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Metaphor Hope Poems | Metaphor Poems About Hope

These Metaphor Hope poems are examples of Metaphor poems about Hope. These are the best examples of Metaphor Hope poems written by international PoetrySoup poets

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Details | Free verse | |

YOU MAN

You Man

-a request by Mam Aiyah

You as a man can fill up this world
With the love of your heart,
Let them flow into your veins
As the oxygen of your spirit
Goes into the lungs of your kindness

You as a man can share the thoughts of your brain,
Even though your memory is not that enough to complete the story
Let your axon abound and connect to the spinal cord of your dreams

You as a man can smile with your lips
Let there be a good quotes for every word
Of your mouth as they slip,
Swallow all the sorrows, 
Cut the sadness of your teeth, make them fly away

You as a man can show your eyes with happiness,
Mix this with inspirations
As they blink in with visionaries

You as a man can smell the fragrance of nice posture
Strain the bad from good using your cilia,
As your thumb and index made it concrete
And threw them at a distance

You as a man can hear solutions,
Can fight all the negative pictures
With your muscles in your skeleton,
You can build a problem killer device
Energy is your emotions,

You as a man can face all of your knotty points
You can hold the sky,
As your feet stay on the ground…
Because you as a MAN,
Is H U M A N…


Details | Free verse | |

I see myself in her

                                                                                                             -For Melissa

She asked me how long does it take to heal
In what time allotment, exactly, will it take
For forgetfulness to become a reoccurrence
A blessing for the haunted
Memories that can be bleached off 
White sundresses put on in order to frolic
On beaches with waves washing away
Each grain of him
How long did it take for you to get over him?
Days? Weeks? A month or two?
Hope shining like a naïve flashlight during the eclipse of hardest times
Beaming on me, waiting for an answer

How could I tell her, honestly, 
That it took me years
To overlook the smallest details of his smile
How he only has one dimple on the right side of his face
The way his hands felt, every line and crevice of his fate
Thought to fit mine perfectly?

How could I tell her, truthfully
That no matter how many times I washed my sheets
I would catch the scent of him at 3:45 am, sometimes
Or hear his faint tapping on my window
When it’s really just, my imagination
That she’ll spend months waiting for him to text her
Call her, email her, think of her
When really he’s lying in bed with another women but she refuses
To believe that it’s over
Or how my heart still aches, just a little
When I hear he asked about me
Or that he can no longer say my name out loud to our mutual friends

Could I muster up the courage to explain to her
That it took me 2 years, 3 months, and 16 days to realize
The ugliness of being pathetic
It was time to rise up and take the lead 
Time to forget all romantic casualties 
It’s only yesterday that I found myself straining to remember
His faults, forgetting the man and only remembering the hero
How could I break her heart for the second time by telling her
The truth?

She stood there patiently waiting for me
To pull a metaphor out of a hat, something poetic
Comforting, beautiful, reassuring
I see myself in her
Wanting people to lie to us to see the Zen in ourselves

It’s like we’re all in the same play with the same roles but different names
It takes time for each actor to fulfill the destiny
Others emphasize while others downplay
Moments in time


Details | Free verse | |

Moments In Time

The sweetest sounds of burning trees
A gentle stroking in the breeze
The calm has lasted past the storm
Cloudy visions, Satan’s roar
Too many sights have passed my way
A time found only in the haze
The softest screams are running bare
My aching bones creak as I stare

You walk a distance towards me
The fall’s eternal, can’t you see?
I’m a memory in your heart
I whisper to you in the dark

The battle’s started at the end
No one is coming to repent
The sinners grab their wine from prey
No judgment calling here to stay
The sport is reckless to be told
The one is laughing at his souls
It falters nowhere to be sure
The power grows forevermore
Like a spirit in the wind
I have no say in where you’ve been 
But cross the line to come to me
And pay the price for ecstasy

You walk a distance towards me
The fall’s eternal, can’t you see?
I’m a memory in your heart
I whisper to you in the dark. 


Details | Free verse | |

Reality's Angel

I am Reality’s angel resting on the broad shoulders of discovery the truth feeds darkness and engulfs its target ideas and concepts in turn become meaningless to you there is a creator of all things He is just and patient many still have fallen into the masses of shadow wrapped in their own filthy idols of philosophy I have seen grown men fall like rose petals and weaklings rise into unjust leaders forever the follower of furtive evil dominating only to remain inferior the most important answers lie in the unseen regions where no sense can fully give assurance the mind that so many unreasonably twist and turn grows weary because of the distance it must take and truth be told the distance is not what frustrates it is knowing we are seeking something far that could very possibly not exist, that our minds can twist into theoretical, idealistic nonsense it is knowing all we really think we know is meaningless and yes—even a lie all that has been written thus far rests under my wings under the warmth in which you refuse to feel can you believe in me— though I am completely unseen? how much more difficult would it be to see Him?


Details | Free verse | |

Groundswell Girl - Named by JB

Enter a storybook tale
Where I can be 
The heroine you hail
Lucid dreams of soft reflection
A touch heated with lust and desired protection
A breathe a gasp as we succeed 
Join the fairytale with me
Valiant night within dark eyes
the right movement and I make them shine
like moonlight on the steamy hot spring
care to follow for a little dip with me
Trailing like the water at my fingertips
Grasp me around my hips
As close as the breeze on my skin 
Whisper lies as I let you in 
Lips mumbling up my thighs
bare heart exposed to the sky 
fire burning in my veins
Am I a mistress of this lust or simply a slave
Trembling with desire
Take me till we've lost count of the hours
enter this storybook tale
Where I can be the heroine you hail


Details | Rhyme | |

The Power Within

There is Power in the pen.
There is Power in the voice.
There is Power within the people,
and with responsibility comes choice.

There is power in our cars,
and Power in our homes.
But at times we feel powerless,
at times we feel alone.

When times get tough
and you do not have the Power,
look within yourself,
it will be a Powerful hour.

There is Power in the pen.
There is Power in the voice.
There is Power within the people,
and with responsibility comes choice.


Details | Free verse | |

KEEP ON

Sometimes, 
When I find that life's not fair, 
When Isee that fortune, love, and friendship look away from me, 
I stare at the cards that life places in my hands, and,
I move them around a bit and try to find
their highest value for moving on this rough-rough road. 
That's all. 

Just keeping on, 
moving on, moving those cards until 
I see my best hand taking shape from within itself
, perhaps my own potential - possibilites.  

It may be a metaphor for "hope" , 

that inner voice that tells me 
"just one more step man - 
just one more breath- 
just once more over that next hill - 
just one more day - 
just one more mile -
just -Keep On!


Details | Alliteration | |

The Night Owl

Hoot! Hoot! Came the call
In silence I listened,heard
Nothing.
Suddenly, hoot! Hoot! 
Came the cry,tree 
Branches rustling,wings 
Flapping.
Seems the world was in 
Oblivion-the absolute 
Silence.
Went I to the window 
and Looked into the 
empty Darkness. As I lay 
down,I Knew somewhere 
I would Hear that sound 
again.


Details | Haiku | |

The Internet: Return

A void of Facebook
Creativity dies here...
Procrastination!


Details | Free verse | |

Just Be

Sometimes I admire the littlest things
A simple rock. A blade of grass. 
They need no future goals, no tax exemptions
They don’t need to go anywhere or be anything
They just are. 

Sometimes, especially when I’m reading life insurance policies,
I envy the rocks and the grass
And try to be like them for a moment. 
I sit perfectly still and give myself to the wind-
And it whispers in my ear:
Just be.
And for that moment I don’t need to go anywhere or be anything.
And at the snap of my fingers, 
All the complex widgets and gizmos that make up my life
Fold into paper airplanes and fly off in the wind.

Jacob Reinhardt
10/07/13


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 | Narrative | |

A Land Bearing Green White Green

Which way leads to the 
land of green white 
green?
Which way are we 
heading?
   A country the wicked 
bears the rulership, and 
the people sighing 
continuously.
   A terrible thing sprouts 
beneath the sun: a 
pregnant woman 
delivering not.
Imps come to lime-light 
by snuffing air from the 
goose that laid the 
golden eggs.
The blind guiding the un
blind.
The weak suppressing 
the strong-a terrible 
thing.
Like the overthrow of the 
gods at Mt. Olympus by 
the Titans.
A country where also 
thieves appear as men of 
integrity.
Land of green white 
green,which way?
A land where the 
enlightened ones are 
overshadowed and 
peanuts given to them.
The masses are dogs that 
eat the crumbs.
 Which way to go you 
Land?
Iliterates stand on 
podium of power 
bellowing orders as milk 
of sorrow known as 
dividends of democracy 
is passed around.
The machine of progress 
manned by the 
unproductive.
"There is better 
tomorrow" we hear.
Land of green white 
green,my country 
where rule of law walk 
beside anarchy.
The proles are sentenced 
to adversity,and there 
endured death-like trials.
Chai! Aru! People 
dancing on thorns 
whimpering as they 
throng 
along.
  I see a new sun rising 
from the horizon,hope is 
rekindled as its rays 
grace on hopeless bodies.
 Look!! there soon be 
change!



Note: 
This 
is 
poem 
full 
of 
Nigeria 
political
 angst.


Details | Lyric | |

The Landscape of a Soul

The landscape of a soul is
A valley of uncertainty 
Beneath a mountain of woes,
A river of doubt
Carving a path between
A desert of despair
And a forest laden with shortcomings.
This is the trek of a lifetime.
A journey laced with 
A sense of impending doom, 
With nothing but the path ahead
To supply a glimmer of hope.
But we,
The dreamers,
Delve into these trenches of mystery
And despair,
Knowing that we
May discover riches beyond compare,
But just as well meet our end
Along the way.
For we know how remarkable it is,
That one can miss so much
With our feet set forward
Our eyes to the ground
And our mind lost in the clouds.
When all along,
The answer we sought
Was nestled among the insecurities
And imperfections
Of the landscape of our soul.


Details | Tanka | |

'Being bipolar is like a rose'

Being bipolar
is like a rose born missing
some of its petals,--
its color is more vibrant
than all the other roses'!

It may never be
part of a "perfect" bouquet,--
but its rich pigment
can be a precious paint for
Da Vinci's "Mona Lisa."

Alas, it may not
attract the most "honeybees"
in the wilds of life,--
but its petals can be crushed
to make the finest perfumes.

Being bipolar
is like a rose born missing
some of its petals,--
its bouquet is more fragrant
than all the other roses'!


Details | Free verse | |

The Storm

And the storm calls to me in ways you'll never understand
A gentle call that urges my soul forth
The lighting guiding a path for my feet to walk
Between the stones and ash of all that once was
I stand in the echoing silence of the rain 
It drops down upon my skin like the blessing waters of heaven
Soothing me, lifting the weight from my body 
I feel at once as if I am home
Standing amid two dimensions 
Caught between two skies - here and there
The night wraping around me in warmth
The gentle wind lifting me off my feet
Drops from the clouded moon washing away my body
and I am left just a soul, an essence 
The storm calls me forth from beneath my roof
Beckoning me into its depth 
I stand among the reeds in the basin 
They dance and sway as if welcoming me
And I sway with them back 
Caught up in the power that charges the air
That threatens to sweep me away 
If the ground will just loosen its hold
The thunder rumbles a low welcoming growl
And I get pleasently lost within it
I am so small compared to its vastness
I close my eyes and succumb to the skies wishes
Rising higher until my feet no longer touch the ground 
My fingertips touch the liquid color of the stars
A sigh drifts from my lips
There is no need of thought to stay afloat
There is no demand to breathe in air
No crushing weight upon my chest
As my lungs struggle to survive
There are no struggles here
I make my bed on blackened clouds
And give in to the call
The storm has claimed me as its own 
It was such a struggle to stay upon the ground
When the storm would call me home


Details | Ghazal | |

Thunder

As houses shake people think of red, when comes thunder.
Safely in our rooms, on our warm beds, then comes thunder.

Will you sacrifice yourself for those that you love like
In those romantic stories you've read, when comes thunder?

Even the most sturdy of men will feel like brittle
Glass and sense vast approaching dread, when comes thunder.

Women will lite slender candles to illuminate
Their tattered bibles, their daily bread, when comes thunder.

As I write this I hear something familiar yet strange,
"You are not alone, Timothy" said the loud thunder.


Details | Heroic Couplets | |

Eat A Little Piece

Poem: Titled: Eat A Little Piece?My Poetry on PoetrySoup
 Written by: Ronald Watson.
March 10, 2013.

Eat A Little Piece?
Ethel, she is an elderly little lady who bakes sweet tasty treats, and constantly, she is asking,” Please, come on, eat a little piece?”
It was her secret cooking recipe’ that would knock the socks right off of your feet.
Then, she gathered up together all of, “The Powers That Be.”
When it came time for them to eat a little piece.
To sip it up with their coffee and tea;
Devour some up like, the cookie monster on: Sesame Street.
Either, it should taste more like, their moms red beans and rice.
Or it would taste just like, those sweet and honey barbeque ribs that is cooked so nicely.
Because it is her secret cooking recipe’. Yet, still she is asking, “Come on now, please try a little peace?”
But, they all just stood and shook their heads, saying that they were all having War instead.My Poetry on PoetrySoup

Thank You.


