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Introspection Memory Poems | Introspection Poems About Memory

These Introspection Memory poems are examples of Introspection poems about Memory. These are the best examples of Introspection Memory poems written by international PoetrySoup poets

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Details | Rhyme | |

November Chills Remind Me

November Chills Remind Me



As November chill creeps in
I think of June and a friend
Sun beaming so eagerly down
our spot at the edge of town

Silent moments holding me
to a time and her pitiful plea
O' that this day last forever
and my love leave me never

She saw farther than I
the thought made her cry
I thought her so wrong
right she was all along

Clime cooled and so did we
leaves fell from our tree
October faded swiftly away
Parted on a chilly November day

November chills I think of her
so gone, I know not where
Shall June ever come again
will ever I see my friend

Sun shines down upon my Soul
keeping her should have been my goal.

R.J. Lindley  09, 11, 1976 


note: Tomorrow will be two weeks and no new writes by me. 
That is other than my private writings at home.. 
Found this in a old poetry book tucked in a chest with 
divorce papers from my first wife.
Seemed fitting to present it because , well its November now.

Answer, no never saw her again. She moved away, I lost contact.
Life sent its distractions and the universe spun ever onward..


Details | Rhyme | |

Mirror Ball

I'm sure this hill is where it stood.
Amazing shapes of stuccoed wood.
A glass-brick, neon stream-lined place.
As if it flew from outer space,

A swing band auditorium,
An Art Deco emporium,
When romance, innocent in pace,
From dancing to a teasing chase.

The town grew west in modern haste
And down it came, without a trace.
The war and culture's change in taste,
Predestined doom, the past erased.

The future sighs, with solemn face
The wrecking ball, the glittered waste
No plaque to read "Historic Sight".
The swirling dust, a dance goodnight.


Gene Bourne
08-01-14








.


Details | Quatrain | |

‘The Airplane Crossing Clear-Blue Sky'

My white-washed bars surrounded me -
they held me as I slept;
they soothed me when the days were long,
and mother’s blue-eyes wept.

A baby girl, six months or less,
awakened from my sleep -
stood up legs as sure as hope;
as strong as flat is steep.

My hands, my saviors, gripped the rail
so I could peek outside –
the bluest sky I’d ever seen,
As tall as it was wide;

came into view - between the blue,
an airplane gliding by,
its smoky streamer like a flag,
across my memory’s sky...

The memory is a simple one -
a window, sky, and plane -
but in my heart, it's heaven's door
and there it shall remain.

I’ve hung it on my memory’s wall
Between that life and this –
It covers every hole I’ve dug
In sorrow’s vast abyss.

This picture brings the special peace
I knew when I was small –
Where mother’s just beyond the door,
and waiting for my call…



*Inspired by Danielle's Earliest Memory contest. I have blocked out almost every memory 
from my childhood, and only a very few gems remain - this is the first. and I will treasure it 
always...


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Seasons and Imaginations


Wind so cold.
Blowing.
Fondles my face.
Tickling.
The tears from heaven.
Pouring. 
Tapping. 
Dancing.
Unrelenting.
I wonder if i wish
    to stop them
From numbness,
    to waking,
          then sensing.

The little voice in me says,
Wait, don't go.
Stay a little longer. I plead.
Sing for me today, rain.
With the gliding rhythm on my piano,
                                                  I'll play.
Chilly Wind, caress my bare skin 
     with the pure coldness that you bring.
Unusual,
     like it's my first time in the snow.
Somehow, 
     the fire tree never fades in the picture.
The yellow sunkissed leaves, too.
What is it about Summer and Fall
    that I can't forget?
Memories. Sweet imaginations.

The chilly rain. The misty wind.
You are here. 
Freeze me with the sharp coldness you give.
Calm me. Maybe, comfort me.
And, if you leave
Will you visit me when summertime comes?
Before it gets too late
   And again I fold.



Details | Couplet | |

TO WHISPER MILDLY---LGT



In moments when the twilight sparks
To gently flare as dark embarks,
Tender comes eve swinging a hum
While air-brushed clouds, on flight, succumb.

Yet, through the lull of sky, I hear
Their voices billow quite unclear
Whispering mildly, still I know
Those refrains from seasons ago.

Somehow, before the call of morn
When foggy mist glides on hawthorns,
And daybreak hails a new sunset
I trace past journeys now at rest.
  
Amidst the quiver of my dreams,
Beloved voices float midstream
On to pathways that bless each name;
Marked deeply in my soul, aflame.



Andrea Dietrich's Let's Get Technical Contest
~new poem~


Details | Rhyme | |

Granddads Book

In my quiet times I often try,
To remember places I've been.
To recall folk I have passed by,
And sights that I have seen.

There is nothing wrong with my mind,
Sometimes my memory is quite refined.
I think it's filled over many a year,
With so much junk, nothing seems clear.

So, I made up my mind to write it all down,
To recall it all caused me to frown
It started like I was in the dark,
A memory flared, I was in the park.

That day in the park was just the lever,
I found my mind was as good as ever.
Tho' times and places got out of line,
I wrote it all down, now wasn't I clever!

I'm nearly at the end of my story,
A journey I'm glad that I took.
For my grandsons to read in years to come,
I'll call it Granddads Book.

© Dave Timperley 2012.


Details | Rhyme | |

Forgotten Memories

Forgotten Memories

seconds, minutes, hours and days
these pass to most in uneventful ways
s'o's' is a common phrase
yet to some times pass in torment and haze

a sound, a smell, a sight we glean
can nudge the mind to places more mean
places and times long ago pushed away
visit the mind with a will to stay

we know it is troubling and a not wanted visit
but the taste is bitter or sweet, which is it
some say be strong and pass it away
once the claws are set they want to stay

deep in the mind the battle is fierce
your heart, your soul, the claws will pierce
seconds are minutes, minutes are hours
hours are days as life darkens and sours
                         
not battles rage or depth of sea
no limits set for him or me
for circumstances vary of tragedy and pain
no one can limit  loss and gain
                                  
we must reach inside and pull ourselves free
not to live as him but to live as me


Robert Gene Stoner Jr ©
10/30/14



Details | Free verse | |

Cold Beers and Voyeuristic Cannibalism

I’d like to pretend that my hands aren’t dirty 

from the soap of mental suppression,

that the callouses are from hard work,

and not from picking my bones back up

off the floor on a daily basis;

ragged, dry, and weary. 

Every fairy tale has a root,

stapled into the hard soil of truth.

They all have a moral,

some sort of clerical error 

born from life’s shadow. 

We watch, hoping to learn 

from the missteps of someone

else’s intrepid imagination,

some 4D revelation singing

lullabies to the young heart

of humanity.  

And they bend to the fickle 

will of greedy creativity, 

making the yoke less bitter

so that we can tongue the purge

of denial without pouting. 

I’d like to pretend that my hands are clean,

that I don’t whisper cold lies into your palms,

watch you drink from the frosted glass

of my sincerity; Hope that you don’t blink,

that you won’t notice the blood bubbling 

up, and over my shiver before you finally

finish this story. 

I just want you to understand.

This isn’t poison.

This is merely me bleeding out,

and hoping you’ll learn to love the 

taste of fire kissed oxymoronic metaphors,

served up with juiced will and the vegan

flesh of my inhibition.  

So that you can see through my eyes,

know where I have been,

and how it felt to be consumed.

-James Kelley 2014, All rights reserved.


Details | Free verse | |

Who Am I

A new photograph floats to the surface
Playfully dressing up as the world around me
Hat, striped socks and all
Tiptoeing at the top for one last sweet moment 
Before sinking back into my ocean mind.

One after another they arrive
Single file,
Steeping my eyes in the world 
As the minds shutter, ever fluttering 
Strings together this conscious stream I play in.

My photographs fade in time’s wrinkled arms.
Joining their brothers and sisters at the ocean floor,
They hold hands and try to answer the question that is always asking itself:
Who am I?

Jacob Reinhardt
10/3/2013


Details | I do not know? | |

The Beach of Promises

The Beach of Promises


1.


Fingers entwined, barely touching,
turquoise waters teasing your dancing toes,

strolling along that serene deserted beach,
our promised dreams within aching reach.


2.


Hands clasped, holding on,
sea-breezes tickling the nape of your neck,

walking together, alone, vowing to never breach,
the dreams dreamed on that faraway velvet beach.


3.


Hands in my pockets, alone,
traces of you linger, teasing,

lost in my scribbles, your memory fading out of reach,

my thoughts ablaze, now and then,
catching a whiff of your fragrance,

wafting through alleyways of nostalgia,
your hand in mine on our pristine beach.




Details | Dramatic monologue | |

Look Away

Look Away


Don't look this way
For I have been burned in the face.
Defeat and captured
Only released by the sound of my breathing.
From dust till dawn
I say look away for I no longer wish for you to see me.
Released the blood from my eyes.
Look away for I have you placed in my heart
I wish you not to see me this way.
Though I be burn ,torn,tattered and fatal wounded 
Shall my breathing keep me sane.
May you memory keep me warm
See these words I speak,hear me breathing so shallow.
Feel the darkness that formed in my eyes
Since this is my mind I may be released.
But forever trapped in a maze that brings 
Me up to drag me down.
Look away for I am burned in the face
As long as you remember your in my heart,
And memory I shall be in yours.
So I shall say look away
For I am burned tattered and torn inside my mind.
Just look away


Details | Ode | |

An Ode To My Beloved

I just wanted to let you know
That I have this love for you...
Although I'm not fast to show
For you, there's nothing I wouldn't do
And I can't control this love
No matter what I try to do...

While I know our lives are separating
Which has got me pretty blue
I just want you to know
How much I love you...

Because I was blinded by shyness
And now my heart's feeling rugged
So this here's An Ode To My Beloved 

Oh how I still see you every night in my mind
You're the best girl I feel I'll ever find
And when my eyes would fall upon your smile
My heart would be put on trial
And so if nothing else, I want to let you know
That I'll always love you, that my hearts beat
For you, won't ever slow...

Because I was blinded by shyness
And now my heart's feeling rugged
So this here's An Ode To My Beloved 

So I wish you happiness beyond compare
And sorry for the times I couldn't help but stare
Caring, passionate, smart, and loving
From my heart, to you, I'll never be shoving

You will always be in my heart
No matter where we go, how far we drift apart...

Goodbye My Love...


Details | Italian Sonnet | |

NOSTALGIA MEMORIES

NOSTALGIA/MEMORIES

Ah quanta nostalgia
Ah what memories

Mentre tutto va
When everything’s going

Oltre I limiti della mia fantasia
Beyond your wildest dreams

Dove tutto e paradise se 
Where all is paradise

Giorni di liberta di festa
A day of freedom and celebration

La musica dolce suorna 
The sweet music plays 

Io pensavo e stato giusto
I thought it was right

Questa melodia
What melody

Passione 
Passion

Voli e brividi
Thrills and dreams

Tranquillita
Peace 


Details | Dramatic monologue | |

Shadows

Lost and alone.  
In the land of shadows. 
Blue skies coming thru. 
I hint about it at times. 
Though never really say it.
I wonder, do they know?
Can they tell by my words?
Or by my silence in place.
I've turned my other  cheek.
As I pretend it never happened.
All those barbecues in days past.
I wonder if anyone really knew ?




 jan , 15th 2013  Tues


Details | Acrostic | |

Your Eyes

 (Dedicated to Folake)

Your eyes, woman
are like twilight rainbow
amorously bearing aloft passions of mine
toward androcytic ecstacy.
They tell of endless lights.

Night skies clarion the warmth of you
keep me balled-up till
i am tilted to your adorned essence.

May I call up words to adore you,
agglomerate them into a panoply of worshippers
unsandalled before you
like Moses at the burning bush.
 
And now you seem to fall asleep
but you tell me it's the heavy night
bidding toward a sunny dawn
wherein our love is lighted.

Slowly I let you fall asleep
impatient with the long night
waiting to gaze once more
into the eyes of my lovely love.

Then a lip is placed on yours
and you rouse up wide-eyed
smiling at my romantic move.
We enjoyed the night, cruising on.


Details | Bio | |

Solitude: To Yoda, An Ode

Green bark a prism creates,
Feel the pull of earth, you must.

Rotates, a slime of endless hates,
Can hold me not, this world’s crust.

Friendship’s ties, isolation Deflates,
Succumbs, my spaceship, to bitter rust.

Mist, my soul forever permeates,
Lift-off, booms the rocket’s thrust.

My spirit when light returns, elates,
Swamps swell, swallowed hope’s swirling dust.

Trapped, I am, until student from fate
Arrives to learn; Cloud City or bust.


Details | Couplet | |

What Do I Know About Being German

Born American, sixth generation of great-grands all German,
not much liking sausage or sauerkraut, English speaking all the way,

except the Germany of my ancestry was fought over and broken
so I’m a bit of France, Germany, Poland, Hungary all the Holy

Roman empire, dissolved down, fought over, egotized, horrified 
and remade Into some new state where English is as common as German.

We share a love of flowers in the face of cold and rain, I drink less beer
and wine, meet up somewhere, anywhere around the world on a beach.

From my parents and grandparents, I know to serve up too much food
seven sweets, seven sours and drink and whirl the night away to a band.

Hardworking sorts, unafraid of a little dirt, loving dirt, the turnover
and young sprout brought to fruit, wearing overalls and then washing up.

To sit before a pressed linen table cloth, served up on the finest china,
the cha in my father’s name, the uff da, and other exclamations.

The morning rosaries, the blessed churches where we give thanks for all good
and the setting aside of pride while we work together to make our food.

Sure there are aprons for cooking. Shorts for summertime. A dive into any pool.
What do I know of being German, not much, it's just somewhere in my roots.


Details | I do not know? | |

After We Exist Human Intelligence Remains Organic Yet Undying

Another voice enters this information spectrum, omitting dictation unheard by anyone. Lost echoes repeating into thinned obscurity, forever unknown. But your words exist, some indefinitely; your original waves undulate through air from experience. Vocalize innermost thoughts offered by U.

