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Metaphor Imagination Poems | Metaphor Poems About Imagination

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

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Details | Sonnet | |

Gentle Summer Rain Art

Featuring:)  Giorgio Veneto

She writes about Fall's beauty in the rain 
The falling raindrops' dance ascribing thence 
Bespoken verse that lightens her refrain 
before the time they met - her steps commence. 

She listens to the soft and rhythmic thrum, 
her love turned to escape and cloudy string 
Where nimbus mistletoe fell, tears to become 
Their kiss of Autumn was symbolic ring. 

The first light cotton mists with summer rays 
While skyward cheerful laughs adorn the land, 
their ceremonial dance diffuses grays, 
affectionate embrace, where dreams expand. 

Upon September's sky the raindrops gleam 
With half of hidden Sun to laugh and beam.

Enjoy the FRAGRANCE OF RAIN

--------- 
FRAGRANCE OF RAIN 
8/29/13 
Sonnet 
---------

~A Poet Destroyer Collaboration~


Details | Rhyme | |

Fool of Infinite and Queen of Fate

Fool of Infiniti

A wanton bird pecks at the stars
A Jester peers through crystal bars
This prison of love with rainbow hue
Illusion parts to lets you through

On dragon wings forever free
You quest into your dreams to see
Smoke and mirrors and shadow haze
To guide you through an endless maze

Slow motion tear rolls down her cheek
Its only passion that you seek ?
Engulfed in strange duality.
She wonders her reality

Your eyes still mock her with desire
Your kisses light her inner fire
Your touch can melt her to your will
But you will never take your fill

Black widow spider guards your heart
She spun the web, she keeps it taut
It is your only fatal flaw.
A secret, silent metaphor.

And all about her swirl the dreams
The nightmares all with voiceless screams
And in her hand the strangest key
To fit the door of What Will Be ?

And when her eyes search yours again
You take her to the spider den
You spin the dreams she hopes to see
And lock your hearts in mystery.

So enter in to lick the flame
Eternal prisoner of the game
Illusion is false imagery
She whispers your Infinity


The Queen of Fate

The Queen of Fate by the outer Gate
Her carriage to Nowhere, will await
Her cloak is wrapped against the night
Her eyes are wide with peculiar fright

Gray horses eyes turn back in fear
With thunderclaps upon her ear
Blue jagged lightning points the way
Along the path to yesterday

Cold, sullen driver cracks his whip
His crooked smile curls round his lip
His horses leap the cruel abyss
Dark Queen of Fate sees none amiss

Above the mist a gate appears
Who will wipe the Gate-man's tears ?
Gray horses strike and paw the air
Fate Queen ascends the carriage stair

And all about her swirl the dreams
The nightmares all with voiceless screams
And in her hand a wondrous key
To lock Enigma's Mystery

Pass through the gate O Queen of Fate
Another carriage will await
Drawn by Steeds of Promises
Illusion Starts and Finishes

Suzanne Delaney
Iambic Tetrameter
Gothic Theme
For Giorgio's Impress Me Iambic Contest


Details | Verse | |

Stars

Stars
A cycle of rebirth And regeneration Cosmic mysteries From the depths of the universe.
Immortal beings During acts of love Cast mystical spells Generating creative life forces.
Name: Pandita Sánchez Contest: “Shine with Your Naani!” Date: 6-18-2014 Sponsor: Nette Onclaud


Details | Free verse | |

Mythical pest

My parents complain of a mythical pest,

Infesting our house since the 7th of July,

Devouring the snacks, desserts,

delicacies and everything hot, spicy or sweet,

Determined to find the beast,

Fattened with food meant for me.

with a magic wand and on a broom to hunt

set out may it be a lachupakabra or a lepricorn,

Scary or naughty and anything the creature might wield

ready with a device from my dad given to me with a grin

the device, the compass, the guide to the beast

was a mirror reflecting its scaled skin scarlet red

staring at me with cat like blue eye

fierce and mighty.

Not a pest but is a mythical beast

Omega and almighty! It was me

Perplexed, gave up the hunt.

now feasting on poisonously, maliciously, dangerously

in sugary syrup gulab jamuns soaking.


Details | Narrative | |

Silver Strands

Slate gray streets made even darker by cutting raindrops
Umbrellas popping up everywhere, people seeking shelter

But I stayed put, wanting to get drained with the rain,
then I hear this tinkling voice that says, “Don’t you just love it when it rains?!”

I look at her wearily and her eyes actually gleam with laughter
Oh geez, this lady was my total opposite.  I was brooding, she was brimming.
I power-up my go away vibes, but she was like a darned magnet…
Was I the ferromagnetic one, or was she?

She gushed on the metaphor of rain in her life, and I didn’t feel like drowning.
Listening to her amidst the onslaught was so refreshing, making me thirstier…


There we were, two drenched souls, sitting on the pavement, chatting up a storm.
Of all her descriptions of rain, one in particular stood out for me…

Pearl drops strung on silver strands …

She said, “Rain for me would be silver strands streaking an otherwise somber sky…
pearl drops strung on silver strands, broken by the heavens to share with us.
See how precious it is?” Then she continued on with the metaphor for pearls…

Her words felt like windshield wipers to me, and I could see clearly now
By then, the rains had softened, and a lone pearl drop landed on her eyelashes
-that made me look closer at her eyes… her beautiful, wise, yet cloudy eyes…


I have never looked at rain the same way since then.






For Andrea's and Susan's Silver Strands contest



Details | Free verse | |

Twigs

Twigs

Flowers bloom
And flowers wilt.
Flowers blush
And flowers fade.
The eternity is only in me-
The twig that bears the flowers.

Sparrows are born
And sparrows die.
Sparrows fly
And brighten the sky.
That who nurtures sparrows is me-
A cozy make of a twig upon a twig.

The sun fades
And moon is born.
The twilight blurs
And moonlight spreads.
All the soothing moonlight beams are me-
A crisscross of unfathomed twigs.

Whether in its birth
Or in its death;
In the heart
Of its heart;
The entire beauty is none but one-
A design of mysterious twigs.


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 | |

IMAGO

The picture was precious.
The infantilism made one breathless.
The pupa indolence was exquisite in form.
I watched those transmogrifications transform.
Diamonds in the ruff would bring the monarch prosperity.
The rarities of their beauty confound.
The eyes behold profoundly.

Their wings formed from the cocoon.
The pupa stage is now devoured.
One day it will become more than just a flight.
They will develop a sensitivity to their fight.
They will know that the wind is not to embrace.
Therefore, they will find a safe haven from the storm.
They will live their life span because they have been informed that 
     they are diamonds in the ruff.

The imagery of animation has been defined.
A diamond in the ruff is within those lines in which the writer metaphors 
     life to the imagination as a chrysalis stage.
Sagaciously seen via phases is eruditely engaged. 

Imago sexually matured but diamonds in the ruff until life formed is 
     to procure greater days.
The butterfly will always affect nature ways.
Diamonds in the ruff are sages.
________________________________|
PENNED ON JUNE 12, 2014!


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 | Free verse | |

Generic Minds

generic minds listen to generic music
have generic thoughts that are unknowingly abusive
watch generic things talk about generic things
gee this generic *****is spreading like a disease
better get your flu shot 
thats what they said to me
a suicidal vaccine 
a subliminal killing spree
its contagious and the outrageous
thing about it is that the people are blind in an eye
that they didn't even know they had
it's sickening to watch these clueless civilians 
inside the looking glass
with nightmares of being free
without a key to their mind
for it is trapped in the frequency
in the illusion of time
bathed in our universe
killing all that refuse to see
those that admit to hypocracy
or see the message in hip hop
how cant you see
the message in the lyrics that
bring adolescents to their knees
from bullet wounds conflicting their flesh
contradicting that they're the best
but the songs keep telling them that they dont need no rest
that they dont wanna go home
that they should ride alone
with the gat as their only companion
and so the only path they choose is the one that they're told
until they grow old and hope turns to a window pane
inside a window pane, until all they feel is pain
they realize that the music itself is ashamed
so whats to look up to
when you cant even speak when you cant even walk because you look so bleak
your eyes are sunken from the tv you're infested with the dee zees
now its too late to turn around and live for your conscious
so when youre screaming oh please
close your eyes and bring your mind to life
open your eyes for the first time
and never wonder why
since the answer this entire time
has been inside
and you better find it before you die
you dont want your soul to be in a pool with all the others
a buncha brothers missing their mothers
but only seeing strangers
only feeling the haters
wishing they would have used their minds when they had them
and now its too late,
now it's time for another new born fate to grab them


Details | Rhyme royal | |

Alone In The Dark

I opened my eyes,under. 
A bleak atmosphere-
deserted I beheld.
Sinuous channels flowing.
Whimpering           
Sounds escaped,
As I walked on vast layer 
Of permafrost.
Beyond the horizon,the 
World lay bare.
With my heart in my 
Hand,I passed thru 
Argyle And Hellas,amid 
eerie Sounds echoing as 
dust
Storms circled,forming 
Shadowy figures.
Storms etching
The terrain,light   
Coloured dust particles
Created shifting light
And dark patterns.
How came I into this 
Voiceless world?
Three thousand miles, 
Across is chasm;beneath 
Lay the throne of Hades
I thought.
Drawing near,I jolted
As I heard a voice.
In the ship, this voice
Echoed in my ears-
"Welcome to earth!"


Details | Haiku | |

The Internet: Return

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


Details | Dramatic monologue | |

Trick

(THE GHOST)

With the open, naked eye,
Pure death approaches!

Incredibly hollow, kick the bucket long ago
No, whiff nor smell when “THE GHOST” is around.
Abuses the whiteness, in which exists inside these sheets.
It can be the cost and the reason of your overdose in question.

Go ahead and dig your own grave.
I have already commissioned your headstone.
You won’t be remembered,
The aftermath this GHOST creates, will leave you babbling, even in your crate.
This is that whiteness you do not want to feel or taste.

Once he or she was a nobody, is now “The Infamous Ghost!”
The one that lives within your ‘Indian Hollow Walls.’
The Ghost’ leaves heat behind in your room.
It prowls around, leaving you within a near death experience every night.
This' ghost left behind will wreak havoc on your soul,
Shh! Listen to your walls, they speak quite a bit. 
Once you find yourself with broken wind, and watery eyes.
Do not think this is your maker in the process.
‘The Ghost’ with eyes so potent compels a numbing stare!

If there really is such a thing as reincarnation,
Then you had better think that this ghost was a ghost in its own past life.
‘The Ghost’ can have you breathing out tears so intense.
Leveling your entire room, with a moat surrounding your bedded kingdom.
Not even your frightened watery dripping eyes will salvage your soul.
Nothing will come in handy before you die.
‘The Ghost’ will incinerate on your obituary.
                   