Details | Light Poetry | |

Butterfly

I once was like a catipiller young,naive,and new
Always living from my heart not knowing what
else to do.Easy to take advantage of, that is 
just the case, people would walk over me
like I was their dirty used up suitcase.
Now I feel a newness coming, like a light
shining from the sky, colors fill my world
and I know I am blooming into a butterfly.
Purple,Pink, Blue and Green I can feel them
flowing through. Colors of the rainbow raising
me into full bloom. Wise and strong I am becoming
My faith leads me where I need to go giving me
insight and wiseness for only me to know.
I have not  done this on my own you see
I have been guided by God and Angels
on this Earth. Wise words the wisdom at
it's best comes from a wise lady who
seems to know me best. Lucky, I am 
to have her in my life, she always shoots
it straight and tells me like it is, knowing
her words touch my heart and gives me tons of faith..
I feel like flying through the sky or climbing 
a tree way up high. I feel like observing the 
world just like a brand new butterfly so as I
Bloom I become Anew something unlike the past
Smart and wise beautiful on the inside and outside 
 a touch of color here a touch of color there
makes me glow and become a beautiful blooming butterfly...


Written By: Christina A McCullouch 
04/09/2013


Details | Lyric | |

Coming From Where I'm From

Coming from where I’m from
By Nate Spears
Published 2013 in “Death OF A Rose” By Nate Spears


Coming from where I’m from
Every day is a battle to survive 
War is in session 
Right before our eyes

Each day we battle lessons
Just to be in the running for blessings
Coming from where I’m from
We move rapidly on missions

The dead is alive with every walk of the lifeless 
Limited income withholds wealth
The living is near death
Spirits are stripped of guilt

Coming from where I’m from
Deprived wealth
Creates bad health 
In occurrence to this 
Good feelings are killed


The worst gets exposed 
As times get worse
Financial situations become a disaster
No man on earth can rehearse
 
The world is broken
Hunger brings harm
Coming from where I’m from
Dictatorship is not fond

The environment brings the need to shoot
These activities loosens the roots
We’re grounded by values as thin as a pin
We lose ourselves at falling rates like bowling pens

No free passes
Prisons filled in masses
Separated by classes
Coming from where I’m from.



Details | Rhyme | |

EN ROUTE TO A BLESSING

TO MOVE FORWARD
TO MOTIVATE OTHERS
FOR EMPOWERMENT VIA NON-PROFIT
TO ACHIEVE WHAT HAS BEEN SAID TO BE IMPOSSIBLE!

Is there a greater focus to determine a greater faith?
Why ask, if you are living the best way?

TO STEP-TO-THE CAUSE
TO BE A POLITICAL POWERHOUSE
TO PROVIDE MOTIVATION
TO INSPIRE A NATION

What is your focus to be?
I ask because a destiny is perceived.

TO BE TO DO
TO LOVE TO LIVE
TO QUEST TO ACHIEVE
TO SEEK TO DEFINE
TO FIND TO SEEK OUT
TO ESTABLISH TO ASCERTAIN

What questions have you not ask?
Bringing forth this knowledge is to introspect.
________________________________________|
PENNED ON SEPTEMBER 15, 2014!


Details | Dramatic Verse (Verse Drama) | |

The Boy Who Smiles at the Sky

There he sits neither brazen nor too shy
The boy who sits and smiles at the sky
He is not moved as those who pass him by
He sits and smiles his head up to the sky

There seems to be some peace to it
Something for us that doesn’t fit
But nature is subdued admit
Admit you couldn’t, wouldn’t thus smile and sit.

Mindless sightless people passing by
Dare not notice it smiling at the sky
Just move on faster doesn’t matter why
There is nothing to smile at in the sky

Pray what is it he’s smiling at
I wonder is It smiling back
He seems to hold something we lack
We lack yet couldn’t, wouldn’t live like that

Some things taught should really make you cry
Not like the one who smiles at the sky
Who lives in reasoning like you nor I 
Is there something in smiling at the sky

What do his eyes now truly see
Is his mind completely free
Does he recall you and me
And me we couldn’t, wouldn’t friends still be

What meaning to time gently passing by
I’d just be that boy who smiles at the sky
As all my treasured memories sweetly die
I turn my hopes and smiling toward the sky


Details | I do not know? | |

Darkness

when you're fast asleep
and thoughts creep into your head
and flood your brain until it weeps
and your mind descends dark and deep
into a land of dead end worlds
where the only way out
is the way you came in
but the road is way too steep
and your feet are made of lead
and every smile is just pretend
and nothing is to be believed
and you're going off the deep end
bleeding rivers of hatred
into a pool of shallow deceit
where every thought is colored red
and every shade of black completes
every nightmare ever conceived
born of blood-stained dreams within dreams
where that person you used to be
is falling into skies of silent screams
and contemplating death
all the while wishing
to be alive again


Details | Haiku | |

Haikus About God: IV

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


Details | I do not know? | |

'Give me drink, rest, and solitude'

Give me drink, rest, and solitude--
these are all the things I long for.
Give me as well your finest food
and I'll ask of you, lass, no more!

My bonnie lass, what's the matter--
why are you all sorry and alone?
Don't be sad because you're fatter
than most, lass, for love loves its own.

Sweet lass, I'll tell you a secret.
If I were a young lad again,
I'd pursue you without regret!
But as I am three-score and ten

years old, indeed, I can never
be the youthful lad you most need.
But your pain won't be for ever:
for your heart will refuse to bleed.




Details | Haiku | |

Haikus About God: VI

The body: sacred
We’re all made in God’s image
Hence... circumcision?


Details | Clerihew | |

Not, yet

I dreamt myself as poet-frog
And good Fancy` Fairy
Would stoop to pick my verse…
But she didn`t come.


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 | 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 | Lyric | |

A person I've met before

You are a person i've met before.
The man who stands knocking at my door.
I remember you from my dreams,
Your eyes sparkle and your smile gleams.

You held the door open as I ran in for shelter from the cold weather & rain.
You are the man I stood next to in line.
You are the man I passed by
I danced as you sang the songs chorus.
I pushed my way through...
the sea of people and stopped next to you.
Amidst the crowd we stood, searching for a way out
I looked around, I glanced in your direction, I looked past you 
I found my way out, I hurried my way through.
I walked away having not met you.

A second glance, I did not take,
unaware that our meeting was fate.

You are a person i've met before,
Sometime ago on a night like tonight,
The air was warm, the stars shining bright
The night that we met,
I danced that night, I danced and danced until the morning light
I sat to lay my feet to rest, you came to me no different from the rest
You asked me for a cigarette.
An open chance to conversate 
knowing this interaction would not lead to a date
We shared thoughts and ideas of similar interests.
such as music and poetry, art and astrology.
At the time I thought nothing of it, a casual meeting of the mind.
Little did I know, I would continue to meet you throughout my lifetime.

You are a person i've met before,
I've read your book of poetry at the local book store.
you write of life, love and family.
You are a person i've met before,
I've seen your paintings, they are hard to ignore
You are the artist I dream of meeting
You are a person i've met before.

You are the man in my dreams, 
Your eyes sparkle and your smile gleams.
I've met you 100 times before,
You are the man who stands knocking at my door.


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 | Free verse | |

Gratefulness

To be absolutely certain To be firmly convicted in principle and belief Is the scariest feeling of all But, like all feelings, it never lasts The conviction stays, but the mind wanders Deep into the zones of ostensible comfort Where it rests merely to frenzy Into the streets of opposition Straight into the absolute wrong But the feeling never lasts It returns to the minute certainty The mind becomes determined in the conviction it has embraced And the best feeling rises above the initial fear: Gratefulness
6-29-13


Details | Free verse | |

Catching Fire

Catching Fire
Some of us are watching the skies for works of fire
While some of us are quietly catching it.

Which are you?


Details | Free verse | |

Heartbreak

He wants to say "I love you,"
But keeps it to "Goodnight."
Because love would mean some falling,
and she's afraid of heights.

T.K


Details | Narrative | |

The Truth of the Dragon-Knight

Last knight Eye dreamed Eye was a dragon with wings made from disdain and shaped like quaking fear that burned holes through my subconscious imaginings. Eye was gliding soundlessly thru dark clouds, thunder, and rain, while the Slayers stood below, grounded in tyranny and trying to pull Me from the knight sky...Then Eye could hear, then Eye watched thru Dragon-I's as arrows joined my flight...trying to penetrate the hard scales of My spiritual skin. The muted sharpness of the arrows' dancing ricocheted off of Me.

Then Eye cried. Not in agony or pain or sadness...no

Eye cried in echoing defiance of the oppression of blind slavery and meaningless denial. Eye belched blue and green flame and roared aloud--as loud as my Dragon-voice would carry. Eye scorched the minds of the lie-ers and self-made martyrs (there, the ones who were carrying the omission of Truth of this world).

The Slayers still stood their ground. They kept circling  around and around under Me...but Eye kept pumping My neck, Eye kept beating My wings, but still the Slayers came...more and more of them...

Eye dived down deep toward their barren landscape (My Own Hunting Ground!!); Eye needed to see their torn, hated faces...Men, all. They kept their hoods drawn, their faces hidden from My I's. But their bodies were bare and naked to My Dragon-flame, naked to the force of My righteous wrath. Eye swept down closer, closer until Eye could smell the scents of their sweat and dried blood (of conquered servants before), and Eye could see, even count, the dark hairs sprouting from greasy, dirt-clogged pores. Eye could see that some bore vehement scars, jagged marks streaking across their man-flesh.

Their weapons were crude, mostly: wood axes, scythes, cudgels, kitchen knivez sharpened to a murderous edge...the only sophisticated armaments were their bows, their arrows. The bows were of blood and bone and tendon and blind fear, the sinewy string woven with acceptance of the  Truth...how odd (the Truth that they must stand and fight a common enemy as a single unit, that they must stop war amongst themselves to do so)...and their arrows were bound with Hope and Reason, that Eye would die before them, that they would live on. The bows were more beautiful than the Slayers deserved to wield, but they commanded them with such grace and poise and proficiency...

The Truth is Eye, the Dragon-Knight, and the Slayers are all of mankind's fear and war and social stigma among thorns...

Their bows were the making of Truth and Love and Acceptance, only constructed and command-able when mankind will stand together and open their I's and see.


Details | Lyric | |

I am but a Vessel

I wish I were empty, 
I could easily be filled with that which is from God. 
Yet I have been filled with the things of this world.

Pour out my Self, 
fill me with the Spirit, 
the good gifts from God.

I am but a vessel,
that which enter me is that of which I am full.
I must fill myself with that which is from God,
I must surround myself with Him,
so He is that of which I am full.
Fill me up Lord.
For when I am full of You,
....of Your Love,
....of Your Word,
that is who I will be
....Your Love.

Fill me with Your Love Lord.
I will travel through this world,
I will not be swayed by worldly temptations. 

The more of You that lives in me
the more of You there is to fill this world.

Use my body as Your Vessel
to bring the world to You
....to Your Glory
....to Your Grace
....to Your Mercy
....and Your Love. 
Fill me, Lord, with Your Great Love.


Details | Epyllion | |

EMPOWERING INNOCENCE

written 21st June 2013


A 'single'.. rose grows with purity, into a field, en-fenced
 from that 'moment' it buds, watch...as its passion, and grace.. intertwine
It begins to bloom, with such confidence
 showing off.. its elegance, with 'complete' dominance
For you are left... 'totally' unaware of an, 'entire' field of daisies, swaying.... such poetry
 such passion, and grace.. still exists in the heart, of humanity
The worlds future... 'completely' relies on 'peace' to become heard
 but how far has...man let it go, our hearts hold hope, for the same entity
Peace, love and harmony
 for those "who" choose to believe
Jesus freed, the curse we received by 'Adam' and 'Eve'
 they have found, love and peace
Taking it upon themselves, they help... the next man, to be 'free'
 within God's own time, we 'will' see, heaven on earth
For it is 'still' a gift... we all receive, at the hour of our birth
 


Details | Rhyme | |

When He Breaks You

When He breaks you

It is to re-make you.

 

If given the choice

To give destiny your voice

You would undoubtedly have picked this state

Such is the irony of fate

 

He breaks you now

So you later see the how -

How the pieces of your journey come to be

A slow but eventual solving of this mystery

 

He makes you work work work – then fail

So that you realize your means are of no avail

Without His will -

But feel His mercy fill -

Even through the aches still

 

He punctures your bubble of hope

To teach you the meaning of struggling to cope

To avoid you saying ‘this was all from me’

Which you might say if it always did come so easy

 

He lets you fall

So that when you stand

It’s straight and tall

Your past sorrows

Not letting you drown

Without your ego

Weighing you down

 

Even while the road appears smooth

He lets you trip and trip again

So that you might stumble upon hidden treasures

From the dirt, which you may otherwise not gain

 

In essence,

He knows Best

The perfect Teacher

Who puts the perfect test

-

Truly,

He breaks you

To re-make you…

Better.


