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Details | Words Poem | |

Love Poem - 29

Every day, I fall in love with something new,
while maintaining the love I have already found.

I fall in love with scars, wrinkles,
redundancies and repetition,
items that people throw into the wind,
kick around and step upon.

I fall in love with my enemies,
one of life's hardest lessons to learn.
I find haters to be marvelous motivators.

Every day, I fall in love with something new,
while reinforcing the love I have already found.

The old man who sits in a rain-filled gutter,
seemingly oblivious to the water sluicing down the hill,
splashing against his clothes -
fists raised up to the heavens in fury
as he talks to an invisible audience
about how Apollo stole his dearly beloved wife....

....I fell in love with him too.

I fall in love with things that some people deem as insignificant,
ugly, morose, dirty and immoral.
The more I fall in love, the more I love each passing moment,
including the pain, torture and misery that may appear along the way.

If I write down treasonously treacherous words,
the reader could assume such words to be rooted in rage
or a cynical outlook. But the words are actually born out of love -
I love every single word in existence.

Every day, I fall in love with something new,
while still maintaining the love I have already found.

I fall in love with the woman 
who is too shy to have a proper conversation with anyone,
because she believes herself to be very ugly,
when in fact, she is an exquisitely gorgeous woman.

I fall in love with broken daffodils, bent daisies,
a shattered seashell, the sweet stench of rotting seaweed on the shore,
the way her hair smells baking in the sun.
I fall in love with black and white photographs,
hypnotized by the essence the dead have left behind.
I fall in love with marbles, the feathers of mourning doves,
and with the stray cat who after watching the moving truck drive away,
slunk around the alley in search of scraps -
over the years, she has proven to be
a most respectful and loyal animal.
I fall in love with saints, villains, rusted watering cans,
the way sunlight bends into prisms when it shines
through the cracked antique windowpane
which I simply cannot find the presence to replace.


And as for the people who think that my love is a whole
different spectrum of emotions,
or how it is impossible for someone like myself
to fall in love with something new, every, single day....

....well, I love them too.





April 6th, 2012

Details | Words Poem | |

Unspoken Words

I often scribble in the sand 
The words I find so hard to say
And hope the wind will come along 
And blow them all your way.


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

Author: Paul Callus 
Contest: Five Lines or Less
Sponsor: Black Eyed Susan
Placing: 2nd

Details | Words Poem | |

LIQUID HEAVEN

Liquid Heaven

A feast for my womanly inner beast!       
I tease, I please, you have me on my knees
I wring my hands, you oint my head
With your fingers locked in my hair of red
You, I call Master! 
You have me in a position, as if I was begging for forgiven
My words are bashing with one stuttering sound
Moaning & Moaning, 
As you make my head swirl like a merry-go-round
Craving for you to unleash your liquid heaven sound

My body speaks and mumbles a language only meant for you
A touch of intimacy, that lathers up like liquid glue
Sticky but, yet so compelling
My tongue slips silent beloved words of joy into the air
You play the master of this dark solid room
This dungeon has lighter, than one can consume
You engage me* to provoke you with everything I got
Yelling, please master don't ever stop!
At this moment I yearn for your excitement that whips out an appeal
To feel the closeness and arousing sensation of your presence
That melts me and chill me with a flow that does not kill
I'm your thinker
Your muse and poet
You are my composer creating liquid tunes
That expresses the hardness of your boldness

I confess to you my love
You are all I'm dreaming of
You drive your hands all over my body
Reaching every angle my steamy body lends
Encourage me to stimulate your mental needs
You are my master withholding a liquid element
In me you release fluids that hit like a silent tide
A desire that comes with a full force of the fire inside
I crave for the taste of your lips
Your hands on my hips
Your fingers with a tight sensual grip
I dedicate my heart, and my lust
To get lost within every push of your trust
Like a treasure deep underneath the sand
I'm addicted to the feelings you propose within your land
Your hazel eyes are my sunrise
You bring out the obsession,
And my sweet tooth temptation
Like the moon above a misty night
Seducing me in every way in a poetic write
YOU MY LOVE!!!
Your liquid heaven is like the beginning-
-Of my delicious delight!

                  by;p.d.