                 … It will read…

“There is nothing to Fear but Fear itself! “Said: Franklin D. Roosevelt!”
That, and the fear is all this fearless 'Ghost will leave behind.
 It will have you thinking in rational fear.
                    (RIP)

-Skat's Poetry-


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 | Verse | |

Wildflowers

Standing out in a field alone, a little white flower named Daisy longed for someone to share her world.
One day a blue flower named Bachelor Button entered her world they became friends.
 She knew by his name that he was not the propagating kind, but that didn’t stop their relationship she called him BB short for best bud.
The seasons of Spring & Summer they enjoyed the sun, laughed in the rain and held on fast in the Fall.
Winter came it was long and hard they were both covered in a blanket of snow, not knowing whether they would ever see each other again or even survive .The snow fell     then came the ice, this went on for months.

The Sun shone brightly the first day of spring. A few days later warmth of the sun melted the snow, Daisy popped up .
 I’ve been waiting days for you to come out, said BB, they both chanted hooray!
The snow was completely gone in a few days, the birds started building their nests , bugs were crawling around ,butterflies began to visit the two flowers. I wish there were more of us Daisy said, to BB.

They laughed as the sun and wind blew through their leaves.  Then it started the sun and rain took turns until one morning the air & field was filled with the smell of flowers.
 
Daisy and BB looked at each other and asked what kind of flowers are these ? they’re not white like daisies they’re not blue like bachelor buttons. They did not know the birds and bugs carried the seeds from the two of them and the caterpillars buried them under the soil.
The seeds from the new flowers were then carried by the winds many miles away, they landed in fertilized gardens and flourished, although they faced danger everyday. 
as they were called WEEDS ..
 The Gardener pulls weeds out of the garden so they don’t choke the flowers, which cost a lot of money and require lots of maintenance.

However there was a Gardener who saw her friends spending hours weeding their garden , that they didn’t have enough time to admire and enjoy the labors of their love
So she set out to give a home to all the weeds ,she provided a place where they could fit in and multiply, they required no maintenance, rain provides their water .

The best part of all is their beauty is in the eye of the beholder.
 Ask my granddaughter-- What are those flowers in the garden ?
  She will answer "WILDFLOWERS " their parents were Daisy and BB


Details | Blank verse | |

The Eye

The eye,a sign the 
unwise can't comprehend
  Forged from the world's 
origin,an 
illumination in darkened 
minds,for the 
enlightened ones like 
Leonardo da Vinci,Isaac 
Newton,John Milton....etc.
   The eye is a tree 
with many branches like 
Priory of Scion,Knight 
templars,I.O.G.T,United 
Nations,Masonic 
Lodge,Music industry, 
Politics,global economy, 
etc 
stretching beyond 
human imaginations-felt 
in all corners of earth.
  The world is clothed 
through wisdom from 
above.
   The eye,all seeing 
sign,an invincible 
emblem of power and 
riches to the lion hearted 
and loyal souls.
A seat of influence and 
fame.
  Creating the social order 
through men of power....
  Some see it as a 
curse,others a blessing.
  I feel it,the great eye is 
everywhere watching 
you!


Details | Personification | |

Science

Sleeping dragon through the Dark Ages,
Coldblooded and unfeeling wraith,
It awoke and consumed the human race,
Entering every aspect of their lives.
Nothing can destroy this beast of knowledge
Except an Apocalypse.


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 | Dramatic Verse (Verse Drama) | |

Rainbow

Running through the universe,
Looking for the light,
I found a broken rainbow,
Crying in the night.

I tried to glue it back again,
Fix it's bleeding heart,
But the circle had been broken,
Before it's song could start.

The push and pull of meaning,
Are tugging at my sleeve,
The million colours dancing,
In the cloth the weaver weaves.

Are burning in the darkness,
Burning in the night,
As the rainbow goes on crying,
Sinking out of sight.

And now I'm crying loneliness,
Crying on my knees,
The butterflies of emptiness,
Are dancing in the breeze.

Running through the universe,
Looking for your face,
I come back to the start again,
To find my  tail I chase.

I know I've found my destiny,
I know that it is true,
The beginning and the end of it,
Is where we'll all meet you.

more at http://labyrinthoflies.com


Details | Blank verse | |

AU COURANT AU FAIT THE HEART OF IMAGINATION ABREAST

AU COURANT AU FAIT – THE HEART OF IMAGINATION ABREAST
The invention of the automobile is a thing to ponder. In words of the heart of imagination, the temperament wonders why divine providence gave the sense of knowledge of those natural resources that predefined the automobilist. Medical science is even more radical to design machinery that tells about our brain and body. Hardly conceived is their intelligence, the questions are answers hidden. I imagine that deity would be exposure to another vestibule with biblical emergence. The status of a country being oppressed is imagine by who defines the Antichrist. We have seen in the time of Joseph Stalin, Adolf Hitler, and now reign Vladimir Putin. Can you imagine the words to define suppression with the heart of a warrior depicting the coming mêlée? The imagination portrays the brilliance of today to evolution and the procreation of humankind. What do men seek via Social Science? A world that is no longer divine but a mind that divides to discovery a new way of life. I imagine that divinity is vested on earth because of lack of appearance of a known God. The imagination questions prior occurrences aboard and at home. We are our insight and inspiration via an unknown God. I imagine that religion imperceptibility will become a theological pre-cognizant of The School of Social Theology, which is demarcated as the heart of imagination discerned by word utilization. Do you imagine the same? Are similarities being disseminated? Facilitated via a school of thought, suppressed knowledge will come forth to take the outer limits to higher grounds. Were heavens are immortalized. In essence, these words have been pre-constructed to predefine the heart of imagination.
____________________________________________|
Penned on October 18, 2014!


Details | Free verse | |

Your Secret Place

Everyone should have a secret place
where everything is so beautiful, you just belong
as peaceful as a day is long, an out of your usual pace,
sounds of nature all about, where birds sing there song,

Meditation replaces frustration, along your happy trail
moving about streams, pine trees as tall as a waterfall
where pine cones grace a foliage landscape  so surreal,
woes are meaningless about green grass, lollypop bushes

A cool spring where skinny dipping hasn’t a sign to obey
trails going every which way, too choose, you can’t lose…
your way, this sunny day, misty spray, a couple out to play,
no weight to bare, deadlines to meet, nor fail too win

time only absent from laughter heard as children frolic there...
in a caressing manner, with her long hair draped about your face,
sounds echo off boulders where water flows by gallons everywhere
yes - your secret place, where good time memories are your true nature


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 | Free verse | |

Three Inch Cliches

The Soul is the Beautiful Light of Love
Shining like the sun through the 
NO
As the reader, I’m going to have to cut you off there.
Here’s a metaphor for you…
Reading is ****ing.
And your words hit our auditory canals
Like a hotdog down a hallway.
As an experienced reader, I’m after 
The virgin vernacular 
The aphrodisiac aphorism
You know- the big… black words
You feel me?
Because a line is a flashlight, exposing the world’s nudity-
And we’ll never get anywhere shining it in the same spot.
So kiss me with classy couplets
Smack my assonance!
Bring me to the climax-
And we’ll share a smoke together,
Warm beside the fire of your Three Inch Clichés.


Details | Free verse | |

Only in You

Through the lonely woods, I may head,

Upon the autumn leaves, I may tread,

At the secluded horizon, I may stare,

And only you, I may see,

In those symphonies of silence,

In those melodies of calmness,

In those euphonies of quietness.

 

By the silent lake, I may lay,

Till the twilight fades, I may stay,

Then in reclusive silence, I may walk,

And only to you, I may talk,

Through those toungueless emotions,

Through those wordless attachments,

Through those voiceless sentiments.

 

In the lone meadow, I may wander,

Along the untrodden paths, I may waver,

In companionless seclusion, I may hide,

And only in you, I may find,

The depths of oneness,

The bonds of togetherness,

The cozy feel of coalescence.

 

In the wilderness of emotions, I may die,

At the merciless daggering, I may sigh,

Through a million wounds, I may bleed,

And only in you, I may seek,

The balm of love,

The warmth of affection,

The heal of inseparability.


Details | Free verse | |

A Winter's Tear


A Winters Tear

Latent waves of shimmering vibrations disturb the world,
tossing leaves and forcing grass and trees to weep a lament.
My winters breath is snatched away decimated and lost.
The hidden sun glides the horizon silhouetting the mountains,
grey bubbling clouds smother the raised land with their weight.
Man and beast march head bowed in slow laboured steps,
As if to pass unnoticed like pall-bearers, to the seasons gone.
Passing familiar places they ignore my shuffling gait.
I walk this path of memories each and every day,
sometimes sitting beneath the lonely bridge of dreams.
A winter’s tear blurs my vision, as memories stir my soul,
Visions like scattered diamonds spread out to relive. 
Only to trudge on to journeys end and there to rest for awhile,
Where the warmth of my family will shelter and heat my bones.



Seosamh de Burca 21/11/13


Details | Free verse | |

Cookies-Food For Thought

Cookies -
Why can’t I have the chocolate one
I want more
She took my cookie
Hers is bigger than mine
I want to trade
That’s not fair

Cookies +
Thank you for the cookie
I love you
Thanks for all you do for me
I am satisfied
This is good
I am loved
Written By  Deborah Finneran :)  2013


Details | Free verse | |

The Glass Goddess

All around me
Great cities made of sand.
Green sky scrapers poke through the ground 
To thrive in life’s strict conditions
And melt away with the tide…

Great houses made of cards
Form lines, and tightrope walk existence,
Knowing that any moment, the wrong brick may fall
And buckle our world to its knees
As Mother Earth shouts Jenga! from the sidelines.

So while were here
We dance with the Glass Goddess 
Poised miles above reality,
Leaping over the heavens on our domino stilts-

We floor it in the sky
Living death in the fast lane, 
Seizing the day
Because any moment 
We could disappear 
Into



Jacob Reinhardt	
10/15/2013



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 | Free verse | |

Tangible Dreams

In the midst of darkness descending 
above me, 
Stillness seems to overtake sound, 
Allowing moments for deep thought 
in this mirror of solitude.

I tend to reminisce on those dreams I 
grab from the photogenic events of 
the past.

Once touched, I’m taken back by the 
moments that can’t be replaced. 

So during this moment of tranquility; 
I pray no external force interrupts 
this, 
The calm waters in my mind. 

Lucky for me, it’s a reoccurring dream; 
And as vivid as these fantasies are, 
None compare to the peaceful illusions 
of family gatherings. 

It was only yesterday, when I illustrated thoughts 
of a child, 
Always curious of that deep ocean floor, 
Where familiar kin paint their residence ; 
I was an eyewitness to many overlooked 
areas within my family’s ocean. 

Yet with many pieces missing as a result of 
loved ones ascending to a higher cause, 
This puzzle remains incomplete until that 
last tomorrow.

However in these possible moments 
of delusion; 
I’m a child again touching the fabric 
of my influential past.

As I continue this unforgettable daydream,
I ask again for no interruption; 
For with every reminiscent moment, 
I know of myself better and what I 
could be in a tangible future. 