Details | Haiku | |

All About the Music: The Infinite Magic of Lyricism

Pop may be catchy
But not lyrically deep
Case in point: Chris Brown.


(N.B. Poem written after hearing "Don't Wake Me Up")


Details | Haiku | |

Le Vacance Pretentieuse: Storm Part VI

Water licks your feet
Far cry from the beating sun
Desert sand to sea


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 | Haiku | |

Le Vacance Pretentieuse: Storm Part V

The English weather:
Rainclouds follow us from home
There is no escape.


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 | Free verse | |

Embers of a dream

Lord, I don't understand.
Maybe I never did.
The destination of the path seemed so grand,
yet now it looks horrid!

Why?

The dragon You've placed, mine to fight
still breathes fire and brimstone in my neck,
but I'm armoured with incapability to smite
and the cobblestones You paved lead to this wreck.

Why?

I dreamt of the moon,
but couldn't reach the stars,
so I drifted into the sun and soon
I would be burnt with scars.

Why shroud my mind with dreams of peace at daylight's bend,
yet shred it with horrors at night?
Why let me pursue a rainbow when 
there never was an end?

The past is bathed in murky waters
and clothed in miry clay.
Now the future looks no better
and mere words can't express what I wish to say.

Lord, here I lay at Your mercy,
angry and heartbroken.
You don't make mistakes and You set free.
Please, I beg be my beacon!
Loose the shackles,
break the chains
that I may serve You again.
Show me the true way You planned,
for I have reached the end of this one.


Details | Sonnet | |

The Broken Girl-not me

Is my life not tortured enough for you to see? 
I am broken as can be. 
My heart is torn. 
My tears stain these perfect floors.  
Why are singing with glee? 
Why do you not care about my every plea? 
I am trapped in your arms. 
I am the hopeless moth. 
How did you pick me? 
What is it that you see? 
A girl untouched by life? 
A flower blooming in the desert? 
I have said goodbye to my loving integrity.  
You took that from me through R-A-P-E.


Details | Haiku | |

A Time to Shed

A Time to Shed
Dull, milky, blue eyes Molting snake crawls out of skin - Dawn of a new day


Details | I do not know? | |

My Love

my love...

my love blossoms amidst the thunder

across the oceans and the beyond the seas

my love reaches out and touches

the moments of bliss as the loneliness flees

my love is simple
with profound feelings of yearning desire

my love rages within
the furnace of this aching heart's unquenchable fire

my love basks in the warmth of the knowledge

that in the spring it takes root and it will flower

my love breathes in the light fragrance

of her hair after her warm and delicate shower

my love remembers drowning in her eyes

of those ethereal moments frozen forever more

my love recalls the fleeting ticking of the clock

each minute apart stabbing at my very core

my love she knows I need her so

for she needs me just as much

my love she sprinkles light flourishes of her sensual touch

as my love for her continues to ceaselessly grow

my love reaches down into the crevasses of my of being

my love for her is held onto deep inside

for in the coming of the cold ache of seperation

my love settles between the folds of her heart, for 'tis there that my love for will reside

my love like an eternal dream caresses me in wakefulness and in sleep

and that is the feeling that I shall cherish

a feeling of love that has settled in me 

a feeling so pure and a feeling so very deep...


Details | Dramatic Verse (Verse Drama) | |

Chains

Chaining my brain is not my game/ 
My writing keeps chaining lyrical strings to proof my poetry can be my bible/ 
We keep chaining verses in this poetry but this chains never passes the preaching to the right ears/ 
The disciples of this poetry are never here/ 
They chain politics to question the church of poetry/ 
They drink chains that bleeds poetry/
The crucifixion gave birth to hypocrites/ 
Poetry died for us who sin because we love not being poetic/ 
We play with words to chain chains that blesses the congregation with sounds like so and so/ 
But the eye that crucified poetry is the eye that gave birth to this chains of poetry


Details | Verse | |

I'm sorry

I'm sorry for you, for all I DID mean to.
I'm sorry for truth yelling under the letters.
I'm sorry for gloom I used to be into.
I'm sorry for words that were ment to be better.

I'm sure you'll learn how to be optimistic,
and all of your sorrow will burst in a firework.
I'm sure you'll taste both the carrot and broomstick,
and critic with sarcasm will become a fair quirk.

I'm sure you'll manage to blow off the ceilings,
to do something wierd, worth to be accused of.
I hope that you'll learn to sort out the feelings
and born the new tenet out of the used stuff.

I want you to find something to govern.
I wish you object every slightest assurance.
I warn you to leave any secret uncovered
so it won't appear as nightmare to you once.

Be careful with matches, refuel the gaslight, 
extinguish the candle, let the night to mourn.
I'd say, single point to fear the Last fight:
to set Life aside until you'll have to moor.

8.04.2013
NikA


Details | Lyric | |

Drifting Mainly

You belong to me mate 	 ( Intro )
And that be that!
Get on board
And grab your hat!

The ship was aghast at its new passenger	( Verse )
Like disdain for the lives that they now left behind,
Newcomers were scarce 
And they never would last
But I held up my chin nice and high.


The bloke who took me screamed	( Pre-chorus )
“Mop up the deck we’ve got things to do!” 
But I said sir, 
I’m just a boy and don’t know what’s to do.

And he said		( Chorus )
“Drifting mainly
Sailin the shores
Taking what’s mine 
And leaving what’s yours
Cause you know, we ain’t dead yet.”

Taking the seas for more than eight moons
We found islands and loot
That was bigger than most.
The taste of sea air 
With its wind in my hair
Took me away to this new life I lead.

After mopping the deck 
He grabbed my hand and screamed
 “Steer this ship boy!”
But I said sir,
I’m just a lad and don’t know where to go.

So the crew yelled	( Chorus )
“Drifting mainly
Sailin the shore
Taking what’s mine 
And leaving what’s yours
Cause you know, we ain’t dead yet.”

Surprising to me 
Was my unshaven face
The captain looked on 
And smiled with grace,
We stopped at a place 
Where the women were loose and didn’t mind
If we took a peak.

He said “Now you’re a man so let’s get on that boat,
We got places to be and some people to rope,
So grab that sword and drop that mop
Cause you’re no longer a boy in my eyes.”

I practiced the duel with the men in the crew
The captain took eye to my devilish pride,
And he took me aside and said 
 “Even in death I’m gonna miss you boy 
But don’t let it strike you 
Or kill your spirits
Cause even time can beat out the Grim.”

Then in the darkness came fire and screams,
Our vessel had stopped after fourteen years,
The crew fought hard and beat most of the men
But now, my Captain was dead.

We took the new ship watching ours sink deep
Saying goodbye to our drowning escape,
The crew turned towards me and asked
“What do we do?” and I smiled,
And they did to.

And we yelled    ( Chorus )
“Drifting mainly
Sailin the shores
Takin what’s mine
And leaving what’s yours
Cause you know, we ain’t dead yet.”


Details | Dramatic Verse (Verse Drama) | |

Thoughts

Thought are only feelings too,
Thoughts that I think so often of you.

Feelings are my sensations within,
The mud and the rubbish,
The diamond ring.

Sensations are the messages you send to me,
A sword, a cross, an olive tree.

So many images flash through my mind,
So many feelings to which I am blind.

So many thoughts that I never dare think,
Like old dirty dishes in the kitchen sink.

Hidden away beneath the shit, 
The mud the blood and the rest of it.

Thoughts and feelings lost in the wind,
What really mattered is hidden within.

Within the noise, the laughing crowds,
Between the lines of a song sang loud.

A whispered caress, a gentle breeze,
A butterfly's wing, down on my knees.

Beneath the thoughts, behind the scene,
Under the feelings and what has never been.

Though the holes in time and space,
What is always forgotten, your long lost face.

Shining brightly for all to see,
It was never you, it was always me.

Always me down in this pit,
Thinking and fighting to make sense of it.

Always me blocking the way,
Blocking  the door to keep out the day.

Always me who had the last word,
Propping up, the blind and absurd.

Always me with something to say,
Thinking and feeling my life away.


Details | Haiku | |

Le Vacance Pretentieuse: Storm Part IV

Precipitation:
Culminates in a washout
Stuffed camels get soaked


Details | Free verse | |

Her Final Words

"No." She whispered before drowning into her sorrows.
Her life had been a simple happy one. 
There were no pains and no troubles.
Life was life and people were people.
Life was simple.
and life was all about tomorrows.
Life didn't know about sorrows.
Her sorrows.
Those same sorrows that she drowned in never existed. 
They were never there, but where?
First to be sad in the naive town of joy.
Sorrow became contagious and what was known as happiness no longer was there.
It was non-exististent. 
A meager thought 
and a blessed memory.
She tried and tried.
She failed and failed.
Life was no longer hers.
For Pain was her only possession.
Her curse.
She lived and she died.
Yet, her legacy was passed on.
Never was it gone.
"No." She whispered before drowning in her sorrows, 
"Save them."


Details | Verse | |

Distorted perception of reality


It's all about love,
All Madness, Pain and Misery.
But what makes it so rough
That hurts all stones so easilly?

Eternal question 'What?'
Which causes all the troubles.
But askless men are odd
Like stonish soap bubbles.

The topic is the least
Of what we're always worry.
The more important 'Beast'
Is how to feel no Sorry.

Emotions are obscure
for those, who are 'Successful'.
Much better: Ride the rules
Unless your life'll be stressful.

The point is to find 
The EmoLogic balance,
And here, if you don't mind,
I'll hide behing the valance.

It's up to each of us
Which road'll be taken,
But be sure not to trust
Those thoughts, which did just broke in.

                               15.08.2012.


Details | Kyrielle | |

So many candles to see the light

Like joyous green of summer, my heart is singing filled
With you, while winter`s white is witness of good willed;
The glass works and the hot red wine spreading light:
Comforting carols “Silent Night” or “Brad Frumos”. 

Comforting thoughts of good like good miners,
And cakes a lot with names of saints and sinners
Looking the heart of sweet cherries strudel under the sight

Of mother humming “Silent Night” or “Brad Frumos”.

Smoldering embers and feeling like hot chocolate 
With scent of incense offered to every Christian mate
Under the new temptation of good and hope of right
 
Teaching of church on “Silent Night”,under “Brad Frumos”

The sacrifice of the pig, a ritual Symphony in red,
At the other side of modal logic, with wine and bread
And slaughtered pig and soured soups that might  
                                                               
Be prepared and savored on "Silent Night" ,near “Brad Frumos”


The aromatic smoke ascending, and dancing heavenly
Like our attempt to preserve and conserve not only
The clay and flash creature but also the inner light 

And so many candles to see the Light on “Silent Night”...


Details | Free verse | |

to Thao, the Love of my Life

Towards the heavens of the existing 
long we beheld 
the fleeting idea 
which ravishes the immense beauty 
to the dream 
but it was only out to sea 
of your appearing 
she made herself 
tangible, to the real, 
and boundless 


Details | Free verse | |

The Garden

The night air is cool and collective,
Running through my hair and face.
Even when I’m with people, I feel alone
In this cold blooded space.

It’s like walking through a garden
Of all your favorite foods,
But none of which can substantiate
For that one so special mood…

That mood, 
that beautiful frame of mind.  
I only go there with you,
And only you can make it unwind.

I discovered a passion unlike any other
And in my finding I opened a world,
A world I did not know existed.
I’m on cloud nine every time I think of you,
Just the thought of you brings joy to my heart.

This garden holds many beautiful things
Many delightful pleasures,
Many cold nights,
Warm nights,
Difficult frights,
Ecstatic times and unsystematic times!

But they mean nothing to me,
While I’m alone…

Walk with me through this garden.


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 | Romanticism | |

Prime Mover

Like the seraphs whose wings unfold,
Christ's light and glory goes not untold;
as the love of his humble grace
moves inside me all time and space,

as the planets orbit heaven's sun
and encircle it one by one--
so, too, am I caught in his sway,
beloved of him from day to day.

Through hosts of astral dimension
God's angels fix their attention
with expectancy and burning pause
amidst the universe's First Cause.

He, the one true Incarnation  
that begets cosmic causation,
resolves the Infinite Regress
from the pre-Socratics' egress

with his omniscient wisdom
and the archives of his kingdom
where all can come and read and know
what miracles he'll yet bestow.


Details | Imagism | |

A snowman with arms akimbo

A melting snowman begs in the troubled tired minds 
Dirty snow at the Crossroads of times and the winds, 
Revives fountain purling the first word, gold rain: 
How to share happiness from the high mountain?

