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Introspection Water Poems | Introspection Poems About Water

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

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Details | Free verse | |

Fancy Hair

I turned on the water sprinkler under the Weeping Willow
A fine stream it did spray
The tree was lacking the nourishment that it gets from water
For it has not rained much in many days

As I was working in my kitchen and viewing the scene
Along came a male Red Cardinal
On a rose bush he did preen
Just close enough to the water to receive a fine spray

When he was water coated, he flew away
Up into the Weeping Willow and puffed his feathers out
Shook his tiny body as a dog after taking a bath
Then he sat in the Weeping Willow and rested for a spell

Before he had time to dry,  a Black Bird
Landed on a Weeping Willow limb
Just close enough to the spray to get his shower today
Very intelligent these  birds of the yard

Knowing how to refresh and clean their feathers 
Sometimes I wonder if they are not more intelligent
Than some of the humans that have big brains 
And fancy hair....

(I'll call it free verse for no other reason than I don't know where else it would fit.)


Details | Free verse | |

The Purest Music

    One fine day as I was traversing the green,
in the last throes of Autumns'  twilight.
I sat upon a flat stone,
overlooking a trilling brook,
to ponder the meaning of life.
As I sat ,and thought,
the soft chimes of music,
from the water spirits,
lulled me into a dream state.
Some where in  that liquid crystal,
stubborn stones are worn smooth,
by the passage of time.
Elsewhere the fluidous mercury,
rushes toward a cleft ,
a water fall.
Bringing forth melodies,
never to be reproduced ,
by mere human hands.
As my lids grow heavy,
I'm awakened by the flash of silver,
denizens ,  
silhouetted by the last rays of the setting sun..
With regret its time to leave,
as I turn to go ,
a misty rainbow is captured ,
by the fading beams of light.
I smile, at peace,
the promise ,
the sun will once again ,
eclipse the horizon.


Details | Narrative | |

Today at the beach

Waves crash down on the rocks reducing them to sand
Then sweeps them away to some far off land
The wave roll in covering my feet in sand
In the concept of time I wonder just who I am?

I gaze before me the vastness of the sea
Represents all the possibilities inside of me
I can’t think of any place I would rather be
I have trouble describing there’s so much to see.

I walk out to the rocks to find some treasure
I find many starfish much to my pleasure
It seems that the only way to go is up
So I step up and take a drink from life’s cup.

Peace and tranquility fill me inside 
While the waves provide a pretty good ride
The water is cool and so refreshing
 All of the pieces seem to be meshing.

A seagull in the water and gets hit by a wave
I dawn a smile and feel I am saved
I like how the sky melts into the sea
Over the horizon sounds like the place to be.

The adventure I’m on may never be through
Sometimes I’m not sure what I should do
I just press on and see what shall become
I like what I see so I try to grab some.


Details | Lyric | |

The Downward Spiral (with a nod to NIN)

She sees herself suddenly as a small girl
bare feet on the cold black and white tile
little toes curled
sees the white porcelain tub and
how pretty the light blue water was
so deep it almost came to her chin
as she climbed in

For hours she'd play with her dime store sailboat
loving it though it would hardly float
always taking on water
listing, never level
her wet skinny back hunched over
shoulder blades like primordial wings
every few minutes she'd have to shake the thing

Trying desperately not to break the spell
of pretend
and when
it was time to let the water out
she'd always stay to watch the water drain
weighing the emotional pain
both fascinated and horrified,
as the suction intensified,
by the force of the water
the unstoppable slaughter
waiting for the inevitable rotation
to begin
the dizzying spin

Slowly at first growing faster and faster
a miniature cyclonic water disaster

The dime store boat of course on its side
circling faster in the relentless tide

Then the drain would give a horrible belch
much satisfied with itself.

As she grew the tub got smaller
with shallower water
less and less room
for pretend to bloom.

Years later, dime store sailboat long forgotten,
life having been mostly rotten
working with the most cynical of cynics
ER nurses bitter that it's more like a clinic
runny noses and coughs that folks thought were urgent
working hard to save those who were truly emergent

Hearing from them the phrase: "circling the drain"
memories suddenly flooding the brain
almost able to feel herself as that young girl
watching the sailboat beginning to swirl

Feeling the blood drain, face going pale
she sees vividly the boat with its bright red sail
yellow hull and blue plastic deck
fine hairs rising on the back of her neck

She realizes now the fatigue of age
is from fighting the pull with defiant rage

The closer you get, the faster you spin
and soon the dark whirlpool draws you in

With a knowledge that seems to be purely primal
she now understands the downward spiral

And she knows that she will not put up a fight
she'd rather go silently in the dark of the night

And the dime store boat comes to rest on its side
so it's all come full circle at the end of the ride.

SADNESS
©Danielle White


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 | Rubaiyat | |

Why Poets Write

Why Poets Write


Why do poets write?,
Why does the moon shine at night?.
Why does water fall with such grace?,
Why is a rainbow such a beautiful sight?

So, why do poets write?
Do they write because the moon shines so bright?
Do they write because water falls with such grace?
Or is it because of the majesty of a hawk, in flight?

Poets write because that’s what we do,
Whether it be a Sonnet, Etheree or Haiku,
We see things through our own prism,
And write about it in our creative point of view.

This is why I write,
I write because I see beauty in the moonlight,
I appreciate the splendor of a waterfall,
And the majesty of a hawk, in flight.

I write because it feeds my soul,
Writing the perfect poem is my ultimate goal,
I write, I do my best,
The rest is out of my control.

The perfect words, in the perfect order,
Follow the rules, no pressure,
Slowly see your creation come alive,
When it works, there’s nothing better.

Poets, generally, don’t write for the glory,
We heal people by proxy,
We are emotion peddlers,
And we do it all for free.

I can’t speak for everyone, nor would I try,
My urge to write is something I’d best not deny,
Or things go drastically wrong,
Like ice, in the middle of July.

So, regardless of why you write,
Keep your vision in sight,
Take criticism with a grain of salt,
Never get discouraged, never get uptight.


© 2011


Details | Rhyme | |

Jesus Is The Living Water


Jesus... The Living Water Jesus is the living water which can satisfy. HE is the oasis in a land barren and dry. Only HE can bring true satisfaction deep within. HIS living water can break the bondage of sin. He awaits you with his love and grace. His living water shall fill your "empty space." You were made according to his design. He created this world with you in mind. Come and drink of his water that only he can give. Taste of his everlasting love each day that you live. NOW is the day of salvation... please don't delay! Listen to the words Jesus has to say. His promises are forever, steadfast and true. It is no secret of how much he loves me and YOU! By Jim Pemberton


Details | Rhyme | |

Reverie

(Another old, childhood poem.)

Do you remember the old water well,
constructed of wood, stone, shingles, and clay?
It still stands in the dell --
old, decrepit, and gray.
Bordered by flowers of varying hues,
it serves as an altar to a lonely recluse.
The old water well where once we did meet
lies crumbling in dust, a hermit's retreat.