Based on a poetry form created by David Williams: start by using a word beginning with 'A' then use a consonant, 'E' then a con., 'I' then a con., 'O' then a con., 'U' then a con.; repeat.


Details | Rhyme | |

Remember When

The fondest memory of a young boy’s drive,
   Are those things reminding us we are alive,
As when those physics of natural fortitude,
   Rise up to the occasion and start to protrude.

Seemingly the notion is quite  uncontrollable, 
  The mind that takes over is quite consolable,
`T was Love gave us the procreating  urge,
   Assumption is such, why should we not spurge?

As was this friend of mine who’s name was Berg, 
   With every young lady he saw, wanted to spurge,
He did saddled himself with three kids and a wife,
   Which is fine if mature ,but if not ruins one’s life.  

Another fond memory of a young boy alive,
   Is all those hot rod cars that he use to drive,
One of my dearest friends lost his life, where and when?
   High school graduation on Bayou creek bend.

A four in the floor and a fifth under the seat,
   Young boys feel like such a feat is quite neat,
Driving while drunk chancy rich price to pay,
   Same as being too young when one hit’s the hay!

This story has no glory,  though all parts are true,
   Parents seriously need to teach children good pursue,
Apple of God’s eye, tooth for tooth, an eye for an eye,
   We have not mercy,  when it is judgments we cry! 

For Contest: Fondest Memory
In Honor of: Frank Herrera


Details | I do not know? | |

The Women



The Women



(for the countless women, names unknown, who bore the brunt of Apartheid, and who fought the racist system at great cost to themselves and their families, and for my mother, Zubeida Moolla)



Pregnant, your husband on the run,
your daughter, a child, a few years old,

they hauled you in, these brutish men,
into the bowels of Apartheid's racist hell.



They wanted information, you gave them nothing,
these savage men, who skin happened to be lighter,

and white was right in South Africa back then,

but, you did not cower, you stood resolute,

you, my mother, faced them down, their power,
their 'racial superiority', their taunts, their threats.



You, my mother, would not, could not break,

You stood firm, you stood tall.

You, like the countless mothers did not break, did not fall.



You told me many things, of the pains, the struggles,

the scraping for scraps, the desolation of separation
from your beloved Tasneem and your beloved Azad,

my elder sister and brother, whom I could not grow
up with, your beloved children separated by time, by place,

by monstrous Apartheid, by brutish men,
whose skin just happened to be lighter.



You told me many things, as I grew older,
of the years in exile, of the winters that grew ever colder.

You were a fighter, for a just cause,
like countless other South African women,

you sacrificed much, you suffered the pangs,
of memories that cut into your bone, your marrow,

you resisted a system, an ideology, brutal and callous and narrow.



Yes, you lived to see freedom arrive, yet you suffered still,
a family torn apart, and struggling to rebuild a life,

all the while, nursing a void, that nothing could ever fill.



I salute you, mother, as I salute the nameless mothers,

the countless sisters, daughters, women of this land,
who fought, sacrificing it all for taking a moral stand.



I salute you, my mother, and though you have passed,
your body interred in your beloved South African soil,

you shall remain, within me, an ever-present reminder,

of the cost of freedom, the struggles, the hunger, the toil.


I salute you!



(for the brave women of South Africa, of all colours,
who fought against racial discrimination and Apartheid)






Details | Free verse | |

Daybreak

I wake on the sand
Right near the beach
You have yet to awake
Far out of reach
And Daybreak has arrived
A beauty unlike any other
Comparable only to us, girl
And how we love each other

So I gaze up alone
Marveling up at the sky
The warmth of the sun
Drying my eyes
I'm reflecting on us
Oh how each other we trust
I'm just so happy we're together
And I think to myself,
Just as this sun, we'll last forever

Then returning to be with you
I lay again now
Place my hand gently
On your warm tender shoulder
While I think of our lives today, love
And how they'll be when we're older...
I know there'd be no other way
So "I Love You" I make sure I say
To you, each and everyday


Details | Haiku | |

Bio in Short

It's been a good run
To the back side of sixty,
The short side of time.

First Hollywood kiss
Behind a pink crepe myrtle.
Thanks, Patsy Werner.

High school was okay.
Didn't help me to focus;
So, my mind wandered.

Surfed Bonzai Pipeline,
Big waves break into lava.
What made me do it?

Vietnam jungles.
I wondered why I was there.
America lost.

Smoking pot. Stereo.
Good fun in the seventies.
Psychedelics too.

And three wives later,
I finally found true love.
We're still together.

My destitute heart,
Saved by the sweetest angel.
I love you, Sandy.

Sooners are my team.
Most winning football program
In the Modern Era.

I am retired now.
But I have plenty to do.
Golf, primarily.

I've been writing more.
Perhaps I will write a book.
I have many tales.

I'd chase young girls; but,
Girls with a "grampa" fetish
Are so hard to find.

If I am lucky,
I will just drop dead one day.
With my peace of mind.

Yes, made a good run
To the back side of sixty,
The short side of time.


Details | Haiku | |

Haikus About God: IV

God made all people
But some better than others?
Stop being silly.


Details | Rhyme | |

YOU CALL THIS POETRY

You call this poetry
I'm sorry I must confess
Your recent work
Why, it's a complete mess
Your rhymes aren't good
The story's not compelling
Where's this going
There's really no telling
You think it's clever
I don't mean to criticize
But your latest poem
Put a hurting on my eyes
Are you embarrassed
You didn't print your name
But this looks familiar
So I'll guess just the same
What's that you say..
Oh my, can that be true
No wonder I recognized it
The poet's me and not you

Contest: Linda's "A Poem Not Entered Into A Contest #13"
Date: 9-13-14
Poet: Lyric Man


Details | Epitaph | |

Mama Cried

Mama cried when Papa died,
he was killed by a drunk on the interstate;
but Mama stopped shedding tears,
for she had a daughter yet to raise.

Mama cried when Becky died,
she was killed by an abusive husband;
but Mama stopped shedding tears,
for she had a grandson yet to raise.

Mama cried when Bobby died,
he was killed by an IED in Afghanistan;
but Mama stopped shedding tears,
for she had her own life yet to live.

No one on earth cried when Mama died,
she was killed by a deranged drug addicted junkie
for the seventeen dollars and change she had in her purse;
but the angels cried in paradise when Mama died.


Details | Free verse | |

A Hospital Stay - Part VII, Finis

                                                                    7.

                                                      On The Road Back

Serious illness instructs its victims
In the miracle of the normal life.
Spend time starting over on things you never think of,
And a new appreciation dawns
For the marvel of Being-in-the-World.

     Crisis finally ended, they move me down
     So I may eat like a human again and gain the strength
     To walk geriatrically about the ward
     Creepingly, yet exulting in my newfound freedom
     From the Sargasso Sea of lines that bound me for so long.
     Soon they would send me home
     To where Gulliver's god asserts his primacy.

There is in every life that question never asked aloud,
Yet waits for its whisper in misfortune's ear:
Why go on?

Why the trouble of going on
When we know all things, after all,
Make an end of themselves?
What purpose served when Summer's light gives way again
To Winter's dark, itself to give way once more 
Before the furious blooms of Spring,
This cycling of changes running blindly 'round
'Til all together, when at last we're called away from being
Will soon enough leave not even faint memory
That ever we, or they, had been?

Why go on,
When all are orphaned in the end,
When in due time Time itself will cease to march
When even God may wonder
To what end He set it all in motion for,
Leaving only an original Mystery
To occupy Forever?

     Yet still all things contrive to persevere, especially ourselves,
     Despite our cursed knowledge of Finality,
     Knowing that none shall escape eclipsion,
     But sensing that the weight
     Of whatever we have made of our lives
     Will add its dram of meaning
     When the sum of it all is balanced together
     In the great equation of existence.

We go on for the honor of going on,
Because there is no road back
And the bridges burn themselves behind us as we go.
The going is its own meaning
Because all moments matter to those they happen to,
Are defined by those they happen to -
And in the happening
Each soul makes its bright flash in the infinite dark,
Illumines itself in silent declaration
That it once was, and dared to be,
Despite the vanishing that follows.

     When all is said and over,
     It's perhaps best we measure ourselves
     Against the blazing stars and wheeling galaxies
     To find that we come out the larger 
     Than they in all their magnificence,
     In our tiny, burning brilliance.


Details | I do not know? | |

The Nameless - for South Africans of all colours who fought for freedom


The Nameless


Slipping through the sieve of history,

the nameless rest.

Not for the nameless are roads renamed, nor monuments built.

Not for the nameless are songs sung, nor ink spilled.

The nameless rest.

Their silent sacrifice,

quiet ordeal,

muted trauma,

remain interred,

amongst their remains.

The nameless rest.

Not for the nameless are doctorates conferred, nor eulogies recited.

Not for the nameless are honours bestowed, nor homages directed.

The nameless rest.

They rest within us,

they walk with us,

in every step that we tread.

They rest within us,

they walk with us,

for their spirit is not dead.


“Your name is unknown, your deed is immortal”
- inscription at The Tomb of the Unknown Soldier WWII in Moscow


Special thanks to my dearest elder sister Tasneem Nobandla Moolla, whose conversations with me about life as a non-white person growing up in pre and post-Apartheid South Africa prompted me to write this dedication to the countless, nameless South Africans of every colour, whose sacrifices and dedication in the struggle against Apartheid tyranny must never be forgotten.


My sister’s middle name ‘Nobandla’ which is an isiXhosa name and means “she who is of the people” was given by her godfather, Nelson Mandela, my father’s ‘best-man who could not be, as Nelson Mandela was unable to-make it to my parent’s wedding as he was in jail at the time in the old Johannesburg Fort. This was the 31st December 1961.


Details | Verse | |

Inevitable Bear

Oh lonely Inevitable Bear,
Padding claws, death in white
Sorrow in recurring nightmare
Instinct’s test; fight or flight?

Camouflage against the fence,
A challenge; my subconscious fear
Ominous slowly moving silence,
“Let me in, there’s a bear out here!”


Details | Free verse | |

A Departing Memory

I know you.
Candles lit, incense fuming,
You like it when I bite your neck, just hard enough.
Blankets thrown about the room
So recklessly, they refold themselves.

And we roll down a hill together,
Kissing the leaves, tickling with our eyes,
Laughing with our hearts.
"You'll just leave me for the next girl you find."
"Yes," I say. Because only
Nothing
Lasts forever.
And it spills through the cracks in your hands
The moment you grasp it.
Like water from a stone.
She bites my neck
Drawing lines of ecstasy down my back with her fingernails
Spilling into me, fighting my words.
"I leave when the sun sets."




Details | Verse | |

Philosophical Poetry Week: Transient Tuesday

I am a misprint,
Ink blot on love,
I remain a maybe
Longing for fact,
No speck of lint,
A hand in glove.
Thunder; a baby
Will only react

When you etch
Parallel clouds,
Whistling on cue
To a dead town.
Dream a sketch
Of silent crowds
Becoming you,
This boiling crown

Chews thought
Into flagellation.
Holes in the walls
To spy through,
Seeking a sort
Of bricked-up sun.
A heaven of halls,
All leaving you.


Details | I do not know? | |

My Wishes are Simple





My Wishes are Simple


My wishes are simple,
my desires few,

to gaze upon an ocean,
and marvel at a solitary drop of dew.



My wishes are simple,
my dreams not too grand,

to feel the waves teasing my tired feet,
with no footprints left in the cool, wet sand.



My wishes are simple,
my thoughts serenely gentle, calm,

my heart resting beneath a swaying palm,

healing my being, caressed by nature's soothing balm.





Details | I do not know? | |

Tomorrow is Ours



Tomorrow is Ours.


Suffocating beneath the weight of historical fear,
asphyxiated by the legacy of traumatised yesteryear,

the festering wounds of enslavement still remain,
juggling euphemisms in a crisp sound-bitten refrain,

spewing out neo-liberal economic charades,
doling out charity in strips of plastic band-aids,

but,

tomorrow shall be ours,

casting away subservient mind-sets that shackle,
no longer the weakened prey of the insatiable jackal,

tomorrow shall be ours,

we shall reclaim our plundered mindspaces,
we shall shed our chains, leaving behind the traces,

of past injustice, of the hurt and pain of our ancestors' sorrows,

we are here, now, alive with hope,


we shall rightfully claim our own tomorrows.





Details | Prose Poetry | |

Familiarity

What is it to me
that I cannot place you
in the picture painted by the years
the life has already spent?
Do you merely lurk,
and leave at a much later time?
Or, 
maybe
you are staying
because 
    you 
        are 
           meant
                to 
                   stay.

Then,
stay.
If you may.
I pray.
While I find a place (for us)
in the picture of eternities,
the gods must be 
hiding, 
conspiring;
themselves amusing.


Ah, the grand scheme of things -
                            a forgetting.
A familiar spirit we feel -
                            a remembering.     


(Note) This piece was inspiredly written for the beautiful souls - even the 
strangers - I have met along the way and will still come upon in my lifetime. To 
each special one, you have stirred quite a familiar spirit within. A remembrance 
of forgotten past, I suppose. Thank you for letting me peak through your 
soul's window. The veil of forgetfulness has never been thin as now to me. You 
have so given me a gift I shall treasure in the moments I may tend to forget 
who I truly am - a being with a soul.