The same, melting into the gray masses of secularization, 
The bitter taste of freedom as a necessity, globalization 
Of conviction and imagery for poets in times of need, 
With sweat emanation of democratic transitions that feed 
Our misunderstood freedom and what else might be?
 In the abundance of the unimportant things so free; 
And the crisis of the essential ones...calling stability
Like little Prince and forgotten language of Morality.
Like the dream in another incredible long dream,
The landscape is covered by so much ice-cream,
That never-never paid hopes grew as glorious grass
In the horizon of strawberries and invincible glass;

How many eyes look at the wrinkles of those mirrors?
There sun dies and sometimes arises to face new dangers.
Like in the unforgettable party of each blond spring;
Like Narcissus who saved himself in the fountain ring;
Like alliteration in remarkable moral nations,
That lived in the desert of changeable motions
Of obedient stripped dunes under the power of wind,
Calling the thirsty camel in the horizon ready to bind
The earth and the sky around the shinning red moon:
And all those without heart will be lost in that afternoon?

Even mountains of rice can be moved by the new faith,
From desert, in the frozen Europe with white wreath;
There Sisyphus guided generations in the realm of ethics, 
And new prophets lead crowds of poll sweat heretics;
Counting endangered ethical animals in the national park.
At Poles, imaginary people live their half life in dark.


Details | Verse | |

Le Vacance Pretentieuse: Dessert in the Deserted Desert

Boiling, baking and blazing,
               Other synonyms for heat.
My camel is happily dazing,
	He was not a restful seat.
Poolside I’ll later be lazing,
	Resting my sunburnt feet.
Air conditioning is amazing,
               Ice cream is a lovely treat.


Details | Prose Poetry | |

The Hopeless

Every night she paints the sky a little darker,
blotting out stars that she’s given up on.
Burning balls of dust that her imagination can
no longer shoulder. Someone else can have
their light; Someone with a little hope left.
She’d rather draw in grey scale memories,
outline them in crimson. It’s a little more 
realistic that way; contemporary at least.
The few last glowing bits in the horizon
give all that is needed for the final strokes
of her legacy. 
A promise to herself,
                               A tribute to the fallen,
                                   A gift for those who are sure wander onto the    
                                    path that she found, so long ago.
 
"Maybe it will save them.
                                     Give them what they need to find their way.”
 
She lay her brush unto the stone before her,
and let the grass take the blood from her hands
before she reaches out.
One final star shines in her eyes,
the only one left to guide them home.
-James Kelley 2013, All rights reserved


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 | Free verse | |

Oh Sojourner

Oh Sojourner

By Ingrid Showalter Swift

 

Oh Sojourner
 
Walk among the tall lithe pines as they sway 

beneath

subtle hues of lavender’s dusk 

Reach your illuminas fingers 
with polished nails a-glittered 
in crystal-ed gold and diamond sight 
out and into this thrusting long light
         …Searing a golden pathway from sky into dark walnut and pine and lines of 
these byways ..only angels and devils alone ...dare tread

This forest is a barrier thin enough to breech
so teach me!.....I plead of you.... 

with lips blazing ... the need to speak volumes…like  heat rising 

Make me  a lit oiled lamp on a tall white post 
singing out ...streaming out into the streets gray toned and grayed with the 
beating 
of the merciless weakness ...of humanity 

lead me to hope….. yet still more
and pray

daring out …the dark night 

yearning for just yet another... lilt hearted singular spring day to awaken within 
the gates of this immortal town
held aloft by bone cavern and pale flesh tenting

Let  light green springs erupt from me once more 
and flow through all I meet 
like the river shows the leaf to the ocean and then to the shore once more


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 | Free verse | |

Moon

Might I ask about what the moon means to you?
It means the world revolves in a transcending path with a satellite.
Why does the moon shine in the midnight sky?
It shines because it is a guide between the world of the dead and the living.

So does the moon fill the air with hope?
The moon itself is hope for people.
Why does the moon pull us in with such soul searching?
It is because we feel that the moon is part of our every day life.

Children who asks these questions; I have strive to tell them some truth,
And for the adults out there I created a little Moon lite poem to sooth.

So the moon is our light in the darkest hour of the night
With romance in the air that is so bright
We all hold hands once in a moonlit walk
And with such passion we would talk
The moon gives us our pull on each others heart
With a dinner that we take part
The ritual of wooing ones heart is a great feeling of love
The moon is always there to shine right above
In time we think we are blinded by the moon 
But to tell you the truth it reflects the sun light during midnight noon
It gives out a warmth in the darkness
We probably do not think of it less
Because the moon is our memories of our past 
It shows it everyday and night and always last

April 13, 2013


Details | Free verse | |

Tough As Nails

Hopeful doesn’t mean stupid
That doesn’t mean I wasn’t stupid
I was in a state and messed up
Simple as that.

I could dramatize
Spill all the stars from my eyes and mouth and cry out for answers but,
I won’t. 
My spirit can dance alone.
A lapse in judgement will not throw it off beat because it dances to a cosmic drum. My heartbeat and no one else’s.

Dropped my shield 
Set myself on fire 
Burned up a daft dream 
And fell to ashes.

I’ve proven to relate to the phoenix 
Both of us know what it’s like to die a quick death and come back stronger
Time and time again
Our ashes swirl into the manifestation of our desires and in that I find my comfort.

Boulders
Hard topped, granite counters
Tough as nails kid
But kid is man or at least he pretends to be.

Smart phones aren’t so smart but, I’m writing this on one
Sedatives and sad, country music mood swims through my veins.

Excuse me, while I go have a drink with that phoenix.


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Love Has No Reply

Love has no reply-it just waits- 
love has no reply - it just prays- 
Love understands- as it hopes 
that rage will be quelled- 
  
That the core of your heart will 
be overwhelmed- 
and overruled-Disenchantments 
of the venial mind-are allowable 
If you never intend to exhale- 
then inhalation is inevitable. 
  
Demons seek company - 
Presenting illusions to keep misery 
side tract' in sorrowful elegies 
  
The cardinal mentation-will automatically 
tick when you tock -- 
Tock when you tick- 
You came here with no instructions-- 
Love requires no action 
Does not have to reply 
  
No matter the jargon 
the meaning of "no"is the same. 
Whether you wax or wane
with wagers parlayed 
invest in the" WAIT" like the yellow light 
"Spread your bet-green light- keep moving 
Not always smart- to bet on a sure thing- 
red light stop wait -think about 
what you're thinking of doing- 
win win situation 
. 
Prior truth is not necessary for 
what is "yet to be believed" 
Permanent solutions 
should never be applied to A   
temporary condition. 
  
The efficacious-ness of the syringe as a method in 
seeking answers to concepts --is horribly ineffective.   
Love has no reply--- No outside stimuli - 
No dos or don't s ... from the I ... 
Strictly and inside Job


Details | Dramatic Verse (Verse Drama) | |

Emotional Hole

I did not find myself to be so important
So I ask my friends do I seem distant?
When I ask the question I had received an answer, Yes
So I think that made it clear that I had been not the best
I am a friend of a friend that talks so many things
That friend talks to much it is insane and insanity it brings
I do care, about my friends they are all good people
They tend to stand on their high steeple 
Today I find myself not so aware
Disbanding my fear of regret and care
Walking many different paths I see that I have found holes
It is the path that people choose to use to fuel their rage with coals
Coals are partially burnt wood or fossils a piece of fuel
It is the source of burden and fire a rage of emotions that stands cruel
It can be warm and caring, but it also can be baring
I just start to feel so low, below the ground I keep on staring
I reach for my friends so many times I feel so ignorant at times
Just once I feel I should not rely on them when feeling I can not find 
I dig my hole deeper and I can not climb out
For some reason I am just full of doubt
I care about so many things and what I have is confusion
One person should be all I should think about to get out of that illusion
My battle in my heart and mind is not at all so pleasant
I feel so alone in an island that is shaped like a crescent
My emotions is like coinciding with a diameter of the semicircle
Not a full emotion that is complete like a circle
My feelings is circular full of incomplete thoughts, so much deeper
I feel it will wake up my evil half a evil soul that is a sleeper
What question should I ask myself? to believe that I am not so alone
As I feel like a person who is deteriorating to the bone
I ask my friends the same question once again
I figure I should do it, to know what kind of feelings I should end
So many thoughts that come out of my feeling
I feel like my friends take, an emotional trauma of stealing
They ask me questions and I answer theirs
But when I need mine answered I feel burning inside like a flare
Are they even friends when they do not take me serious in anyway
Just put me in my hole cause I feel nothing in their will be getting in my way
It's just so simple to answer someones problem
I answer friends with beauty of a rose, but when they answer mine I get the stem
I know the stem is very important in life, with out it how can a rose be a rose
With a hole to put the root and stem in how can it grow
The words we speak I guess is like all natural things we reap and sow


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 | Free verse | |

Twilight Is A Sudden Sadness

Who am I to know that
the existence of heaven lives
in the pause between breaths
or that the story of creation is
a searing scar in the side of Jesus?

I have collected my pleasures,
like monsoons collect the dead,
have collected my memories,
the raw force of vitality,

the swift silk of a spider’s web,
the emptiness of being, all of this:
a country of vibrant emotions.

I have touched the sea with my hands,
bringing them together, feeling the abrupt
salt between my fingers, torrid like
the stinging whip of a lover:

Her tongue burns me alive with
its naked wine; her eyes dig
into the depths of mine.

Who am I to know that the Kingdom of God
lives in the stones, the fire, the water, the mud,
or that twilight is a sudden sadness like
gray blood clots caused by black thorns?

Still, my excitement is like a tower
of energy or a vigorous burst of sperm
or the moonlight’s mysteries fitting its key
into my soul where a secret stillness

wallows in its swaggering bliss.
I have tasted the meat of the universe,
its heart, its lungs, its liver, tasting it
with my gentleness, a gentleness like

soft lips, or a feather, or a lover’s whisper:
Her mouth burns me alive with its
raw juice; her heart feeds from mine.

Who am I to know that the Supreme Spirit
lives in the flies, the lice, the grub, or that
death’s bitter sorrow lives in the dust, the bones,
the ash, or in the agony of a broken heart?

—once, Jesus summoned me. He undid
his wounds with the jagged blades of 
my tears. I held him, embracing him, saying:

My brother, my brother, my peaceful brother...
who am I... to know... who I am?

——————————————————————————
From my first book: 'In Forbidden Language'

http://www.amazon.com/In-Forbidden-Language-Dah/dp/0982874707

©dah / Stillpoint Books 2010
all rights reserved

With an introduction by Eve Hogard


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? | |

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 | |

The Bridged Breach

A demised man without
Jesus is dead.
So also living soul without
Jesus.
Jesus manifested
for purposes,
What purposes?
The hopeless.                 
to receive hope,
To set the captives free,
Destroying forces 
Of darkness.
With thirty pieces;he
Manifested.
Dark forces defeated.
Our sins forgiven,sure
Access to the father.
Breach in Adamic time,
Put in oblivion by lasting
Bridge-
access granted.
His love is lasting.
The death of Jesus!
Lo He has resurrected!
He lives!


Details | Free verse | |

I Come With Love

Dead sores and bruised toes
Up and down the silent shores
Cuts deep, drilled by poisonous foes
In and out of dungeons and dangerous holes

Skeletal thin; hardly covered with skin
Shallow faced and hollowed cheeks up my chin
Been traveling in deserts violent and mean
Sad nights, weirdly pitch black and dim

Up, through and under misty mountains void of life
Stumbling and falling I walked on in the dearth of light
Now torn garments and a skeletal shadow braces my sight
Startling and bearing witness to the consequences of my fight

With bruised toes and sores thus I come
With deep cuts drilled by foes, I arrive home
Past misty mountains, through, up and above
I stoutly come home with love


Details | Rhyme | |

Hey you, are you there

 
Hemmed by whispers of dogmatic grime Tiptoeing on the fine line Balancing truth? Hey you, are you there? Drenched in the silence of time , The dry leaves are seeking to mime, And tranquillity she rustles, Hey you, are your there? Between fields filled with sands Walking the naked lands, With bloody feet & scarred palms Hey you , are you there? Echo spiralling upwards, Down the deep dark well, Ripples of the stone sinking Hey you, are you there? Perched on a stone stool Ear pressed against a brick wall Trying to pick up a rhapsody Hey you , are you there? Dry winter skies The soil sweats & cries As dew drop drip on to the earth, Hey you , are you there. Gazing at the moon Awaiting it to swoon Trying to relive the childhood dream Hey you, are you there? Aura of the moon i see, Light sprinkled on to me, But the midnight darkness gets harsher Hey you, are you there? The skies break up like broken mirrors, Litters the black tar roads with broken bits, Creates puddles on the tar roads Hey you, are you there? Stealthily the silhouettes give away, No echos on the clobber stone path way, The owl looks out for you Hey you, are you there? Frustrated with me My shadow sweeps past me to be , And disappears into the misty mountains Hey you, are you there? Mighty tide with jealousy amore, Swoops across the weeping shore, Opening up te ocean’s dream Hey you, are you there? Maugre .. my lonliness I fire lunatic like passionate madness, As earth or hell, man or devil calls out Hey you, are you there? Hey you, are you there? Hey you, are you there?