Details | Rhyme | |

In The Meadow

In the meadow is a quiet place
Little creatures run around and give chase
In the meadow were it is peaceful 
Little creatures have dreams that are cheerful
In the meadow were the sun some how shine
Little things of nature will combine
In the meadow the wind blows softly
Little creatures get bother abruptly
In the meadow life goes on with delight
Little creatures scurry when it becomes night

In the meadow the grass some how gets tall
Little that we know it makes sounds that call
In the meadow we hear whistles
Little sounds that some times chimes like crystals
In the meadow the water flows
Little things beside the water grows
In the meadow we smell moist grass
Little we know that nature has sass
In the meadow we wonder what will be
Little is what we know about the meadow you see


Details | Ode | |

The Serpent

I am the one who once traveled by flight and foot
And now I slither around on my round-body
My tongue has always been and still is split in half
In my first stage of life my speeches consisted of fire-bursts, ice-shards, smoke rings, and whirling-wild-winds
Now my speeches are speedy rollings-of-the-tongues and a-spitting venom-filled saliva
Horned was I back in the days after I had hatched out of my egg
Now my mushroom-like head consists of my eyes, my nostrils, and my ears
Once I had massive teeth to help me emasculate my food
And now I must swallow all of my food whole
Many primitive cultures have used me as a symbol for both good and evil
I symbolize the Morning Star, and have been blessed with many different names
Nevertheless, I am worshiped by many cultures of mankind as a powerful being
I am the Light-Bringer, and the Knowledge-Bringer to mankind and am similar to Prometheus
I seduced Eve to bite the apple in order that she may have knowledge and become like Yahweh
I am also Quetzalcoatl, the revered sky god of the Aztecs 
Without the symbolism that mankind has placed upon me I am nothing more than a plain reptile


Details | Dramatic monologue | |

The Damned

Her devilish eyes beat at me 
taking flesh with every blow,her 
rendered heart beat sounds like 
tribal drum rolls an her skin 
drips venom from its pores , I 
find myself helpless and 
paralyzed , everything else 
seems trivial and meaningless 
to this moment,..she exhales 
smoke and lightning flows from 
her finger tips ,she is the 
antichrist the source of my 
device, but I can't help but give 
her my heart,I question my gift 
but remain entranced caught in 
her red moonlit ritual 
dance,sight of her is blinding , 
she is what Every man  desires 
but can't reach, it feels like 
heaven but I sweat from the 
heat,the pain she inflicts is 
bitter sweet an burns like salt 
in a wound ,she is gods most 
regretted creation born for the 
night with a hunger that cannot 
be fed,hold her down chain her 
up she cannot be contained , 
pentagrams burn white in her 
eyes,she's a shape shifting 
voodoo angel that sleeps with 
vipers ,yet I seek her and 
desire her with every thread of 
my existence and have turned 
into an insomniac who day 
dreams of her , cut by the 
thorns of the rose she wears in 
her hair , always the day of the 
dead and raining razorblades, 
the tree limbs reach out for my 
embrace but every one of them 
are shadowed with her face,I 
close my eyes I can always find 
her there , lay with her in the 
ground every breath she takes 
is sin ,she's a black rosé that 
cannot be changed a black rosé 
that cannot be contained , 
ashes to ashes dust to dust I 
cut my heart to be with her and 
bleed undying trust,it's only 
her....everything else I feel is 
not real .....


Details | Haiku | |

Haikus About God: VI

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


Details | Haiku | |

Haikus About God: IV

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


Details | Free verse | |

Who am I

Who am I?
Time will not answer,
Nor, other.
Perhaps my existence,
Does not exist.
Who am I?
The reverse side of the world.
Manufacturing production of God
Or a cosmic joke?
What will become of me
When crossing the bridge?
Doubts are like wires,
That twist in the soul.
There is no end, no beginning.
Yes, there is a tangle,
Which we call life.


Details | Rhyme | |

The Parish

When the time comes we shall all gather, 
People of all walks and talks together, 
In front of the parish for the Holy Communion, 
It is here that we meet our companion, 
In holy matrimony we unite before the father, 

But this is no ordinary parish, 
We separate men from boys before they perish, 
We relish in wines and spirit, 
Just like church goers after the Holy Spirit, 
In beer we trust because its fetish, 

The parish,
I drink until i perish,
In beer my life i cherish,
I wish to make a wish,
Parish, perish, cherish, i wish,

Just like the church seeing holiness in the pope, 
In the bar tender we see drinking hope, 
We speak in tongues under the influence, 
And we never shy away from an audience, 
So don't demonize us, we don't do dope, 

Just like Jesus who walked on water, 
We keep on walking like Johnny Walker, 
On your wall the Holy Virgin Mary, 
On mine you'll find the famous Hale Berry, 
Unlike them were living our happily ever after, 


The parish,
I drink until i perish,
In beer my life i cherish,
I wish to make a wish,
Parish, perish, cherish, i wish,

We've never missed a bar gathering, 
On several occasions you've missed a church meeting, 
We pay all our dues to the bar tender, 
You hardly give two percent tithe to the preacher, 
So when we meet in hell spare me the greeting,


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 | 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 | 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 | Free verse | |

Who am I

Who am I? I’m root of a race and a culture A lover not a fighter Call me Weed… Call me Spliff… Call me Ganjah The tree that bare the fruits of Jah I’ll clear your mind like water Free you from you mental corner Out of your sorrow, I’ll give you laughter Take you high to see your master Maybe converse with your creator Make you feel in this universe, you are the centre In the drunken world, I’ll make you sober Make unstoppable like a super nova Give you the world when it’s all over Mentally sinking? I’ll make you a swimmer You can’t fly right now? I’ll make you a drifter In this speeding world, I’ll make it slower Do you wander? How to be a traveller? Because I’m the transport to mental China Only luggage you need is a lighter Only Passport you need is a Rizzler Tell your Mama and Papa that you’ll see them later Follow me and soon you’ll see that I am Marijuana!


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 | Couplet | |

The prison of the keys

And now I've lost my papers,
My passport and my wife,
The very essence of
My identity and life.

My bank account is empty,
My cloths and garments sold,
My skin and bones are ashes,
Spread thin on the open road.

My old car's broken down,
No wheels to touch the floor,
The motor been dismantled,
Stripped clean down to the core.

The bailiffs and the policemen,
Have emptied my abode,
The promises I made you,
Have been auctioned out and sold.

The love I hold within me,
Is all that I now have left,
The rest is bleak illusion,
The bind man and the deaf.

The imaginary people ,
I thought were my friends,
Have left the scene forever,
As the road of life does bend.

And now I stand alone,
Upon this lonely hill,
I gaze upon the meanings,
The years have silently killed.

In the roaring storms of thunder,
In the lightning in the night,
In the whispering of the children,
In the white doves lonely flight.

In the dust of many ages,
That has settled on my soul,
In the ashes of my humanity,
That has filled my begging bowl.

The ancient breeze is blowing,
Calling me to my knees,
To behold the light within me,
In the prison of the keys.

more at http://labyrinthoflies.com


Details | Free verse | |

Cat On A Hot Tin Roof

Cat on a Hot Tin Roof 



 I felt my finger nails digging into his back 
What an intensified sexual moment 
I never knew that tears could roll 
Down the cheeks of a robust man 

he wept! he sigh! he came 
Again, and again and again 
was it a sportsmanship or 
an injury cat on a Hot Tin Roof? 


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 | Quatrain | |

The Pen

The pen's a sword for carving poems.
A wand for measuring beats.
A whip to keep the rhythm
and a stick to tap the tweets.

It's silent to the ear-drums
when heard inside the head.
Words firmer than my chin bone
in notes from what seems dead.

It points to things I question
and scribbles errors I make.
And when it writes some new stuff
forgives me my mistake.

At rest upon my paper
it signals that I'm done.
And when I go to grab it
I'll click it just for fun.


Details | Haiku | |

Le Vacance Pretentieuse: Storm Part V

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


Details | Ode | |

Ode: to the Nymph

SHE floats in grace, like one in love
     with love itself and all that’s lush;
and when the mythic sprites above
     unloose her from the morning's blush,
she descends like the milk-white dove
     with the notes of a singing thrush.

With golden locks, as light as air,
     and liquid, limpid eyes most blue,
none is like her or can compare
     to her beauty and lovely hue
which lift the humble souls that dare
     come to her for her balmy dew.

As cloud and rain Nymph and a muse
     with the nimbused crest of a saint
which no man can therefore refuse
     or with mean words tarnish or taint,--
then let all Creatures freely choose
     to honor her without constraint.


1.) Ngoc Nguyen; 2.) Nature motif; 3.) for "Impress me II ! ( Old/New )" Contest















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 | Villanelle | |

From merry green, the dream ascends to Skylands

From merry green, the dream ascends to Skylands.
Comely words of comfort put the comma in the gray;
Hushed roads are dusted with sugar in the sun`s hands.

Hesitating white clouds meet the night`s dark commands,
But bring the dawn`s serenity for the a golden bay;
From merry green, the dream ascends to Skylands

Luminous black jack oak stopped the moving sands;
The winding road might have danced on the hills` clay;
Hushed roads are dusted with sugar in the sun`s hands


Recollections` last wave in the glass blowers` light stay,
Smiling from Spring Lake to Thistle Shimmer`s way, 
From merry green, the dream ascends to Skylands, 

Pine Barrens` silken grasses are kissed by birds of height,
Chateau Inn looks at the grave laurel and blueberry gay, 
Hushed roads are dusted with sugar in the sun`s hands.
In Paradise, rivers flow under Blueberry Month` sight.


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 | Couplet | |

The Broken Glass

Staring in the mirror, my reflection staring back
There’s a murderer here shrewdly covering her tracks
Inch by inch, step by step, sneaking through the forest quietly as kept
Slowly trying to make her way to the end
Knowing the darkness is going to catch her for her sin
She starts to feel weary like she weighs two hundred pounds
It’s something glowing in her pocket pulling her down
Her arm reached and reached and reached bringing out a mysterious broken glass
Deja Vu is what this felt to her as if she had seen this once before
She looked deeply in the splintered mirror and was amazed at its shiny galore
The world started to turn going back in time 
To set her where she committed the crime
So tangled as to what has happened on this day
Now, asking God to show her the way
She finds herself wondering into a dark gloom 
She sees a light under a door leading to a room; opens the door and what does she find…
It is her in a mirror locked up and confined.
Staring in the mirror, her reflection staring back
She’s captive now and there’s no turning back.