Details | Limerick | |

Where Did It Go

As I sit here and wonder where did it all go,
  Why did I hurry to get here is something I do not know.
My life has pased by so quickly just a blink of the eye,
  Can't remember all the things I've done or the reasons why.
What was the purpose of this it all seems so insane,
   I'm left with nothing but emptiness am I to be the blame .
Where are my friends and family am I the only one left,
   I guess because of what I've done this is what I get.
This isn't what I was looking for not what I imagined at all,
   There is nothing I can say or do and theirs nobody I can call.
Will it ever become clear to me why don't I understand ,
   Is this that wonderful plan was that God has made for man?
The path I chose to follow always seemed to take so long,
   I'm begining to believe that just maybe that I was wrong.
Thinking about all the things in my life that have come to past,
   Down deep I have always known that they were never meant to last.
So this is what it is like to reach this old age of mine ,
   I'm starting to see that it was never really about time.
Waiting seems to be all there is for me to do these days ,
   Untill the time that light shines bright showing me my way.
Feeling much better now that I have come to see,
  That there was a plan and it was made especially for me.
TAC


Details | Free verse | |

Dimensions

Inside my mind is a paradox when I reminisce about you with my filter off. 
I can speak about you but simultaneously be relating it to all the evils within myself.. 
The ones that I give into and live for.. 
The ones that escape my brain crawling out through wormholes. 
That's when I forget why I even wanted to remember for, tell me what for? 
I want to know why we disguise our emotions
Sweeping 'em under the welcome mat of the front door, kind of hypocritical, tell me what for?
That's what happens when the cadence of your heart meets the agony in my eyes..
Lost in our untimely consciousness.. 
That's what I'm always caught up in. 
I don't have to confess, you can see it on my face.. Adrift in space.. 
Assaulting myself by replaying memories..
How can two things be so wrong, so undone yet wound up in one? 
Reminisce reminisce, stop traveling back in your mind. 
Instead cast the feelings out among the stars, let 'em shine.. 
They float so far, they stay out of sight. But creep back up in the dark of the night. 
What's real shines through.. If ignorance is bliss then I guess I'll make a wish too. 
My little nightlights.. They literally are a piece of mind. 
Because when I'm zoned out I'm seeing my feelings that were lost in time..


Details | Romanticism | |

To Be Apart

Her smile always greets me
As I close my eyes each night
The love in her voice is comforting
With passion, she's burning so bright

A sparkle in her eyes
And a fire in her heart
Let's spend together our lives
Couldn't stand To Be Apart

To Be Apart would destroy me 
Reduce me to the tears
Without her right beside me
All throughout the years

I don't know what I'd do
If I ever had to restart
And oh how much I'd lose
If we were To Be Apart

The most beautiful girl I'd ever seen
With every desirable too
She was everything to me
When we're apart, oh what will I do?


Details | Free verse | |

I lay sleeping

I lay sleeping with eyes wide open,
I lay sleeping with dreams that have no meaning,
I lay sleeping with nothing to dream about.
I lay sleeping with no care and sleep with eyes blind,
I lay sleeping, there with my eyes wide open.

Seeing the dark change from dark to black.
There is no moon, there is no sky
just purple strokes of paint in the sky.
Take that morning dew smell and close your blind eyes.
Smell the morning, that smell that clicks in your mind.
The smell of childhood dreams,
that as an adult never came true.
Sleeping bare in the nude with your eyes wide open.
Thinking of her, as she is five thousand miles away from you.
Wanting to love and hold her, but no use in crying.
Sleeping their with blind eyes in the dark that dances in the light.

Your lamplight turned down low,
as life trickeles down in its nightgown and yawns for sweet slumber.
Tired from longs days, and sometimes long nights,
wanting to curel in bed and close its blind eyes.
Dusk will soon peek its head through the blinds
and awake life to a new dawn.
She sleeps in the morning, and walks at night.
When he sleeps at night, and walks with a bare nude heart in the morning.

Life climbs over yellow mountains,
and meets her fellow compainion
a handsome fellow with broud shoulders and blessed with an ego
as I sleep there with my eyes wide open.
As I sleep with my eyes blind to what life has intented for me,
and as I raise to walk the lone streets at the break of the dew covered lawn
at the first sweet smells of dawn,
I can see life go on with the handsome man
and I blind and wanting to go to bed.

I dream of dreams that have no meaning
Gardens of cluelessness and raging emotions
tare me down and I am confused on which way to go.
Do I stay here and dream away, blind and half awake
as life slaps me across my broad cheek?
Or shall I walk on with life hand and hand
and regain my vision of the world,
Start to sleep with dreams that make sense
and dreams that are made of gold and have no end?
Dream of fancy dreams that show love and happy endings
I would love that, and I would love to walk with life,
but she is out of my leauge.

And my bed is so cozy and I feel like sleeping.
So I shall sleep on more restless night chashing life down.
I lay sleeping with my eyes wide open.
I lay sleeping with dreams that have no meaning.
I lay sleeping waiting for life to come back from the mountains
and lay beside me.
I lay sleeping with hope of regaining hope and salvage
what is left of my spirit at hand.


Details | Free verse | |

What will they say

What will they say of me when I am gone?

An eccentric fool lost in his yesterdays?

A lonely soul locked away in the ancient house

He saved from destruction?

Will someone scavenger through the wastes of my life

The photographs, notes, writings, drawings . . . .

And find some shred of humanity there?

What will they say of me when I am gone?

 

Will our letters be found and read again?

Perhaps some young girl, wide-eyed in awe

Discovering that people really can love

Past the limits of their endurance

Will someone finger your locket 

And wind up your music box

To watch the ballerinas turn and sway

To a melody that once had meaning?

 

Will they wonder about the little things?

Two train tickets from Munich to Milan

Blossoms pressed between pages of a Gibran book

A napkin where you blotted your lipstick

And I saved it because it imprinted you indelibly

Will they assign it all to the trash or fire?

And if the smoke of us rises past the stars

Will you gather it up and hold it dear and remember?


Details | Haiku | |

Memory

takes you back to show
the right track you should follow,
raising its eye-brow


Details | Rhyme | |

The Journey

I am…

The steep steps that you take

Difficult decisions you must make

The dry pebbles in your way

The sparkly rainbows with no grey

The tears that flow from your eyes

Your smiles that light up the skies

The bundles of anxiety in your chest

The sweet serenity that wipes out the rest –

I am…

Every knowledge that is unchoked

When gently probed from minds and books

The graceful movement of the hand

As it draws worlds on wood or sand

Every dream that is yet unfulfilled

And every hurt that was stilled

The multiple incredible expressions of love

That no doubt must have come from above –

I am…

Time; all in future, present and past

Everything that faded and all that will last

The sinking and uplifting realizations that are found

The sharp memories of sight, taste, touch and sound

Every truth you ignorantly thought was a lie

And every lie you failed to turn a blind eye

The ocean of emotions you constantly swim through

That lead to risks you take of things you need to do –

I am…

The intentions you act on, either out of virtue or vice

The road that is frightening and slippery in ice

But I can also be the road that is a breeze

With no fear of falling prey to mind and heart disease

Have you guessed the nature of my identity?

I am simply

the history you write

of your life’s journey.


Details | I do not know? | |

The Petty Posh-WahZee - Liberation and Ostentation



The Petty Posh-Wahzee - Liberation & Ostentation


The Not-So Distant Past:

The fallen fighters for freedom, are unable to turn in their graves,
their battered, fragmented bones, mixed with a handful of torn rags,
are all that remain, a mute reminder of their selfless valiant sacrifice.

They endured brutal Apartheid harassment, detentions without trial,
torture in the cells, and mental anguish when loved ones disappeared,
they left their homeland, to continue the struggle against racial bigotry,
while countless others fought the scourge of white-minority rule at home.

Nelson Mandela and many, many others, spent their lives imprisoned,
on islands of stone, and on islands of the cruellest torture, yet they stood,
never bowing, never scraping, they stood, firm for ideals for which they were prepared to die,

and many, many comrades did die, at the hands of the callous oppressor,
and many, many comrades perished in distant lands, torn from their homes,
while the struggle continued, for decades, soaked in blood, in tears, in pain.


The Present:

19 years have passed, since freedom was secured at the highest of prices,
delivering unto us, this present, a gift of emancipation from servitude,

a freedom to walk this land, head held high, no longer second-class citizens,
in the land of our ancestors, whose voices we hear and need to heed today.

I do not care much for fashion, Lewis-Fit-On and Sleeves unSt.-Moron,
yet the ostentation that I witness baffles even my unsophisticated palate,

our ancestors' plaintive whispers are being dismissed, left unheeded, as
we browse the aisles for more and more, always for more and yet more.

Asphyxiated by the excess of the Petty Posh-Wahzee, we find ourselves,
perched precariously on the edge, of a dissolution of all that is humane,

babies go hungry, wives are battered, our elders left in hospitals for hours,
I cringe as I scribble these words, perhaps too sanctimonious and preachy,

yet I know, deep in the marrow of my brittle bones, I know, I know, I know,
this tree of freedom planted by the nameless daughters and sons of Africa,

needs to be shielded, nurtured, protected from our very own baser impulses,
so that the precious tree of freedom, may bear the fruit that may feed us all,

for if not, then we are doomed, to tip over, and into the yawning abyss, we shall fall.








Details | Ballad | |

Her Face

Her Face was perfection, Still see it everywhere
The beauty in her eyes, Please forgive my stare
Though to confess my love, 
Oh no, I wouldn't dare...
So I'll just keep thinking of her, But it's just not fair

Her Face won't go away, So engrained in my mind
This girl was different, Unlike any other I'll ever find
Oh how the two of us, 
How our lives could've aligned...
So now, to everyone else, My heart is blind

But she'll never know,
Just what I would've done to be with her!
That I'd gladly travel through time and space
Just to appreciate her beauty,
And wake next to Her Face

Her Face comforts me, Holds me tight and dear
Takes me to another world, A new frontier
I'm dreaming where she loves me so much, 
That part is clear...
But as I awake, Just shed another tear

Her Face and her love, I won't ever forget
Lust for her will remain, Lips will get wet
I'll be reminded of her, 
At each days sunset...
And I'll remember everything, From the first day we met

But she'll never know,
Just what I would've done to be with her!
That I'd gladly travel through time and space
Just to appreciate her beauty,
And wake next to Her Face

Her Face is the sunshine, A universal light
With it's soul and it's passion, It was quite a sight
Oh how just to see her, 
Brought me such delight...
But here I am all alone now, Another late night

Her Face will surely lift someone up, With unconditional love
So what will come of me, Can I rise above?
Without Her Face, 
I'm unsure thereof...
Because see, out of my mind, to her, I'll never shove

And she'll never know,
Just what I would've done to be with her!
That I'd gladly travel through time and space
Just to appreciate her beauty,
And wake next to Her Face

Her Face, I see it every night, In my dreams
Where everything will all align, Oh how it seems
We're walking together... 
Hands together, Along the forests blue streams

Her Face ignited feelings, Things I've never before felt
Just got to play the hand, The cruel hand I was dealt
I will always have my writing, 
To continue to dwell...
On a lost love to whom one day, I would've knelt


Details | Rhyme | |

Cure Mine of The Dark

You’ll write a beautiful melody,
If it’s truly from the heart.
So first I’ll find the remedy,
To cure mine of the dark.
But holy light and blind eyes,
Are keeping me apart,
From the answers, to the questions,
that are making things so hard.

Find me a sin,
You think that I wouldn’t commit.
And use it to begin,
To make me laugh again. 
Find me a loose end,
I don’t know how to tie.
Sometimes I wish for the truth,
But all I get are lies. 

I don’t need the good life,
I just want a sliver.
You say always go for gold but I,
I’m fine with a lining that’s silver.
I can live with a just a hand to hold,
But who could love a sinner?
Maybe I can hide inside the dark,
So turn the lights down dimmer. 

I said find me a sin,
You think that I wouldn’t commit.
And use it to begin,
To make me laugh again. 
Find me a loose end,
I don’t know how to tie.
Sometimes I wish for the truth,
But all I get are lies. 


Details | I do not know? | |

The Canvas of Night


The Canvas of Night


Stars like sprinkled sugar,
lay strewn across the canvas of night,


enthralled by the wonder of the cosmos,
my dreams take to the heavens in effervescent flight,


I bathe in the beauty, soaked in sublime delight,
absorbed in moments of bliss, transfixed by the serene sight.




Stars like sprinkled sugar,
lay strewn across the canvas of night,


and my being is infused with feelings of hope,


for even in darkness  I find the sprinkled sugar of hope's light.




note: special thanks to one of my heroes, the late Dr. Carl Sagan, for making science accessible to younger me, many, many moons ago.





Details | I do not know? | |

Where Wild Violets Grow

Where Wild Violets Grow

Scribbling these verses,
caressing your bare back,
simple rhymes,
flowing from my fingertips.


Scribbling verses,
sprinkling odes to fragrant promises,
your smile lightens the burdens,
off my heavy heart.


Scribbling verses,
soaked in countless kisses,
the moonlight waltzing on your skin.


Scribbling verses,
feeling you,
your love never ceases to flow,


through the streams of my mind,
to a place of our own,
where wild violets grow



Details | Lyric | |

Last page, End of story, close the book and don?t look back

As I purge my mind of all the memories bits and pieces that still infuriate me
I remember being on the phone with her in our last conversation
and in the background I could hear what her new boy friend was saying
Threatening to leave and reminding her about the things I?d done  

Then you claimed I had not changed 
You said I was still very angry
I said under the circumstances how would you feel
If the only love you knew was being decided upon a moments notice

No more chasing
No more memories 
No more wishing you?d come back
No more you, no more me
Last page, End of story, close the book and don?t look back

Then suddenly another memory a psychic gave your mom advice  
She said you were going to have to choose between two lovers
But that moment in time had no rhyme and we just laughed it off 
But as I reminded her of that time I could hear fear through a fateful sigh 

then suddenly everything in my mind began to flicker
Like a candle blowing in the wind
My mind my soul prepared to let go
Like an addiction that feeds off the regret

No more chasing
No more memories 
No more wishing you?d come back
No more you, no more me
Last page, End of story, close the book and don?t look back

Another reel of my memory plays
Like sitting in a dark room with a tv on and remote in hand 
Skipping through the channels
And watching each clip

She said I have to call you back 
but I already knew what the answer would be
It was in her voice when that moment became a reality.
She buckled under pressure and I was out of the picture
 
No more chasing
No more memories 
No more wishing you?d come back
No more you, no more me
Last page, End of story, close the book and don?t look back

Our break up was resentful
Unfortunately it was all based on a lie
And for six years she hated me
However she never really knew the truth why

And as one last image begins to float away like a balloon
I see the engagement ring and the party
I see what could have been, should?ve been but is not going to happen
I see you on face book with two kids and an illegitimate husband 

No more chasing
No more memories 
No more wishing you?d come back
No more you, no more me
Last page, End of story, close the book and don?t look back


Details | Free verse | |

Flat Canvas

Flat canvas;

Bubbling brown ridges strike 
The confining dimensions in a hostile yawn: 
Upwards, Outwards.

