting echo of fingertips scratching along a window.
Yearning for the traces of another life.
This year, reality falters and reveals its surreal.

Like dialing my number but hearing another’s voice.
I peered into the unfathomable abyss of the implausible
Why did I venture here, where darkness thrives?


Still blue pond waters held the old man’s face. A reflection in every timeline of a history slowly coming upon its end. Interacting jostling shapes distorting features once youthful, once purposeful. Images reflected in the sun dancing on ripples created from the breath of the sky. A family, a past and the memories of a happy time when the future held promise. Now in his vision he only sees the depths of black ink, emanating from a tannin coated floor. He knew he was given everything needed for an unspecified time. The Sirens of the pond called him, opening their arms to a watery grave. Silently walking away to a new judgment, he waited for the second coming.

Modern Man

He is born mortal.
In the universe of others

Modern Man-

Changing everything around him
But himself


In the depths of the evening, when shadows grow long.
I find myself tangled in the clutches of insomnia.
Captured in the steely grasp of anxiety.

My weary eyes search for solace in the moon’s glow-
But even those silver beams offer no respite
For my restless mind spins like a tempestuous storm

Thoughts like restless ghosts, haunt my consciousness.
Whispering secrets and worries that refuse to be silenced
As echoes reverberate through the chambers of the mind

Time stretches, morphing into a fluid entity
Minutes merge with hours in a cruel dance of time
With me, an unwilling participant watching the night unfurl.

The sheets beneath me a landscape of unrest
Tossed and turned as if mirroring the tumult within
The bed, a battleground where dreams wage an internal war.

I am left alone, a solitary wanderer in the realm of wakefulness
Seeking refuge in the stillness that alludes my weary soul
Hoping that with dawn, peace will finally find me.


Carl Scharwath, has appeared globally with 180+ journals selecting his writing or art. Carl has published three poetry books and his latest book “Playground of Destiny,” features poetry, short stories and photography (Impspired Press.)  Carl has four photography books, published by Praxis in Africa, and CreatiVingenuity. His photography was also exhibited in The Mount Dora and Leesburg Centers for the Arts. Carl is currently a co-editor with ILA Magazine and was the art editor for Minute Magazine. He was nominated for two The Best of the Net Awards (2021-22). He is also a competitive runner, and a  2nd degree black- belt in Taekwondo.