Details | Lyric | |

Garden Rose

Written August 21, 2013


There's a girl in the garden
She's messing with your rose bed
Plucking weeds out from your head
And watering the seeds in your bed

But where will she wander
When the roses are dead
Will she come back for more
When they turn back to red

She can run all alone
Write this story in stone
On concrete slabs
Of skin and bone


Details | Personification | |

Birth of a Poet

The animals know better than us. The rain has never poured so loudly in a key so soft.
To the front, the sailing of city buses and mini vans cruising across in this weather makes the water underneath their tires sound like the street is crying out for 5 more minutes of sleep. Up above, the trees are protecting a nest of baby blue jays before they get washed away by the silence of their mother not being there. But with sky blue young spirits, and small empty stomachs, they keep hope alive in the fact that even children know storms and struggles don’t last forever.
Below the trees, nature has found a name to call it’s own. From the hole dug by the little boy next door, a family of three foxes have named human nature sanctuary, and burrowed their problems into the sediment to rest for a while.
To the side of the hole, a flock of ducks are swimming in the water with eyes open wide enough to where you can see their loyalty to love one another rushes wild.
To the right of the pond, caged up in a man made blanket, and lost in his own mind, is the boy. From what he remembers, last night was like a train accident; A head on collision of two people he could’ve sworn he saw holding hands just the other day. He hears the sound of plates shattering in C-minor, and the chorus of words that his parents screamed in F-sharp, so he imprisoned himself in his own bed sheets, accompanied by the courageous corduroy bear who he swears keeps hearing whisper “everything will be okay.”
It’s raining outside, and the crescendos of screams have been silenced by it’s peaceful security.
The boy, sleeps soundly now. The rain has protected his ears, and guarded his heart from being washed away by all of his nightmares.
He doesn’t care whether he wakes up. The baby blue jay, the resourceful fox and the brave little duck are all he wants to keep dreaming about.
Maybe he’ll run away into the rain? Or maybe into the arms if his mother?, whom he prays he can still recognize. To the left of his bed, he picked up the blank page of his coloring book and a crayon, and became a life long poet in that moment that morning. Taking a deep breath in, and giving a soft breath out, his first sentence was
“The animals know better than us.”


Details | Haiku | |

'the ocean'

Abyssal, deep, the ocean flows and ebbs--drowning souls under, tide-like.


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 | Lyric | |

Turn on your light

Turn On Your Light.

Turn on your light

Turn on your light
Light the velvet softness of your night
You might have felt that breath of sweetest power
In that silver moon
That paints the twilight hours
Have you ever felt that mystic pull
That takes you from the smallest flower 
To melt into the all.

I sometimes stand there staring at the sea
As each wave reaches out to destiny
To fade and then to come back
So another wave might form
To be destroyed
Then to be reborn….

Turn on your light
Pass no judgment, who’s to say what’s right?
 No need for this when light is shining bright
Have you felt such magic
Have you felt that pull
It’s something that must happen to each fool
He must learn how to melt into
The silence of the all.

The secrets they be wrote within your soul
Seek them out and let them make you whole
Each flower it must bloom then die
So know your precious I
Must be destroyed
To be reborn… 


Details | Haiku | |

Water Flows Freely

.
                                              Eleven P.M.
                                Now twelve midnight, two A.M.
                                         Water flows freely

                                       Sleep eludes my eyes
                              Three A.M., four-thirty, augh, sigh
                                          Water flows freely


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 | Free verse | |

Immiscible

A globule of liquid is
dropped into this ocean,
Blending in, one with the water that is
chaotic, frothy, never still.
Moving along,  flowing along the waves
Shaken, being the shakee, watching the water move
Everything after all is a tumble of roiling emotions

Then the ocean stood still,
and there was only hmmm . . .


It turns out, this globule was a mistake...
It never belonged, never truly blended in.
An illusion, perhaps?
It had always been different.
In a word:
Immiscible.
In every sense of the word.
Easily separated, filtered out.
Then tossed, swallowed
 by sand.
Vestiges of it erased,
like it never deserved to be there in the first place.
Immiscible.





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Details | Blank verse | |

Morning Rain

Tears from the sky.
Pools reflection,
Looking at me.


Details | Ballad | |

Goats

Goats

They’re everywhere
These pretty little creatures
On the serpent road to Exmouth
They be some of the features
Along with Emus, Kangaroos
And handsome birds of prey
These little goats be bountiful
They’re all along the way.

They be domestic goats 
Who’ve gone back to the wilds
Where they have bred one million fold.
As one moves along the miles
These little goats be seen so much
In their many shades and hues
Don’t know where they got their water
It be tough country too.

The weather here be hot and dry
As the sun bakes everything
And mostly here no rain does fall
To drinking water bring.
And yet these goats look healthy as
Such nimble little beasts
You’d see some dead there in the road
As the crows do have their feast.

That be the price of progress
That poor beasts have to die
That be the curse of human beings
Sometimes it makes me cry
Yet still they be so plentiful
These handsome little guys
Another little part of nature
That make love in me rise.


Details | Free verse | |

Nonsense

It so hurts
This feeling of nonsense
This inequality of love
Of both sides
Because of excuses
Because of worthless attempts and matters
You perform the most despicable and careless mistakes
You know I can’t hate you
But I’ll dislike you forever  
And I’ll avoid the speaks, the furious gazes
I’ll avoid you and try never to need you 
Never to want something from you 
Because I know
My tears aren’t that precious anymore
Aren’t that water that really matters
Cuz the fire within me grows
Without the water to let out that blazing mass of anger
It would shoot the stars and take out the moon
To come back a fury stone, a burning Meteor
My kind acts and reasons to be better
Chucked sharp thorns onto my face
So I went off, leaving those pitiful acts behind
To move on, to step on a new trail 
One with one of nonsense 


Details | Ballad | |

Those blessed wetland trails

Those blessed wetland trails.

The sun is shining lazily
The sky is azure blue
As green leaves dance with the morning breeze
The birds be singing too
They sing a serenade of bliss
And peace is all around
As all along these wetland trails
Blue lupins can be found.

The perfume heavy in the air
It speaks of wild geraniums
The young ferns looking soft and green
And all those tall wild gums
Give out a rather pungent scent
A smell I've learned to love
As parrots screech in blissfull joy
In those trees there high above.

The lake, she glimmers neath the sun
As the ducks give lazy quacks
My feet scrape on the sand and gravel
As I stroll along this track.
Trees all gnarled and and twisted
Form a tunnel just for me
Oh I could write forever
But for now, I'll leave it be.


Details | Rhyme | |

Fearless Journey

I’ve been following this dark shadow that looms over head
Dreaming of my dreams, afraid of living them instead

As the world keeps moving forward and I just watch from behind this wall
I grow tired of crossing my fingers and hoping someday that it might fall

I climb to the top and look to the deep sea below
I wonder if I can make it as far as the blue water flows

I hang on the edge gripping with bloody finger tips
And I close my eyes tightly as the blood slowly drips

The pain from the past can hold me here in this place
or I can let the current  move me forward with peace to replace

They say the only thing to fear is fear itself 
So why not take these dreams off this perpetual shelf?

I watch my life flash as I dare to take the plunge down
and take a deep breath saving air in case I drown

But as I hit the water I feel exhilaration through my soul
and somehow now I know, fear will never win control

I vow to live this life and chase my dreams across the sky
and live forever moving forward and never asking why

These walls I’ve let crumble are now just pebbles made of stone
and fear no longer a passenger on  this journey of my own








Details | Rhyme | |

I am me

Written on 29th and 30th April 2012.
BY: Sashi.Prabhu (zeauoxian) 

Father time always has lessons to open heartedly preach, Of late have understood few of them, which was for a long time out my thoughts reach. Now life seems to me as a sandy bank of a long desolate beach, Where we trudge life’s sandy path in a hurry without an end the shores of success to reach. But I often ask myself, what lessons, life to us, does preach? Need to with all 5 senses deem or else we will end up filled with remorse and impeach. People tell me about change, And ways to my life rearrange. But my heart and mind vehemently hum to me to be real sure, And ensure that the changes don’t take my life on an offbeat detour. Far away from people who on me shower their love and care, Is that what you desire I ask myself? Stop think, mull and be minutely aware. Life’s Moments pass us like flowing water of a the sea or stream, Linger on, Sweet memories of some wonderful people who touched us like waves, come to mind or in our dreams. In our quests to succeed and get on in life we strive to move ahead to the success shore, And those cherished moments keep flashing in our dreams and in our thoughts more & more.
But
We trudge each day life’s sandy path in a hurry the shores of success to reach. Need to with all 5 senses deem or else we will end up filled with remorse and impeach. Life’s Moments pass us like flowing water of a the sea or stream, Linger on, Sweet memories of some wonderful people who touched us like waves, come to mind or in our dreams.
So
I often mull and ask my mind, Mostly about me but also about thoughts that often in mind and they themselves grind. Must I, my beliefs, ideology and principles change? To improve my life and it’s relations and my entire life rearrange?????
Now
I long to be my original me As an original is worth more than a copy, as the world conceives and all see, I am my original me. I am me I am Me………….