Walk the world no longer, an ending beckons, 
A precipice builds moments where swallows wager wings 
On new seed: New breeds.
Falling buys the assurance of seconds
From a sinking well. 
Oh well.

Remember us when the globe begins to slip,
Bang drums for our pity:
Our crescendos mean less than meaningless.
And then, when spheres crack, continue 
On the whorl of a thumb, 
Stretching hope to nothing.
Run.


Details | Free verse | |

Staring into Distance

He stares

into the distance of the days,

of those gone and of those yet to come --

he touches no one,

is touched by no one.

Yet noisy commerce

around him flows, constant movement;

but movement without a change of place,

no progress forward, no backward retreat --

an illusion of movement, only.

He sees youths --

with no sense of self --

and leathery crones,

unhygienic vagrants,

no place to go,

assailed by noises --

a repetitious assault

upon the ear and air.

Still he sits,

in frozen semi-trance,

staring always inward,

but also into distance,

sentient and inert.


Details | Rhyme | |

Live To Be Timeless

They say that life is short

With different lengths for everyone 

Some are gone before they start living

And some before they are done


Some live for the day, Some live for the month

Some live to be timeless, and second to none


With a path on each side

Motionless at a crossroads

Not knowing which step

Would lessen the load


Do it tomorrow

Leave it til later

Put it off for now

The stalling gets greater


Some live for the day, Some live for the month

Some live to be timeless, and second to none


How can I live

Without having regret

And be content

On the day I meet death


Tomorrows troubles 

Still far away

Takes away my happiness

And my smiles for today


Some live for the day, Some live for the month

Some live to be timeless, and second to none


Plans that are large

The height of one's dreams

Could distance you from the now

Then the now can't be seen


The night follows the day

As the day follows the night

Try and live in each

Of the moments in sight


Some live for the day, Some live for the month

Some live to be timeless, and second to none


I may be taken tomorrow 

My life could disappear

Not afraid of tomorrow

I'll handle it when it's here


But today I'm alive

And I've overcome my fears

And I'll reach for that star

Every day of all my years


Some live for the day, Some live for the month

Some live to be timeless, and second to none


Details | Free verse | |

Scars of an Inner Child

You are not the man, you want to be
You said you were my Father, till, I discovered different
Enduring, daily beatings
Bashing the living day lights, out of a woman and a child
Repetitive, bad ass attitude, nasty streak
Mean and aggressive!
Fists, knives and guns, your weapons of chose
Out of control, abusive, devious
Relentless, over – bearing!
Breaking me, piece by piece
Confusing a child, with unhealthy love
Hand fed your bullshit, brain washed
Using me as your human, punching bag
This innocent child’s blood, staining your callas hands
My child’s curiosity, asking you one day
“Why do you hurt me and Mum?”
Your retort: “I am not your blood!”
I didn't understand, back then
Now, as an adult, I clearly understand!
Believe me, when I say
There was never a day that went past
That you didn't remind me of that!
My freedom, restrained
My sanity, tested
Caged, like a wild bird in captivity
Behind bars, looking out
 Here, I am today, free from your grip
Nursing, this inner child’s, bleeding love


Details | Free verse | |

Healing mountain

Sitting on a tranquil mountain top
as I do from time to time
looking down at the view before me
listening to the calming silence
to heal my battered soul
and clear my troubled mind.

I look down to the bottom
to remind me
of how far I have come
and where I used to be
The mountain only exists
in my imagination
but I go there when I need
when live's battles get too much
It heals and restores me
once more like before
free from
stress and anxiety.

Peter Dome.copyright.2012.


Details | I do not know? | |

Love Endures

Love floats by,


reaching,
tantalising,
meandering,


tip-toeing past pain,


leaping through walls,
weakening the barricades,


of the most private heart.



Love settles in,


trusting,
searching,
dissolving,


quietly beyond anguish,


erasing the desolation,
soothing a battered spirit,
enveloping the shivering soul.



Love stays, it is true,


love endures, as do you






Details | I do not know? | |

You and I



You and I.


You.

Your heart blazed,
with a warmth of spirit,

soothing,

alluring,

soaked in truth.



Your smile burned,
branding me permanently,

gentle,

tender,

enveloping my being.



Your love was complete,
from the depths of your soul,

unsaid,

yet fierce,

bathed in silent knowing.



Your dreams were poetic,
fluttering in the afternoon breeze,
infused with the distilled essence of rhyme.


I.

I squandered your generosity of spirit.

I vainly discarded your priceless poems.


Now I stand,

alone,

empty,

desolate,

wasting away,

rotting inside, day by day.




Details | Lyric | |

Shattered Sunlight

The memory strikes the day
The darkness comes to play
Where everything I say
Is not enough, my sunlight has to pay

With everything undone
No place left to run
Another bullet in the gun
For all I am; for hiding from the sun

A shadow in my dreams
For years I’ve planted seeds
My presence a disease
My perfect plan, uprooting all I see

The darkness calls my name
Your beauty just a game
Deception born from shame
I can’t give up until you feel the same

My memory of the light
Hopes some day that you might
Run away, before I steal your sight

But memories of my way
Now shattering the day
And I would scream aloud, but only for your pain


Details | Rhyme | |

The Bourgeois and the Spinning Wheel

In a room filled with a solitary red hue
The bourgeois spins a wheel
With no destination, nor need
She will spin until her brittle Hands bleed
Just to satisfy her ennui and artifice
But she does not see - the rien I see
The monster approaching her empty dreams

Spinning still - she does not know
The insomniac rose will begin to grow
The thorn of clandestine and ebony
Ostracized for he began to realize
What lies in nonsense is decadence
Which sparks interest
Who's lover is a dadaist
But his story is over now
As Seth lead the way
A poet dies in dismay

The thorn as she spun penetrated
A distraction and a lack of action
She knew the temptation for she so loved the sensation
Of crass, rebellious - ways 
The thought laid it's seed
In her Gaulish mind it breeds
She has no other need and no regrets
So she proceeds and the smile lets
With full intention and desire
Caring none of her fate that will transpire 
She presses her finger on the thorn 
So now she bleeds knowingly
she did not recede


Details | Rhyme | |

Dust In The Wind


The airborne dust from former tracks
We left in our Life’s Road
Which used to be the evidence
That once we here had strode …

Has all but been blown away
By winds that Progress made
Which ushered in fresh footprints
Now in that dust displayed.

And now … new dust clouds gather
Suspended ‘fore the wind’
‘til once again Progress decrees
They too, shall soon be thinned.

‘tis then when our dust clouds,
Created long ago,
Shall only be a memory
That only we will know.


Details | Free verse | |

Now I Am Free from My Step-parent

A life of beauty and happiness denied, of innocence 
smothered like a flame, I have always lived; but when 
I hear your lovely voice, my Lisa--

now I am free.

I was dead before I even entered into this world, a
place cruel and without feeling, cruel and without 
the love and understanding I finally know in the rich 
harmonies of your voice, my Lisa--

which sets me free.

Before I could even hope to bloom like a sensual
flower caught breathless and naked in the first, rainy
sunbeams of spring a great evil--the threatening, 
inner hostility of a dark figure overflowing with 
bigotry--transformed me into a joyless 

waste of ashes.

From that terrible moment on I fought all the ugly
and horrible assaults as his unwilling possession, a
gladiator in the arena of his constant abuse and 
myriad threats, subject to his occasional hostile 
looks from 

across the dinner table.

But when I hear your voice and imagine its tender-
ness and compassion as an unearned gift meant for 
me despite him and my child-like self-loathing: 

I feel the love and self-worth denied me, taken from
me simply because it was too easy to not rape from 
a child whose only fault was that he was born 

defenseless and
white.

O Lisa! Because of the music of your lovely voice--
now I am free! Free from my years as a gladiator in 
the arena of his constant abuse and attacks; 

free to bloom like a sensual flower caught breathless
and naked in the first, rainy sunbeams 

of Spring again!


Details | I do not know? | |

A Simple Wish

a simple wish...

no fancy words
no more clever rhymes
no more slickly crafted verse

just a simple wish
to cherish the moments
in-between the hue and cry of this life

no more the dull-edged jab
no more the anger and the strife

a simple wish
beyond the wasted hours and the days and the blurry fears

a simple wish
of a simpler life

after all the bitterness of the passing years

and so

to retire from the hustle
to flee from the hollow wasted breaths that have been breathed

to bid the emptiness farewell

while

ushering in the new tomorrow

bathed in the soft glow of hope

and kissing adieu to all the hurt and all the doleful sorrow...


Details | Rhyme | |

The Weeping

And so begins the weeping,
The weeping that comes in waves;
Waves that crash in evening tide
To begin the sorrows fade.
And yet in sorrow I sit,
Melancholy under night;
Night whose air reminds me still
That remembrance is the light.
And who shall be the teller,
The meter for this old song?
Sung in whispers meant for none,
Save for those who may belong.
On air and breeze cries carry,
Yet alone they reach the sea.
And I endure their telling 
As the waves crash over me.

C.L.Baker©2013


Details | I do not know? | |

I Stand, Alone



I stand, alone.

Scratching for my truths,
peeling away the veneer,

I stand, alone, before this
impregnable cliff so sheer.

Cocooned in my solitary shell,
wrenching a smile from a tear,

I stand, alone, a little odd,
and definitely quite queer.

I stand, alone.


Details | Rhyme | |

Life's Tide

As a younger man I walked in dreams
But few turned out, or so it seems
And somewhere in Life’s foray
They got lost along the way

Why were they lost, or where they be
Are inconsequentially
Without substance or even name
With which for me to lay a claim,

Of evidence of thoughts long past
Of lost legacy of fame to cast
My minds footprints of my stride
Washed away within Life’s tide.


Details | Rhyme | |

The Mirror

Sunshine shoots through the windows and fills the house with grace,
Ricochets around the room and finds my weathered face.

Standing at a mirror I see refracted light
On wrinkles, lines and eyes of mine reflected to my sight.

The youth that once looked back at me
Has gone – I know not where – in vain I search the glass, and find: No … it isn’t there.

Instead I see the wrinkles – they are stress of many years
Produced in times of doubt and my unfounded fears.

My eyes see lines and furrows as they track across my face
Hard times are buried there as my eyes complete the trace.

At the corners of my eyes I see: a pair of old “crows feet”
They’re etched there forever from those times my life was sweet.

A lifetime full of memories comes bouncing off the glass
A memory consumes me - as I feel still more time pass.

In the Winter of a lifetime, my memories come to play
Oh, thank God I have them – pray they never go away.

I turn from my glass mirror – that used to be my friend
As thoughts of those reflections I try to comprehend.

My face - it is my diary of experience I’ve had
And then I tell myself: “You know … those lines …
      they really aren’t so bad.”


Details | Sonnet | |

Rev My Throttle

As last rose of summer opens wider
Night is drawing nigh, rose cutter in hand
The rose clipped in its best stage; placed in cider
Jar that was used up, cleaned_now it will stand

Jar of cider was enjoyed long ago
Remember that day on our honeymoon
You were so young with raven hair my beau
We found that road side stand that afternoon

Bought that jug of cider that was so cold
Refreshing after long ride around mountain
So eager for life that we would build_hold
Hold each other_life; wanting to obtain

I clip that rose_place in memory bottle
One memory revs my motor throttle


Details | Free verse | |

Another Night of Dread

It is dark and night outside my window,
and in the soundless, lit confines of my 
room I sit at my old, ivory desk 

cheerless

and anxious with dread for what the rest
of another night may bring.

My ostomy bag, an abhorrent creature that 
hugs precariously on one side of my abdomen,
covers my raw and fleshy stoma underneath. 

Against my desire, the stoma continually oozes  
feces and waste 

like a sewer into the ostomy bag, which, 
every seven days or so ruptures its seal 
and transforms into

a stinking and rancid cabbage

whose fetid odor refuses to stop emanating 
until the entire, offensive beast is immediately 
uprooted from my body.

So, I sit at my ancient, ivory desk, writing 
these cherry-picked words to express

the anxiety and the doldrums 
of another night;  

and the lonely, isolating, embarrassing, humiliating,
ego-wiping, self-esteem killing, mind-numbing, 
soul-shattering, universal, all-embracing, 
omni-present 

stench 

that weekly offends my nostrils and fills my lungs 
because of a thoroughly used-up ostomy bag that 
needs to be removed immediately

like an old, decaying vegetable 
that has outlived its 
freshness--

It is another cheerless night in the same, old
cheerless space: 

the nose-blistering smell, however, is only for 
another night...


Details | I do not know? | |

Do you recall those summer days

Do you recall those summer days?
I was little, slender and less tall
often busy with children plays,
every step close to the next fall.
 
Below the rose tree I would seek
for shadow, perfume and beauty,
and sideways I would just peek
and you… you I would not meet…
 
…because you were not yet there,
So, bid farewell to those memories
no matter how pleasant they were,
We can recollect better histories:
 
Do you recall those spring days,
when we meet on the same dale,
walked the same flowery ways
and were heroes of the same tale? 