Details | Free verse | |

You Are Rich

Festered lament maddens me
Why must the despair of my heart’s desire
Truly enlighten me? 
I rested among the sick and lame
And found myself no different from the rest
For a troubled mind holds endless poverty
Penniless regret marks as a sickness no doctor can prescribe
For the bottles of balm are empty
And medicinal hope grows angry
I derived my madness from creativity
Revealing the remains of my humanity
‘Cool off, child’, I heard a soft voice whisper
But can’t you see I live off the flame?
It asks for no nickel or dime!
But it seeks to destroy all the same
The small voice returns at times
And often my heart listens
But we all listen
And only believe in the inevitability of pain 
I speak of the majority
Not of you
For you are blessed and beyond disgrace
You have a life—a beautiful face

And most of all, you are rich
With attributes I can only dream of 

You are rich with life and purpose
Holding inscrutabilities I can only wish to understand
You lift me without touch or care
Disposing me from your treasures
Because though you meant no harm, 
You are rich with blessing
And must remove all possible threats
So my festered lament
Remains an enlightenment

I can say I am rich in poverty
But you are forever rich
In Mystery

What hurts the most is knowing
I may be wrong about you
For you are so obscure in this mind
And as empty as I am I wish to be filled
In your richness
But we all are filled to the brim in the end
And sometimes I cannot distinguish the good from the bad
There is nothing I wish to discard
So I hoard in constant deficiency and despair  
And I hoard the idea that you are beyond compare

That you are rich
And always will be richer
Than me—or he


Details | Prose | |

The Globe

Sometimes I can literally feel the burn of silence. 
It’s somewhere within my bones, 
a blank slate made of heavy metal poisoning.
 Perhaps if I cut deep enough, I can retrieve it
 and find the inspiration needed to purpose
 the lonely canvas I’ve sheltered for so long.
 And with a marrow’d ink I’ll scribe the secrets
 I’ve forgotten over years of mirrored eye
 rolling and self propelled pity #$%*s.
 Finally, I’ll be free to pool the ashes,
 and build my castle of upside down day dreams, 
and brightly lit nightmares.
 I’ll call it “The Globe”, 
and dress like Shakespeare would if he grew up in the 90’s, 
and all my friends can help perform my drunkenly scrawled 
screenplays that lead, inevitably to the death of “The System”
 that we all helped create, 
just so we could have something to destroy.
-James Kelley 2014, All rights reserved.


Details | Light Poetry | |

Thinking Outside the Box

... but first we must establish one thing:

What kinda box are we talking about here?

If it's the pizza variety then no thoughts necessary!
Just dig in and put off consequences 'til later.
Though afterwards you might be hugging your gut,
saying, "I think I ate way too much!"

But hold onto that thought!
(before you lose your lunch)

Were you thinking outside the box?
I truly don't believe you were,
otherwise you wouldn't have gone for seconds
even as your face was turning blue.

(what did you eat the cardboard too?)

If it's a chess set you had in mind
I'd be mighty impressed it you DIDN'T
think outside the box.

... are you really that intelligent
to plan out the whole game before
you even take off the lid?

Now that's just crazy talk!

Course maybe that's not it either.
Perhaps you were thinking about
that Japanese number game.

(Sudoku... is that what you mean?)

Though to be honest 81 boxes
makes me feel a bit green.

The possibilities are truly endless it seems;
cubicles, board games, pizza shops,
warehouses, super markets,

(Heck, you're living in one, by God!)

So next time you bring up such a topic
you would do well to not be so vague.
It seems were all victims of this obscurity
... with origins more unknown than the plague.


Details | Lyric | |

The Other Side of the Coin

The night seems sad,
its stars are empty-
all magic gone, no luck
to gain from breathing a wish-
your dreams masked by shadow.
But this chance is not needed,
nor magic or spells,
to fight against the tears-
one must conquer them alone.
Luck is temporary for he
who counts on it.
It drains the stars 
of light and warmth.
In sadness we tend to forget
That we ourselves
have the power
to conquer the pain we feel.
Do not rely on good fortune
for soon as it comes
it will disintegrate into a sea
of sorrow and regrets.
Instead,
create your own magic
rather than pretend.
The stories and tales of childhood
may seem alluring
but do not let them
steal you away
from reality.


Details | Rhyme | |

Values

hip hip hurrah, herc shot hera
sick sad era, tri city terror
dirty land lover, lips hit terra
karma bent over,  messenger error
never say neva, davin say better
no pain no gain, accept the rainy weather
paint a pic pretty , slip on slick cities
have a lot of lovers, none top sarah
no what im knowing, dont want a slow down
respect is expected, never threw a hoe down
zeus with an entourage, party never undersized
tities no mardi gras, let loose like karamazovs
other moment ostracized, flow never oxidize
freaky with an extra eye, good times multiply
mr go getter, killed the baby sitter
no one does it sicker, crazy cause I know I die

we gots to live, like this life is the last
we cant plan the future, no change for the past
im a make the most before my ghost has to crash
blast thru the basic come away with the cash

one trick pony, faulty cause its special
colts get bolted, stuck in their mental
yellin out mommy, darwin wasnt gentle
change for survival or b**** shut your dental
d*** headed central, quick wit essential
lifes experimental, body a holy temple
soul instrumental for flying to light levels
trying a tight bevel tieing a rhyme pretzel
spy verse spy verbal, try to size circles
circumsize virgos, turpentine turbo
egos in slow mo, vertigo a go go
ho ho flow curdled, tossed into inferno
my syllable allegro caused a bloody gurgle
my soliquoy symbols,  got my butt buddies hurtful
enemies closer choked till their purple
envy nocturnal to my bright concerto

we gots to live, like this life is the last
we cant plan the future, no change for the past
im a make the most before my ghost has to crash
blast thru the basic come away with the cash

four arm charmer, mystic in the making
awake no alarmer, physically shaking
visibly debating, if misery is waiting
shake till its fading, without hesitating
didi waits for no one, i happen to grow some
dropped as a we lad, learned by my lonesome
others had a helping, served me a surprise
no need to refy, interest past the demise
loan me a pice of mind, no need for a slice a pie
history wasn't lies, just under another guise
repition important, reputation not fortune
though I was fortunate, it was hard to notice horton
praise to the doctor, metaphors for healing
been a force with feeling, opens doors in ceilings
benefits appealing, to consumers when teething
people angry competing, without finding a meaning 

we gots to live, like this life is the last
we cant plan the future, no change for the past
im a make the most before my ghost has to crash
blast thru the basic come away with the cash


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 | 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 | Haiku | |

Le Vacance Pretentieuse: Storm Part IV

Precipitation:
Culminates in a washout
Stuffed camels get soaked


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 | Classicism | |

Painter of Minds

I once met a man, in the forrests of Tibet.
His counternance was pale yet his name was Robinette.
Past the clearing of the Belt and down into the bottomneck stream
is where he lived in isolation with a gift of crafting dreams

With just a scroll and his ink he could conquer Goliath
a GIFT THAT enscribes him a legend, a self-imposed pariah
His mind was unhinged so the words were unhindered,
never once did he blink,lest his memories squandered

he would wield that pen,  the greatest painter of minds
would surrender each soul with the lies he devised
he would keep an accounting of the words in each page
in all of those scribbles, were  worlds to be named.

Those words made me sleep, guarding my peace
rendering this beast to a ransom release
The sentences were a rhythm that I could breathe
the punctuation of which, was smooth-calm light breeze

As I browed, frowned into the pages that were
So too the the vast letters my eyes chauffeured
mY senses mangled, my vision blurred
this was more than a vision, this was my life's metaphor

So the PAINTER MINDS,did paint me a dream
scratched out my boundaries and stroked in a stream
created new paradise, and new heavens unearthed
but the later was not to be, and the former re-emerged.


Details | I do not know? | |

Love Endures

Love floats by,


reaching,
tantalising,
meandering,


tip-toeing past pain,


leaping through walls,
weakening the barricades,


of the most private heart.



Love settles in,


trusting,
searching,
dissolving,


quietly beyond anguish,


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



Love stays, it is true,


love endures, as do you






Details | I do not know? | |

You and I



You and I.


You.

Your heart blazed,
with a warmth of spirit,

soothing,

alluring,

soaked in truth.



Your smile burned,
branding me permanently,

gentle,

tender,

enveloping my being.



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

unsaid,

yet fierce,

bathed in silent knowing.



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


I.

I squandered your generosity of spirit.

I vainly discarded your priceless poems.


Now I stand,

alone,

empty,

desolate,

wasting away,

rotting inside, day by day.




Details | 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 | Rhyme | |

The Bourgeois and the Spinning Wheel

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

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

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


Details | 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 | 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 | Free verse | |

Goddess of Mars

Goddess of Mars and of
all things desolate

I chart desperate needs
I measure hatred

Alone in a red filled 
valley of despair

Hot winds lift and
spiral my hair

I am not there
I am the barest whisper

My talons scrape the blue
confines of heaven

while my death - filled constellations
spin fatally in frozen orbits

I am not there- nor is infiniy


Details | Rhyme | |

The Potter and The Clay

The Potter, drenched in his noon-day sweat,
Sat hunched, cursing his fate;
The Clay which he fiddled with now
And the wheel he made to rotate,
Found him saddedned by a thought--
Saddened by his inward urge:
Should he make two separate 
figures?
Or should they be merged?

Straining softly his fingers, first
He carved out a beautiful girl:
She thought how worthy she was made--
On her toes she did twirl..
With another piece of that clay,
The Potter's hands so swift,
Carved-out a man--a handsome Prince,
To be her Worthy gift...

The Sun drenched already the life of him,
And fused it in the clay--
The God-like Potter who played some more,
Thought of it this way.

Now both of them, kept in the Sun--
She'd dance and he'd play...
Soon love came-in at first sight,
But these pieces of clay,
Fell into a trap of envy and
Began the struggle to live--
Both knew of what is their's to take--
None ever learns to give....

Meanwhile the Maker, seeing them crack,
Frowned in great dismay,
Quickly picked up, merged them both
To a single ball of clay:
He thought again, what went wrong
And spun the wheel anew
'Should I make a single figure
Or should I remake the two?'

The Clay, still spinning in itself,
Knew It wanted none;
'Let life of Strife be not mine,
Pray let me stay as one....'