Details | Lyric | |

Laws of the Dead

The law of emptiness takes form
Choosing a sight beset by storms
A town abandoned by its youth
Decaying resentment for any truth

I walk recounting every deed
Tracing my steps beyond the trees
A child hiding underground
Trying to talk, but lacking sound

His presence pulling at my chords
Anger within as I relate the law
The silent child turns to walk
As lights flicker out, beneath the rock

Waking to water at my knees
Sadness to see my town besieged
All life is taken by this storm
The law of the lonely has taken form

Stricken by pain beyond my time
Holding the laws to calm my mind
Recounting how this could have been
The closer I look, the more I scream

The law of blame now taking form
Finding the cause of this deadly storm
The quiet child takes my hand
A breath of water for this dying man


Details | Rhyme | |

Drought

The screaming wind blasts the dry land,
twisting the parched sand across human roads.
A town's cracked lips taste the sun baked air,
searching for moisture to ease its barren loads.
Scorched plants wither in the sun's vicious waves,
their frail bodies dying from the intense heat.
Soon, these tender fields of man's nurtured hopes
turn yellow from drought's arrogant treat.
Dreams of water evaporate into nothingness,
as the frying of the earth sizzles on.
Humans pray for the gold of heaven's moisture,
but the time for blessed rain has gone.
As drought chokes a plant's breath of life,
sun burnt mortals quickly begin to tire.
Nature's life wains within the devil's garden,
and water flees from drought's river of fire.


Details | Sonnet | |

Dirty Birdies

They might be dirty birdies… but of course I love them so.
Even with the birdseed scatters far across the floor.
But I doubt they’re really dirty since they crowd my birdbath so.
And with the drought outside my door I let their water flow.

They flutter around the bowl with ease as it empties twice a day.
And I enjoy watching them play in a wonderful display.
Nowhere will you find such an intensely flowing water storm.
And 12 stick close together as they show they’re many charms.

I authorize their playfulness for my many tiny friends.
Even a tiny hummingbird comes to my window in the end.
Now that is most surprising, as I have nothing for him to eat.
We both just like admiring the view for it is such a treat.

Of course he’s really telling me to turn on the sprinkler hose.
For he loves to travel back and forth as the water travels so.




As a child my mother took care of the chicken coup and began to
Despise those Dirty Birds… but when I was young her comment turned 
Into a name for those I loved… I was too young to realize her true meaning
At the time… Later it stayed with me as a memory of how different were our
lives and how things are passed along from one generation to another...


Details | Quatrain | |

A Penny for your Thoughts

The dreams inside my heart are never ending.
I find some comfort in the people I’m befriending.
I look all around to find a solution.
 Maybe I’m just part of human evolution?

I think there is something locked inside the dream,
It just seems to flow, much like a rushing stream.
As the water passes by, I peek around the bend,
When I view before me, my heart begins to mend.

I can’t always wrap my mind around this,
Moments of despair, wrapped inside of bliss.
Sometimes they create balance inside of me,
Opening my eyes, so I am able to see.

Some  I get while some I don’t understand.
Sometimes like a stranger from a far off land.
I gather up the pieces, hoping they will fit.
 The answers are illusive on this bank I sit.

I watch as the water washes ashore,
I see in my heart I desire some more.
The ripples are like changes, sparkling with light,
 Reminds me of the stars that appear every night.

I think I see something through the corner of my eye,
Perhaps it is the life that simply passed me by?
 I seem to wonder often where the time just went,
 A penny for your thoughts, For I only have a cent.


Details | Narrative | |

What's on the Cover

What's on the Cover
        by Amy Swanson


"Fat, fat, the water rat,"
the other children said - 
and she could never after
get that phrase out of her head.

Little girl would anxiously
await the time for play,
praying silently that they
would not tease her today.

Every recess was the same
and each day she would cry,
at times she felt so hideous
she wanted to just die.

She had to work three times as hard
to lose a little weight
while others could eat anything
that sat upon their plate.

She grew into her teen years
all too quickly she found out
that if her food did not stay down
no longer she'd be stout.

She knew that this was not the way,
a miserable eating plan;
but it made the teasing stop,
she even met a man.

She kept her secret very well
continued it for years
while going through life's motions,
hid behind her silent tears.

Folks would say "You're beautiful,"
but if they only knew
just what it took to stay that way
they'd have a different view.

Life goes on, and time went by
no matter how she tried
she never felt like she belonged
sometimes she sat and cried.

Society cares far too much
for lust of lovely things,
And those that don't like what they see
will quickly clip the wings

of someone else who won't conform
to this world's shape and image.
It matters not, their brains or heart,
it's more about the visage.

She raised her head and looked into
the mirror, with wet eyes
she shook her head and suddenly
she came to realize

she was as good as anyone
with so much love to give -
she'd died inside, a slave to scales
she now wanted to live.

She splashed cool water on her face
and made a solemn vow
today would be a fresh new start
beginning here and now.

This is not just one girl's story
many share her tale;
warnings of bulimia
oft met with no avail.

If only we could look beyond
the flesh of one another;
True value based on what's inside,
not what's on the cover.


Details | Free verse | |

Breath let Go

The earth shudders and the dust of a thousand years
lifts into the sky like a blanket thrown up in exultation
and beneath this blanket plates grind together
in sudden need
A craving to bring dried and edged flesh
with the moisture of the oceans above
together once more
and cry out in the joy of ecstasy to release their pressure
	And be at once reconciled

And the world let’s out its breath,
gives up what is most sacred to it
in reverence of this Moment:

And I dare say this moment is mine,
to the child that toiled the fields
hoe in hand and the patterns in the soil
the patterns in the soul through which water poured
and escaped in pores like water through a parched man’s fingers
and patterns fled this farm 
Leaving a parched man lamenting the presence of fingers
in times of thirst,

And to the child toiling
           in the fields 
the pattern is in the pitch of his shoulders
and the pounding of the sun
the pattern that should never seep
through unseen holes

but it seeps
down his back and across his fingers
upon his hoe it dribbles down and finds the escape
of patterns long lost
and the sweat of his toil
slips through the gaps in his soil
and the heaving of his shoulders
is lost with the patterns,	

So this old farmer he does not tread his fields,
sheltered behind wood and warmth of fire
he huddles in his world of four walls
and dares not the fields outside
Where await the failures
of his toil,
and when the earth shuddered
in joy of this moment
Knowing in its wisdom all that was to be known
the earth shudders and the dust of not so many years
It lifts into the sky like a blanket thrown up in exultation

And beneath it all

Sees the farmer

The pattern of his toil

And lo and behold
It was not wasted
But a hands width beneath
The soil that caked his world
And by his own hand
Hidden as it were
The patterns of his toil
And the story that is told
Bittersweet
In the exultation of a breath
Let go.


Details | Light Poetry | |

Cascading Words

I told my Hubby I needed a fountain to help the words to flow.
It seems in the shower my creative juices, really know how to go.
My Hubby says it’s because I become relaxed, in body and in mind.
That releases everything to flow with ease and in record time.

But then he stated it might also be: the water pounding on my head.
It’s beating me senseless to release the flow and to open it up, instead.
This may be true with a hard head like mine, sometimes it needs a touch.
But I think a fountain would be way more fun, and not hurt near so much.