Details | I do not know? | |

Distant African Nights

Those Distant African Nights...


1.


The shadows swayed in your candlelit room,

a cool breeze teasing your bare back,


streaks of lightning forked in the Johannesburg night,

as my hands stroked your hair,

kissing your soft mouth,

holding you,

ever so tight.



2.


You whispered that you loved me,

and I kept silent,


the rain fell, 
shadows danced,
thunder rolled,

the breeze teased your naked back,

you whispered that you loved me,
as my lips found yours,

the rain washed over our tender nights,


lightning and candlelight,

etching poems on your burnished skin,


yet,

a fear gnawed at me,

deep within.



3.


We parted ways,
and you could never forgive me, you said,


now, after numberless thunderstorms,

the rain that falls,


echo the countless tears that I have shed.



4.


You are long gone,

far away,

happy, I pray,


yet the memories persist,

those precious moments shall never, 
ever,

like the Jo'burg rains,
trickle away,

and I wish you well,
for loving me as you did,

for it was I who was not worthy,


then,


and it is I who is not worthy,


now...



5.


You were always true,


it was I who always,

always,

refused to,


to give myself,


completely to you.






Details | Free verse | |

Funny Thing About The Yard

It’s always behind or in front

seems it needs a door to get to

never complains when it rains

pleasantly, pets poop & pee

friends & family cross to hug me

my connect out there

in the back and front

it’s what I have now for all the hard

that stretch out there

the yard


Details | I do not know? | |

The Sieve of Time



The Sieve of Time



Cast ashore,
along the banks of time,

whirling through the passing years,
clinging to my futile scribbles set in rhyme,


Cast ashore,
thrust into an unrehearsed pantomime,

clenching slivers of joy as weariness descends,
lulled into a peaceful slumber exhilaratingly sublime.


Cast ashore,
hazily adrift, a dandelion seed on the wings of time,

trapped in the sieve of spiralling memories,
caught between pristine bliss, and reeking slime.


Cast ashore,
flung aside for no discernible crime,

my human heart thuds with elusive hope,
though battered, bruised, and covered in grime,

I stagger ashore, 

alone,

embracing each moment of detached, oblivious time.



Details | I do not know? | |

Without You



Without you,

worn down, weary,
staggering into tomorrow,
dissolving my todays, grim, dreary,

I crawl, slipping out of my skin,
flinging laughter, joy, contentment,
into the gaping abyss of life's dustbin.

Without you


Details | I do not know? | |

Your Whisper

You whispered in my ear,
a breathy secret, hushed.

“I love you”, you murmured.

I said nothing,
lost, in your arms,
I found a home. At last.

“I love you”, you said,
I said nothing,
lost in my thoughts,
I found peace. At last.

“I love you”, you said,
words failed me then.

They still do.


Details | Free verse | |

The Anatomy of What Disgusts

A stoma and a scar 
like the Grand Canyon
form a conspiracy 
against my body. 
The stoma--raw and 
fleshy--looks like a red 
and beefy barnacle on 
my side that constantly 
oozes and drains feces 
and waste like an 
overflowing, backyard 
cesspool. It sickens me.

Near the red and moist 
stoma lies a huge, 
crooked scar on my 
stomach and abdomen. 
It is like the Grand 
Canyon of Arizona--an 
immense displacement 
of the local landscape, 
only instead of earth 
and rock and soil it is 
my skin and muscle 
and tissue that has been 
gouged away. Like my
stoma, it sickens me as
well. Because of them
both, my body now
feels to me like the 
raw anatomy of 
what's disgusting.


Details | Sonnet | |

Kingdom Builders

July 31, 2013



Kingdom Builders

Holy Holy Holy I must say to all.
Long day hard day I am with you.
Hot day cold day it is for me too.
Days months or years you I call.

You have displayed my visual doll.
Multitudes of truth seeds you grew.
Spoken for as spoken words abrew.
I grant you the light in that dark hall.

Never say never!
Never look back!
I am yours forever!
I am with no lack.

I am always the hands of  filters,
Observing my Kingdom Builders.

(C) Copyright 2013  Ann Rich


Details | Rhyme | |

All That's Sure Is the Season

Approaching the winter of my years,
Never yet found my reason.
So much laughter, so many tears,
Yet all that’s sure is the season.

To few, all my days;
So many spent simply breezin’.
Should I regret their waste
When all that’s sure is the season?

What’s it been about anyway?
Perhaps there is no reason.
Did so want to learn the truth,
But all that’s sure is the season.

Always tried to consider others.
‘Tis much easier to be pleasin’. 
How many are my friends?
All that’s sure is the season

Felt the urge to make my mark.
Fame or fortune was my reason.
Fear of failure was my tether,
For all that’s sure is the season.

A man of Christian faith,
Hope God finds me pleasin’.
Fair chance tho’, I’ll go to Hell,
Yes, all that’s sure is the season.

So what of value will I leave?
Hearts and souls I may be teasin’
With too few words too few will read,
While all that’s sure is the season.

Approaching the winter of my years, 
Never yet found my reason;
But thank God for each extra day I search.
Still, all that’s sure is the season.


Details | I do not know? | |

A Chipped Heart

A Chipped Heart...


Dreaming, my heart brittle as glass,
my solitary facade a pitiful farce,

shards tearing out of my skin,
seeking release, from cages within,

I am lost, in the dream,
bellowing out a silent scream,

torn from reality, drowning in the now,
yet I refuse,
I refuse to succumb,

I refuse to bow.



My chipped heart, may be wounded,
wreathed in pain,

still,

I believe, love, truth, belonging,

will take my hand,

again...


Details | Free verse | |

Hmmmm....

So interesting...
I look at my memory sheet 
I sigh
Those words are so.....late
Why did you wait?
What were you thinking....seriously?!
The setting was awkward but... :-)
will definitely be memorable.
I look at my memory sheet...
you struggle for words to describe 
a connection
i hide
painfully i watch you
my moments are few
I look at my memory sheet
hoping that one more line could be added
until there's reason to pull it out again.


Details | Free verse | |

Air Brushing Out Lifes Mistakes

If only I could air brush out
the many monochrome
moments of my life
that have caused so much
damning introspection 
and debilitating self doubt.

No good traveling the same 
old beaten track
I just want to feel good about myself
and put the stolen self worth back
Adding colour to my life
throwing ambient light upon my 
darkest days and nights.





Peter Dome.copyright.2014.


Details | I do not know? | |

She

She

She smiled, gently,
her warmth infusing me,
with a serene stillness of time.

She settled, slowly,
in my waking thoughts,
a soothing balm of simple joy.

She remains, scribbled,
on the walls of my fractured heart,
memories of happiness that once breathed...



Details | I do not know? | |

Illegitimi non Carborundum

Illegitimi non carborundum ;-)


...Staggering, my vision cloudy,


I fall to the hard ground.


when life’s sharp left-jab leaves my face bloody,


and all that surrounds me, is the desolation of loss I feel all around.



I see myself slipping,

down the abyss to where nothingness exists,


still, I cling on, groping for a foothold,

for my will to stay persists.



I clamber up, I stand my ground, though battered and bruised I may be,


my curtain is not falling yet, I have some fight still left in me.



It is then, in the pit of despair, when all seems bleak and painful and dull,


I summon the strength from deep within,


I rise, slowly, to face the day,


I refuse to sink,

to wallow, to surrender, to throw in the towel,


to drown,


for I am stronger now,


indeed I am, after all the years, and all the battles,


I stand, bruised and bloody,


still,


I stand,


I refuse, to sink, to drown,


for they can try, to punish me some more,


but I shall not allow them to grind me down…


;-)


Details | Free verse | |

All To Be Content

TV- you see allot of dumb stuff, 
 you hear their commercials… 
clever, yet they holler, isn't this enough, 
they bombard you with paid infomercials, 

We’ve turned it off, switched to DVD's 
an our computer, xbox came an gone, 
they changed to reality, pushing BVD's 
we collect our movie CDs, too, hang on, 

News is all about current fear 
another device they have in use, 
sure, we want to stay current to hear 
weather, crime, meds, world event news, 

TV, pods an our music is essential 
pageants also game shows, soaps too, 
late night talk, comedy central 
entertainment, see us USA, what we do, 

Also radio will always be here... 
what else will they use, brew or invent, 
what will get us back in our lounge chair 
food, fashion, gadgets, all to be content


Details | Verse | |

Where Bridge Ends


It’s curved arc Speaks to me and remarks Of twilight journeys lost and regained Connecting intersections of choices, flesh- drained From whispers by harlots and saints peeling my vein. As rubber skids along twisted bends I pledge to make amends, Where bridge ends Carly Lalion For nette onclaud's Trois Par Huit 13 May 2014


Details | Rhyme | |

Dearest and Deepest Reflection

I should like to hold you 
For a little while if I may; 
For nothing more than comfort
On this dismal, dreary day.

Locked within these thoughts that spin
Like spider webs in my brain;
Wishing I might see you walking 
Right out in the rain.  

Step by step no doubt you’d let
My weariness fade fast;
Like blackness chased away from light 
As when morning comes to pass.

I’d give up nearly everything 
To see you eye to eye;
To touch your face as we retrace
Sweet memories, bye and bye.

And if I could say one simple prayer 
Or wish upon a star;
I’d pray that you could find me too 
Knowing immeasurably how far.

I’ve let myself go like winds that blow
With no destination or direction;
My life ring and only song that still sings 
Is remembering you 
Are my Dearest 
                         And
                                 Deepest 
                                               Reflection.  


Details | I do not know? | |

Port of Call

Port of Call


Barefoot on a talcum beach,

alone, not lonely,

with the breath of the ocean a caressing balm,
soothing pained memories away,
to the swaying of a solitary palm.


Barefoot on a talcum beach,

alone, not lonely,

feeling the brushing away of all past turmoil,
on a quest for solace, ever so hard to find,
yet comforted by the crashing of the waves,
as the tide cleanses all pain,
and leaves despair far, far behind.


Barefoot on a talcum beach,

alone, not lonely,

drenched in a sea-breeze of mist,
that hushes the ache of bygone moons,
tasting the salty tang on my lips,
as the burnished sun,
over the distant horizon,
swoons,

and dips.


Barefoot on a talcum beach,

alone, not lonely,

searching, ever searching,
for a slice of solitude,
as memory bids a final adieu,
reaching under the sea so vast,
and seeking comfort in the depths,
while embracing,
the tomorrows to come,
wishing that they be true.


Barefoot on a talcum beach,

alone, not lonely,

seeing my truths drown,
as they slip beneath the turquoise waters,

feeling my heart ablaze,
with a passion that rarely falters.


Barefoot on a talcum beach,

alone, not lonely,

yet knowing that I am home at long last,
wishing the waves would wash away,
the defences that once stood,
like an impregnable wall.


Barefoot on a talcum beach,

alone, not lonely,

I have found, at long last,

my final port of call.


Details | Free verse | |

Memories

When all the moments have been lived,
and all the days described
When hope is an illusion, you chase in your dreams,
and time a circle of black and white
When faded pictures guard your mind from forgetting,
will a seat be offered from a comforting hand?
To warm your face, so it may smile
And as you gather fallen leaves from your dreams,
to build a fire to protect from winter's cold,
will you sit by frosted windows, starring into luminous stars?
Reliving a solemn rendering of your life

When all my days are shorn in Autumn
And all the years have shrived
When lasting memories are fused, what deems
Is an hourglass of time's remind
Like faded photographs, safe vouch the mind
Will I sit and proffer from a smile
And such as you will I gather token dreams
And build a fire, to keep from winter's bold
Will I sit by mosic windows and turn them into stars
Reliving a solemn promise, to make this slope, my wife


A poem written by Mystic Rose;
and Frederic Parker
I thank her for her input and kindness


Details | I do not know? | |

Saturday Rain in Johannesburg

Saturday Rain in Johannesburg…


…With sighs of torrential passion,
the heavens shower teardrops,

weeping with me,
as memories of you come cascading back,

skin on skin, ablaze,
moist kisses, fiery,
gentle whispers of undying love, murmured,

in another life, another time,

far removed from my present, a desolate state of despair,
wallowing in the grime.

…

The rain keeps falling,
each teardrop stinging my face,

tasting the salt on my lips,

I wonder, do you still remember the caresses of my fingertips,

between breathy confessions, and vows of eternal love,

before you left me, stranded on an island of solitude,

wounded as a wingless dove,

bereft of life,
stripped of all traces of fortitude


Details | Free verse | |

Weary


I would walk on, and leave it all be-

Hind: will walk on; and when my feet grow

Sore, the boatman waits—his sails are all

Unfurled—he waits to row me to a

Fairer shore. My tired limbs shall rest on

Beds of down, my tears shall all be wiped

By Jesus’ hand; my soul shall know the

Peace it long hath sought—a peace too

Wonderful—ever to understand


Details | Lyric | |

Living Kingdom

A memory coated in blue
Of dire times; a castle of gloom
A basement filled with the buried dead
My throne within, painted in red

My tower gone, I stepped out alone
In to the mist - an attempt to atone
My basement torched, ignited by grief
With monsters dead, I no longer sleep

That kingdom crumbled in youth
The walls I built made enemy of truth
But still I stand, a victim of self
A treasury lost, it was traded for wealth

The silence turned into words
From inner self, out of this world
The mirror’s glass shattered by light
The darkness cleansed, granting me sight

A memory I leave in the past
For what is gone has brought me at last
To a place clear and true
This garden is my kingdom renewed


Details | Free verse | |

My Secret Prison

Trapped again!

Maze hidden cheddar eluding 
every twisting turn a doorway 
to the path I’ve already forgotten
a spirit broken within each hidden cul-de-sac.

I cry.

Depression building my will 
crumbling into fatal despair
that rages with a whisper
as quiet as a hurricane.

I sleep.