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Transformation

Life escapes me; 
Moving beyond my control;
My heart broken
     in a million tiny pieces;
The wounds are deep;
Evading every part of me …

But, Love begins a healing process
Deep within my cocoon
Gently soothing, healing deeply
     in the painful places …
Will I trust?


Details | Free verse | |

Go Figure those Weeblitz Cry the Walliforth

“Go Figure…Those Weeblitz”… cry the Walliforth!
By Ingrid Showalter Swift

Of Walliforth...the Dreggors Gorth!
with calls of frobulation
The Spraliwongs do bleet and frong 
In roudious trapulation
the Wonder Bigiums flaunt their sternest defra-get-ulation!!!

but  still moril !
in magical mill…… in marvelous migration…
the Weeblitz sing 
a lilty wing
…………………of stupendous  
Glora…derid…eration


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 | Quatern | |

Each morning , a white symphony

Each morning, a white symphony 
wakes up the same melancholy, 
Cold sun and the white which will burn…
Dreams and the dust filling the urn

From the back of the time`s pony
Each morning, a white symphony; 
The wind`s instruments by the sea;
Violins on sky`s balcony;                                                                                
                                            
All seasons`tribute in advance:
Winter with its full dress entrance;
Each morning, a white symphony; 
Hearts`s piano found harmony.

Hope established its colony;
Kids with carols and happy eyes.
Soon, they make a palace from ice.
Each morning,a white symphony.


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? | |

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 | Prose Poetry | |

The Fire and the Warrior

Out of the fire,
Life grows.
The flames burn strong, 
Bold,
And sear my soul.
My heart grows faint,
Weary.
The pain,
The intolerable pain,
Burning.

Yea, though I walk through the valley
Of the shadow of death,
I will fear no evil;
I will fear no evil in the flames,
Searing,
Searching,
To cleanse my soul;
To release the Light
In the dark night
of my soul.

In the fire,
Love brings forth life
Out of pain;
Darkness exposed;
Evil released;
My heart cleansed
Set free;
Life grows.

Shall I endure
For lessons to be learned
And freedom to obtain?
Shall I wait upon the Lord
To be set free?
Will I persevere?

The Warrior rises up;
To fight;
To endure;
For victory is sought.
Out of fire
New life grows.

The journey long
And narrow is the way.
The day becomes night
My heart weary
Loses might;
Becoming faint;
Despair.

The Warrior,
Champion of my soul
Rises up,
To fight,
To endure;
To persevere;
For victory to claim.
Out of the fire
New life grows
Giving rise to hope.


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 | I do not know? | |

Passion in D-Major

Passion in D-Major


Feeling, the sensuous brush-
strokes on a canvas,

swirling,

to a symphonic crescendo,

of our shared heartbeats,

fading between the notes,

feeling your soft body entwined 
with mine,

your form bathed in my infinite 
kisses,

our orchestral desire rising,

conducting a shared fusing of 
passion,

... the music echoing ...

over the precipice,

on the brink of dazzling rainbow 
hues,

lost in the void,
of an eternal instant,

plunging through the depths of 
rhyme,

pleading,
forever pleading,

for a prolonged,

bouquet of shared time.


Details | Prose Poetry | |

For this instant of time

For this very instant of time
I held reality within my hand
I read the meaning beneath the eyes
And just began to understand

So many feelings are still mysterious
For this very instant of time
Yet motionless I know. I'm not alone
The boundary is crusty, still not define

In this humanity just passing through
Another branch in the tree line
For this very instant of time
I hope my clouds will live as blue

And when the heart of life will forever pause
I'll still remember love so kind
In position of prayer on knees I crash
For this very instant of time
From this very instant of time!


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 | I do not know? | |

Within Me


Within Me

Flowing through the rivulets of my everyday thoughts,
memories of you surface, gasping for air, breathing in,
permeating, absorbed by the pores of my ageing skin.

Famished, greedily gulping mouthfuls of fractured life,
awash in distant yesteryear, when your feathery kisses,
banished the vacuum, dispelling my anguish and strife.

You are eternally carved, and embroidered into my soul,
I wash ashore, smashing against the boulders of the now,
seeking solace, begging for absolution with my empty bowl.

The book of fate is sealed shut, the tea-leaves have been read,
nothing remains within me, the burden of smiling has been shed.

Now I am stranded, between dreams and the empty years ahead,
searching for forgiveness, in the miles I have yet to wearily tread.



Details | Rhyme | |

Our politicians

Our Politicians
They speak like politicians
And hold a great ambition.
They think they are right
And same speech they recite.
They always gather for a bite
Deciding who should start the fight.
All have their own stations
To be the victims of cremation.
They gather their own crowd
Who cheer and clap to any sound.
They think they are right
Only here for a bite.
They speak like Aristo
And act like Montecristo!
They smoke big cigars
And all drive tinted cars.
They dress in glitter
And all have Twitter.
They act so polite
But hardly can write.
Always in action
Only during the election.
To make a collection
Or a connection.
O What a time you feel like 
Committing a crime.

For a brief background about this poem, pls, read the poem (Beirut).


Details | Quatern | |

Snow with the glow of the white dawn

Snow with the glow of the white dawn;
Glittering beam on the white`s lawn; 
Up and down from the hill, when laugh  
Kids never know when it`s enough

Naively, it started to snow...
Mother`s big cake will grow and grow
For children`s journey with carols
Along the village, playing roles:

Bear and goat or taking the star 
And the plough for bringing so far
"It`s time of peace for cat and mouse." 
"Abundance in each blessed house!"

Then, each year gains new Paradise; 
Candles on the big cake arise;
Children`s ball became a red moon;
All that they need, a giant spoon
To taste dietetic whip cream.


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? | |

The Order of Life

I'm really tired. 
Sorry that my creative juices are not flowing today.
Today is not the day.
 I'm just ready to hit the hay. 

Days upon days, it seems that I lag to say: Have a good day!
Perhaps tomorrow will be a different kind of day, 
where we sing songs about how Love Is Here To Stay? 
We should all be thankful how we live an ordinary life, almost every single day. 

Not counting the extra hours of sleep, especially on a holiday. 
What day is it today? 
Do you remember the phrases, quotes, lyrics, and cute things we say?
I know I'm asking much, but please hear the words I'm about to say: 
Will you be the one for me, the one who will love me on that special day?
Be my amor on Valentine's Day? Spend the rest of your life with me almost everyday? 

Experience all the joy and sadness whatever comes our way? 
Come What May? Or do you want to change the date to May?
But here you lay. In the Stone Garden I always pray, that we will soon meet, together, forever, celebrating A New Day.


Details | Free verse | |

In the Coals

The sky danced a glimmer of setted sun blue
Softly through into the night
Like rafters keeping us safe on our path under heaven
Trees wove themselves over us
Breathing light from coals washed the five gathered faces
Flickered in their eyes and over their bodies
In the quiet I saw

In the south like the waves from beneath the sea
One spirit shone with a shimmering breath
And another in the west settled on the rafters there
With a sighing light barely seen and hardly felt
Amid the rafters of the north one other spirit swayed
There too an ethereal visitor echoed in the east
In the quiet I saw

Faces bright, strong and painted with a wash of . . . 
Contentment, save two, both fallen of crest
And still under the watchful eyes of Nokomis high in the skies
One rose to smile holding a light before him closely
But woe fell across the other for being there within already
As if unable to escape for eyes unseeing
In the quiet I saw

I watched a struggle between three spirit cousins
Over and all around they fought where he had fallen
So vicious this fight, it cast a shrouding over everything of him
For these two beasts snarled and slashed for dominance
While the third sat quietly as if waiting or perhaps just watching
With great patience for one to fall and it too was evil
In the quiet I saw

The sky shone softly in the ambient light of stars unglimpsed
For Nokomis with her watching eyes held us 
As only grandmothers do for having loved and loved her child’s children too
All through the night she held us as we sailed without a sound
Across and over the blue of setted sun somewhere next to here
With the warmth of coals burning nowhere save inside 
In the quiet I saw

In the quiet I saw five souls glimmering
In the quiet I saw a war cross one red road
In the quiet I saw the spirits of four ancestors
In the quiet I saw everything, nothing all that I needed
In the darkness of the madodoswun it is dark as pitch
And still, and yet . . .
Before the door whispered to open
I saw in the quiet still


Details | I do not know? | |

MLK - 1929 - 1968

MLK...
(January 15, 1929 – April 4, 1968)


they shot you down
all those years ago

but

your dream lives on
and always will

for though much has been
gained since you dreamed
your dream

there is much to fight for
and much more to struggle for

and much, much more
to fight for still

so
your dream resounds in
our hearts and we pledge 
this to you today
for though they shot you down
all those years ago on a memphis day
we shall overcome
this we do believe
deep in our hearts
that
we shall overcome
someday...


(for Dr. Martin Luther King Jr.)


Details | Free verse | |

The Blood of Time

My curse flys with the vulture
who has never learned to die
My blood runs in the water
that reflects the bleeding sky
My soul hides in the shadows
that dance with fire
Forever

Forever leaving footprints in the sand
that lead to the moon
Or Armageddon

Footprints of fatigue
putrid with deception
or fleeting hope...
proud in the exhausted moonlight


Details | Haiku | |

Haiku 2

What doesn't kill me
Neither does it make me strong
Always heal within 


Details | Pastoral | |

Moments in time

It’s not a ‘cloud of issues’ to deal with
but a crowd of witnesses that surrounds us;
with different personalities and gifts to offer
remind us that we’re all unique creatures
that God has made across time and space.

Moments in time enable us to change gears,
provoked by situations that bring to reflection;
relationships weave as crucial elements,
to our standards and expectations.

By way of committing to affairs of life,
there’s meaning, home to grace –
and it’s home to God that makes us wonder
his ways are certainly not our ways.

The concept of bitachon  takes us on a journey,
like a beautiful sanctuary within is being shared.
in the fullness of life’s experiences speak therefore –
how integral God is in each of our lives.

he makes us whole again, complete in inner dimension;
with peace that embraces all in a right relationship,
truly, a metaphor for the heart of life, a sacrament --
that provides grace and sanctity to be holy.

The God of love speaks and enters our inner sanctuary -
the heart which acts like a third eye in general;
hence, human struggles echo who we are
that define perseverance and faith in the living God.

We have cried enough tears in our lives
with a tremendous amount of optimism;
though as it sometimes seems a mystery, a problem -
that becomes a straw that breaks the camel’s back.

Aimed at transforming our lives into pieces of hope
where love is shared in many forms and shapes;
God dwells at the heart of every human being,
his interconnectedness defines his essence with us.

What a great gift to keep that in our minds,
it is God and us and those around us;
ilustrate a beautiful symmetry, another episode
that sustains us to keep in the race, keep in the game.
With a vivid recall of events in the life passed by,
a way of emphasizing how God keeps us strong
a response to what life is; in moments of time – he’s still there.
one with the Father, and the Father is in him. 

As Mark Twain said in one of his many writings,
“it is not what I don’t understand about the Bible
that bothers me.  It is what I do understand!’ He’s everything;
for we are in him, and he is in us;  we’re his sons and daughters.


Note;

Bitachon - a Jewish word which means “trust in God,” plays a critical role in jewish thought.  Just as a person should strive to observe Mitzvot, he or she should try to develop bitachon, a consciousness that God is actively involved in our lives.


Details | Blank verse | |

Ashes of Hope

I drifted like a ghost
Among the blackened ruins.
Trying to remember laughter,
And the joy once here,
All I see now are
The darkened stones.
Charred remains mocking
The majesty of the past,
And I wonder how
Such destruction exists.
No colors, only shades,
As though it’s all
Dressed for mourning.
Yet…what is that?
There, amid the ruin,
And the fallen glory,
In the darkness
And piled up ashes,
There is a small green
Plant.
A flower, to be exact,
Half buried but 
Still so determined.
A growing hope
In a harsh, dark place,
Saying “I’m still alive,
Despite the destruction.”
New life, new hope.
New dreams, 
A rebuilding on top
Of broken foundations.


Details | Free verse | |

Hurricane LOVE


Moving so swiftly to hatred's shore,

Trees of prejudice uprooted,

By winds of kindness from above,

Cruel structures of bigotry,

Leveled to their floors,

Evil swept away,

By pure waves of goodness,

Aggression disappears,

In this storm's peaceful eye,

Driving out forever,

Depression's clouds of darkness,

Sadness blown from its moorings,

Never again to make one cry,

Tyranny loses its hold,

From one powerful gust,

Humankind's greed washed out to sea,

By the tides known as sharing,

Finally,

As she passes through,

Love replaces fear with breezes of trust,

Leaving gently in her wake,

A land of true compassion and caring.