**A sweet Dedication To Nate**

Details | Words Poem | |

The Best Poem Ever

~The best poem ever~

Without saying a word I’m going to go where no one has gone before.
A twilight zone, only God and I know of. 

Without saying a word I’m going to recite the best poems ever.
Poems with no vision too stare. 
Quietly with a hum, only you can hear. 

Silent through my mind I will walk whistling, without a care.
Feeling and thinking as my heart beat goes on. 
Searching for your heart beat next to mine. 
Dreaming of words that blind, 
Dreaming of words which connect us together!

Without saying a word I’m going to look and speak for the first time.
Howl and feel as our chemicals sublime. 
I’m going to get hungry before I die in your arms.

Through circles and rods, I carry this year alone. 
Imagining all the days it was only you and I. 
“Not only I!”

Without saying a word I’m going to listen for your voice to call my name.
A whisper that setting itself on repeat. 

Anticipating, those look before you look away.
Wanting and waiting, I will still be whistling.
Overwhelmed by, fate at the door. 

Without saying a word I’m going to, leave a whisper in the bedroom
Without making movement, with my mouth!
 
Control all the space, around me. 
Touching the energy you left behind.
Hear the snowy winter chime.
Experience all the shelter in your hold.

Without saying a word I’m going to, lay down beside you.
Laying in a way, that feels better than freedom.

Millions of miles away, I’ll still be whistling. 
And waiting and waiting, for that perfect lay. 
Arguing and embracing the air we both breathe.
A breath for every reason!

Without saying a word I’m going to, mime the world tonight.
Over and over, till I mime the perfect poem, like the olden days.
Without a word to say! 

I’m wrapping my own arms around me, like a mime.
Explaining the breath you took without me.
Talking to myself without saying a word!
Writing the perfect poem without a word to say! 

Without saying a word I’m going to, yell this inside.
Whistle and mumble till I’m out of breath. 
Dying with my dreams to be by your side! 

Without saying a word I’m going to, close my eyes and see your face.
A bond not even death can break. 

Without saying a word I’m going to, sit here, till your wind hits.
A tap that’s inspires the best poem ever. 

Until then, I’m going to whistle without a word to say.
And enjoy your silhouette everyday.    

by;pd

Details | Words Poem | |

Pneumonoultramicroscopicsilicovolcanoconiosis

ONE WORD~

Pneumonoultramicroscopicsilicovolcanoconiosis, 
Running through my mind,
Pneumonoultramicroscopicsilicovolcanoconiosis, 
Running through my veins,
                                   
A silica odor, dust walks through a fresh desert night, 
Cool air beneath and above the sea.
A warm furnace smell, I don’t understand.
Intricate to rise and receive without knowing.
Up ahead in a virtue distance, 
A mysterious poisonous effluvium light-     
My face feels like a leaf'
My sun holds up its own pendulum rods. 
Inflammation comes and settles in for the night,
There it stands in a pertinacious manner, with quality.  
I resurrect this air created from madness, all over again.
Twilight, rain stranger than strange.
Visions, pursue my path into an infested dark pasture.
"From the red Heaven I fell into the waters of a cobalt Hell"

Perhaps this venerable moment, will pass slower than slow.
PERHAPS NOT!
If I accept, and then decline.
Would this balance the precocious state I live in?
How about when wrong directions follow my promiscuous ways.  
Is my conglomeration of ideas, no longer safe?	
When I no longer value the values of the young.
Will I sleep at the mercy of his ancient heart.
They're the voices give and take from our health. 

Today, those soft, perfect eyes are calling from far away,
Ashes high, vapors and infection welding me.
The bright skies swallow every thin silver line,
Where the clouds sit somehow~ in bacteria….
UNITY! 
YES UNITY! Fantabulously-fantastic!
Always, wanting more than love can touch.

We are living' it up with no alibis!
A way to be and not to BE!
The champagne leaves their cup.
Awaken in a life, disturbed ~ NOW INTERRUPT!
Only in this world, lava will reach her lips.
Prisoners and doers; 
All night…. Too late for a treatment.
Lungs, decaying, evil rats. 
Direction, affection, ending all the inhalation.