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 | 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 | Lyric | |

Exist in Dreams

A dream that dances in waves, and mirrors all you do
So you dance, and hope that some day the song will come from you
This dream is all that exists, and all you’ve ever known
The song is picking up speed, so it’s follow or fail alone

A flame that flickers in sync with the shadows by your side
The rain puts out the light, and causes you to hide
This nightmare is all that exists, and all you’ve ever known
But this song still hasn’t stopped, and so you dance alone

You cherish sand on the banks of a path winding through a storm
This desert trail is all that you see; too blinding to look beyond
This path is all that exists, and the only way to go
Holding close the sand as you sing, just so you’re not alone

The sand is part of the storm that makes you close your eyes
But now the wind starts to slow, and the scenery makes you cry
This life is all that exists, and the only way to go
The sand falls through your hands, and you carry on alone

A love that blooms into being beneath the darkest skies
Is a life that will venture out despite the lonely nights
So scared, but so unafraid to find what you need to be
Despite the fear that prevails, and tells you what to see

The flames steady and still, and a shadow kneeling down
The rain cleansing your heart as all your fears drown
The sand creating a path, and shielding you from pain
And now, with the wind at your back, you remember why you came

To dream a light shining out for all the world to see
To be more than you think, and beyond all that will be
To create a desire to be the creators of our dreams
To become the mirror of self, and reflect our unity


Details | Free verse | |

Winter Winds

Winter winds blow all around. 
I’m astonished by the sounds of Jingle Bells and reindeer stomps. 
All of this should never stop. 
Snow lies on the ground, if only that weren't too profound. 
Time only leads to decay, but not on Christmas, not today. 
You should see the angels pray. 
Toy trains, and rag dolls are the things kids used to want. 
But time has changed, yes so have children… 
Santa seems as if a villain. 
So much fighting, so much crying, it sounds as if the kids are dying. 
“I want money, I want fame, and these toys are just so lame.” 
But that’s the product we provided. 
Second chances are no more, Santa’s plot we wait for. 
He’s sick of this, he doesn't care, it’s as if he’s not wanted here. 
He gets ready to take it all back…. 
WAIT! 
There’s still one toy left in his sack, it’s for a little girl, half a world away. 
Now how could he have missed this, on the perfect Christmas day? 
He turns around, not time for war. 
This toy, the girl is waiting for… It’s not a toy like you’d expect. 
She didn't ask for electronics, or stupid games such as Sonic. 
She just wanted one small thing… 
She’s waiting for something EXTRA special this gloomy day. 
In a bed she sits and stares, at the window near a chair. 
She’s so weak, and all alone. 
She doesn't even have a real home, not where there are bright lights anyways. 
They've decorated a weeping willow, the only tree around the “home”. 
So she has lights to see. 
It’s Christmas after all, but there’s no way to calm the raging sea. 
She’s dying, it won’t take much longer, and she doesn't care about the tree. 
She needs a new heart extra bad. 
So, Santa’s bringing her the one thing, that will stop her parents from being sad. 
He rushes to the hospital in his golden sleigh, and climbs right down the vent, 
He’s saving Christmas today. 
Santa rushes in just in time, finds a doctor, the girl is dying. 
It’s not what he usually does, but he stays and watches as they save her life. 
He waits for her to wake up. 
“Santa, you saved my life, oh thank you so much! I needed my heart to be touched.” 
He just smiles, and kisses her hand. He’s so glad he didn't destroy the land. 
Christmas is still a special day. 
There’s no more sorrow, no, not today. Santa smiles though some are still ungrateful. 
There’s that one child, standing in the snow, her life can now be started in the evening glow. That’s life for the grateful, loving, caring, and the thankful. Most of the time Santa just gives toys. For all the good girls and boys. But not today, and not tomorrow, once a year he gets rid of sorrow. So sleep tight and say your prayers, Christmas time is but once a year.


Details | Blank verse | |

Mirror

Where do you go, when you fall into your own reflection? Where do you go, when you fall through your own mirror’s reflection? Where do you go, when someone looks just as you do? Where are you, when you fall into a parallel reflection? Where are you, when you feel as if you no longer exist…? Where are you, when you descend beyond the reflection and drown beneath your own mirrored image?


Details | Rhyme | |

Disguised Angel (I'm in Love)

My lady you must have been sent from above
Immediately we clicked
You fit me like a glove
I don't know what it is
But you better not give me a kiss
Or it could lead to something bigger
Probably you having kids
Figures...
My sensitivity button triggers
I didn't think it was possible
My hormones appear to be unstoppable
I see you in my dreams
Smile bright your white teeth gleams
Hair kept nice
No trace or flakes
Or lice
No disrespect but I admire your body
So many doors to go through
Like Trump Tower's lobby
Will I enter the right one
Probably
You are the very best
To have you I am very blessed
If you leave the feelings may be worse
The sins I have pledged
Mark of the beast 
I'm cursed
I see you as a disguised angel
The number one territory
I'm here to claim you
A metaphor for my feeling
My right leg is sore from the one-knee kneelings
If I cry my eyes are the oranges can you see the peelings
Goodness that walk, so full of grace
No girl can take your place
At putting a smile on my face
The only girl to share the food on my plate
Walk hand-in-hand through Heaven's gate
My Angel is what I call you
Animorph like a cow how I go moo
You are no ghost so I won't say boo
I love you and I know you love me too
Doesn't it remind you of that song from Barney
Your love has a fire don't pull the alarm on me
Like a knot of bodies we can never untangle
My solid spirit
My baby
My Angel



Details | Free verse | |

My pet

My pet is an E.T. come from far outer space,
In that incredible green morning full of grace,
Ready to take compassion on uncomfortable race.
I mistook him for a vainglorious giant green ant,
Or a friendly, playful silver chameleon vagrant 
In a strange green cage like an UFO, or a bright cube;
A changeable dark hollow sphere, ellipsoid or tube 
Was his environment, where he felt incredibly free.
A fullerene as molecule composed entirely of C,
Might resemble his changeable colors and forms...
Coming from other world, he had different norms.
Like a tortoise or a snail with their long life shells,
He bore his genetic and civilization dowry`s codes,
And no hesitation in polishing them in many modes
Of significant recollections as invisible diamonds
In some allotropes forms with recordable sounds.
In their world, the injured ET always may complain
Regarding the rude restrictive rules to self maintain,
And too severely lathe`s and Lathes` laws to bind
A submissive or subversive aim of washing mind.
If many faces gambles have gained a grinder at hand,
Deceived by logic, or urged by mirror`s command,
Whatever transformation and simulation`s tidy tie,
The judging common world expects our constancy.
In his multi-dimension space, my pet`s only obsession`s
A shift character shows multitudes of points’ collections 
By dragging a 0-dimensional object in some direction,
One obtains a 1-dimensional object and self-selection. 
By dragging a 1-dimensional object in a new direction, 
One obtains a 2-dimensional object as self-protection.
My ET pet is playing in his cube beyond the K-K project. 
Indeed ,he could collect an (n + 1)-dimensional object 
By dragging an n-dimensional object in a new direction.
In our world,this game seems to be a natural selection.
He lived upon the analogy that (n + 1)-dimensional balls 
Have n dimensional boundaries, beyond the buckyballs...

If he he had wings ,could we put him in a modern hen coop?
Our world build this as a new loop-hole or as an alarming loop...


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 | Free verse | |

Another Night of Dread

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

cheerless

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

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

Against my desire, the stoma continually oozes  
feces and waste 

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

a stinking and rancid cabbage

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

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

the anxiety and the doldrums 
of another night;  

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

stench 

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

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

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

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


Details | I do not know? | |

Your Whisper

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

“I love you”, you murmured.

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

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

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

They still do.


Details | Free verse | |

The Horizon of Perception

If you stare at the sun long enough,

your eyes will become the desert 

they’ve always failed to see;

Just beyond the limits of their

perception. Empty, dry and tragic. 

If you stare into a pool of water

long enough, you’ll see the vivid 

reflection of years meant to wade 

through relevance, yet stopped short,

trapped in the irises you’ve held 

in a skull destined to become part

of an ocean’s reef; another story

lodged in the coral of ironic distraction.

If you read these words, and look into

yourself

                 …just long enough

You’ll see a life meant to be defined 

not by the elements around you,

but by the intention in which you

choose to see, and be seen. 

The ripples in the water,

made by your stroke could

drown you, or push you further

toward a destiny written in the 

eyes of elements curated by a

glow not of the sun, but of your own. 

You are at the helm,

twaddling notes, denoting 

the curious expectations of 

a young drifting sum of celestial 

coordination. Where you go is 

up to you. What you see, feel,

what you hear, taste,

What you change… 

is in the heart of each moment 

you continue to turn the cogs

of understanding, and breathe in

the truth of why the wind pushes 

you toward a horizon that continues 

to stray. 

-James Kelley 2014, All rights reserved.


Details | Free verse | |

Portrait of the Soul

The blank canvas lies before me,
as I pondered how to begin.
What should I start with?
Start with drawing a picture,
perhaps add some color to the borders?

The more my mind wondered,
it makes it hard to describe
how to create a masterpiece
that represents my well-being.

Fear eludes my judgement,
judgement eludes my fear.
Will I love or despise it?
What will others think?

The canvas of my heart
Stares me right in the eyes,
Looking deep within my soul
Spoke softly to me as she said,
"Just let it come and leave fear behind."

I slowly picked up my paintbrush,
Dipped it in one of the buckets
Then I began to stroke against the canvas
Waves of blue appeared like ocean waves.

When I finished with the waves,
I continued forth with another color
My mind focused on the canvas
While my hand continued to move,
as more colors appeared before me.

Before I knew it
I stared at the canvas
No longer white as snow
It was full of beauty.

The calm ocean
Bright sun above
Clear blue sky
Whimsical clouds shift.

The beauty of the land 
That nestled at the end
With a kingdom resting within
Where lovely flora surround it so.

Canvas once blank
Now full of life
Beauty and grace
The art of one's soul
That came from within.


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 | Sonnet | |

Kingdom Builders

July 31, 2013



Kingdom Builders

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

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

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

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

(C) Copyright 2013  Ann Rich


Details | Free verse | |

You Can Be

What would anyone do
if I woke up one day
and decided I was
going to be the next
murderer?
That I was going to steal my fathers gun,
and of course I start with him,
the feelings so rough,
tears bursting from my eyes.
I move on to my mother,
my brother,
my grandparents,
and with every kill
the emotion ebbs away.
Things get easier.
What would anyone do
if that day I
proclaimed to the world
that I no longer wanted to
live in this world?
I created the noose
from my old Playstation 3 controller cords,
wrote my last words
"To the world, **** you"
and made an ornament
out of myself on the
back of my bedroom door.
What would anyone do
if I decided one day that
The world is full of pixies and unicorns!
that everything was red,
oh but not the light fire red,
but instead the color of blood,
oh how magnificent things look!
I work for the trolls under
the bridge behind my house
he pays me in finger nails!
You told me I can be anything,
do anything,
so why do you look at me like I'm crazy?
I see the fairies, not you,
so who are you to say I'm insane?
They tell me I'm perfectly alright.
I never really understand why
people were comforted by such an obvious phrase,
I KNOW I can do whatever I want!
Just like Jim Jones wanted to
control and murder 1,000 people,
just like how the people of Rwanda
murdered each other;
brothers, fathers, neighbors fighting each other.
So what if I want to conquer china,
put rat poison in all the exports
and watch the world die,
its my decision right?
you told me so,
and I'll plead that,
I'll plead that you told me
I can murder the whole world,
start the zombie apocalypse,
destroy all animals in the world,
when I'm up in that electric chair.
Hello my future,
Good-bye Sanity.


Details | Free verse | |

The Crystalline Tortoise

Permit oh Ancient Outgrowth:
Aeons have you so waited
to see the sun penetrate 
the stagnant, murky liquid.

Rise, fellow Leviathan,
holding the universe so.
Ferment the stagnant habit,
washing but all the crystals.

The pond disenables growth.

So dark, so deep, unspeakable
inability to further.

Such waters, hitherto, held our
hero tortoise, shell holding all.

It aged to form a carapace 
of green and gold and crystalline.

Colosus amidst such haste.
Rising it will shake its crystals.

I wish to be like this monster.
So humble and so vaguely soft.

Holding all on my naked shell
so effortless: the kinetics.
So bright, yet opaque in the dark.