And what would be more beautiful, than water as it’s simply cascading around.
My lovely birds could have a drink, as my barriers come tumbling down.
My Trolls could frolick and play all day in water as the sun comes beating down.
My dogs would jump to catch the droplets as they fall upon its crown.

And all I need is to get a basket to collect my wandering thoughts.
Truly nothing could be more worthwhile, no matter what the cost.
Droplets falling thru my thoughts would become a rainbow for my mind.
With a prism throwing forth-countless words, to arrange within record time.

I wish! I wish! Oh, how I wish! To bring forth this dream of so much renown.
So many words bubbling to the surface, before they’d come tumbling down.
They’d fill my mind, and fill my soul… before touching each other’s soul.
My fountain would finally be complete, as cascading words did achieve this goal.

Now I truly know, I’ll have no fountain, or any great renown.
Still I am grateful, for the few, who’ve read the words, which I have written down.


Details | Free verse | |

Sea Fall Of Fantasy

Breathless....
Fresh.... 
Sea water desire...
I bathe beneath this brilliant blue   
Depths swirl in indigo and sky
Mystery within the deep
   the fall like tiny rivers....
flowing from my sun warmed cheeks
     
       I live inside this fantasy
where warm is eternal
        and gray shows no face
      
       Water fall....
Rivulets drip down my face....
If you were here
      Perfection......

Silent save the gushing 
of liquid traipsing
 over rocks and me  

To hold this in my palm
I long for the eternal
    to touch forever.....

Intangible dreams.....

The wine taste of red
The sweet sour of alone...

Connected within
          by mighty forces.....

Fall.....
I feel it fall
upon a heart that aches.....

swept up in currents of yesterday

Just another lie....
          they bleed me dry

I return here
        to hide
              to surrender
                     to believe.....
Upon a thalassic fall of relief

Here I am protected

Inside this pure crystal fall
                        
is whom I truly am....


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 | 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 | Free verse | |

To Be a Tree

Were I to decide today, I might choose the simplest way….
Yet, I cannot but think that I’d regret losing the experiences I would get.
Water, bends and flows and trickles through every crevice it can find….
Taking the path of least resistance to wind its’ way towards it’s’ goal.
Yes, water is flexible, as we should sometimes be….
But water evaporates.
Now a tree, yes, a tree….
A tree stands tall, reaching out as far as its’ limbs allow, so it can caress the heavens. 
A tree forces its’ roots deep, often ripping through concrete to remain firmly planted….
A tree is stable, strong, almost eternal…
It only fades when it must make room for another or when felled by an axe.
Were I to decide today, I might choose the water’s way….
But a tree’s life, I bet, would make me that much happier yet. 


Details | Prose Poetry | |

The Second Fable

 The Second Fable 
The Second Fable 
 
The BusYness 
 
 
The Alcoholic boss: 
       The man was doing inventory when the lady called his namme. 
“Johnny what is wrong with you eye just looked out at the van? 
The tire is almost flat again eye just gave you a hundred dollars yesterday to get 
the tire fixed and eye remember giving you fifty just last week? You must have 
kept the money are you drinking now again?” 
The Alcoholic Worker: 
“Tilly you are mistaken the tire is not that low eye checked the gauge myself less 
than two hours ago. 
The receipt for the tireshop is still inside the till Tilly why do not you still believe 
me tell me Tilly how could eye get a receipt like that unless eye paid the bill?” 
The Alcoholic Worker: 
To Tilly:“Every now and then they do a poor poor job so eye will take the van back 
to the tire shop and have them check that tire again.” 

To ASIDE: The whiskey that eye bought with that old coots money is still in the 
center console eye have to drink it now today and she will knoe I'm drunk unless 
eye leave the van somewhere and say that it got stolen and the bad men beat me 
up. 
Narrator Charlax Android One Seven: 
The Johnny worker got in the van and drove to the center of a bridge he leaped 
from the bridge into the water down below with the whiskey in his hand and left 
the van in the center of the bridge the tire was now so low it was just flat. 
The Alcoholic Worker: 
Johnny to hisself: “The Tilly will believe me why should she doubt so much eye 
have to make this look good a lie is soon found out.” 
Narrator Charlax One Seven: 
Johnny took a rock of largesse size and hit himself more than three times hard 
upon his brow his forehead split wide open he looked like a beaten up man. 
He finished off the whiskey and walked somewhat surprised that his worthwhile 
plan had come to a fruition in his addled whiskey mind back to the sewing 
shoppe. 
 Listen as the woman talks to him. 

                        The Alcoholic Boss: 
“Before you say a word to me my alcoholic Johnny there was a Charlax sitting 
underneath the bridge playing games down in the water he loves a mermaid 
there and kisses all her hair. He saw you leave the van and leap into the water 
my friend MISS Tilly Two is bringing back the van for you.” 
“Now don't you feel so foolish the job was feeding you now you will look for 
someone else to tell your lies to rob them of there wealth to feed your alcoholic 
drive.” 


Details | Rhyme | |

Acid Dawn


Let us rest our heads upon the pillow of denial, turn twilight in the last clear reflection of the silent moon. Where vile droppings fell the freshness of the morning sea, turn to graveyards, lest we be; 
...swimming in an acid dawn.

The corpse of shellings, scales a strewn, where once transparent was so blue,
this morning features scarlet hue, as skin is shredded in the burning morn. 
Where vile droppings fell the freshness of the morning sea, turn to graveyards, 
lest we be;
...swimming in an acid dawn.

...And come mid sun up, we shall bathe; 
within sulfuric, petrol waves and drink our lemon juice until we choke. 
Till our teeth rot and our tears evoke, the pandora’s box which we awoke. 

An orange bright, our arid plight, and we the specks of dust behind;
lurching a dehydrated, evaporated existence. Famine on our minds.
Walking footsteps which no longer walk, dreaming of the past to escape the future as the present seeps our blood and marrow, the desert sun, a piercing arrow, stabbing at our hearts.

We hobble, oh we hobble and we hobble through the wasted years, through bones and makeshift graves, we’ll hobble into the final age;
where vile droppings fell the freshness of the morning sea, turn to graveyards,
lest we be;
...swimming in an acid dawn.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

It is estimated that within the next decade or two that the ocean will become so acidic as to dissolve the shells of mollusks and shellfish.  This in addition to the already dwindling supply of precious fresh water which we must share with our animal friends.  A supply by the way that we contaminate regularly, a supply that simply cannot be renewed. 

Desalination was looked upon as the next great solution to water shortage despite it's expense. However considering how the oceans are becoming increasingly polluted due to oil spill after oil spill and Fukushima's constant radioactive leaks, in addition to the acidification of the ocean itself, it appears that we will have no viable water to look forward to in the future. 

This is life.  Forget profit, it doesn't exist.  Nature has no concept of wealth, only of survival. If we all die, everything that we've accomplished will be forgotten, nature has no use for it. Currency will return to being simply paper and stone, and nothing else.

We need to stop thinking about ourselves and think of our children and all the other species that live upon the earth.


Details | Free verse | |

A Ride Down the Thousand Islands III

A kayak floats on the glassy water
through the maze that is the Thousand Islands. 
Water drips off the paddle as it rises in the clean air.
A breeze pushes the kayak through the labyrinth of islands.
No sign or sound of cars, buildings, or people.
It is a part of Florida that is still green.
Wild, the world as god meant it to be.
A stingray races by the boat towards an unknown destination

the kayak turns the corner of an island ever so slowly.
Tree branches hover over the water forming a canopy

low enough to stand and reach out,
to pluck a reluctant leaf from its home.
The crisp leaf crumbles as it is grasped.
A sweet smell emanates from the trees
replacing the smoky aroma of civilization.