I scream at one wall 
HA! HA! HA!
hundreds more continue laughing.
Right! Left! NO! RIGHT! Left! Right! LEFT! YES! Right!

I succumb.

Cheddar thoughts and running 
water sustain my desire to escape
through walls of scent
filled dreams of freedom.

I laugh.

Test complete. Failure.
Should have smelled for Camembert.


Details | I do not know? | |

Mido Macia 1986 - 2013


Mido Macia 1986 - 2013


Mido Macia was a 27 year old Mozambican man, working in Daveyton near Johannesburg as a taxi-driver, who was found dead in a police cell, after police savagely dragged Mr. Macia whom they had tied to their police van.

The brutal incident of Mr. Macia being dragged was caught on camera and has shocked South Africa.

The 8 police officers involved are facing charges of murder, and have been suspended from the South African Police Service (SAPS).

This poem is an angry poem that I felt had to be written, because as a society, we need to ask ourselves and each other the hardest questions about xenophobia and intolerance and violence.





Mido Macia 1986 - 2013


Death came to Mido Macia,
a savage, brutal, hellish death came to Mido Macia.


Death came to Mido Macia,
death dressed-up in the colours of authority,
as callous, vile, sadistic policemen murdered Mido Macia.


The video-footage is blood-curdling,
Mido Macia being dragged,
his hands tied behind him,
to a police van.


But death came later to Mido Macia,
death cheered, clapped, and tore into Mido Macia.


Death came to Mido Macia,
in the cells where they murdered Mido Macia.



Death came to Mido Macia,
a fuelled, cheered-on, instigated death came to Mido Macia.


We are all culpable,
every one of us is culpable,


from racist 'jokes' emailed and texted,
to self-righteous comments about the 'foreigners',


from casual dinner-table conversations,

'they take our jobs',
'they are crooks' 
the 'they marry our women' kind of lunch-time chats,


racist, xenophobic, hate-filled talk,


to beating a human-being to death in a police cell,


or on the streets of Cape Town, Johannesburg ,

and in Daveyton,

where death came to Mido Macia.



Mido Macia 1986 - 2013




Details | Lyric | |

The Time Has Come To Tell The Tale

The Time Has Come to Tell the Tale…

As all stories begin; a long, long time ago many years removed from now
My memory recalls events from the age of two, when the bullets took the life
Of a good man, an honest man, and what would this world need with that? 
We’re built on lies from the foundation up and there is no room for an honorable man
Led by the hand we’re all parts in the play, pieces to a puzzle still unbuilt
We take our pain like the victors to the grave, though our silence must be broken
Unspoken words may rhyme, but will it be enough that you can read between the lines
Grasp the meaning to the vagueness as it is spelled in black and white…

The never-ending trauma of past events that have done far more harm than good
No lesson learned, no explanation ever given, no apologies ever offered or accepted
And the pain again returns to haunt me, because I know things would not be the same
And what difference it all makes now is the battle I continue to fight each day
Few chances given, even fewer taken, so many risks I have never run
Where has loyalty ever gotten anyone, in this day and age where deeds die with the day?
Held back by the inhibitions that were inbred into my way of thinking… 



Details | Free verse | |

Memories

Memories are strong
reminding me how
weak I am
At times they feel
like a lifetime away
tiny pieces of myself
suspended in the 
dulling haze of 
Time
Other times they reach out
and grab onto me
with the desperation
of one helpless and drowning
holding on for fear 
of disappearing forever
into the abyss
I try to run away
but the more I resist
the stronger their hold
on me 
until I am the one
left helpless and 
drowning
Reaching out in desperation
for fear of 
disappearing
Forever


Details | Lyric | |

Static

I'm troubled and puzzled about this life
And why it is this way
Yet I understand sometimes
Why my skies have rain
Why they're partly cloudy
Life gave hurricanes
Not everything about me 
Was the choice of made mistakes


©2014 Honestly JT


Details | I do not know? | |

The Seeds of Acceptable Hate

The Seeds of Acceptable Hate


Between the folds of faith and belief, 

tucked neatly in cushioned corners, 

lie the seeds of acceptable hate.



Through quaint pleasant rituals, 

and joyously hummed words, 

dumbed down thoughts

and dazed faces exude, 

righteous sweetness.



Belief wrapped in glistening foil, 

faith painted in gaudy colours, 

concealing the murmurs of hate, 

of embraced intolerance, 

and welcomed bigotry.



The seeds of acceptable hate flourish in damp fungal minds, 

as indifference flowers into the silence of frozen apathy, 

with blooming petals of finely measured howls of rage.



All the while the ever smiling faces beam with deep pride, 

drenched in all the pious tears they've cried.



And so it is that the viral seeds of acceptable hate 

thrive among the genteel folk that quietly gaze, 

in silence at the slow creeping of the horror.



As more seeds of hate are sown with manic zeal, 

and in the shrieking of this cowardly silence, 

the seeds of acceptable hate, 

continue to thrive, 

and to germinate.


Details | Free verse | |

True Reality

Why is it
I am always wrong?
Something
I have always done?
Why is it
I am 
Never good enough
In your eyes
In challenging times?

How many times
Do I have to say
“I love You?”
What will it take
To convince
That mind 
And 
Heart 
Of yours?

What can I say
That will ease 
This jealousy
And 
Resentment
You feel towards me
When drinking 
Too much booze
Killing what brain cells
Are left
In that stubborn 
Head of yours!

How long 
Will it take
For you 
To believe in me?
For I know
I am a fool 
Staying here, with you!
Feeling desperate
Lost and lonely
Dreams squashed
Emotionally drained
When ‘we’ need to pull together
In union ship
To make 
This bond strong
Between us!

'Uniting as One’'

'Love Conquering All'

“Well!”
“So, I am told!”

I love you more
Than this
Arguing and fighting!
But 
You refuse to understand
The love I have for you

My head 
Tells me to stay with you
But
My heart knows
I cannot!
For
I have asked you 
To be kind to me
I have asked
You to open up 

Your anger and rage
Continues growing
Out of control
Taking over
Like
Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde 
Burning bridges
Being ruthless
Always
Out for the kill!

I need to break away!
I need to clear my head!
I need to experience
Love and longevity
True togetherness
With 
The one’s I love!
My heart needs to experience
‘Healthy Love’
My heart deserves the best!
You now
Belong in my past
I am no longer the person
You once knew me, to be

Your insecurities
Your inner demons 
Far bigger
Than any of the love
You choose to acknowledge 
Or 
Feel from me!

You can believe this 
To be true
If nothing else!

“Love thy self”

Share
Without personal gain
Being 
Your Primary Motive!
Know Love 
Be Love, in Action!

Be honest
Have empathy now
As
I cut these cords
Of emotional bondage
That 
Bind us together 
True Love 
No longer 
Our foundation!

I stand on my own
Knowing
I have learnt the lessons
You have come to teach
I now know
What love isn't!
“I thank you”
For showing me this!

My illusions of love
Blinding me
Colouring my experiences
Revealing
Only what 
'I Wanted Us To Be'
Not
‘True Reality’


Details | Free verse | |

A Hundred Thousand Dreams

Each night you dream in fours or fives
or more, hundreds of dreams a month,
thousands of dreams a year. Yet
you know you've dreamt but a few,
and can scarcely remember those--
where then are the unknown dreams?

Are they hiding in a special place within
your unconscious, that vast part of mind
lying iceberg-like beneath the waves
of the knowing world? Are those dreams
that came alive only in the dark side of
your mind still there, waiting patiently
to be known by your sleeping soul
when it awakens in the real world?

I have lived long enough to have made
over 100,000 of these little home movies--
will I ever get to see them again.


Details | Free verse | |

on memories, the soul and gentle breezes

She has seen so much before Her eyes 
they have lost their sparkle 
She sits in Her chair to watch the hummingbirds 
flit and sip at the bird feeders She has prepared 
She has made those for years 

i remember sitting with Her and talking 
about boys and schoolwork 
and how beautiful the hummingbirds 
sounded as they zipped past the screen door 
we know they will return 

Her taste for pecans never 
prevented Her from collecting them 
off Her land for pies and candies 
Her legs hurt from walking too long 
how i miss picking pecans with Her 

as i grew time was lost 
and i visited Her less and less 
with regret i think of 
all the talks and fun and laughter 
while we canned fruits and jellies together 

i wish i could bring back those years 

the summer before i was married 
we talked of love and happiness 
and i was privileged to know how 
Pa and Ma met when she asked, 
"Do You Believe In Love At First Sight?" 

we stayed up 'til morning talk of 
mike and how She believed he was an 
angel and how She met her first husband 
and the birth of mimi, i know She has 
always love me 
i am Her pride and joy 

She has lived a long life that was hard 
but worth it because She has produced 
a wonderful family 
that babies Her in Her old age 
oh, how She hates that 

She talks about Her last days as if 
tomorrow Her soul will take flight 
and wonders why God hasn't sent for Her yet 
perhaps She is not done 
or He wishes Her to see something precious 

i wonder if it is for me (how narcissistic) 
to see my wedding or the birth of the daughter 
that will carry Her middle name 
She cried when i told Her that 
but that's how much She means to me 

i vainly pray that She will live long enough 
to see these things that are important to me 
when She will be able to hold 
with Her middle name 
Her great-great-granddaughter, LEE ellen 

now She sits in her rocking chair 

watching the hummingbirds 
Her soul takes flight upon a gentle 
breeze that carried Her far away in time 
when She could pick pecans and can jellies 
when She and Pa met 

or when Her children were born 
i know many stories from Her past 
and i am proud that i am the only one 
that has taken the flight with her soul 
on one of those gentle breezes


Details | Sonnet | |

My Darkest Childhood Memory

My void is the darkest penetration of childhood.
No memory at all before age of six so fair.
Thine memories might have been bad or good.
Mine has no glimpses, or comparison to share.
Thou shall say this may be a blessing so sweet.
Though my mind has no distinct recall to meet,
No shape of any kind, only fantasy for retreat.
Whilst I travel onward, I am lost in defeat.
My darkest childhood memory is none at all.
Mystery of things I have missed or recall.
I live on in the shadows that make me whole.
I waver on the balance of what does console.
This mind and soul with a spirit that will seek,
Diligently answers for future, my past is weak.


Written for


Sponsor Walayee Whitlock 
Contest Name My Darkest Childhood Memory 


Details | Free verse | |

Rained Filled Clouds

Rain filled clouds are what follow me now ,
No sunshine for me these days and smiles are not aloud.
My sight is blurry now and can't listen to what you say,
It was you who has caused this and why I am feeling this way.
Hold on tightly now It has been the ride of my life ,
But somehow it slipped away like a thief in the night .
How did I not see it so plainly writen on the wall,
Never in a million years did I expect to lose it all.
But here I am standing with my back  turned away,
For I can not face the sadness you brought me this day.
Why has this happened to me and just what will I do,
Shell of a man in a life that was suppose to be spent with you.
It's over now and it's all becuase of you 
I just cant see  theres anything you can do .
 Blinded by the love  for you never a  reason to doubt,
So quickly I learned howI will be going without.
 The warmth of a love you brought to me ,
 Now I will live without what was meant to be .
You were always a a part of the world I've grown to know,
Now that your gone the sadnees in my face will forever show.
These cloudy days bring me nothing but pain,
My life forever will be only me standing in the rain.
TAC


Details | Free verse | |

Beyond the nettles,

there is a pond where the water lillies grow
and children weep for their youth,
the silent forces that make the moth
to pebbled thought entombed
in the shifting light of its bed,
and Nowhere is a feeling.

Remember the morning of the bird,
the obscured pane,
where nature died at once, and slowly
even kisses were sharp and revealed
some secret like a moth-wing in a book.

It is here you recall the thing everyone knows,
or pretends to know.


Details | Free verse | |

High-Reaching Hope Leading Destructive Despair

Being Near
It is impossible to say what Feeling is Stronger
Attraction
Nervousness
Paranoia
Or just wanting to wrap thou in an embrace for all the comfort that wants to be shown unto thee

This meager attraction that has sprouted dwindles by what you see in another
This case seems to be always present throughout these experiences
A sheer passing of Anxiety courses through when near this conduit of feeling
Of course, even at the Genesis of these feelings it was known what they were
Now, it just grows and threatens to burst at the seams

Ever expanding with every passing memory,
Every possible moment that could take place between the two
Every Glance in this dangerous direction

The Memories
How they haunt and stretch the Hopeful side
Leading to a fantasy that cannot take root in reality
Even if the seed has been planted
The Watering will never occur by both
In the same degree,

The Paranoia is perhaps a more pressing matter
Leaving this dreamer to wonder if their feelings are right in their place
Or just a calamity that is sure to follow these rushing tides of sensations
When your eyes are averted in a more hopeful and dreamy direction
When a more realistic approach is so near

Alas, I find myself in a pattern
Something that has become most vexing
This newfound desire seems much more realistic than the last few
Although, saying that fuels a Hope that should not have, perhaps, ever been allowed to be conceived
However,
With the progression of things these past few moons
That possibility of Hope growing is Becoming More
And More
Inevitable
With it, comes an even greater chance of Despair
That has ever been known 
By this poor stricken soul...



Constructive Criticism is welcomed for this, as well as suggestions that might want to be made.
Please and thank you!(:


Details | Rhyme | |

Where Frozen Embers Still Burn

To the first degree some embers still burn
chilled by harsh breathed words
Smoldering for a length of time
until a bought lesson is learned

To the second degree some embers still burn
iced as events go unchanged
Seething anger builds up within
until the release point is learned

To the third degree some embers still burn
freezing in remembrances hand
Simmering thoughts, ...unresolved,
until the “letting go of” is learned

To the fourth degree some embers still burn
frozen fresh in memories churn
treasured cinders held within
these are the embers love earned


Details | Free verse | |

Once Here Now Dead

Once here
Now dead & gone
“What am I known for, this time round?”
I exist only as a memory now
A memory that fades, over time
“Who will remember me, when I am gone?”