Pneumonoultramicroscopicsilicovolcanoconiosis, 
Running through my lungs,
Pneumonoultramicroscopicsilicovolcanoconiosis, 
Flat-lined my life ____/\ /\___ ___/\______/\___ _______________

By; pd

Details | Words Poem | |

Belongings

Shadowed in the silent room, the day is almost done
Dusk climbs in through the window glass, with one last ray of sun
I start the task, climb on a chair, reach up to shelves so high
to mother's boxes neatly stacked, as the dust gets in my eyes

I take one down, to look inside and sit upon a chair
I find some musty linens, laces needing some repair
I also find old photographs, the year was '42
Her face was smooth as porcelian, with life still young and new

Old documents and letters, a history unveiled
Her letters, torn and yellowed, such stories they would tell
The next box held some china, so lovingly embellished
And then I found a book of verse, inscribed with poems she relished

Some dresses stained and wrinkled, their fabric thin and tattered
Were once a thing of beauty, as if they really mattered
Her jewelry, gold and silver, some lovely rings and brooches
A warm sensation circles me, her presence now approaches

I sense a change come over me, and fleeting leave of gloom
The darkness of the evening lifts, as sunlight fills the room
She wraps her warmth around me, her fragrance in the air
The grief I've held is free to go, I know that she is there

Among these things, I find the last, the smallest box of all
Inside it are the baby clothes, I wore when I was small
A letter there to tell me that she knows the tears I've cried
Her words of love that never died, they fill me up inside

These treasures speak her words to me, and now that I am grown
She wants to tell her story, those parts I've never known
I've heard her voice, while sitting here, among her china flowers
I"ve found such peace, she's next to me, to spend these quiet hours


____________________________________________________________

Details | Words Poem | |

AS FATHER IS TO HIS DAUGHTER


Passing through framed windows like ours, I recall your tales of reckless war and lost friends that burned your innocence at 21... and though you claimed flashes of courage, moist eyes poured vulnerability looking calm, undaunted. We both searched deeply into our souls as a father is to his young daughter, that I wanted to let you know, it was alright; but that mound of shoulders turned away. Down the years as officer and gentleman, Time stole long weeks, absent from your dining chair, leaving me resentful and bitter on hardened sills until you arrive under crawling dock of stars. But in free moments, how you cherished me so; waking my cheeks at 3 am to race the winds, to fly with a shooting neon, laughing with a blue moon. You spoke of faith and honor if life dared a shame, oh mild scent of your arms cuddling my girlish dreams... until off you rode suddenly on heaven’s wheel. I see you through all framed windows like ours, that even if my iced breaths needed you more as small flowers thirsted for rain, my anger was a cry for love’s company... “ I have adored you in moments of distance and nearness, if not always, then for all eternity.” Have I forgotten to open this, my soft, broken sigh? Dad, everything is all right. The Confessional Contest

Details | Words Poem | |

Where Poetry Lives

 His  poems live deep down in the wood
down in an olde hunting lodge
They are brown as the bears head that 
hangs on the wall
brown as the dark leaves that fall
silently hiding the salt lick
from fawns who come in
the twilight to call
His poetry growls and grumbles and purrs
like a cougar alone on the rim
of the canyon above the olde
hunting grounds
where he writes all his lines
like a hymn
His poems stretch out on the furs
by the fire
and tell of the storms and the waves
that tested the strength of the words
that inspire
and sent many songs to their graves
for brave are the sagas
the odes that survive
the trek through the woods to the town
and as we go home we gather them up
scattered like leaves on the ground.
Brown,yellow,red ,a few of them green
His poems are places and things we have seen
but not from the view that the truth hunter gives
deep down in the woods ,where  poetry lives