No factories, pesticides, or overpopulation
Trees grow on their own giving off oxygen
Birds gathering without fear of things they can’t understand
Fish swim carefree no garbage floating in their way

The kayak paddles on, past the floating island and its canopy.
A juvenile little blue heron yells for its mate 
wading in the water three feet away.

The oar is placed across the bow 
the kayak drifts on in silence.
A brown behemoth emerges from the depths.
The sea cow basks in the sun 
close enough to reach out a hand and rub across its slimy skin.
Consider touching it, but hold back.

Man already destroyed everything he touched.
It is not for us to cause more damage.


Details | Pastoral | |

FLOATING EMOTIONS ON A RAINY DAY

Falling on earth, raindrops
Resound with nimble noise
And moisturizes those crops
With its damp aquatic voice.

Lightning astounds fiercer
Than the flashings of Sun.
It scatters hither and thither
As if it were a childish fun.

The roads mingles wastes
And sinks in watery flood.
People discard their castes
As water unify their blood.

Every heart feels something,
Moments of joy, expectation,
Some hearts hurt by a sting,
Some full of intense passion.

The River brims with water
And it combines with village
As if it were part of the river
While houses, trees submerge.

In some places water wedges
With tranquility of damp flow
Though murky furrows, sludges
Whilst tenor of longings glow.

The echoes of raindrops float
And load some eyes with tear,
Rouse some unconscious heart
With a sense of unknown fear.

Some think of coming future,
Some remember elapsed past,
Some identifying with Nature
Sense the season as their last.


Details | Blank verse | |

Ripples

Good to have realised
but I already did,
that friends and people
pass and go,
but still;
the water walks alone.

Magnificent you suddenly appreciate
but I already grovel,
at the foot of the Earth
at the foot of your being,
but still;
the water walks alone.

And I keep seeming to give
impressions
that you all own me.
Some snare in the rope,
but it is mine!
I want the echo's
to stand up hairs on your belly.
But still;
it's only boxed water.

My blood and love despise me.
and I never understood why
I am unforgivable.
Perhaps it's just nature.
Sanding away my skin
drinking in suffocation
drowning out...


Details | Free verse | |

Reoccurring Dream

I have a reoccurring dream. 
In this dream I am in a wooden shack, dusted and old. 
I breathe suddenly and deeply regaining consciousness 
As though I was in deep thought, yet nothing fills my mind. 
I sit up from a creaky old stool to realize my surroundings. 
I have been to this place before; my footsteps mark the dirty floor, imprinted in the dust. My attention is drawn to a dirty window as the sound of thunder claps around me. 
The sky is vibrant and tormented; 
Swirls of white wrestle the grey clouds as lightening runs across the sky in a beautiful Array colors. Then the smell of fresh rain fills my senses. 
I leave the shack to enter a barren plain, infinite on all horizons 
With the exception of a massive black tree; naked and alone. 
I gaze at the sky once more and a cool breeze flows through, filling me completely. 
The tree now too begins to breathe deeply the cool winds, large and intensely. 
As I walk towards the tree it begins rain. 
The rain drops touch me but I am not wet. 
The dry dirt drinks the rain as quickly as it falls muddying the soil I am walking on, Though my feet are not muddy. My feet imprint the dirt but the mud does not stay, 
Only the wetness of the soil, leaving my feet damp. 
I run towards the tree that now bears a single fruit. 
I reach for it but sobbingly the tree begs me not to eat its only child. 
Disheartened I sit on the ground digging my hands into the dry soil. 
Underneath it is dark fertile earth, but like the mud it does not dirty my hands; 
It gently falls to the ground. In the holes I have dug water begins to pool from the rain, Clear and pure. I gaze into the pools but see no reflection, only the sky above. 
I put my face in these pools and breathe; no water fills my lungs, 
Though water fills my ears. I remove my head from the water and hear no sound; 
My eyes are closed and all is silent. Slowly the water drains and sound returns, 
Thoughts rush my mind and words encourage my tongue; I am awake.


Details | Free verse | |

They Will Survive

They Will Survive

A small tent village
Deep in a forest at the edge of town
Men, women and children
Scrounging for food
Eating stuff that other people threw away
The people were important at one time
They cured the sick and fed the hungry
They owned homes and fancy cars
They were rich, poor and middle class
They did nothing to cause this
All they did was live their lives
Scratching an existence for the families
The world changed in an instant
One after another jobs left to Mexico
The money dried up and the stores closed
No food, water or power
Their homes were taken by the bank
Left empty because all of the credit was gone
People migrated in ever growing herds
Looking for a miracle place
With food, water and power
Instead they found a tent and a forest
Tents hidden away from a condemning world
They will survive
Even with no help they will survive
They will survive


Details | Sonnet | |

Crying Out - 2

Have my peccant daydreams seep away
Purged from my mind devoid all delay
Evaporate those thoughts like the mist
Wring as a sponge, oh LORD, with a twist
Have me absorb ideas you adore
Blessed visions soak deep to the core
Living water so pure for my soul
Please, fill me up, each pore, every hole
My thoughts are wrong, so done be your will
Your providence is far greater still
So, God, exchange, my sin with your grace
Each transgression, remove every trace
Though my frail mind compels me to turn
With drowning pain, my life, you did earn.


Details | Free verse | |

Almost everyone weeps

In the distance I hear soft music on the radio.
The air is still and silence holds us
In her arms.
Quiet Sunday morning
Rode past the field where geese rested
Looking from far away
Like a flock of pigeons
In the sun.
See so many different kinds of brick,
Angles of rooftops,buildings haphazardly
Added to before planning laws.
I sit and watch the people pass,
Some happy,one weeping though she assured me
It's merely an allergy;
An allergy to loss?
Yes,I'm allergic to loss.
Loss makes my eyes water and my nose run.
Where does all that water come from?
Pass me your handerchief,mine is a ladies
Since men must work and women weep
Surely we should have the biggest hankies?
Men can wipe their nose on their sleeve
As long as they are not wearing their hearts there!
Or they might consider sharing hankies.
How kind;for at times, almost,
Every one weeps.


Details | Free verse | |

No ground to stand on

paint a picture of a landscape thats surreal to reality
a place that you could never imagine
where water flows to the sky
and the rain comes from the ground
no trees for cover
no mountains to gaze at
just water flowing through the ground
ripping life away from all it encounters
in this picture there is no ground
no solid place to fall on
its just a free fall to no where


Details | Rhyme | |

A Constant Shadow

I wake upon a longing
Whose eyes are short of sleep
Awake to be a shadow
Shallow as it deep
Covers may well hide it
But here it still remains
Nothing lies above it
Nothing grows the same
Silent as it raging
Whispered as it shout
As a man grows older
His shadow lengthens out
What cannot be filled
Will only be sought more
What the silence holds
Falls as water on the shore
Can the water penetrate
Through every grain of sand?
Never shall it reach its home
Eternal sight of land

Held within my hand
A candle, yet unlit 
Held above my head
Silent as it sits
Given to at birth
Told to light my way:
"Light cannot be seen
Away from light of day
Unless it lies atop this,
This candle made of stone
It shall not fail in need
Though it lie alone"

Give to me the flame
With light, grows its black
Shadows still will grow
But I know what I lack
For here I lie, a silhouette 
Now I find what's mine
A shadow, constant ally
Cursed as it divine

Why to give a longing
That all would seek apart?
Even though you lie in wait
All sought another heart
But do I know the truth?
Will it set me free?
You've created longing
That you will free in me


Details | I do not know? | |

The Swaying of the Grass

1.

 

A path leads,

to where wild grass grows,

 

sashaying in the summer breeze.

 

2.