No one knew me
Yet people will say they knew me, so well!
A laugh, how often people think “they are experts”
Yet, really
Know nothing at all!

“How well did you know the inside of me?”
For, if I was to ask...
“What is my favourite colour?”
Or, “what’s my favourite song?”
I listen for answers...none come

“What’s my favourite food to eat?”
Complete silence...
I could hear a pin drop
Round...about...now!
“Do these questions fall upon deaf ears?”
For I ask...

“Who truly knew me?”
“What am I known for?”
“Who will remember me?”
When I am dead & gone


Details | I do not know? | |

An 02h00 Scribble

a 2:00 AM scribble...

'twas but a lifetime ago
when she floated as if in a dream

when the whistling winds
called out her name

while the truth was revealed
of her love supreme

she walked into the barren landscape of my world

and carved-up an exclusive place

excising the pain as the standard of love fluttered in the breeze once it was unfurled

she walked into the solitary vacuum of a heart rendered mute

instilling in that heart a passion that became impossible to refute

a passion blazing with renewed belief

with solitude consigned to the shadows

and despair shunned into the night like an scurrying thief

her touch was gentle, her manner warm and light

her love an endless sea of possibility

washing up against the shores of my moonless night

and when that burst of colour came through

like a dozen rainbows in the monsoon twilight

her face like a revelation shone

as I silently, in awe, gazed at that miraculous sight

and though a lifetime ago it seems

she regularly dances between the cotton-wool clouds of my dreams

and she infuses my each and evey moment with a love so strong

that effortlessly soothes me knowing that I belong

in the haven of her warm embrace

as I gaze lovingly 
at her wondrous face

and into those eyes that pull me closer into the ocean of desire

while my spirit soars up into the heavens, ever so higher

it takes but a moment with her to know

that these feelings shall prevail

for they diminish not, as they continually grow

spawning a paradisical garden of emotion and love

and being entwined in her arms seems like a gift from above

for here is where I always hope to be

anchored safely by her side, and not adrift in the emptiness of the vast lonesome sea

so allow me to thank thee
for the lifeline you cast as I lay drowning in thought

and for being the treasure trove of love that I have always sought

so stay well, sweet one
and remember me once or twice in a moon of blue

and know forever that these scribbled words

are deeply felt and forever shall be, eternally true...




Details | Free verse | |

i found you in a memory

my logic is circles
fragmented thoughts become rounder
french painters judge your symbolic statement
you freely seek God
but deliver us temptation you request
interpretation is healthy, even pleasurable
attraction leads you from tragedy
to where you start reclaiming super powers
you say adolescence and feel off-limits
your innocence possessed wild love
songs of nature you heard
so vividly intense
dreams fooled by social masks
darkness is to drink quietly
blackness and bright lights are a mystery of unknowns
empty silence can recharge you
question the impressionist
evaluation is a big old mess
pursue inspiration by hunting goals
urban dictionary is absolutely genuine
sins are just voyages across
hundreds of remote landscapes
kiss those who helped you
and compose crazy love letters
paradise is a vulgar vision 
for those who fish in perspective
fate can’t fix the big old mess
remember?


Details | Free verse | |

Remnants

The house now quiet, the family gone.
She looked down into her hands resting on the table top
There lay the  remnants of her life.
The scars and pains of another time
The mark of the cut made on her palm
from the baby food tin when she was thirty.
Her bitten nails torn and ragged.
She smiled at the little pains and pleasure there.

There on the back of her hand a little blood 
from a careless scratch from her youngest's new dog.
The knuckles swollen  and painful.
from the years Splitting fish at the fish plant.
How many fish had she reduced to food?
Was it now the other side of the ledger, the fish seeking pay.

Hints of psoriasis on the backs of her hands 
The worry of  that, all that, all her life. 
The first diagnosis when she was seven.
the pain and shame of it as a girl and woman.
Oh how she used to cover herself.
How she wanted to be beautiful for him.

The black ink stains from her leaky pen 
on her writing fingers.
They told of all the lists that she had made 
of food and household stuff.
 And, she paused, the poems too 
Her poems, how they pour from her, 
and completed her, filled her
with aches and delights.

she smiled gently then at 
the smell of the gentle cream
 that she put on her hands today
after she had washed her 
oldest daughters newest baby.

The rings that marked her love, 
she heard him in another part of the house.  
The engagement ring received
the day she went to his bed.
the wedding ring she saw 
the day they married. 
Should she have worn white.
That day it rained and rained
and she was so happy.
forty years since those raindrops
and that ring had been made

She looked deeply at her hands
and could not see the tears that had fallen there
Tears for her first baby gone
tears for the worry and fears of a good life

He came into the room 
and walking by He touched her.
never a word said as he went on into another room.
She raised her head and watched him
and smiled deeply at his back.
She was happy.

Paddi march 15 Dec 2013.
#6 visual
Sorry its too long but it wanted to be longer than 22 lines. 
so I expect it to be Disqualified but I wrote it for  your  "with these hands"
So, anyway, thank you for the idea, I am pleased with what your prompt produced.


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Mind Mapping

My heartbeat echoes a motionless metronome
With only an offshore wind to bring it back home
Inside my mind the weight of my thoughts drone
At once setting the mood the moment the tone

Tracing every wall branding every surface with marks
This is no longer the sheltered haven where my mind parks
I try recall what sent us out of orbit & led us astray
Dunno however this is no longer a place of innocent play

I search for tracks paths previous passages routes to take
The intricate webs stilts steps the uphill journey I make
All the while the library vault is empty overdue & archived
This all had happened long before by the time I had arrived

And all in the silence standing dizzy & still steadily spinning
I asked implored and prayed fervently to karma destiny & fate
To stop the cycle the story & take me right back to the beginning
At once right now hurry hasten & do this before it is to late


Details | Rhyme | |

A Million Miles From Home

Time is a lot like distance
When a memory is concerned
The older we get the further we are
From the things that we once learned

One more day is another mile
From the way that we were taught
The priceless time when we grew up
A memory that can't be bought

The day we finished high school
We thought that we were grown
One more mile and another day
As we set out on our own

Then the day that we got married
We would walk a few more miles
Another day and further away
As we faced out troubles and trials

Time is a lot like distance
Every second that we roam
It slips away a little each day
'Til were a million miles from home



Details | I do not know? | |

SSRI's and I

SSRI's and I ...


... the sounds of thoughts clattering, my neurones sparking,
like Dylan said, my morning recedes jingling and a-jangling,

worn down by this leaden knot, tearing my insides out,
the cacophony drowned in a whisper, lost in a silent shout,

dreams and screams scratching the back of my dry throat,
caged in, liberation hovering like a mirage beyond the moat.


I claw my way, slowly, through a thicket of solitude,
feeling my emotions peeling, stung by unseen nettles,

crawling to an open field, to rest, beneath a sky ablaze with stars,
as my mind glides, brushing the soft grass as it peacefully settles ...







Details | Free verse | |

Waiting on That Call

If only I could kiss u as many times as I shed a tear last night.
I wish i were older. I wish people would  realize we are just two lonely kids trying to find a way in this world. I hope when the time comes for us to meet again we don't regret a thing. We will work out perfect we won't have to make anyone happy but ourselves. But for now, goodbye. I hope your life is as fun and amazing as you have made my life these past few months. I hope your successful, and I hope you find someone who loves you as much as I do. I hope you are happy in everything you do. Anyone who is yours is really lucky. Just know that when you need me to keep our promise, to find and fall back in love with each other, I'm where I always said I would be, waiting on that call, and on that day my life will be complete.


Details | I do not know? | |

For Dr Martin Luther King Jr

For Reverend Dr. Martin Luther King Jr.
 
You had a dream
of pastures of peace
where children of all hues mingled like rainbows
 
they silenced you, but your voice
resounds now in those pastures
not yet of peace
 
and your dream is still a dream
the dream you dreamt while others slept
 
you said that you’d been to the mountain-top
and they silenced your voice just then
before your eyes saw that promised land
of pastures of peace where children of all hues mingle like rainbows
 
now your vision is glimpsed in some pastures
not yet of peace
and yes, they silenced your voice
but your spirit their bullets could never tear apart
your spirit, like your dream
is mingled with the wind in all those pastures
not yet of peace
and until we give life to your dream
those pasture of peace
where children of all hues mingle like rainbows
shall remain simply your dream
so as we remember you today
and pledge that those pastures of peace
are nourished first in each of us
for only then will your dream will take root
and blossom into our shared dream
and the view from the mountain-top,
radiant and bright and full of hope shall seem
 
where children of all hues mingle like rainbows
 
 
 
 


Details | Rhyme | |

A Memory Sat In The Corner And Wept

A memory sat in the corner of my mind
And silently wept
For the moment it feared has arrived, 
The dreaded moment when
It finally aged, pointless and hollow, 
A fabric of mind worn-out and yellowed; 
And in so doing exhausting the thrill, 
Those old anticipations and pleasures lived
When revisiting.

Tomorrow the final, lonely walk shall dawn, 
Inevitable, towards oblivion, 
Towards where the memory shall expire
As silently as it now cries; 
Where all its traces will disappear
Even in brief waking-hour dreams.


Details | Rhyme | |

Old Red

Old Red

Old Red woke the world as blazing sun was about to rise
 he was the world in a young child's tender heart and eyes
Sweet are those memories of Old Red 's many escapades
 his chasing away our loved Tomcat on his many little raids

Each day we needed not any old blaring electric alarm
 for Old Red was there doing such fine duties on our farm
The hens he kept so very safe, free from any great harm
 he was loved for his call, beauty and so very great charm

My Dad gave him , a little chick as a very special gift to me
 a most sweet morning that was, a future great love to be!
Over the next six years both our loves did so happily grow
 Old Red was exceptional and did truly my great love know

Everyday, I doing my chores and I kept him quite well fed
 nightly I journeyed forth to check him before going to bed
Locking up, protecting my Red from predators so very bad
 every morning hearing his blaring call so very, very  glad!

A young boy of eleven woke to a sad and fateful event 
 Old Red was about to find his last earthly hours spent
Dad had seen Old Red's duties were not quite up to par
 time to do his duty send Red to a kitchen not so very far 

Having slept late , quickly did I jump up from my bed
 racing outside to greet my very sweet friend Old Red
Only to see Old Red about to be cut so very, very dead!
 down came the axe and quickly off came my Red's head!

Dad spoke, son you knew this would some day have to come
 that sooner or later Old Red would a family meal become
Then it struck me, all things must eventually go their way
 Old Red, my great friend, was never meant to forever stay!

So long ago , now both my "Reds" are so sadly passed away
 both in my memories are so loved , each in a very special way

Robert Lindley, 06-21-2014

I got "Old Red" when I was only 5 years old , lost him six years 
later at eleven years old. Lost my Dad only four years later. Life is a 
blessing but in it we lose so many things we dearly love.
Losing a mother, father or child , absolutely nothing hurts more!!!
Sadly, I lost my father far too soon and two newborn infants as a 
very young married man.
So very , very blessed to still have my mother!


Details | I do not know? | |

Night

night falls
wounded by the days' plight

night consumes
all the hopeful fractured splinters of light

night recedes
into its desolate lair

night extinguishes
the roaring furnace of despair

night hides
from a bubbling desire reaching out to feel

night flees
leaving the jilted to bow down and kneel

night soars
breaking the chains of isolation

night rots
in the cellars of time's vacuum of desolation

night devours
the travails of the day that has past

night mends
the wounds that once were doomed to last

night returns 
faithfully as the day must retire

night settles
the doomed voices that mutter and conspire
night consoles
the weary mind and the restless heart so torn
night placates
knowing that night itself is darkest just before a new dawn

so

night freezes
all snapshots of the passing day

as

night embraces
the new while the old simply fades away


Details | I do not know? | |

This Deserted Street

...walking down this deserted street

on rock-hewn shards tearing into blistered feet


the journey may be arduous and so very long

and the will may falter, the resolve may at times feel less strong


but the journey proceeds ever on

waging battle after minor battle, while the war of attrition rages on, never to be won


the destination, the culmination of the tortured soul's journey may never be attained

yet the spirit is infused with the strength, that from bitter lessons have been gained


thus the walk continues, the ceaseless trudging through this at times meaningless life

in joy, in misery, in the short moments of abundant plenty, and in the cold times of wretched strife


so it may come to pass on some distant, faraway day

when under the ground, in ashes we may lay


what then is the consolation of things accrued and possessions kept

when into this earth we shall return, to sleep like we have never slept


so picking up the pieces from here and there

the good, the bad, each one to share


and then leaving this realm to finally depart

back to the place where the whole saga may once again start


thinking not of morbid thoughts, no, none of this is that way meant

merely grasping the moments left, and in grasping them, to pause and think on how wisely they may be spent


for once the end knocks as it shall inevitably upon the door

and once the theatre of life's curtain drops to the stage floor

the grand truth may be something beyond what these eyes can see
yet the small truths may be the release that eventually set the caged soul free...


Details | I do not know? | |

No More This and That

...no more this and that as
the sweltering pain distills empty chit-chat

in the clarity of the dawn
while blinded lovers fawn

the words that are spoken are mostly broken

meant not in truth but merely as a consolation token

of placating shredded hearts with lie upon lie

while weaving tales high up in the unreachable sky

torn and twisted truths clung onto so tight-fisted

but as the smoke clears the truth sears

through the gurgling blood flowing down the years

and after hour upon hour of salt-drenched tears

while long suppressed fears springs forth and reappears

as feelings shift gears and as it all in a flash disappears

and though yesterday was gentle and the passions elemental

today its all just slipped away

beyond reach of even tomorrow as emotions faltered and began to sway

and so wrath wraps itself in doleful cloth

silently despising all movement yet resenting all weary sloth

wheezing past the denizens of the glorious ivory towers

seated on fences that expose all defences

stripping away the layers of dismembered senses

and in the end the one that breaks is the one that refuses to bend

to yield and lower the mock shield

stamping its bitter verdict inside an emptiness that is within a vacuum sealed

so awaken to the realisation that all that was has been forsaken

while idle moments seem ripe to be taken

through thick and thin and the bluster and the din

of feeling the agony of being kicked in the shin

and cast aside, off from the always treacherous ride

with nowhere left to go

and no place safe to hide...