Details | Words Poem | |

Tissue Box

like visitors from outer space
they came with tears, and lined the sidewalk
long in face, and arms embracing
some (I have no inkling) who
they were or why they felt compelled to come here
dozens came with casseroles
a few with flowers, wads of tissues
tender words of helpless mutterings
many acts of generous offerings

don't get me wrong, I watched the suffering
expressed in words or acts of kindness
I watched it all, and felt the love
did not dismiss the warm compassion
returned it all, with pure compliance
a thankful heart, a swollen throat

I hugged these strangers at the door
to comfort them, who shed their tears
upon my shoulder, offered them
a place to share their sympathies
a place to spend their mercy, pure

                but, this was my child who suffered loss
                impossible........I can't express it

protected from the very start, by
loving hands, her dad's and mine, 
we watched her grow, and let her go
she grew from the vine ....into a rose
but life composed a tragedy with goals
beyond our reach...beyond our wildest dreams
and left her with a loss beyond control

like visitors from outer space we watch
as others come, and others go
they blow into their tissue wads
and empty the boxes one by one
and cry with us,  and then they all go home

do we cry........?  Oh no, not yet...
instead we smile a grateful smile
and thank them kindly for the while
and for the ways they share their love
but we can't cry into our own clenched wad
of tissue from the tissue box
she needs us to be strong, somehow
and so that is the way it is, we vow...to hold back all the tears for now


                for, this was my child who suffered loss
                impossible........I can't express it
      __________________________________________





4/12/13

Details | Words Poem | |

Wanderlust-Minstrel Of Midnight

My existence strives with my persistence to acclimate.
This life was my choice, my superior voice fetched my fate.

In self promotion, harvesting devotion, I strummed this guitar.
Walking with bare feet, cemented street, a Hollywood star.

Acoustically serenading, never fading, macabre personification.
Indulging the classes, entertaining the masses, justification.

Wickedly showing where ever I am going, righteous wanderlust.
Talented troubadour, seeking more, satisfaction is a must.

Significant each strum, audiences comes, a park bench is the stage.
With words I capture sensational rapture, mysterious sage.

Singing poetry out loud, exceptionally proud, a vagrant.
Presences that lingers in the air when I'm no longer there, fragrant.

Theatrical ceremony, only a memory come the birth of the morning.
Minstrel of midnight, when timing is right, I leave with no warning.




For Contest: Wanderlust
Host: Nette Onclaud
Name: Casarah Nance
Date: 08-11-2014

Details | Words Poem | |

What I Should Have Said Then

Remember that night, one of so many of course
When the waitress asked if we were on our first date
We’d talked for three hours till our voices were hoarse
The laughter we shared no one could create

It must have been the joy in our hearts she saw
For eighteen years there’d been no one who meant more
Never for a moment did our love withdraw
I joked and said it was the cologne you wore

Impotence had rendered you last in some eyes
But there was no man who made me happier
My affection for you never compromised
Of my self-worth, you were the certifier

The last time I saw your 95-pound frame
As you lay smiling in the hospice bed
My adoration I just could not proclaim
Couldn’t look back, still wanted to look ahead

My head on your hand, tears formed a puddle
So much in my heart, but at a loss for words
I waited for your angel as we cuddled
Finally they arrived, not one, they flew in herds

The spirit of contentment shone o’er your face
I swear to this day I saw your spirit rise
You faced your death with such dignity and grace
I could not bring myself to utter goodbyes

But now as I pray, the words finally come
“God blessed me with a special friend always true
And now as I hear heaven’s harps ever strum
I know there’ll never be another like you”



*For my dear friend Chris who died on Christmas Day 2005
Entry for Gareth's "Last Words to a Loved One" Contest

Details | Words Poem | |

Afterglow

Momentary lapses of shyness 
within pretentiousness the size of a non-la-hat 
offering shade from your sweltering Sun, 
confused the boy still residing beneath an exterior 
of brashness. A wooing of rose or lotus petals?
Did she not enjoy such frivolity? Wot of a bard
letting words slide through the air like silk,
for I didn't possess such romantic poetry.
____


No, I embarked upon a journey of false-heroism,
took a bullet, figured it to shape me into a man.
I showed off the wound, blood soaking through the bandages -
you seemed far from impressed by this display of stupidity.
Yet you played coy,
bending over, letting sunlight play through a thin summer dress,
highlighting inner thighs, lines arching up into a dome of dizzy-delirium
so sensual it almost appeared sinful.