 

Along the path,
lightness settles within,

 

feeling the grass,
swooning,
tickling ankles,

 

swaying to the lilting bird-song,

in a dance of intimate abandon,

 

brushing the remnants of pain away.

 

3.

 

Melodies float across fields of green,

delicately caressing my heart,

 

teasing emptiness to flee,

comforting the mind,

 

to silently be.

 

4.

 

Walking on,
savouring the peace,

 

a momentary respite,
from the burdens of the now,

 

all is quiet,

 

a stillness cradling fractured emotions,

 

the grass in the fields sway,

 

dusk descends,

 

shadows lengthen,

 

nudging dimming light to take leave,

 

of the day


Details | Free verse | |

Frail

The heat of the water burns my skin 
And Yet I remain cold within
The water streams down my face
Like a quiet creek 
Quickly coursing
Falling softly where my tears should be
All the days that I 
Just want to scream 
To hit something
 To sense relief
All the night I want to disconnect my head
And all the thoughts that you 
Are kept alive within
No tears fall 
Their purpose has been lost
They have been spilt 
For no result
Frustration surfacing
Held together by love
Can’t release anything
Emotions are numb
How heat of the water burns my skin 
And Yet I remain cold within.


Details | Free verse | |

I Once Swam...

I feel I’ve reached the age when
I start to see others fading away
The old get ill
The young get old
It’s as if I’m trying to
Grip water with my bare hands
No matter how hard I try,
It pours out and leaves
A transparent stain on my skin
My grandmother’s voice is frail and distant
My grandfather’s eyes have sagged
His pride seems weakened
These people whom I have come to love
Not because they are family but because they have earned my love
They carry with them the only feeling of home
That I’ve ever felt…
My only sense of belonging
What happens when I lose that?
What happens when I don’t have anyone to remind me of who I am?
Or where I come from?
Or what I stand for?
What happens when I find myself homeless and alone?
With nothing but a distant memory
Like drops of water on my hands
To remind me of the River I once swam in...


Details | Free verse | |

Impression

What impression would I leave if I asked you to imagine
 Small patches of undulating light reflecting high on a warm wall, 
Only a twig’s space flowing in between them, 
Outlined by the ebb and flow of a softer shadow?
Even behind the shroud of the realization 
That I had yet to open my eyelids, 
The fluid motion reminded my soul 
Of a time I had not yet spent, 
Near  a body of water I had not yet found,
But in a place and time so familiar, so comfortable, 
I longed for a return visit. 
Where the cool breath of the water 
And the mild warmth of the early summer on my skin 
Call me back to sleep, again.

Michael Lewis
1-21-2010


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Interlude

Blue-gray foggy mist hanging over the lake like an ethereal blanket obscuring 
the surface of the water and making the scene look like an artist's water color
or perhaps pastels, the chalk blended lightly with a finger tip, the far shore 
barely visible from where I sit, ancient trees rising like giants, silent sentinels, 
defiant, too early for the usual chatter of the birds, they still sleep, 
undisturbed, only one awake is me and the occasional turtle coming up to 
breathe, gently disturbing the placid lake surface as evidenced by a single ring, 
its purpose to slowly expand and dissipate noiselessly, as the orange sun has 
begun to peek over the horizon and that magical time is gone, those few 
moments between the darkness of night and the harsh light of dawn, that gray 
soft interlude before reality intrudes, when it seems the whole world 
sleeps...and the stillness and the silence is overwhelming.


Details | Free verse | |

Fools Gold

I stand upon my mountain
Dreading the waves which roll upon my shore
An acid that is eroding away at my flesh
Eating the muscle underneath
I have no place to run or hide
Surrounded by such a vast  ocean
Behold the mountain is sinking
Becoming smaller with time
As precious gold runs through my closed fingers
Along with memories of what may of been
I realize that the gold is like water 
And water is time
That I spent foolishly 
Thinking I have an abundance of


Details | I do not know? | |

Narcissus

I don't mean to importune
But I can't help but notice
How your eyes are set upon the path before your wandering feet

I don't mean to be rude
But I can't help but see you
Staring at your faded reflection in the water as clouds wander by

I don't mean to mimic you
But every word, everything you do
Just seems exactly like what I thought I was going to say
But there's never enough time left in these days

I don't mean...
But that's ok if the leaves give you shelter from the sun and the rain
   Rest a while at the edge of yourself

I mean, so long as you don't mind my presence, my faded voice
It's just that all that echoes from your lips sounds like it bears repeating time again
and again

What's that?
You're leaving? Don't leave me here with nothing but a shadow of time on the water and
mirrors in sheets of white rain that bring little relief to my desert so dry in the shade
of these tears that I've cried, phosphorescing in the lonely night.

I thought that I'd found you
The one who would lie at the edge of her own nothingness
Until the roots of oblivion finally set in the soul
And the hole there  before her, brimmed over with water
The hole would just prove to be what I've become
And what she'd become, nothing more than a door into sunsets
And daffodil tears in the morning would form on her lips as she finally knew who she was

But no, you could never fulfill that fate
After all, all the words that could fall from your lips
I've already said over and over again to myself

No, there's nothing you can say
That hasn't been uttered once over again
From my lips, now wet with dew
And the tears of a flower
As hour by hour
The days end
And so I turn into myself
As I've always been turned
She loves me
   Loves me not
Petal
   By
       Petal


Details | I do not know? | |

my norfolk.

This is Norfolk

Feet stamp the sidewalk
Flap flap flapping
Off to somewhere, anywhere
A hot summer day in the city
With nothing and everything to do
Streets cars people buzz, a sturdy hive
All I hear is the wind across my water bottle
Humming a melody of the distant seas
Of sailors’ tales new and old
Far from this life on the brink of the ghetto

Cool water brings relief from the southern swelter

This is Norfolk

Azalea buds roll by
Like fuschia hipsters on a mission
Too focused on the next big thing 
Nor pay mind to a country girl like me
Nothing and everything here is like home
Comfortably unfamiliar 
A longing for the simplest gesture of welcome
Just like these streets I am
Caught in the middle of fitting in and belonging
Too misused to be treasured, yet too offbeat to be forgotten

My potato and your grits make an unconventional union 

This is my Norfolk.


Details | Free verse | |

On a Moonlit Night

 
peering on the window, water apple leaves
sway with the breeze, dancers of the night
in green veined fingers cast quirky shadows
against the cream-colored concrete walls

beneath them, i turn to the porcelain cup 
in my hands, whirling the tinted water of 
fresh picked tea leaves now invisible under steam
before lushing up to quench my thirst

i gaze up again and marvel 
as succulent water apples 
bounce forth and back
from their wellspring
like little children 
playing tug-of-war

it's an ingenuous spectacle 
of swollen receptacles and 
callyces on chlorophyll clothes
woven with corky axillary branches

on a night like this
nature's cellulose creatures
are my gentle reminder 
on living alive--
undaunted, free and happy
despite the tribulations of time


Details | I do not know? | |

I PLACED A STONE FOR YOU

I placed a stone for you..... 
in my stream 
For, you are part of this dream 
You are part of me too 

Tumbling stream 
Tumbling dream 

I placed a stone for you... 
in the tumbling stream 
I saw this in my dream 

This stone for you 
I placed next to mine so 
The tumbling stream 
Tinkling water flow 

Tumbling stream 
Tumbling dream 

I placed a stone for you.... 
In my stream 
I flow around too..... 
in my dream 

Sun filtering through 
Tinkling water so 
Touching me too 
Bright water flow 

Tumbling dream 
Tumbling stream 

This magical force 
This bright water course 
Gold touching silver too 
This sun filtering through 

In my dream 
I placed a stone for you.... 
by my tumbling stream 


Details | I do not know? | |

Howling

Listen!...Hear the howling icy wind
Old man with white hair and beard
You with water, melted snow trickling
Down your side coursing to the lake

How high are you? Reaching the heavens
Such a strong tower,  protector of game
People can run to you strong Rock
Clouds boil over your white hair and beard

Possible new snow will come from above
Coating your hair and beard with new white
That provides the stream with water come spring
Stream that forms the cool, clear water of that River


Details | Pantoum | |

The Bucket

The bucket of youth shiny strong
Designed to reach deep hold large things
It held work, fun, frolic, much wrong
Became worn this bucket that brings

Designed to reach deep, hold large things
A hole appeared now things trickle
Became worn this bucket that brings
The water that's living could flow

A hole appeared now things trickle
It held works, fun, frolic, much wrong
The water that's living could flow
The bucket of youth shiny strong


Details | Cowboy | |

Poisonwood

Deer linger in the bitterbrush
Below the gambel oak—
The brittle fern shows no concern
For killdeer or cowpoke.