Details | Free verse | |

The Visit

11:21 PM 9/27/01                         The Visit

I sit in splendor amongst the sun
Of an afternoon sky

Surrounded
I look below to see the stones
Skyward proud they stand

Some I know, most imagined
All the quieter now

Deer travel the fringes here
Off to the East a bit
Never to offend these resting souls
Passersby in life

In a moment of silence I sit......
Remembering 
How precious life can be

How voices no longer heard
Can resound within the soul
Lighten the sky in brilliance
Form clouds in shapes of love

Me in the afternoon sun
And you in my beating heart

A reflection of the day










Details | Rhyme | |

What I Gave

What I Gave
Dr. James E. Martin
©June 28, 2014

Many have given much in service to this land
Though some perhaps thought it not very grand.
I never really quite understood
How service to country could be considered not good.

I for one gave much of my life
Even after meeting my supportive wife.
Thirty eight years, as a matter of fact
If possible now I’d similarly react.

Question my motives if you will
I’ll remain proud of my service still.
The Air Force certainly served me well
There are many, many stories I could tell.

It was there I grew to be a man
All according to God’s great plan.
Now in the sunset years of my life
I reflect on these years with no inward strife.


Details | Rhyme | |

Echoes of the Heart

They Come Softly in The Night
Some in the Light Of Day
Sometimes I welcome them
Others don’t Come to Stay

They Flicker in And Out
Not causing too much pain
Like a shadow dances
In the wind and rain

Time and Age Has Cured Me
From the Heartaches I’ve endured
But I remember all of them
Of that you can be sure

At Last I’ve found a certain peace
From times I was broken apart
I’ve even given them a name….
They are just the echoes of my Heart




Details | Rhyme | |

Driving Through Yesterday

There's still light down this glistening black road,
a path to travel with the moon shining by my side.
Much like my own way, for some time greatly shadowed -
and yet something shows the way for this quiet ride.

The steadfast celestial guardian ever watches me,
even when its face is hidden by time's flow.
'Twould be the only light by which I could see,
if not for the headlights' soft glow.

Pensiveness seems to be the rule of the drive -
sound is muffled, like it's not allowed entry
on these heavy thoughts through which I strive;
that silver disc, as ever, a silent sentry.

That sound tires make on a road that's just seen rain,
the tiny taps of the drizzle dampening the way.
The red lights in the distance, now moving to a new lane,
the dawn coming far off, yet heralding another day.

The weight of the past in the passenger seat,
showing different faces from my history.
I wonder as I see one in particular on repeat -
when you're alone, do you think of me?

This way comes the inexorable march of that dawn,
and still night's orb watches as I'm vexed by she.
A grey sky overlooks, as one query I yet dwell upon -
when you're alone, do you think of me?

I shake my head as if to dislodge these thoughts,
eager to continue this drive's long quest.
If that's to outrun, or untie, these kind of knots,
I still as of yet cannot truly attest.


Details | Rictameter | |

PRECIOUS


Precious Oyster unfolds Revealing a unique Perfected pearl of sapphire blue As memories of you lie deep within A hidden treasure of the past Concealed in my soft heart A flawless love Precious © Kim van Breda- 20 October 2014


Details | Free verse | |

OLD MEMORIES

  
 How strange it is, parts of our minds hang about in youthful stasis enclosed in these ole, aging bodies, wrinkled like elephant skin. Like poems, forgotten, hidden in compartments of an old roll-top desk. These long held memories open many small drawers replete with remnants of long ago dreams ensconced in the crevices of yesterday’s warm moments. Joyful recollections cuddle comfortably in the recesses of my mind.  

 I pull out a folded piece of yellowed, brittle paper and read weathered, faded lines written decades ago, but they’re still fresh, as a field of Texas Bluebonnets dancing in the hot breeze in the month of May.
 
 Reminiscing about those long lost sunny days brings back the warmth when the furnace is down, as today, making my ole bones creak and crack between yawns of sluggish denials. This house feels like an ice cave and holds no good memories. With the furnace on the blink, I go outside into the freezing cold, scarf wound round my neck, wheelchair bound to the library to warm up.
 
 A sharp, sudden wind hits my face and a remembrance of yesterday’s bitter breezes coming off the bay stuns me. Forgetting the cold, I reach into the archives of my memory again and find fragile pages with heartfelt words, but they don’t bring back the sunrises of my yesterdays. The words only bring tears of regret for the many years that came and went as quickly as my youth. 

 Expectations of a happy future are folly now as
time is not on my side or 
a friend I can count on.


Details | I do not know? | |

Vacuum

Callously discarding,

talismans of heart and soul,

hastily scorching all bridges,

in a supernova burying me whole,

retreating into emptiness,

no salvation to be found,

sins too many to absolve,

drowning, in a freshly
dug hole in the cold ground.

Hollow, empty, barren desolation closes in,

asphyxiating me,

within the walls of my dismal room,

sinking into the abyss,

disappearing, fading, lost forever,

inside an emotionless,

vacuum


Details | I do not know? | |

Tossed Away

Someone ground me up and buried me
Alive with the memory of the person
I thought I was
There are parts of me that still scream
In hopes of being recovered
Someone tore open the pocket of my heart
And let secrets like severed curls tumble
Helplessly to the cellar of my soul
I couldn’t find them in that thick unyielding
Darkness and so I ceased to know
Who I was supposed to be
I couldn’t salvage me not the way my mother
Salvaged the curls of my hair when 
I asked to cut them
How she suffered and mourned and finally just kept those light and fragile
Fragments of myself
Someone cut me short
I wish I could recall a face
My clearest memory is of the pain
And the disgrace I don’t remember anymore
Who I’m supposed to be
I can’t climb out or recuperate
I can’t remember how I’m incomplete
I’m severed and I’ve been tossed away
I still look for myself…..
One day I will run across it once again
I look and wait but never believe that I will 
Ever meet my full recovery


Details | I do not know? | |

MEMORY OF AN AMIGO

The twinkling stars are over my head,
The shimmering sand is my bed,
The shooting star’s flare,
Does not bring me a nightmare,
But arouses the memory of an amigo,
Gone into oblivion long ago!

The light and colour,
In the open air,
Of a chilly polar night,
Bring me delight,
And arouse the memory of an amigo,
Gone into oblivion long ago!

On the moonlit night,
Calm and bright,
The dancing polar light,
Dazzles my sight,
And arouses the memory of an amigo,
Gone into oblivion long ago!

Reveling in Nature’s delight,
I am a ‘blithe spirit’!
Yet why o why? I know not,
Arises in the mind a somber thought,
That arouses the memory of an amigo,
Gone into oblivion long ago! 


Details | Lyric | |

Goodnight, Year of Change

Snow whispered unto me
"Nothing remains static"
Yet I remained completely still
While I shoveled the snow away

Second month frozen gave way to warmth
From passion, from anger
From a wealth of confusing events
And spending it all in a volcano

Burnt out in the cold
I shelved my axe once again
Stuck down in a rut
I let the melting snow sail me home

The new leaves bravely sprung to life
As I let the breeze take me wherever
All bent to my will
As the ending of something great came upon me

I waved my savior goodbye
Setting out back to home
Returning to the promised land so shortly after
To while away my time in peace

I waved my lover goodbye
As she flew far out over the sea
And as my body fell apart
I demanded ever more from it

Everything fell apart
Bedridden and heartbroken, I cried alone
Oh, how I wish I could have cried
Oh, how I wish I could have died

Back on my feet again, huh?
I spent the month as I spent the last
But with hope instead of despair
With a spirit formed from thin air

Back in the saddle again, huh?
In my absence, I became a legend
With a lack of self, I fell to despair
I couldn't bear to fall again

From the grim jaws of death, I found hope again
I watched the winds of gray paint my world red
And yellow and brown
As the leaves began to fall again

Freezing once again, I went back home
In the car of someone I didn't know
In the happy memories of someone I'll never know
Or ever choose to see again

A despairing year's hopeful ending
As everything I see before me crumbles and rusts
But I see the color between the gray
Even if no one wants to see it that way


Details | Blank verse | |

Passing Through

Sometimes as time slips by as usual
And results are accepted  as usual
I find myself watching myself in despair
Knowing that everything 
Is untouchable as usual back there
Oh to reach back in time
Catch a memory taste the
Sweet sweat salty smell of
Childhood’s bubbled innocence 

Some lives are made of missed moments
Suppressed desires, lost opportunities
Drifting together on unseen sunsets
Until looking back is insufferable
And finally,  late, as usual 
One lives for the moment.
Looking at tomorrow
Expectantly
While making today worthy 
Of memory 


Details | Narrative | |

The Night of the Moon

It's the night of the moon
and though it's not in my sight.
The magic will be here soon.
The full moon takes the stage tonight.

I feel as low as the tide. 
The dark clouds set the tone.
Watching waves and sand collide.
I walk the beach all alone.

The clouds are fighting the sun.
They can't keep the bright light behind.
Sunset and beauty become one.
Doubt and hope crowd my mind.

Brilliant hues of orange,pink,and red
contrasting with clouds dark and gray
The sun paints a picture before bed
and then takes the painting away.

Splashing way out there in the sea.
Winking stars playfully laughing out loud.
I wonder,how this can be?
The night wont carry a cloud.

Where have all the clouds gone?
They've been plucked out of the sky.
The battle with the sun was been won.
I question not how, only why?

There's a bright glow in the west.
The curtain goes up for the show.
Dancing lights on the water are next.
Slowly rising the moon seems to grow.

Sometimes it's such a spiritual thing.
When nature reveals what it can truly do.
I can almost hear this moon sing.
So extravagant, it must be alive too.

My memory goes back to a time.
When the moon stole the show like this. 
I was with a girl that was so fine
and remembered that,that night we kissed.

But my memories are what had me down. 
I can't remember too many good.
There was the clouds at sundown
and suddenly I understood.

If I only kept good thoughts in my minds eye
and make all the bad ones just finish.
Maybe then my thoughts wont seem to magnify
what my memory can't seem to diminish.

Out with the bad thoughts in with the new. 
I'll fill my head with good memories only. 
But it seems that there are so few
that my thoughts might just get lonely.

That makes a smile come to my lips
and I wonder, did I just laugh out loud?
I watch enchanted as the moon slips
across the sky without a cloud.

My mood has changed I realize.
I knew I felt that pull.
Now I know hope never dies.
Hope lives in a moon this full.


Details | Free verse | |

Hanging By A Moment

hanging by a moment 
one tiny fraction of time 
yet immeasurable
in it's value, incalculable

a moment after a few drinks 
late, grab the keys, out the door 
life flashes before your eyes 
someone dies, just a moment

left hanging 

the moment you said goodbye 
to what would be the love of your life
your dreams reflecting the cost 
decisions, unchangeable

left hanging 

the moment you gave up your dreams 
settled for mediocrity 
where you teetered on the edge 
and slipped into oblivion 

no longer hanging 

all those tiny fractured moments 
that make up our lives 
realizing that every moment matters 
for the sum of the whole defines who we are
and where we are going 

no time is wasted time 
every moment signifies a decision, a choice 
for when the moment is gone 
it quickly becomes a memory 

either a memory left hanging 
to try and forget 
or one to enjoy 
to always remember

hanging by a moment
small but mighty 
one single moment
can change all your moments

forever! 


Details | Free verse | |

Memory Lane

Come with me, let's remember the days
 when life was easy and free,
  let's turn back the pages of time
   and be young once again.

Can you hear the song playing,
 do you hear its haunting strain?
  do you recall the traces of the music
   coming down memory lane?

My life is so empty, I need to escape,
 those happy days are dead and gone,
  they will never come back again,
   so here I just pretend.

Can you hear the song playing,
 do you hear its haunting strain?
  do you recall the traces of the music
   coming down memory lane?

Yes, it floats down memory lane.


Details | Free verse | |

A Memory, A Word

A memory is transitory
coming, disappearing, and morphing
fickle as a woodland nymph,
and like a moth in the summer
it soon dies.

Humanity’s great citadel was not built
on a bog of quicksand.

A word is a stone
durable and unchangeable
permanent, immortal, and remembered
like a marble bust or a mountain range.

A writer lives forever
his words echo evermore
back and forth across eternity
mingling in a mélange
inside that most magnificent of all
concert halls, the mind.

So change memory to word,
silhouette to sunrise
speak forever
never die.


Details | Ballad | |

A MEMORY

How precious these things.... 
Truth be told... 
Money nor gold, 
but memories we hold 
For, neither money nor gold, 
can buy a memory 
Truth be told 

How sweet the moment... 
Holding your first born child 
Forever etched 
Heaven sent 

Angst and pain... 
A passing... 
A joy... 
The memories of youth... 
The falling rain... 
Birth of a boy.... 

Money cannot buy.... 
The memories... 
Of our lives passing by 

Times go by... 
Loved ones die 
Yet a memory... 
Will stay... 
Music too 
Filling the heart 
Affecting you 

This time is now passed 
It cannot be... 
But a distant memory 
You want it to last 
It cannot be 

I have in my heart 
So much... 
So full 
I feel it will spill 
Like my tears 
But the time is passed 
How I wish I could it last 

I have in my heart 
My memories... 
Truth be told, 
money nor gold 
Can buy 
Ever... 
These things I hold 

You may say such things have gone 
This is not so.... 
For, they live in my heart 
They have never gone away 

Such a burden to carry 
Such things... 
It is what makes me 
Who I am 
Memories... 
Don't you see?