At night you'd undress before a naked window,
letting shadows flirt across moonlit dew.
It was all I could do to keep eyes averted,
instead, living on dreams of unwrapping gifts
under the influence of feverish waves,
even though I never forgot to take quinine.

And after all the games, 
I had only to stay still long enough for you to complete another sketch,
take its lines, breathe together a new poem,
unleashing torrents of words into my ear.
A funny sort of unconventional, tactile courtship.
You wanted me to listen, to test my patience,
and once your head was emptied out,
heat arose from the bloom, enveloping me in soft petals,
vanquishing my fever, with a different feverish embrace.
Your eyes almost felled me with their complexities
of virginal innocence and a whorish lust. The thrusts,
lips and fingers, the blended push-pull of rhythm and wild abandon
caused me to lose myself long enough,
to find your soul drifting alongside my own,
amongst the stars that had always been shining.
Amongst the light already written before our birth.












June 2nd, 2012

Details | Words Poem | |

Simple Words for Simple People

If I had those pretentious brains which act faster than this heart

maybe then I would abhore this soul which spreads freely through each verse

maybe then I would impress you with my intellectual grammar and sophisticated words

maybe then I would scrutinize my each and every coma,dot and exclamationmark!

But I would never let that happen,I'd rather go away.

Writing with my mind and not my heart leads only to asylum within the being of myself.

Poetry is my voice,my life,my escape,my each emotion stored,processed in a yesterday

breathing softly  in fresh air,wanting to explode in death, love,passion and romance.

Each verse, a thought I'm able to scribe of yet unable to express through spoken words.

Maybe in a tomorrow you might pass by ,tread your footstep on my verse

but maybe in a today,a broken-hearted fool stops by to find comfort in my world

Maybe a prisoner, an insane man,a tramp ,or any outcast to society 

would pick these shattered pieces and gather them as whole

and maybe through this scribbled cross-word puzzle finds God'love once again.

Maybe a little child who understands only little words

would turn the pages of silly rhymes i penned

rhymes which speak of moon and stars,angels,dreams and faries

and maybe He would smile, maybe He would laugh 

Maybe he would dream ,the way i used to dream

and maybe He would write the most eloquent sonnet

or maybe just simple words about blossoming flowers

And maybe then,my mission is accomplished,and  maybe I feel blessed.


Charma



Details | Words Poem | |

Exposure: Part II

(cont'd)

"Yes, then I am filled with hate," she replied.

"You need to let it go. I know....I used to be filled with cold hatred.
Let it go. People can violate your body,
but it doesn't mean your soul is also violated -
not always.
Your body is only on loan anyway.
The soul is truly yours."

We moved even further away from the music and lights,
until we eventually found ourselves outside.
The sleet had stopped falling,
and amongst a crowd of pigeons sitting on a wire,
a Raven was perched on a buzzing halogen lamp.

Clouds broke apart, exposing a crescent moon hanging from a winking star
like a Christmas ornament, or an earring of night herself.
Not fixed, but dangling,
always moving and changing.

-changing-


"Breathe in deeply. Focus in on the star,
pretend that you are casting your eyes up to the moon like a fishing line.
Begin reeling in your mind."

"Seems like a silly game to me."

"Please try it."

The Raven was watching us from its perch.
I breathed in and out deeply,
opening up my lungs and heart to the sky.

I turned to her and asked, 
"Do you feel hate coming from the Raven perched over there?"

"No, not that I can tell."

"Remember. You can still become someone's Queen.
People can violate your body, but your soul can stay intact.
Even if you doubt it right now."

She pulled out some napkins from her purse,
handed them to me, and asked, "Will you write it down for me?"


-And so I did-







January 1st, 2012

Details | Words Poem | |

No Words

Words I’ve never spoken
are those I’ll never write,
like words that might recall
the glow I felt one night. . . 
One choice lifetime’s fragment
I took for paradise. . . 
and for which memory
alone cannot suffice.