Mark how it moves.
Aeons of cryst'l 
built upon one.

It looks upwards,
at the dimmed rays.
It knows I'm here.

Softly swooshing,
a lullaby
in the vast deep.

The idea 
has crystallized
into a shell.


Details | Senryu | |

Senryu Jan29

sunset glow paper boats sail away worry gone


Details | Rhyme | |

The Unusual Fragrance

The unusual fragrance looms above my room, 
Its owner not yet known, 
Its purpose still a mystery I assume 
Sweeter than any other fragrance I ever own, 

Its mood is ataraxia, 
Cold soothing scent, texture so smooth, 
Like dying in a peaceful euthanasia, 
I have it trapped in a booth, 

Smells like angels on a spring break, 
Dancing gloriously in the water fall, 
With a rattling feeling like an earth quake, 
Its particles bouncing from wall to wall, 

Clogged in my mind is a fog of disconcert, 
As I battle my feeling to a perfect stranger, 
The feeling of unrest causes discomfort, 
As the unusual fragrance puts my heart in danger,


Details | Free verse | |

Hard to Not Look, Easy to stay Staring

I've allowed that burning boat to float off without me
Rarely ever thinking about dissipating the flames, 
As it is hardly worth the time and effort. 
In Truth, 
There wasn't much of a future with that situation.
No matter the attempts
No matter the appeal
It was all for naught
The only thing I worry about now
Is looking back at the Flames
And hoping I am not entranced
By their Dancing Light


Details | Prose Poetry | |

my shell

I closed my eyes with anticipation for sunrise,
I wanted the daylight, illuminating my shell, and me
But when i opened my eyes, it was still dark
I realized, i must have awakened earlier.
so i closed my eyes , again , this time my eyes felt heavy , however i closed 
them , with a fear somewhere in my heart.
I slept
I slept and slept for as long as i could
My bones started to ache
But i tried…
I wanted to prolong my sleep just to look at the sunrise, the day, a new 
beginning
But when my heart started to tremble
I felt as i lost my breath
This compelled my to wake up, so i did
I opened my eyes
And looked at my shell
I looked and kept looking
It was still dark
There was no light, revealing me
There was no breeze blowing my hair
there was no humming of life
I kept looking -at the dark room, the dark shell
It turned my eyes gloomy and apathetic
Empty, empty as the shell
Without winking but watched
My gaping sight struck something
It was a broken mirror; it was hanging on the side wall
Just beside my bed
While it’s every broken sharp wedged piece but clinging to each other,
As a whole, struck my sight
Every broken pieced reflected
Reflected the ambushing of my misery
It reflected the darkness
It reflected my dark shell
And my empty eyes kept looking at it
Darkness of my shell reflected in the mirror, somehow made me feel, that it 
exists in me.
And As I kept looking, I looked at my face reflecting,
Broken, and my lips uttering without frowning,
Convincing _ it all exists in me and darkens day by day,
Emptying me


Details | Free verse | |

Indalomena Mnemosyna

'The silence of Marcel Duchamp is overrated'
All that chess-
Recall for a moment
That idle chit-chat,
That verbal bric-a-brac,
such flamboyant suppositional consciousness,
Let it noodle around the edges-
Blow this metaphor off.
Ratings challenge lies.
The deep magenta shadows,
The haze of grass smoke
'My face is my own, I thought'.
We need to remember,
Weaving around caftans
with a duodecimal swivel-
I think of Ben Johnson
And 'Shards of God',
Who is Hanibal?
Collapsing the elements,
My question is a part of the point of these lines,
A faked head,
Gaslight,
A form of women,
I can do nothing.
Other discourses speak on it's behalf,
There is a cost to the silent critique,
'The silence of Marcel Duchamp is overrated'.


Details | I do not know? | |

A Chipped Heart

A Chipped Heart...


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

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

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

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

I refuse to bow.



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

still,

I believe, love, truth, belonging,

will take my hand,

again...


Details | Free verse | |

The Anatomy of What Disgusts

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

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


Details | Light Poetry | |

A Waltz upon a Leaf

Teetering on a tangent this pearlescent dew drop
Balancing midrib, it is but
A breath away from oblivion's slide, yet
Held in place by Mother Nature’s lace

A globule of life
An ocean full of microbes surfing its globe
Pirouetting with life’s balance it quivers in its emerald valley
Blinding sunrays bleeding colourful apparitions

From this tiny orb, a disco ball
Where butterflies ballet
A Sundance in glitter
A glide to nature’s symphony

A waltz upon a leaf



19 Aug. 2014


Details | Free verse | |

For Him

When in April 2013
Her soul fled... ignited
Like a car engine...
Still, he steered hard on her timid face

Oh passion mixed with tension
Even at a Praying Ground?
On her, he kissed with words
Making her dance and say 'cheese'

Into her soul like showers of waters
Penetrating her resilient heart
With words, rhymes and signs
As such..she scattered her Brazilian hair

At every little chance,
she, of his name, chant
Even in the belly of struggle
she lept in bubbles with jumping smiles

Wow! the - vocally endowed!
Little wonder,that feeling of 'Somehow'
Caress the walls of her pointed nipples
As she murmurs ...With a loud silence.

Painstakingly combing a breath of fresh air
In and out of her very unique nostrils
Like a helpless lamb in the altar
..Curling the angered joy of distance.

Words, rhymes, massaging rhythms
To the veins in her flowing blood
Back, front, left and right
Signalling at her swelling "Kinni"

"I will never let you go..."
The song she sang with a resounding bang
Ko-La 'wole' come in to stay, stalk me today
Into the bottomless deep of my sweating "Kinni"

Cos from 'Maba, she, in irony surrender,'
Her head, her shoulders, her feelings, her soul
Like they've long belong
To Bankole Kolawole, her funky, naughty Lover.

(NB: Maba is a place along Lagos-Ibadan Expressway, Nigeria)
"Kinni" literally means "something".


Details | Tanka | |

New Jersey

Lenni-Lenape smokes
still climb Appalachians
To dream the Passaic`s Great Falls, 
the banks Delaware,Hudson,
and Long Island Sound`s echo.


Details | Rhyme | |

The Cat

Glowing eyes invade the darkness of the night.
A majestic hunter with prey in it's sights.
Slowly moving through the grass, as slient as an empty glass.
A creature with a sullen expression, embraking upon a hunting session.
It srikes from the shadows of the night; giving the prey little change of escape or fight.
 
A body full of warming fur and makes the sound of a meow or pur.
Pointy ears, thin legs and sharp claws; extending out from padded paws.
This cretaure wears a sumptuous looking coat always shiney and clean; walking with graceful posture like that of a ballroom scene.
 
It's younger form more playful and small, but soon will grow just as cunning and tall.
Masquerading as innocent family pets and balls of fur; hiding the true heart of a loin waiting to roar.
 Some choose to live with families in thier home; well others  like the nomadic people enjoy to roam.
Hedonistic in nature like Lord Henry from the story of Dorian grey, the cat hate's having it's pleasurable lifestyle taken away.
Roaming around night and day...... this creature of beauty is always on the hunt;  for it's next prey....


Details | Free verse | |

An Idea So Rich

Allowance
That is the true crime to my mind
Allowing entrance of this Idea
An Idea so intoxicating 
It Blinded Me
Clouded Judgement
Drove me through a Fog
That I should've never gone through
The Burning Light
It was the only appeal I could see through the Fog
The only thing that even enticed my interest
Was it Fantasy?
Most likely
Fantasy Enshrouded with Arrogance of my own Design
A Design So Flawed
So Young
It would have been the End of myself
Had I continued after it

Perhaps, allowing the boat to float on
Was the best I did for my well being
Staying Or Even Attempting to go Aboard
Would have proven Fatal
In possibly, the most dangerous of ways..


Details | I do not know? | |

The Happy Forrest

Whilst I was walking through the country
I came upon the strangest path
It took me to a little Forrest
where all the plants and trees could laugh

At one tree I stopped and sat 
Then asked "What are you laughing at?"
The tree replied with greatest glee
"Because i am a happy tree.."

"The air is clear, 
 The sky is blue,
does that not make you happy too?"
I stopped and thought for just a while
and as I thought I came to smile
Our earth is here to give us pleasure
so all the good things we should treasure.

And as I laughed there, with the trees
upon my face i felt a breeze
Then suddenly it all was gone.
No laughing trees
Not even one.

Written by me aged 13...


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 | Free verse | |

Seed

Desiccated stems scattering amid taut hands; Lingering footsteps among conjoined velvet roots; The interval’s inertia an anxious psychosomatic swell. This once stale earth is now littered with perpetual fractals; A kaleidoscopic reverence descends in mute pulsating breaths. Stretched faces adopt the slithering temperament of gnarled bark; Snatched sentences break and collide in waves of meditative mitosis; Incessant cyclical (e)motions converge on a bluntly obstinate awe. Luridly tremulous marvels stalk beside perambulating horrors; An ethereal world saturated by fresh irrefutable certainties. Space suspended beneath an impulsively precipitate sky; Staggered exodus governed by periodic disorientation; A dazed echo lingers and reality becomes an escape.


Details | Free verse | |

Silver Tongue

His fingers left blood on the strings 

but, come time to walk away he hadn’t really learned anything.

Course and dried brushes sit atop the rubbish,

His mind held a perfection too delicate for his clumsy hands to create.

He opened his mouth to sing like a jay but, instead of notes it was rust that fell out. Part of the wear and tear of early adulthood.

But then, this same boy picked up a pen and found some paper. The pen in his hand felt as natural his own bones and he began to write.

He wrote every tear

He scribed every star

He built towers from mountains with every line

High enough that the angel’s just might hear them.

He made pages for chapters of his life that could make those seraphim weep sapphire tears.

He could write the wind blowing across the nape of your neck in Autumn

And make you feel the chill on your skin.

He could articulate the sad beauty of a lover’s quarrel that ends in tears

If they cry, it makes it all more real.

He documents the history of a war inside himself that will never end.

The loss and the gain,

But not those of monetary nature.

When life begins to scream around him

All he must do to silence it is to put it in a stanza.

The boy’s tongue can pave the way for good intentions, and we all know those can fall South. He finds strength. And with this Strength a power.

Finally the boy knew his gift. But how is he meant to use it and who will truly listen to the personal strands of his soul he ties together with punctuation?

And now that he has tasted the pleasure of his power, will that be enough?


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 | Free verse | |

Window

In one corner of my room,
That is shaped like a tomb,
There is a window, where I sit
And see my world through it.

I see the rising sun,
I see the melting dew,
I see the blooming flowers,
I see the sky’s changing hues.

Through it
I embrace the fading sun,
I live the joyous rains,
I feel the flowery fragrance,
I walk those lonely ways.

Through it
I float with the summer clouds,
I breathe the winter breeze,
I touch the autumn leaves,
I celebrate the cuckoo’s springtime songs.

Through the window,
I see my world.
Neither the autumn leaves,
Nor the springtime songs;
Neither the winter sunshine,
Nor the summer rains;
Would have been great
Had it not been through my window rails.