© Copyright 2014 Robert William Gruhn - All Rights Reserved

 


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 | Couplet | |

Un grand pas vers le Bon Dieu

Sweet short round sadness in the mirror may grow;
He writes her name twice on the mind`s first snow;
It is the moment to find a joke and make her laugh;
If he holds his dreams and her hands ,that`s enough;
A smile of the kidness with each cup of tea, and soon
As brought by Fancy`s Fairy in the blond afternoon,
The taste of honey mealt in bitterness of broken glass;
The subtle drums in his ears violently might surpass
The horses`galoop at the purple banks of his veins ;
From the green empire, where eternal spring reigns
The romp`s steps of imagery in the Plato`s realm
Composing an ode of joy or a long lasting psalm:
Child dancing, playing with the joyous rain,
 Like Narcissus at the sides of the fountain.
That parfume of violets :her hair and her eyes
Tactile, fragile china, cold glass solitude lies
In their unwritten novel: everybody may choose
The thrill of dancing among the Greek statues;
The rustling of the two doves following Love`s call 
 In the hand of Light,with overflown tumult in one soul. 
The step towards his heart and quickly her stop;
Without the slightest hesitation, all muscles hope
 Ready to caught a falling star still hoping
The crystalline tear prolonged dropping
Transformed in advancing recollections through:
Two masters of slaves and two slaves ,thus sum two.



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 | I do not know? | |

For Bob Dylan

Ramblin' Bob Dylan Blues
(For Bob Dylan)



Why does the sun dry up so many scattered tears

slipping down the coarse cheek of a million hushed fears

where no one is scalded though the searing fog clears

while prayers are mutely spoken even as the end nears

We shatter and scrape on demented knees

Blindly begging for mercy as it silently flees

Searching listlessly for salvation drowned in the breeze

That spits at the soft rose suffocated by a wheeze


I know now what I need never have known

Of hope that was trampled before it had flown

Into a wasted sky filled with hate that could drown

The giggling of the crowd and the crying of the clown


A hope so fragile that its wings were of brittle glass

Ripping the veneer off the sewers of class

Twisting the fabric of the weighed and costed mass

Who numbly waited hoping that it too may pass


For when shards of that hope in all hearts scurries away

To a darkness where crowded night is emptied off the heaving tray

'Tis then when sewn eyes shall behold that doleful day

When all shall tear at each other while on demented knees we still shall pray


For a lifting of the veil of that wilful deceit

That's wrapped up in a flag swollen with conceit

While the limbs splinter in the claw of a winner's defeat

Yet still the drums roll for the ill-fated souls chose never to retreat


From that drenched battle-ground where blood flows through a sieve

And love's lost song plaintively begs for a reprieve

From eternal loss which into raw emotion does cleave

Only to slip through the fingers and like grains of sand, leave.


Details | Rhyme | |

Poetic Surgeon

Sometimes my pen cuts as a scalpel in the surgeons hands
It releases my thoughts, it creates my plans
I can build them up, I can tear them down
Will I make them happy or will I make them frown
My words are filled with passion, they have the power of life and death
I can give you hope or make you feel there's nothing left
People follow the stanzas to the end of every page
Some titles express joyfulness while others breathe rage
Will my words take you to the skies, will they bury you in the sand
This poet is more than words, I am a still hurting man
So with each poem complete a part of my soul is released
When you take the journey, will you awaken or tame the beast
Creating is what I do, turning my flows into light
I will take you on a trip with every thought I write
So in essence this poet is the surgeon, the scalpel is my pen
I can take what was birthed in sadness and make you feel alive in the end


Details | Free verse | |

District 13 Revolution

Fireworks slide down the back of my tongue

Some went north to imitate stars, 

knowing all to well they wouldn’t even make it to the stratosphere

A fire can’t breathe with no air

Ask that man in the alley why he has to shoot black skies into his veins to see them.

You probably have more in common than you might think.

Satellite transmissions making waves like the oceans they cover

Healthy food is expensive, while poison is damn near free!

There is a storm coming

Grab your blankets and I will tell you how it ends with a new beginning.


Details | Free verse | |

A Wandering Thought

Alone in the night,
 
descending the stairs,
 
I desolate happiness,
 
out of scars
 
The scars of past,
 
and present and future,
 
And the happiness of a wandering thought

In the broad daylight,
 
when I fade out
 
My shallow heart
 
confines desires…
 
A blurred vision,
 
and numb nerves
 
A wandering loafer soul
 
And a wandering thought…
 
I leap mountains,
 
and walk through the seas
 
Across the wind,
 
trimming the fire
 
I let myself breathe,
 
and calm down
 
I surrender my ego
 
To a wandering thought…


Details | Monorhyme | |

Bearded

I wear a beard of aging, upon a cliff-face chin
A year has passed and grown its hairs out from my mottled skin
Mistakes sit there unchallenged, to each fibre clings a sin
Yet despite my facial mask of age the clubs won’t let me in


Details | Free verse | |

While I eat this apple

Hey you, dressed in blue,
hiding your face in rags,
while carrying those heavy bags;
Come hear and show me love,
while I eat this apple
of your soul.

Smile beautiful,
hold that head up toward the sun,
while I chew into the core
of that sweet apple of your soul.

Give me a kiss,
thank you.

Now watch this magic trick,
I'll make all that sadness
disappear,
with one simple kiss,
the stroke of a black-inked pen
to frail white paper.
don't close your eyes; I don't want
you to miss it!

Don't be scarred,
Love is on your side Blue-girl.

Don't cry,
come into my arms;
a kiss on your cheek,
a loving kiss from heart
to heart.
Feel me eat that rotten
core from deep in your soul,
and feel loved again.
No thanks required,
just a poet at his best,
doing his job.

.3.18.2014.


Details | Narrative | |

Betwixt food and human relationship

It’s good to get together as friends and confreres
like in table fellowship or religious convocation
and then, enjoy the company of each other’s culture
as Italians, Colombians, Filipinos or Brazilians.

The day after Easter Sunday adds another occasion
for us Scalabrinians to be reunited at this point in time
sharing the gifts of food, life, humor and relationship 
with a space for fraternity, some updates and good wishes.

Truly, it shows the spirit of oneness and fraternal fellowship
sharing the commonality of our commitmment to faith
as brothers in Christ and members of our Founder’s order,
the religious congregation that cares for migrant people. 

There’s much to do and plan for what we aim to materialize
in today’s world where migration poses a huge issue
like a salad bowl with mozzarella, tomato and olive oil
a metaphor for migration that deals with human cultures.

Described in the Bible as a growing missionary virtue
hospitality as a key to open one’s heart in this journey
With fearlessness and confidence, it’s a major issue
depicting the picture of global movements raised in action.

Our days of darkness, our bickering confreres in places –
where community life matters and features one’s emptiness
in dealing with one another in our quest for human and divine.
it’s indeed a challenge and will always be a test of faith, thus far.

This helps us understand through our setbacks, pains and joys,
with friends around and those who share with us many times
those sacred stories of being called to worship God and be present
especially in the Eucharist that nourishes our souls to be whole.


Details | Verse | |

Caution


You'll cry a pond or the ocean,
but who will care?
The one and only, plucky motion
I should've dare.

It's really hard to recover 
from the fever.
'In any case don't let it govern
the gravity lever!'
I'd been taught. It all ended
in conflagration.
Beside the grave knees were bended
in consolation.

I should've learnt: what's born
in flames and fireworks -
a deadly curse, poisoned thorn,
epitaph of forewords.

But noone care, except, maybe,
hysteric loner,
who'd lost the key for the abbey
inside the manor
belonged to misery and tears, 
steady dejection.

I'm glad to face only peers 
in foes' reflection.
I'm glad to thank you for Nothing
which can't be bare,
for that thrown rocks which had roughen
mine soft nightmare.

I'm glad to say, lucky you, 
I'll overcome this..
Although, you know, to tell the truth,
I hope, I won't miss
this perfect script in the clouds,
swing in the garden...
I want to say, at least, wanted... 

I beg you pardon.

{
I love you. 
Pardon.
}

18.03.2013
NikA


Details | Rhyme | |

metaphorically speaking

Imagine if for once I could smile at my storm
Or that by some chance I could be accepted by the norm
What if I really did find the pot at the end of the rainbow
What if all my hurts and pains I could finally just let go

Maybe the grass is greener on the other side
Or that from past mistakes and guilt I didn't have to hide
What if my life started to turn out how I planned
And no longer made to feel like a man that is damned

If by chance all that glitters is really gold
Could my pride allow me to speak of things untold
Or even better if I found the needle in the haystack
Would that then stop the straw that broke the camels back

The grass is green and we accept the sky is blue
Can I accept that I am really loved too
Could I be me for just a 24 hour slot
if I had a magic wand all my fears I could blot

If I went and travelled over the hills and far away
There I would take my troubles and on the ground gently lay
I then wouldn't have to travel back in my sea of grief
Instead I would search high and low so that time is no longer a thief

There's a lot I would do different and things I would do the same
But perhaps I'd try harder not to be the loser in the game
They say that it never rains but it pours
Would I ever be able to beat my high score

Its often been said that I'm as cold as ice
But I've learnt that once bitten it will not happen twice
Or what if every little makes a mukkle
Then under the strain of life I wouldn't have to buckle

What if I have counted my chickens before they did hatch
Maybe then I wouldn't be in this 24 of a catch
Perhaps, what ifs, maybe's or suppose
My life has been planned and that path only God knows


Details | Free verse | |

Ice Water

It was like she was tearing her away from my life;
An almost surgical destruction of a once beautiful embrace.
 
 
The picture looked like a piece of abstract art.
I'm sure if her dancing bones would have allowed,
her thumb would have rolled over and struck the 
flint...letting the butane destroy the pain in front of her.
 
               ...My pain
 
Instead the other half of my story
lay quietly at the foot of my mother's recliner
 
                          ...Still smiling,
 
her eyes indifferent to the shattering world around her.
 
I wondered where she was,
if this torn piece of history burning through 
my palms would be the last time I would hold her.
 
I couldn't help but plead with God for a moment,
not able to stand the bitter taste of fate's insult to 
my pride
                 ...my romanticism's hope.
 
My mother calls me to the next room,
begging ice water for a parched tongue.
 
As I walk to the foot of her bed,
she smiles.
 
                         "What a handsome man.
                                Any woman would be lucky to have you."
 
I can find strength for nothing but a nod,
and I bow my head to kiss the top of hers.
 
                          "You'll find the one son,
                                            no one deserves it more than you."
 
I take her glass and hold it to my chest,
perhaps subconsciously hoping it will cool
my overworked heart.  
 
I thank her for being the woman that she is,
and tell her she's the only one I need anyway.
 
I can feel her eyes follow me out of the room,
all the back into my seclusion.
 
I fill her cup and take a breath.
 
"...Tomorrow"
 
 
-James Kelley 2013, All rights reserved


Details | I do not know? | |

A Hollow Shell

a hollow shell
of tangled synapses
sparked into gradual madness
which drowns out the truths of the day
as the mind reeks of the rotten sad moments
that swirl in the rancid soup of forgotten dreams
dreams that once traced a gentle path of innocence
dreams that reached for pure love’s tender touch
dreams now paralysed but once vivaciously alive
what became of those fresh dreams and hopes
as they lie mustily on dusty bookshelves
torn into shreds by time’s fine scimitar
devoid of the touch of raw passion
when all that remains of love is
a hollow shell


Details | I do not know? | |

For Aung San Suu Kyi

For Aung San Suu Kyi

manacled
you remained unyielding
bruised by their bayonets of power
you remained unyielding
gagged by their coarse brutality
you remained unyielding
today you return
and we salute
your spirit
that remained
and remains
unyielding


Details | I do not know? | |

with thanks to Don Henley

with thanks to Don Henley...

...an echo of her laugh

whispers past

a simple joy, a gentle breeze

of quiet reflection that can never last

the fleeting innocence once drifting along

then disappearing into the notes of that Don Henley song

the end, he sang, of the innocence once felt

of days and of nights of serene peace

gone forever now, 

for into the night's void everything must eventually melt

though the memories and the thoughts 

and the echoes of her whispers

settled this gypsy heart, putting it at ease

but that's all long gone now

even though the echoes of her whispers

seem never to cease...


Details | I do not know? | |

Wanderer

I, the wanderer, set out;
A journey 
to overcome life’s oppression.
Fear crouches;
Always ready to attach depression.
Lurking, 
life so unfair;
Monster in my dreams,
Waiting to unleash despair.

So many thoughts,
I hold desperately to hope,
To persevere and overcome
On this journey for which I’ve come.
Dare I trust while darkness enfolds? 
Tired and often overwhelmed,
 To hope I hold.
Trusting peace will come again
When darkness disappears
Because love will triumph
And light dispels my fears.

I, the wanderer, set out;
A journey to overcome;
To see how far I’ve come;
Trust elusive as fear encroaches, 
Peace reproaches;
But darkness stays the course
With no remorse. 