One summer’s whispered end. . .
your feel, your touch, your scent,
your lashes on my cheek,
the pure enrapturement. . .
your hands and hair like silk,
your pause to gaze on me
seem now more illusion
than past reality.

No words can bring to life
the fleeting ghost of you.
You haunt my empty hours;
there’s nothing I can do,
for if you think of me,
I guess I’ll never know.
And how you made me thrill
no words can ever show.


For HG's Broken Heart Contest

Details | Words Poem | |

Who Am I

I am the ring around Saturn
spinning words as particles of ice and dust
with the power to transcend

I am the original chosen to be right here right now
transmitting verbal frequencies 
through speaking my thoughts into existence

I am the heir of omnipotence,
born with a direct connection to profound abundance 
The one whose words will age, yet still have substance;
since there are no boundaries attached to my pen

I am constant energy
Translating personal experience into imagery 
Vulnerable to tyranny,
yet i continue attempting to share some truth
through this abstract language of poetry

I am the core
I am that I am more
I am the Divine Presence that is the Source of my rewards

I am the green you get when you mix too much yellow with the blue
That shade of gold you get when the sun resides into darkness
and when it ascends in the dawn burning dew
I am the transition between the third and fourth dimension of time;
the love you feel when you realize how it feels

I am the poem that is abstractly direct
because I write beyond limits
absorbing frequencies from 3 to 8 hertz
through meditation for several minutes
I am the one bridging the gap between
the analog ascension and the direct connection to spirit
The one who is love
because I am a descendent  of it

I am the rhythm that the wind blows
I am the beginning and the ending of stories told
about the universe and how miracles unfold
I hold the power to accept judgement from those who will do just that
Not knowing that I am them in the absolute reality of me
Judge that

I am knowledge beyond measure because that is my right
So I continue meeting the different parts of me
when I meditate and write
Who am I?
I AM, THAT, I AM



Details | Words Poem | |

Rhythmic Perfection (anapestic trimeter)

There's a river that twists in the mind
that I plunder and ravish with sieves,
on crusades to the summit of rhyme
where my Phoenix of tropes and schemes live.

In a war to free diction's fair Queen
where the Soldiers of Babel bemuse
and the modern day graceless regimes
are in battles to stifle my muse!

In my quest for her verse of prestige
I have traveled a nexus of words
with this Lexis of language on siege;
where the dissonant hum drum is heard!

Oh, the poise of my bayonet firm
as I pin down my thoughts in a rush!
Oh, the will of the language it squirms
as her essence of glory I brush!

She's the Queen Muse that whispers within
as she watches me battle with style,
she supplies me the yarn that I spin
as she lends me her rhythm awhile.

It's the moment her Highness is freed
that the Armies of Dissonance fall
and the sound of Perfection can bleed
in those lyrical sounds that enthrall!

Details | Words Poem | |

Tell Me Now

Now that your spirit hovers in chilling night air
Can you find your way to offer me some insight
So many times I pledged my love to show I care
But your lack of response trepidation would ignite

If I could hold you once more, would you tell me now
Would you utter the words I longed so much to hear
Instead of leaving me hanging from love’s frail bough
You’ve passed from earth, but in my dreams you reappear

I see your lips moving and long to comprehend
Words that silently escape into the vast void
I reach for them and your death I try to transcend
Expressions in life that you never employed

Our hearts had been broken countless times before
Your actions showed love, but the words I needed more

Details | Words Poem | |

I Am But a Dreamer

I am but a dreamer
and in my dreams I play
where I live so happily
writing them my way
inside my illusions
where I know I belong
whistling a joyful tune
as I go along

Like a little spirit
I venture on the breeze
skipping in the gentle wind
doing what I please
with the rising sun I dance
wrapped inside his charms
across the golden morning sky
twirling in his arms

I can climb a mountain
or live among the trees
sail in a silver sailboat
on the seven seas
I can draw a moonlit night
ride on a bright moonbeam
and swim among the diamonds
in a velvet stream

I am but a dreamer
there's nothing in my way
living in the place I love
loving everyday
maybe it's a fairytale
but that's all right by me
I'm the master of my dreams
where I wander free