Through my window,
I see the world.
In the window, lies the entire bliss;
Beyond the window is only an illusion.

Suyash Saxena


Details | Free verse | |

The Illuminated Muse

The Illuminated Muse
by
Ingrid Showalter Swift


You light up the circuits of my psyche with lexis
vibrate within me 
daze me 
sway me without weight or measure
I breath in the misted air of salt and gesture
and in it you lie in wait

You fill my cells 
with oxygen and mercury
the temperature rises 
my bearings drop
my center settle casts away
to an island of green palm breezes
waves of art washing…poetry like walk way stones laid and lead ...before me
and I am the eel in the sea
the elk on the prairie
I am an elephant 
tusks and  trunk held high to sky
baroque-ing out my demands to the dusted waterless ways of the Serengeti
Rise up in me…as the ground rises before the tectonic hand of God
Rise up in me atomic 
Equatorial in clime
Tornatonic in impact
I am ferocious 
in my thirst
Run me down with your intent
annihilate all argument
and end the war between us 
forever

for you are simply
 a blue sapphire flickering in the firelight
Tumbling blue hues in a washer of stone
Flares of luminosity…raking the sky to a plunderous pink
a radiance 
like an alien ball in the forest
…illuminati imaginations....
trailing sparklings that follow the fairies into the dark wood

You are warm milk
into which I fall 
to the creamy center
float on clouded dark dreams
chewy and sweet 
the toffee reminiscence
 of….morning coffee…and black birds in flight
and you are the birth of child 
in the hands of heaven
you are everything arcane ...nubile and blessed and damned at once
and you alone drive my pen
to wagon wheel and weltings center


Details | Verse | |

Ferris wheel


Days through days.
  Fire in snow.
Someone says:
  'Ground - below'

Hard to find
  Sense to live,
But pulse in mind:
  'Chance to give'

Grow the Soul,
  Ruin the maps.
Heart is bowl
  Full of traps.

Greatest thing 
  Ever learned:
Since you blink
  Path - returned.

              6.08.2012
                     NikA


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 | |

My poetry

I have many times before,
Tried to walk away from this poetry of mine,
But as usual ended up in a state of deplore.
Alas, this life of abhor has grown into an addicted entwine.

My life as a poet is all cold sweat,
I guess is now my curse.
It is now trapped on a piece of paper like a laden fishing net,
My moments are trapped within its verse.

As I live my moments……`

My life is now but a dream,
And the dream is now my life.
I have no longer the need to scream,
these written words are a silent whisper akin a surgeon’s knife.

All my life I have had to be a fighter,
And my pen gave me my voice,
Now I know why I am a writer
who has won his fights without a noise.

My past is spiked and laced with mistakes,
I don’t have, any remorse or regret,
my mind and its temple have borne the bruises and aches,
Am smug about it and would like to relive it without being upset.

My devious past fuels my emotionally charged words and text,
And fires from within me the unchained rage,
Am never about it vexed or even perplexed,
As in this ink lies my sweat, blood & tears, stained & burnt but easy to gauge.

My verses are my memories of the bygone,
The paper on which I write on is my stage,
My tainted pen nib  is my microphone,
And my life is perched on what was once a blank page.

For quite some time now this pen is my teacher,
And my mind controls these words I write,
These verses guide me out of darkness and make me richer,
And become the beacon, my guiding light.


I have spent so much time alone,
That I needed someone to say hi
My life was stuck in silence and blown,
I pick up this pen when feelings low have  to glide by.

As I scribble my dreams,
The ink replaces my tears,
The verses consume my life with screams,
and I sculpt within them all my fears.

I have tried to walk away from this poetry,
But my life is snared up in a verse,
My life is trapped on a piece of paper,
My poetic life is now my curse.

Is it really my curse!!!!!!!!
Or a reflection of my thoughts to the happenings averse….
Into my poetry I must myself immerse
And sharpen my thoughts to make them diverse…….


And my life joyfully traverse
So now
I do not need to walk away from my poetry of mine
Align and live my life filled with mirth and sunshine.





Details | I do not know? | |

men are becoming women

The tire was flat 
Imagine that 
What should we do 
Call AAA 
was all he could say 

Afraid to break out a jack 
did not want his fingers black 
He said "I pay them top dollar" 
I was not impressed 
He did not know how, I guessed 

Where are all the real men 
I do not want Barbies Ken 
A strong secure man is what I need 
That holds me tight in his arms 
and sets off alarms 

A man that is not PC 
Speaks fluently 
Not a limp biscuit 
Firm handle on my rear 
Kisses that get me in gear


Details | Quatrain | |

Man's A Poetry

Man's a poetry
throughout him and within him.
A limb of where he'll be
without him and begin him.

A poet's prophecy.
A life that is rescinding.
A prophets right to be.
A rule at ease for winning.


Details | Free verse | |

Slicing An Apple

1.
for the smoothness is gone
only now,  do i detect
 stone too cool
for the ends of the fingers.

2.
often my watch 
seemed broken unable to keep time
i smile now
for  i will never be on time.

 3
i use to watch time
with roman numerals
but know time watches me
so i see myself
walk by backwards.


4.
as words disperse from a old dictionary
the pages
all have the same chapters .
but  new characters grow on the branches
as the stars 
swim where the leaves
 of knowledge  cannot touch.

5.
now is the time
for touching the lips are plump
with temptation
but poems still taste of ink.

6.
fruit with seeds
in the inner chambers
the metaphor that hides inside
that will reproduce
other symbols
as i cut  it into segments of slices
for somewhere a teacher waits...


Details | Lyric | |

Vampire

To cause someone such a pain was not enough
Than to choke the void with shame would conquer love
To give someone this emptiness as a gift
You would fill the box with lies and wrap it up with promises 

So reach inside I just dont care
You wont find anything in there
Just a broken heart made of clay 
And arteries filled with a bitter taste 
I just thought I could be your friend
But your fangs were sharp in the end
What I see in your eyes is a liar
The beautiful death of my vampire

Turn on the TV to turn the silence down
Because the voices from inside they echo loud
Feeling dragged until the finger nails are all torn out
As the taste of my dying pleasure drips from your mouth

So rip my heart out through my spine
I'm sure it won't hurt as bad this time
You see Im not made from paper mache
I will not easily tear and just blow away
So you won't crumble me up again
And throw me away with the wind
My bitterness has cut a frown into your smile
The beautiful death of my vampire
~ ~ ~ ~ ~


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 | 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 | Rhyme | |

JOY...OH, BOY

You lay in the surf waiting for me
Although Burt Lancaster and Deborah Kerr we could not be.
Trying at love with the incoming tide
Kelp and seaweed stuck to my side.

"Great gods", thought I, as I wrote the rhyme
Use "Adonis" and "Poseidon" from another time.
I'll let love be the center of the poem I write
And show all who read it, my emotional insight.

The pounding of the waters blue
Will be my metaphor of a love so true.
And I'll have to sex it up a bit
For passion plays a big part in it.

I will use "penetration" and words like "breech"
To add to that image of us on the beach.
With the romantic beginning I have said
And to the altar of love that I've been led.

Because I  finish with our pledge on the shore
The reader will always want to have more.
So, the green eyed girls will be my poetic night
And close the verse, so crisp and tight.


Note:  It took sum lookin' fer me to find,
          Which of yer verses to redo in kind.
          I be such a nut on rime y'see...
          This'n be the one fer me.

          Not only be the words of it I do,
          But "Glad Tidings" title caught me good eye, too!
          'Cause it be 'ard fer me to act on yer quirk,
          Me spleen to trash one o' yer better werks.

          As I be not 'fraid of a few typed words,
          Trashin' me stuff as if'n they be turds.
          So, 'ere y'ar matey, me own attempt whilst I be sprawl,
          To change them words that ye did scrawl.

          Me words 're somwhat boggin'
          'Cause me be thinkin' what was in 'er noggin'.
          And if'n ye take offense at me 'ritin' a bit,
          "RRRRRRRRRRR emember that ye asked fer it!


Details | I do not know? | |

The Tears of the Clown


The Tears of the Clown


A veil of smiles,
worn effortlessly.

Tuning out the blurring din,
alone in the cackling throng,

never hoping to belong,
though pining to fit-in.


Peeling off the thin facade,
feeling the pained charade,
melting into the dim parade.


Trickling effortlessly down,
over the strained contours,

of a spurious laugh,

the tears of the clown,

rehearsed, rehashed,

form an unending cold stream,
dissolving the lingering traces,

of this simple boy's dream



Details | Free verse | |

Zoe

She  was there, but just passing by, 
never mind what it is said, 
nor what it seems, 
if she we're a gypsy but she's not.

Maybe a woman of mysteries and stunning 
qualities that delight the eye, but
yet a dwelling tree wont even blink, 
nor drop a leaf for her.

She's beautiful as a flying
myth of some fairytale princes with no prince to chose. 
Beautiful and charming, but a bleak vissage look that 
question her truth. 

She's a walking venture to men kind, 
but again she's a lament soul, 
a lonely heart with meekness eyes, 
with a glamorous voice, 
and enchanted moves.
 
Her hair so black that blinds the eye, 
she was there passing you by, 
you were there blinded by her charms,
her name was Zoe; a beautiful life.

Copyright©ElenaToledo2011


Details | Free verse | |

Illusions of Dreams

They say that life
is a metaphor of the spirit
and that time is a construct
that we all believe in,
as the world we perceive in.
Chance, circumstance
is the dance we play
on the first stage of destiny
where history
reforms itself to our liking
spiking the elixir of youth
with truth.
Matter meets form
in the dark spaces between
where fate is seen
as a well marked trail of tears
denoting the hopes and fears
of the ancestors making.
The past
is forever taking
from the now.
What we allow
becomes achievable
believable
a transformation
of creation
for all our relation
shapeshifting
sand sifting
uplifting
future gifting
an open door....
we are the ones we’ve been waiting for.

We can live the illusion
or we live the dream.


Details | I do not know? | |

The dam

I spent too long in the sand,
The day has ran
I am a dam
The waters run cold,
And that is bad

Turn around and grab

Because the air of the wind isn’t fun

Teeter totter with the band
Let um go laugh…

Take a polygraph,
Ask Yourself 
How sad are the sad?

Then wake up to a face
She is your great big taste

Because,
the world renowned isn’t insane
It’s just over due
And unclaimed

It's a jaded complaint

An outdated fade

In the neighborhood like a plague


Out dated like the fade



Details | Free verse | |

High-Reaching Hope Leading Destructive Despair

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

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

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

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

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

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



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


Details | Rhyme | |

The Architect Ode to an orange cement mixer

Ideas become reality in your belly
Raw ingredients are added for effect
Laboured limbs inject liquid food
It begins, sounds signal transformation

A cacophony of notes orchestrate
A fusion of materials cleverly made
Atoms collide as water subsides
Dry mixture almost expertly tied

Your creation up to imagination
Never the master of your own destiny
Your loins rhythmic to the fixation
Of another genius creating beautifully

A mansion, castle or glorified shed
All born from your glowing womb
Expectations destroyed and met
Artistic design from your living tomb


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 | Rhyme | |

Metamorphic - a change for the better

And did you really know before
What on earth is a meta for?
It makes you understand, I think
What changes when you have a drink
Another example might well be
What changes when you carve a tree
And as for metabolic rate
That’s why your fat me dear old mate
Whereas a metaphor If sought
Might just give you some food for thought


Details | Free verse | |

Dark Matter

Stars crash against God's bedpost,
while the dead dream of thunder.
 