Details | Rhyme | |

Love's Call

When Love calls us gently by our name,
we stop and listen to her familiar voice – 
One we recognized even before our conception. 
Silently we are humbled by Love’s delicate expression
that softens our hearts and eases our minds 
likes the effect of a baby’s  innocence on
a mother after birth; forgetting all the pain she
embraces this new life into her bosom,
in awe and wonder. 

When Love calls us proudly by our name, 
we no longer have to hide in isolation
or shame, forced to accept enduring
suffering and pain. Like a lioness 
protecting her cubs, Love provides protection
and comfort in the outbreak of danger and fear. 
Her might will prove that her foes of hatred
and fear are only companions of lies who 
sought in vain to do us harm. 

When Love calls us kindly by name, 
we will know that we are at home,
where we are welcomed, accepted, 
and always able to kick off our shoes,
whether we are happy or singing the blues. 
Like friends who have known each
other for years, Love embraces
the beauty of our personhood and dries our tears. 
She knows who we are all too well.
And since Love knows us and has called our name,
Our response to life has never been quite the same. 
Because of Love’s call, our lives are changed. 


Details | Free verse | |

Hero

Can I be your hero of tomorrow?
I know that I have not been
Your hero of before or today,
But give me a chance to stay
By your side next time,
I know I have unbuilt
Your empires before,
Myself slipping aside
As new problems come ashore,
While my talent seems to be
Removing people's pleasure,
Please let me be your hero
Of tomorrow, a day I might change.


Details | Rhyme | |

The Cover

Life is a struggle, this is something we’re all aware of.

Some cower down when it decides to give us a little shove.

To some people life is something to hate.

Rejection and sorrow, they fear was their given fate.

 

They are at a crossroad in their life right now.

They want to escape their doom, but they don’t know how.

You see these people everyday.

Walk right past them and think they’re ok.

 

If someone would stop and look into their eyes,

Only then may they see their silent cries.

Cries that showcase all the pain they’ve endured,

So much hurt that they simply can’t be cured.

 

We all know the girl who has it all,

The one who walks like she’s ten feet tall.

What we don’t know is how she feels inside.

She was always taught to smile, her real emotions to hide.

 

If you knew her like the four walls in her room,

You wouldn’t be so fast to judge, so quick to assume.

I’ll tell you this, something you may not believe,

Her biggest fear in life, true happiness she’ll never achieve.

 

How about the star athlete?

You know the one who never accepts defeat.

He walks around like he’s the man,

You definitely aren’t his biggest fan.

 

You don’t know what is going on in his head.

He probably wishes he could be back in bed.

You see he was up again all night,

Pillow over his ears, listening to his parents fight.

 

On to the next one, the girl without the looks,

The girl who walks in the hall with three or four books.

You call her the loser, geek and nerd,

You walk right past her, story unheard.

 

She studies hard to get good grades,

With hope to get away from her parent’s tirades.

She can’t stand being at home she needs to leave quick,

Her mother’s on drugs, her dad an alcoholic.

 

I hope you’ve learned that people aren’t always as they seem.

Don’t tear others down to boost your own self esteem.

Before you judge take a good hard look.

Remember, the cover doesn’t always represent the book.


Details | Free verse | |

Salvation

Hollow dreams and empty screams, nothing but dust, rust, and blood soaked efforts dried up and crust, kicking up a fuss. When I wonder, nothing but plunder after plunder, the bank account tumbling, and rumbling down its due course to its death after it has come apart fumbling. Alas, the end is nigh, when we will sit up high, looking down and around, at the people on the ground, when we no longer touch the dirt with our scarred feet; the day we become found.


Details | Free verse | |

In Between

There’s a moment when, crossing between two streetlamps, a double shadow appears,
arching from your fears, a body projected through years onto cracked concrete. 
So, stopping, you watch it split in separate directions, no fixed perfections, 
all later corrections point from now dividing as forces pull one into two, 
coloured red or blue at different ends of the spectrum, matter is best left some space,
life isn’t a race in the traditional sense, but against the perception of yourself.
Worrying is bad for your health, because as much as television may scream in your ear, 
grinding each individual gear, you need not wealth, 
but a hand to pick you up and dust you off when you fall,
no problem at all, giving pats on the back, setting the wheels back on the track,
in motion again you walk on from staring at your shadow, standing won’t help you grow.
And I know it says not to walk towards the light, but this time it’s alright, 
because looking back won’t help either. As a fighter, neither Rocky nor Rambo, 
you face the night ahead, spit to clear your mouth of lead, and strut on son, 
because you are only born once, and you only die once, 
but it’s what you do between the two that makes you awesome.


Details | Prose Poetry | |

NOMAD OF LOVE

I am a nomad of love…
Wandering through deserts of despair
Camping in oasis that fade away 
Hunting on land full of swift souls
And still I forge on.
I am a warrior of love…
Planning the best defense to protect 
My heart standing knee deep in false hope
Fighting for a prize I have yet to find
And still I solider on.
I am an artist of love…
Molding my burning desires into shapes
Writing a song that dares to be sung
Painting a picture only I can see
And still I dream on.
I am a believer of love…
Preaching on theories that have no validity
Teaching a vision of both folk and faith
Praying for something I know must be
And always I move on. 
Onward to the final destination.
That I know, that I feel, that I need
called love. 




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 | |

The Tithe, and The wills, And the lists

Guilty party Alcohol companies
and those responsible for that product being targeted 
to the youth
put my name
in your will

I don't care if you make it a metaphor for a prayer
in the amounts that you leave me
and the message you leave me
with the way you care to swallow your footsteps
you've left behind

Cigarette companies
and those who advertise for them
put my name in your will
find it for a way
make it an amends
to the past present and future
I will find a way with your amounts given to me
to swallow you down
to choke you out
from beyond the grave

Porn companies
porn stars
all those who think 
I don't have a black file
and i'm just some ghetto wizard
and maybe a gullible god
put my name in your will 
pay off your debt
how you have tarnished
tainted mankind's image

All those building weapons of mass destruction
welcome to Gabrielles dance
joining those greedy people going to hell
And this is also for those with the power to send people to war
wether you crawled for me or not
put my name in your will
find a message for me to carry out
with your money
to choke you out
to tear you out of reality
with your money 
you will leave me a better way

This is the list
This is my tithe, pay it well
don't think i don't have a list
and be ready to buy yourself a few more cycles under the stars
Light in the darkness
may hunt you down
poisoning the well
you don't see the righteous wolf in sheep's clothing
nailing martyrs to the past
i have the list
you pay the tithe
and we'll see your historical wills!

Let's not leave out
those making drug abuse seem good
put my name 
in your will
and a metaphor for a prayer
to tear your shadow into holes
all you thugs and druglords
who think theyve escaped the lists
thats my biggest trick
put my name in your will
pay my tithe
swallow this omen
to set the future right
put my name in your will

I might claim some of your hard earned dreams
you've stolen from the innocent
of radiostations and entertainment
I might claim a method to the madness
of counterintelligence
I just might one day be the name used
when someone is stalking you

You whisper my name
you say my name
put my name in your will
make your amends in your death
you threw everything
and everybody away in your life
one way or another
someone gets the last laugh

wether your soul gets revenge
or you question mine
You are a name a number
a disguise configured 
found and discovered on satelite
and I'm ready to pull the rug under your feet
I'm about to pull the wool off the wolf


Details | Couplet | |

The Wayward Pilgrim

Wayward pilgrims scattered and lost
Frightened beings, low on rations, slowed by frost

Searching for the holy land they wandered astray
Despite prayers for help, they can't but doubt that they'll see another day

They left with so much zeal and hope, so much faith
They felt passion and mirth, they were convinced the lord would keep them safe

They no longer know where they are and the path to travel
Their spirits are tested, their sanity slowly begins to unravel

Some are lost to the thought that God is everything, nothing else exists
Others give in to base survival instincts as it becomes harder to resist

Crisis of the faithful, the beautiful and the damned
It's the answer to challenge that truly reveals every woman and man


Details | I do not know? | |

Searching

Searching


Searching,
in the debris of the past,
scraps of casually discarded emotion.


Searching,
in hastily trashed yesterdays,
an inkling of moments flung away.


Searching,
in heaps of rubbished words,
that tiresome sigh of defeated thought.


Searching,
in the layers of moulted skin
the wilting self that once was true.


Searching,
in the reflections between the ripples,
for the whispered pangs of roaring desire.

Searching,
in the blank eyes streaming endlessly,
an echo of the faintest sigh of new life.


Searching.


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 | I do not know? | |

Rain in the City

as the rain falls on the city

all words

seem drenched

running like worthless ink off meaningless paper

yet

the rain falls incessantly on

in sheets of glassy vehemence

tearing my thoughts apart

splintering the fragile truce of this night

words, just worthless words

floating by

wrestling me to the ground

worthless words

devoid of all feeling, and of everything that should be true

disjointed and hollow

as my thoughts in melancholic comfort wallow

wrapping me in a shroud of accepted gloom

a vain cloak of indulgence, 
while revelling in the impending doom

and still the rain keeps pouring

clipping the wings of my dreams

that are no longer intent on soaring

but why do i subject you

to all this idle and quite bitter chatter

for when all is said and done and scribbled

will any of this matter?

so i take leave of you, yet again

as i surrender 

to the lunacy of the sane

and to the whipping

of the cold, biting harrowing rain...


Details | I do not know? | |

Ludwig and Vincent

Ludwig & Vincent...


‘They said that you were mad, Vincent’, whispered Ludwig to a silent Vincent.


‘I still am, quite insane’, replied Vincent, ‘but you, dear Ludwig, you were deaf, and mad, I hear’.


‘I listened with my soul, Vincent, I heard it all without hearing a sound. Yes, mad and deaf indeed I too, still am’, Ludwig said, smiling at Vincent.


‘just look at them now’, Vincent replied, smiling with Ludwig, ‘look at them now, as they hawk sunflowers, blissfully oblivious of exquisite starry nights’.


‘yes’, smiled Ludwig, ‘look at them now, they crave joy, yet they cannot hear an ode, dear Vincent, they cannot hear it! They do not care enough to hear’.


‘Yes, dear Ludwig’, Vincent sighed, ‘they do not care enough to hear’.


Ludwig and Vincent smiled, each tugging an ear.


Details | Free verse | |

She Walks in the Night

In the night, 
she walks.
She is a star, 
a beacon of light
and hope
to all around her.

Her kindness guides
ships across oceans,
and helps them avoid
the perils of life.

But right now
the sky is clouded, 
and no one
can see her.
Hiding behind her
veil of black
from the world.

It took a wind
strong and determined
to push away the
clouds. Now all the
world can see her,
and when the clouds
come running back
the wind pushes them
to their knees.


Details | I do not know? | |

The Deluge

The Deluge.

finally the deluge

skipping in rhythmic heartbeats
the softly sprinkling rain

hums and lulls and cajoles and comforts
the weary evening
 
glistening leaves
on beaming trees
 
blades of grass shimmer
like rough diamonds strewn about
 
and settling in my heart
is the softly lilting touch
of peace
of truth
 
of the rain clearing away
the debris of this passing day
 


Details | I do not know? | |

A Broken Blade of Grass

the broken blade of grass
trampled by random fate
lies shattered on the cold
ground

the oblivious slayer of hearts
saunters away nonchalantly 
to a destination never to be found

where can I stumble to in this crazy beautiful vivid insane ugly real place that once was mine

when all that's left behind 
is the cacophony of merciless
sound and while for silence I achingly pine

but in the end...

it all adds up to nought while that bitter taste persIsts and lingers

while we allow the magical moments to slip through our blistered fingers

until we awake one day from our innured dream that we cling onto while we sleep

finally conceding that beyond mere words, we were hardly ever, that deep

on the contrary, rather shallow we have been as we continue to shovel emptiness into that space so hollow

while lulling ourselves with the promise of the past, and ignoring the freshness of the morrow

a tomorrow filled with peace

a tomorrow once captive, but now on the brink of release

a tomorrow not consumed by the wasted time of the bygone past

but a tomorrow brimming with a gentleness meant to forever last...


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 | Narrative | |

The state of my heart

It’s a journey to be reconciled with the past,
especially when one’s life still carries the wound;
it’s like a running sore that permeates the soul,
a gigantic barrier, an impediment in any way.

God’s promise, “The light shines in the darkness,
and the darkness did not overcome it.”   True!
Comparatively, some shades of darkness
have to be cleared and dispelled in one’s heart 
the revealing darkness that symbolizes pain,
closed windows that block God’s blessing.

Well, it’s a metaphor to the so-called ‘wound’
a kind of silhouette that’s difficult to mirror
a kind of misfortune that ruins disposition.

It’s hard to believe those who’re with God,
those who teach about love and respect,
yet, it’s a tragedy to see them on the contrary
because they live with hypocrisy and irony.

This is what I feel as I welcome the New Year,
mired in hope that someday healing takes place
such a great deal that needs love and understanding
that life may be whole again with a heart that cares.

The throbbing verses of cultures

Chronicled as part of history
the reality gives meaning;
it's a pathway to move along,
a commitment to future dream,
a response to what is ideal.