The miner’s candle lights our way
Now lost in limber pine—
The water birch does not besmirch
Beargrass at timberline.

Sky pilots bend on mountain side
Dark as the black hawthorn—
A horned lark rests on the ninebark—
Between the two we’re torn.

We journey south through water oak,
Coral bean, supple jack—
We ride beneath magnolia leaf
And miss not what we lack.

A canebrake rattler comes too close,
Like death in the sweet bay—
Chinaberry makes us tarry
This oleander day.


Details | Rhyme | |

Serene & Divine

Inside the forest of tall teak trees
Far from the clamor of the town.
At the foot of the green mountain
Where a stream was flowing down.

Sitting on a piece of rock,
And looking at the flow of water.
I was listening to its music,
Enjoying the beauty of the nature.

The serenity and silence was lost
As some kids of a  school picnic party,
Sneaked into the stream in sheer delight
And made it muddy and dirty.

A boy pushed the baby from behind.
She got wet and cried.
He then asked her out of fear
“How could it be dried?”

The headmistress when shouted at them
They looked each other for a while.
And rushed out of the water 
Hand in hand, exchanging a silly smile.

I looked back at the stream.
The water was already calm and clean.
It’d washed off the dirt out of her heart
For the flow was serene and divine.


Details | Narrative | |

The Burning Veil

My eyes were opened to a bright red burning veil.
Sun scorched and Moon dried,
It was fried!
But, I brought it some water in a crystal blue pale.
The more it burned higher went the scale,
God knows that I at least tried.
There was just nowhere to hide.
But, I wasn’t about to fail.
 
I put the veil in the water and made it wet.
I held it to the Sun and the Moon to air dry.
The veil melted and glowed where it was set.
It was sparkling and made me want to cry.
Perception had been weakened to what it really should be.
At least, that’s what the burning veil conveyed to the truth inside of me!
 


Details | Lyric | |

What is Real

What is Real? I ask myself
Is it only that which you can taste, touch or feel?

Or is it not the obvious but only the quiet poundings of one's heart
Those of sensibility, those which all of wondering humanity must endure.

Could it be in the quiet whisperings 
Which hang upon a lover's breath?

Could it be in the silent feelings
That which cause my true heart unrest?

Could it be in the long lost memories
Of the beloved that have come before?

Could be in death's eternal silence
Never to speak again evermore?

Could it be the muriad of ideas 
That go racing through my mind
Like ships that have crossed the oceans
Fearless travelers seeking to find

Seeking to find that which has not been sought
Seeking to think that which has never been thought
Seeking to create unique individuality from within

Infiinitely seeking...through hardships and loss.

Could it be in the miraculous act 
That makes a plant grow from a seed?

Could it be found in the remarkable story
Of how mankind came to be?

Could be in what makes the sun shine
And creates the wind and rain and snow?

Could it be where rainbow's treasure really resides
Will one ever know?

Is it hidden in the quiet snowkflakes 
Which flutter untethered through the skies
Could it be contained in their complex frameworks
In which it could microscopically reside.

Magical structures of which they are
Their infinite uniqueness amazingly clear.

From water to air
from air to snow
from snow to water once again
Is this one of the infinite cycles 
Of which what is real evidently appears?

Could there be real? 
Can it be found? 
What is real? 
Is it in sound?

Could there be real? 
Can it be sown? 
What is real? 
Is it a fact, is it known?

What is real? 
Is there such a thing as real? 
Is there a given contract?
Is it a solid deal?

Is there really, really real? 
Will real ever cease to be? 
Is there really truth in real?
Is there really, real in me?

(December 3rd, 2010 Wausau, Wisconsin)

(c) Copyright 2010 by Christine A Kysely, All Rights Reserved, 


Details | Narrative | |

Walking on Water

I turn my back and look the other way, 
My shadow is a bliss you hope and pray!
I’m walking on water at the stroke of midnight,
Searching for the hope of a breaking daylight!
Everything’s just so incredibly beyond bright!
Closing my eyes to a brand new day,
Shutting down inside and feeling everything just die.
My thoughts surely would make you an empty man inside!
I’m walking on water in the shadows of daybreak,
Searching for the hope of my lost and alone faith!
Everything’s just so outrageously beyond great!
I close my mind to the brand new light of day.
Closing my eyes and just walking away,
But my shadow you hope and pray will surely stay.
I’m walking on water at the peak of nightfall,
Looking for this huge magnificently clear waterfall!
Everything’s just so enormously beyond tall!
I close my eyes and I begin to pray.
My thoughts could surely give hope to all,
For I walk on water on each and every day!


Details | Couplet | |

Living Water

Living water makes those soft splashing sounds
As it courses from its source to spread all around

Flowing outward to feed all who come into its bounds
All God's creatures are drawn hearing the course it takes around

The grass springs up by its side where deer can feed
Trees grow tall and healthy offering nesting sights for birds and bees

Living waters start from a small source spreading just like a sound wave
Coursing, running, spreading, nuturing, growing and a place to bathe

This living water is a place to come to nuture and completely restore ones soul
Oh that land where the living waters flow


Details | Free verse | |

Facets of a Faucet

Before my mid-life realization
My life was like
Sitting naked 
In an empty bathtub

With my knees 
To my chin
My arms wrapped tightly 
Around my thighs
A blank expression 
Upon my face

My skin 
Dry and shriveling 
From lack 
Of an adequate supply
Of that life sustaining 
Elementary particle

Every so often
A single drop 
Of water 
Would hang
From that inactive faucet

As it would hang,
For what seemed 
Like an eternity,
I would see 
My sad reflection 
Within it

As each drop is akin
To a glimpse 
Of actual livingness

There I would sit 
In extreme anticipation
Waiting for that drop
To pierce my parched skin

When the longing would end
With the falling 
Of that drop
I would come to life
To enjoy and be happy
But only for a brief moment
Then the moment 
Would be gone
As the drop 
Would dry up
Just like the other drops 
Before it

They never lasted long
Those moments of livingness

And then one day, it happened
The realization 
That I wasn’t living 
The one life
That I had been given

I decided 
That I needed to live
And gave that faucet
A gentle turn

Now
That once dormant faucet
 Has a never-ending torrent
Gushing from it

And I am not afraid 
That the water
Will consume me
And that I will drown
In quiet desperation

For I know 
That I can float
In the buoyancy 
Of the knowingness 
And understanding
Of Who I Am

Contrarily
The water soothes away
The arid feel
That I have become 
Accustomed to





It has exposed a more 
Sensitive, soft
Sensual, sheathing
That I am now 
Just being able
To feel
Comfortable in

Once the tub fills
I will be completely immersed
By the whole
Of the adhesion
Of the individual drops
Of Life
Each one affecting
Or being affected
By the one next to it

And my soul
Will be replenished
By the living
And the experience
Of them all






Details | Free verse | |

The path to the house

The path is narrow 
the roots of the trees 
jut out of the ground 
offering a risk 
of stumbling 
or falling. 