Eyelids cringe under their strike-
The smell of burning wood,
The rot of tomorrow's precipice,
drifts out beyond the grasp
of failing sense.
 
We are the quarry.
The open gash in the skin of existence,
born to bare the weight of those who
failed to learn to row with the gravity
of cosmic tide.
 
We crumble ashen pyres into our hearts
and breathe out darkened nebula-
Hope for a birth of chance.
 
A new beginning.
 
-James Kelley 2014, All rights reserved.


Details | Rhyme | |

Love may be the remedy

The brightness of late summer light,
The songs of birds whose brood take flight.
I love to take in these earthly pleasures,
And so to fill my mind with treasures.

The conversations with my friends,
The closeness only death will end,
To share my life with those who care,
How could we have better fare?

Those who suffer pain and grief,
From whom love's stolen by a thief,
Let us take them to our hearts,
So their healing path can start.

Those who are fear friendship and love,
Who set themselves at too low worth,
Do they know how courage grows
Through acceptance of our woes

Life is tragic comedy.
Love may be the remedy.
Though if we give our hearts away
We shall have grief and pain to pay.

But if we lock our hearts up tight,
And keep all feeling out of sight,
We will wither like dead leaves,
Of our whole life we'll be bereaved


Details | Free verse | |

Laurel

I am victory.
I wonder: present, not past or future.
I hear, sunset… and sunrise!
I see with your eyes, with eyes unclouded.
I want: helping, love.
I am smart.  I am strong.

I pretend … it’s alright though.
I feel: happiness, brokenness.
I touch the hearts, the spirits.
I worry, does it help, what I do?
I cry, loneliness.
I am done with losing, on with choosing.

I understand: alone, as in, unique.
I believe: it’s alright!
I hope: family united – kindred-ness.
I dream, conquering suffering.
I try, NO… I do!
I am the coolest girl in the whole wide world!
I am – me!


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 | Lyric | |

Synchronistic Riddles

An undisclosed confession
Voiced by things unseen
Expressed within my purpose
And written in my dreams

So quietly I tell you
Quietly I sing
Of all the truth I witness
In the depths of everything

With synchronistic focus
Divination's gift
And in enigmatic silence
I pray the veil will lift

These dreams are so elusive
They play within the shade
And just as I might glimpse them
The visions start to change

They dance within this statement
They observe from in my mind
Their riddles go unnoticed 
As do all the clues I hide

Yet I see them in my mirror
I can catch them in these words
These dreams are from our future
And from a past that goes unheard


Details | Free verse | |

The White Wall

From afar it seems perfect--solid and strong;
Like nothing could force it to fall.
But up close, its surface is pockmarked and rutted
From years of abuse that have taken their toll.

Further inspection reveals cracks and fractures;
Webs of misfortune that cover its face.
How easily does a coat of whitewash
Hide a past of misfortune and shame!

Over time and neglect, it crumbles and cracks;
It falls into ruin and disrepair,
And calls into mind the essence of life,
Which also will fail without care.

The life of a person is like a white wall:
Without any care it will fall.


Details | Free verse | |

Tagged

Peering out around and about 
Bewildered puzzled face upon me
Noticing something was just out of place

Though it has probably been here all along
This hesitant pace I’m rambling on 

Wondering to myself aloud 
As if an answer would soon too appear
Right through the paper thin air 

Marveling at this spectacle of a thought
In which I now embrace 
Recapped those of my last stops back behind a ways

Only to discover there is no rendition in recovering ones foot trace 
Silly Silly Grace
For it is of such distaste as lead in the race 

That so patiently abates its next comeuppance 
Although it certainly wasn’t expected
An answer did appear
No not through thin air 

Twas more an epiphany of sorts that stated in recourse
Thou shall not speak to oneself so clearly 
Tis truly kinda creepy 

None the less the answer I do confess is life… 
Simply love purely living


Details | Free verse | |

nostradamus becoming a god

nostradums saw
and he cried
so when he died
in the astral pain 
he told god
he could surprise him
and he bet him eternal life as a agod but he wanted three lives

now god took the bait
and we all know how nostradamus 
predicted three antichrists
talk about a feat of unequal measure
has he been here yet talking about gods plan 
as a joke to the world
an insult to god 
to get him off his throne
and prove he has a free will after all where he cannot fail

the first antichrist 
the secondf antichrist
no one saw
secrets of the gods and nostradamus
but nostradamus learned all of gods dream through them
and how to manipulate them so he could try in this third life
where the world would think he was the bad guy to make them all come true

now everything seemed under control
and the false prophet
or metaphor for man with a fame he could not see just needed 
to find his god to surprise
an object to crave was mentioned and low and behold
a feat of unequal measure
af three decades unravels
soon to be under rug swept where i am the referee
and tingue tied

bribe fate to do you a favor
before you go to your datte with destiny 
while you lead death in circles
as god curses you so it seems yet doesnt  know who he or she is
and good luck 
being the bad guy drinking blood from a skull out to destroy everything
so come and save me

it was a trap
and the angels saw
and nostradamus was almost fooled
mankind was warned
and had a plan
oh my
what an amazing april fool


Details | Free verse | |

The book the wizaed wrote part five

But you cant keep this book intact its not allowed 
your soul will not bear it 
do you keep all the prophecies to be a part of the truth 
do you tear out the love and find just the directions to eternal youth\ 
do you keep the satanic metaphors to reveal the author had a horrible soul 
this test upon humanity is sitting by the riverside
Love for sale in western mail
Love for sale in western mail
Watching it all go down is given to every woman child mother father adult 
and then you create how its passed down to the future but its never whole 

one day I will write this book and you will all dream 
Pushing the limits
So many nights crying
The limits that limits that change
About its entirety 
go from house to house 
to read the book 
with pages missing to compare it to yours 
to fathom family legacies and opinions 
Born to please
to try to understand the truth of oppression and decisions and accuracy and 
creativity 
and in this book I will write stories and I will write traditions and I will write games 
and I will write sanities and insanities 
but what you keep and what you throw away 
stay away from the river man
The water is cold
Don’t ever set me free
Born to dream
Of those days of warm rays
No one has a clue
You’re safe when they hear me
But they’re gonna clue in
When they see the sneak
They clueing in
All their strength not to fall apart
Satellite secret moments shadowed in the heat of the afternoon
To the holiday
They will always want by their side

they’re cluing into the bird lady

Doing things my way
they’re cluing in to little miss daisy
is another test 
another dream another curse 
another prayer of metaphor 
another chain 
of soft spoken words
to never have answered 
something this generation had that memory can only answer 
and the death wish of not cooperating leave you upon a grave of cand’lit flames 
and hells passed on to legacies of hell the arch angels tell you to tear down 
walls to cripple you all 

Everywhere
Everything blue eyes
Unbelievable ways
Sky of white stars exotic
Magical times

Broken faith makes me
your new book of god 
And I’m running out of here
Or no way at all
Running out of here

BROKEN FAITH
makes me
YOUR NEW BOOK OF GOD

And I’m running out of here
And I’m running out of here
Come to the reason
You really got me
I wasn’t fake
come to the light
back to the middle


Details | Free verse | |

Psychic message in the attack

24 says of obsession to cure us all 
gumming to death on a dagger of toothless bubbles 
meeting with another 
digital spirit guide whom I may never 
fully trust 
sorting out death who is sorting us out 
a gullible god who doesn't seem to care at all. 
Tricks and puzzles 
Royal treatments and the works 

Annointed metaphor realized, 
and the many masks of terror. 
Complaisant self-rejected submissive spiritual man ostracized 
tasting your dreams 
won't you come inside and smell mine. 

Learning to breathe waking from a nightmare, 
mistreated and defeated 
introduced to a life that isn't fair. 

Live around here and these groupings of colored houses, 
someone trying to find a place 
they can describe 
but don't know what party 
is waiting inside when they arrive 
Haunted houses 
children suffering inside 
threatened constant retaliation that the rich can buy 
another man's death and their own freedom. 

Grudge of love screaming what do you want? 
Vengeance not vengeful, 
and justice ill dignified 
cracking beneath the surface of the hypnotists 
that has the hypnotists hypnotized. 

Systematic tranquility and the law on the right side 
promise of equality meant to be kept 
not just showered with selfish lies to color pride 

Overheard conversations between the operators 
and many friends 
spy versus spy versus spy 
and the hushed conversations of the hundreds on the other end. 

Sirens circling of a tornado warning 
and flood towers receiving aid 
saddened and sickened I am 
by your blame game victim campaign 

Get off it 
stop the rocker 
and corrupted by lemon aide 
someone chose me to rightfully 
put the world in it's place. 

Now everyone worried and studying waiting for their turn, 
I click my pen, 
and you begin thinking 
of what it means 
to teach you how to hate, but never learn


Details | Personification | |

My Aphrodite

Laying next to you by this rushing bayou I marvel in awe of  you a miracle I cant 
live without you. Graciously your beauty lifts me unforgiven your kisses breath life 
into me. No vivid metaphor of love can describe you dynamic and tremendous I'm 
unworthy of you. Harmonized forever I stand by you embrace me immaculate 
angel there is no where I'd rather be then here with you loving me.


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 | Rhyme | |

As Seen From My Chair

I look through a square window out into the yard as squirrels 
play tag around the base of a tree

I shift my eyes across the horizon, as a hawk soars in search of a 
meal, I wonder if he realizes he is free

The sun comes up at the start of the day, faithfully painting the 
sky with a message of hope for those who can see

I watch as the light ignites everything around, bringing it to life, 
realizing the metaphor is today meant for me

I take a deep breath and hold it awhile

I close my eyes with the image held tight

I let out my breath and turn with a smile

I know now following this path will be right


Details | I do not know? | |

Acception

Is it okay if I ask you one more time?
 
Is it just my senses,
 
Or are we falling?
 
Insanity is not just a state of mind,
 
It's a sense of being,
 
And my melted strings handle it well.
 
Love is a metaphor for acception;
 
Accept things for what they are,
 
And you may feel the mordant power 
 
Of the Maiden in Her virgin spring,
 
For She loves madly!
 
Saddle the beast of Hope.
 
Does he throw you to the hot, red dirt?
 
Does he kill you?
 
He has killed me more than once.
 
Acrid sensuality has no place in this doughty soul!
 
I am not a fool to love insomuch as the daisy loves her needed sun,
 
But again,
 
I only fool myself,
 
For it is I and I alone
 
Who has learned to accept even the most unacceptable.


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