Addressed as a piece of literature
the struggles involved with one another.
It's a life of experience that forms,
a historical menu to savor,
an enormous task to fulfill.

Lived as a language I best hear
with silence and profound meaning;
It's a human action and reaction,
a point to what we're here for;
being called to serve -
a measure to Christian perfection.

Proclaimed as a gospel of inspiration,
with diversity of cultures
that runs through this generation,
its texture, zest and color,
aptly describes, "we're one nation."

Being grateful for various reasons
with different contexts and situations.
They're hallmarks to great civilization;
with the continuing growth amid some afflictions,
a message of hope, worthy of revelation.


Details | Free verse | |

iv

To find the outline of your body
in the fog of mystery,
is the greater achievement of my day-
to find the smoothness of your lips with mine
will be a tale told by generations-
to place my hands on the curvature of your glorious hips
shall be magical-
to dedicate a poem to your beauty
will be a grand thing- to make my heart sing-
hope is all I need to clear this fog
and find your stunning beauty in the rose garden of life
on the other side of the river called "reality"

To my wonderful gal, be mine- once the fog clears,
and I shall find your outline imprinted on my warm bed sheets-
come now, clear this fog away,
I am missing your sweet beauty with every moment passing.

.2.25.2014.


Details | I do not know? | |

Home

Home


Squirming through my skin, 
moulting once again.

Roots flailing like rotting driftwood, 
bashed upon the merciless shore.

Home awaits the weary traveller, 
to comfort and offer solace.
No home awaits me, 
mere bricks and scattered memories.

Lost in the folds of memory, 
a withered identity beyond recall.

Home.

Long misplaced by the wayside, 
forever gone, vanished in time.

Home.

As skin moults with dreary repetition.

No home, no place of solace.

For I left myself in a half-forgotten alley, 

While I forever trawl for the way home.


Details | I do not know? | |

Love, Mania, and Verse

Love, Mania, and Verse

The pendulum swings,
while the mania in my head,
strips me bare and yanks me,
into the cauldron of love.

Once again,
never divining the tea leaves,
knowing, always knowing,
the gnawing knots of unease,
that curl into a fist.

My isolation is a shield,
a suit of armour,
tightly clad around my self,
once worn,
then discarded,
taking its place,
on my barren shelf.

Love, mania and verse,
coalesce, beseeching me,
with timeous forewarning,
not to tread into the quicksand,
that slippery bog of promise.

Yet,
in times past,
in moments present,
tis' that very promise,
that I cling to.

At times I lose,
myself in the crowd,
rebelling in the solitude found there,

at times I claw,
my way back to the now,
aching for the pain that stings,

the buried voice that sings,
dirges to forgotten emotions,

scribbled verse that flings,
the toys out of my cot,

while I wait,
for the mania to stop,

knowing,
always knowing,
that it shall be,

merely a matter of time,
before the other shoe,
must, as always, 
drop.


Details | I do not know? | |

Awake at Midnight

Awake at Midnight

sleep retreats
into tunnels of dewy thoughts

teasing the worn mind

awake at midnight
dreams recede

into caverns of mist
to brew their hazy potions

awake at midnight
weariness seduces the being

seeking to slip away
thirsting for solace in
the numbness of slumber
awake at midnight

still.


Details | Quatrain | |

free cee A HAMMER, HOPE AND HEAVEN'S HEART

                A HAMMER, HOPE AND HEAVEN’S HEART

I used a hammer of hope to build some beauty
A carpenter with desire as his duty
I used wood rendered by golden good
Constructing a vivacious vision in a wondrous neighborhood

Every screw and each nail would nicely do
With eaves and shutters shaded bright blue
I drilled and thrilled to every beautiful beam
Because I was busy building a dream

Every single shingle shifted my heart
From being useless I became a pertinent  part
A relevant role in a real romance
And every shingle meant a brand new start

I built beauty with dutiful delight
Then I painted that loveliness with light
Darkness was dispelled by every smile
When I built beauty no man could defile

And so through storms that beauty steadfastly stood
And the soul of this carpenter at last found good
In a neighborhood situated near heaven’s front door
When I built beauty floor by beautiful floor

This house was a metaphor for love unending 
And a life that love was thereupon mending
Beside my house was a tree statuesque and shady
For a romantic relationship I built with a lovely lady
                              © 2012…copyright..~free cee!~




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? | |

They Do Not See Me at All

They Do Not See Me at All

they do not see me at all...

as I walk through these desecrated avenues

of soul-deadening frenzy

I see them all rushing past me

and no matter how hard I try to holler and to call

they do not see me at all

it seems at times, that invisible am I

for when I reach out, and shriek out, and when on my knees I crawl

they rush past me

for they do not see me at all

I have tried to raise their ire, I have taunted and goaded them, till exhausted and fatigued, to the cold damp ground I fall

still they rush past me

for they do not see me at all

I stand mutely then and wave my hands all around while scribbling verses in my unintelligible scrawl

and yet they rush past me

for they do not see me at all

they rush past me, knocking me over without ever looking back

and then trampling over my fallen form, they look past my limp crumpled shadow, as they whine on in their monotonous drawl

for they do not see me at all

and when at last I see them look my way, and as a flicker of recognition crosses their faces

I wish to crawl back into my nothingness

where they cannot see me at all


Details | I do not know? | |

We Shall Always be Many More

We Shall Always be Many More
(For the dispossessed of this world)
 
we shall always be many more
we who roast in your designer factories
our brows dripping with our salty sweat
we who may forgive but shall never forget
 
we shall always be many more
we who reek of cheap moonshine
we who stagger and often stumble
we whose stomachs never cease to rumble
 
we shall always be many more
we who polish your fine bone china
we whose pay gets docked if one cup is chipped
we who fight your wars, and off to battle get shipped
 
we shall always be many more
we who clean up after your pretty children
we whose kids are hungry, naked and get swept
into the bowels of desolation, as mothers’ tears are wept
 
we shall always be many more
we who do your dirty work each day
we who you treat like vermin, foul and rotten
we whose trampled dignity is always forgotten
 
we shall always be many more
we who will rise up and seize the light of hope
and reclaim what is ours for our daughters and sons
though we will always be in the cross-hairs of your guns
 
we shall always be many more
and there shall be many more of us still to come
to rid you of your smug arrogance and endless greed
for we too have children whom we have to feed
 
we shall always be many more
‘and the meek shall inherit the earth’
or something like that though we no longer care
for we shall rise up one day to demand our rightful share
 
we shall always be many more...


(With thanks to Ken Loach’s movie ‘Land & Freedom’)


Details | Free verse | |

Creature of havoc

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I lie in bed making up stories 
trying to figure reality
like the center of everything 
listened to by the radio
i strategise with my garbage
somehow the riddles of song are there to save me
the artists know that by reaching out to me
having me figure out their puzzle
they can save one life and millions of like minded individuals
i represent
but if the bad guys catch on then it all goes out the window

I open my window
light some incense 
close the door
put the lit candle on the sill
lay myself on my bed my father gave me 
I wonder sometimes is cursed and perhaps
was conceived on
and thats why i cry on it soo often
my name is one metaphor i haven't figured out

laying underneath a blanket i snuggle all night I've named mike
Michael for short
crying into a pillow i named after a boy i fell for with bad teeth
and all the right looks named Brian
my other blanket Ben

so under a blanket of Michael
in my skimpy underwear
thinking how lonely i am 
how i wish i could brainwash myself to exercise
i ponder the dreams I've been having
Nine inch nails screaming lyrics don't you know what you are?
and i still don't....


a dirty blonde haired six foot something 215 pound fatso
who needs to lose weight and wear less revealing underwear
it all comes clear to me

I get out of bed
freaked!!!!
running to the stereo at first then the singer says something
i wont curse you with
so i go to hide in the bathroom until the delusion passes
until i can regain some sanity and escape myself
but stupid me put the label of urban legends on my bathroom door
so i fling the door open
think the word psycho
which I think of myself most days
and scream out loud
it's all coming clear now

heart pounding
the stereo
still guiding me with it's blue glowing haze from across the room
poetic justice i suppose
i hope i'm not a metaphor for a city
i hope i'm not a metaphor for a king
I hope i'm not a metaphor that affects too many people
but underneath this blanket of an angel of justice
is the real me
talking to myself in the dark

wondering
am i crazy
brainwashed 
possessed
or have i just been visited again
by an arch angel
and the gods of this world have made me insignificantly important
and thrown out my free will
which im nervous to discover

If only you knew the whole story!!!


Details | Narrative | |

Earthbound sobriety

While crossing Verrazano Narrows Bridge
recurring mem’ries of New York recapture 
history and civilization of the two boroughs
provide me with deep interest and emphasis.

Brooklyn in its old Dutch for “broken land,”
and Staten Island named “Staaten Eylandt”
named in the early 1600s by Henry Hudson,
trailed off on a tangent through centuries.

A myth or perhaps a legend, the island thus far,
was like a quagmire of townships and disputes;
its meaning to immigrants’ culture and religion,
favored silence, security, peace, and integration.

The burden of too many choices based on clans,
growing businesses and stories of interactions;
new immigrants in droves through generations
like an orchestra combined with a sense of drama.

Reflections of their struggles to make ends meet,
reminded me of articulation through interpretation;
in sobriety of heeding of the composer’s intent,
such a musical piece made me suffer and sweat.

Oh, the pedal, rhythmic vitality and expression!
all these elements comprise what piano playing is,
the technique, in a special way, a benchmark item
indeed, a struggle to interiorize those conventions.

But as a human person with some limitations,
with my own history and capability in playing,
I see where I can be fit and freely express myself;
through movements in diverse missionary works.

As it says in French, “bon débarras, il est partí.” 
my life continues with a backlog of other issues,
a different world focused on service to the Lord;
with my own repertory – its beauty to humanity.

It’s true that my prayer for the church at large,
is also a bridge across the gulf of separation;
coming to this borough of Staten Island
a hodge-podge of concerns, covenanted within.

Now that relationship with God and people
brings me to nourish that faith and commitment;
with that long stretch of Verrazano Narrows Bridge,
a metaphor to my own journey as a missionary.


Details | Free verse | |

Hanging your sins on jesus

Look at this burden
to write out in perfect blasphemy
what you did
what we went through
what you did to me
so now after weeping
underneath murderous stars
i begin to hang your sins on jesus
every metaphor another scar

how do you tie into this
pointing the finger at me
messages from the past
sent forward written in the sky
a soulbound train for jesus to ride

Slip you this letter
of the dead word curse
hanging sins on jesus
lets hang him first
what army do the meek have that inherit the earth
a logical equation
to resurrect the truth we covered

hanging sins on jesus
an under rug swept routine
pull the wool of the wolf
and lets see what was that is
inbetween things that will be


Details | Free verse | |

of an essence

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I never saw this coming
from the ground up
but what flights are timeless?
for what i felt I knew
but the clocks were all running
In that second of life lessons
The detection was cleverly misplaced
somewhere you left sometimes

Our bad luck was never ending
but we realised the seperation
would be our revelation
but the time was bomb of riddles
the hands of fate say hurry up and wait
And consider the truth behinf the haunted metaphor of what it means to be "them"
Somewhere you left me behind

Everybody wants after it
and I wanted it for me
the floods and fires
And all the warnings
trying not to drown or choke
trying not to burn or choke

The watch on my wrist
was naked and felt
It was going in endless circles
breaki9ng free of monotony
begging pleading in photoalbulms
no two people believe the sam thing
one of the twelve houses abandoned
somewhere you left me out on a line


Details | Free verse | |

The place within the fire part II

and still nobody has a clue
i escaped and cheated death
they think i'm playing the system
but im truly insane
confused and terrified of this ghost hunting me down

the palce withing the original fire is a story 
not everyone knows
something you catch glimpses of only through word of mouth
there are few who know the facts
and less who witnessed its terror first hand
but the shocking truth is
not every metaphor of a prayer 
made by a player 
who has method to his madness
gets sorted out fast enough
when there is no witness protection program for those who know nothing

so my broken fireplace and the fire in the room
my chanting and struggle
the story of witches and dreams of prophecies and terrorism
even my resume
for i worked at a restaraunt called the flame

it was a protest
now its metaphysical chess
i did my time
played my next card
and im witing for my next turn to see how fate reacts
but soo far i know
i truly dont like this game!

the fire inside my soul burns everyday
if you only knew
if i could only tell you
if you only heard the voices and the whispers
the cackling witches and the smiles of the dangerous drug dealers

I just want them to know
i am sorry 
i am confused
i see it from the sides of all eyes of insanity and clarity
humor and tears
now i'm in the ghetto
haunting it
becoming the next ghost to save a life
it's like i really died but i only died inside

the broken fireplace 
the fire inside
the burnt offering of naked substitute teachings 
of alcoholic last names
of psychological warfared protest of drugs to save lives
you were my angel
i guess i was your demon
but no one but me really sees it from my eyes
about the story of the fire within
and all the things that were there