I feel excited 
adventurous 
where does this path lead? 


The sky is bluey purple 
the clouds are few 
I can see the beautiful sunset 
above the roof 
of the trees 

The roots 
in the ground 
that once stuck out 
are no longer 
on the path 
behind me 
all around me 
I feel 
exhilarated 
almost one 
with nature 

The key I find there 
along my way is black 
rusting 
I can picture it 
opening a metal gate 
I hold the key 
in my hand 
close my eyes 
and smile 
as I put it in my pocket 

The chalice is covered in jewels 
perhaps once filled 
with the waters of life 
the shiny metal glistens 
off of the sun 
I like this cup 
very much 
and like the key I found on my path 
somewhere in the forest 
I take it with me 

Along my way 
I come across a lake 
the calm lake looks inviting 
the ripple waters 
show me the mirror 
of the mountains 
and trees 
all around me 
I take my shoes off 
and stick them in 
The water is cool 
refreshing 
I take my shirt off 
soak it in the water 
put my shirt back on 
and go on 
my way 

The cottage at the end of the path 
through the forest 
by the lake 
is very old 
I use the black rusty key 
and open the door 
I call out 
as I walk in the house 
I look through the things in the house 
leaving everything as it is 
and leave 
as quietly 
as I came in


Details | Free verse | |

The Caracaras and The Carafe

There were once three Caracaras; who sought water of a carafe.  
The first thought to use it to bathe a big giraffe, 
but found the vessel very small for indeed the giraffe was so very tall.  
The second thought to use the water to brew a giant wild game stew, 
but alas there was not enough; so with this task he was through~ 
the third bird was dying of thirst and sought of but three drops… 
Alas, the water in the carafe had evaporated holding less than one mere drop…  
The bird became distraught and sucked upon some rocks.  
However, she held the carafe for it began to rain and 
she would soon gain her fill of more than a mere drop. 



Moral: A little patience goes a long way when one works with what you’ve got ;-)


Details | Name | |

Slow or fast

Fast how fast, slow how slowly?
A person can accelerate himself,
If he has no food to eat or
If he has no water to drink.

A person can drive his vehicle,
Fast or slow, whatever he wants,
When engine works properly,
Petrol, oil and water are sufficient.

He can run a race,
To reduce the smoke,
To produce more burn, to accelerate 
Fire for extra power with high energy.

It is law, petrol for burn, 
Oil for smoke and water for pressure,
If oil is dirty, engine starts to smoke,
If water is empty, pressure can fire on.

Natural system applies every where,
A human life needs also to live,
A Fresh Air, Healthy Food and fresh water,
Damped material is a cause of disease.


Details | Verse | |

Uncoiling Cut

Idle time is an uncoiling cut,
Carved by creeks of toil and rut,
The water churns with arsenic tides,
An ebb and flow of random crime.

Wasted youth, the uncoiling cut,
Is dug with doubt, lined with rust.
In chiseled cracks where winds recede
Flagrant scorn plants a seed.

Absent hope, the uncoiling cut,
Harbors guilt in the cavern's gut.
Water falls through tattered seams,
A dripping gorge of broken dreams.

Idle time is an uncoiling cut,
Carved by creeks of toil and rut,
The water churns with arsenic tides,
An ebb and flow of random rhyme.


Details | Bio | |

I Wish I Had a Happy Story to Tell

I wish I had a happy story to tell
I wish it were the color of orange blossoms
I wish my body were not my jail
I wish…I wish I had a happy story to tell

I love him
So I let him grab my wrist 
As he led me away
I love him I told myself again
I was struggling to keep up as he
Was dragging me to my feet
You see I had let myself fall
I must have lost my balance
When he slammed me against the wall
I love him
I wanted to believe
But my tears kept me from seeing
His weight kept me from breathing
And his hand kept me from screaming
So I yelled instead in my head
That I loved him
My body pressed against the bed
I love him
How ironic I had worn
A pretty white dress
For a pretty white mess
I had not imagined that this would be my end
But I love him I told myself again
And as his knee bruised my inner thigh
My voice was lost within a cry
He’d forgotten to undo his belt
So I took the opportunity to yell
And for a moment I could not see
As if a hot cup of water had been poured over me
I began to drown in it
But then I found in it
Not the water he chose
But instead a broken nose
I love him, now harder to believe
Please don’t 
I mouthed a silly symphony
Please don’t 
Was my silent soliloquy 
Please don’t 
And then it was as if the world were in slow motion
I saw every emotion
Run through his face
As he pushed me away
Could it be that he was setting me free
Unused just as before
I lay crumpled on the floor
And saw his iron boots heading to me
He stood there – the embodiment of all my fears
Careful to avoid my puddle of blood and tears
He said nothing but stood over me
And with one swift kick
He destroyed everything that was left of me
Then he walked out the door
Down the hall
And far away
Leaving behind in his wake
A girl so useless
Not even a proper victim for a rape
But that girl is gone now
She has been replaced
By another with a stronger face
A louder growl
And quite a bite
One who will always put up a fight
Until she finds that you are worthy
Until you are witness to her glory
Then and only then 
Will she tell you this story





Details | I do not know? | |

Mirage

This is not a place
Not a place
where trees grow
where water runs
freely
This is a place
of the quiet
solitude
A place of
fullness
emptiness

Yet to the people of old
The forest dwellers
The water dwellers
The nomadics
This is there home
Its your home too

In the desert
Deep in the desert
theres a cave
where nothing 
holds all
10,00 paths
lead to somewhere
one path
to nowhere
leads here

This cave
Is not etched
on any map
Hidden from site
Located
on a landscape
A heated
arid landscape
A desert being
That burns senses
evaporates
Dims senses
chars self

The cave
Blood red rock
patterned with
handprints white
Ashen pigment 
marks the
dead, alive
the unborn

Here
All that ever
happened is
happening
and all that’s
to happen
happened


Here
If one could
hear
10,000 call
shattering
the solitude
into  100,000
realites

Here
theres a pool
untouched
by 
heat and wind
by element
A perfect reflection
If one could see
This reflection holds
10,000
in a hypnotic state
of self belief
There tears roll
Eroding rock
sustaining shape

But
It’s a cave
Just a cave
Alive with the
heat of being
and non being
An imposition
In the solidity
of rock
An empty space
containing all
Made of nothing
A place few go
Few find

This is the
mirage of dream


Details | Quatrain | |

Black River

Sitting on the river bank
while black water pools and slips away
cleanses the spirit of all that was
with a spit polish brass on the dullest day
Invading the current with questioning
with feet skinned in white and bones
catching the answers in black water leaves
while they linger, then sink to their home
All of the motion, in rocking, in waves
All of the sounds brim with life
strip me to soul strings and play me like music
an orchestra dark and deprived
I'll never settle in silt and starvation
I'll never sink like a stone
Catch me a current out on the black river
Carry me back home, alone.


Details | I do not know? | |

DARK WATER

Your friends have gone 
tears shed 
What have you done? 
Was it something you said? 

You have said goodbye 
This dark water to tread 
The friends you made cry 
Was it something you said? 

Where have you been? 
This dark water to tread 
Was it the things you had seen? 
Was it something you have said? 

Dark water ......so still 
Dark water.......so deep 
Your tears begin to spill, 
your tears begin to seep 

These friends have left, 
family gone 
You feel bereft 
Dark waters to tread 
Was it something you said? 

This dark water, 
on a dark night 
Dark water to tread, 
all alone.....you dread 

Dark water 
Salty tears that seep 
Dark water, 
fears you keep 

Dark water 
your friends have gone, 
everything lost 
What have you done? 
Still water you tread 
Was it something you said? 

Salty tears, 
on a salty sea 
all alone with your fears 
you decided this you see.................