No one there can tell me
what is wrong or right
following what's in my heart
I live in the light
happy in my dream world
that's where I choose to stay
in the world where I belong
writing dreams my way

Details | Words Poem | |

This Song is for my Mother

This song is for my mother
Let her hear me cry
I couldn’t bring myself to write it
‘Til this darkened day arrived
A song about old promises 
Made so long ago
Created and cremated
Ashes of the words I spoke

Long separated by the miles
Distanced from her golden smiles
Memory of a mother
Shared my dreams and really cared

Long separated by the miles
Distanced from her golden smiles
Mama…
I know I wasn’t there……

For you

Would have placed 
A magic carpet 
‘neath your weak and shaky legs

Would have raised
A strong west wind
Let you breathe with ease again

Would have bribed 
God’s venal angels
Come and soothe your endless pain

Would have vanquished
All the demons
And bring peace to you again

Be the child
I never knew
In a land
We won’t grow old

Be the light
I always loved
Warmed my dark 
And lonely soul

Be the girl
Playing games
In a world 
The sun won’t set

Be the laughter
Calms my heart
I never will forget
I won’t forget, won’t forget

This song is for my mother
Let her hear me cry
Couldn’t bring myself to write it
‘Til this darkened day arrived
Song about old promises 
Made so long ago
Created….cremated
Ashes of the words I spoke

I broke my promises, oh mama
Now you’ve gone away 
I’m broken
Drowning in the pain each day

I’m  drowning…drowning...drowning…drowning

This song is for my mother
Let her hear me…….



Details | Words Poem | |

The Written Face of Love

My love for you I carry in my heart
A growing ache, albeit tender, sweet
For from my body you are miles apart
My words like tender kisses sent to greet

Each letter and each thought with love is tied
Poetic lines immersed in passion’s hue
The secrets of your heart in them confide
My messengers of love sent out to you

Dear heart, be sure to read between the lines
At times a message stronger there you’ll find
Wild fantasies encrypted in these signs
My paradise you’ll enter with your mind

Who dares to doubt the written face of love
Has never flown on words to heights above

Eileen Manassian Ghali

Details | Words Poem | |

The Poet

THE POET’S PANEGYRIC “There’s someone I knew with talent unleashed and a heart that had for so many relentlessly reached This poet sought inspiration from the living and the dead But I can tell you this about the poet who has moved me by what this poet had ever said I read the words from a comfort zone which this poet created, surrounded by friends or by foes or simply alone” His essence of soul sweeps down deserted dead streets where the thunder still crackles, the burial bell bleats He laughed at himself as a Royal Rhymester Clown but bore the black pains of those all aroun’, He echoed regrets but never a grudge ... of this I’ll say little... let his lines be the judge THE POET’S PEN Blind shots cry out beneath the night, a car is cruising by. A stripling’s blood streams words to write ... Wry rhymes to ask us why A silly girl with child, unwed... to many, but a slut. The baby at her breast is dead ... Cruel couplets meant to cut A drifter, broken, cast aside, lies lifeless in the cold. Tap tattoos on a tattered hide ... Some scarlet stanzas scold Two lovers clutch a turtledove, enraptured by her coo, impaled on pangs of Ladylove ... A sultry song for two A drone of drums in distant wars beguiling bold dragoons who sell their souls like wanton whores ... Raw rhythms writ in runes The stars ablaze, like tiger-eyes reflecting candlelight, ’lume angels singing Lullabys ... A sonnet stuns the night The soulless eyes of shackled slaves drip tears that burn and blur. Their ash, like dust, set free in graves ... Emblazing ballads stir A hurricane, foretold, unfurled, unravels mystic signs as Demons dance, destroy the World ... Limned lurid lyric lines Some die a death neath hangmen’s hands where tainted justice reigns for ‘thou shalt kill’, Revenge commands ... A quiet quatrain pains While well-to-dos amass and flaunt And follow fashion’s trends, pale children starve and die of want ... And so an epic ends THE POET’S EPITAPH His words lie strewn along the sand While breakers wash ashore The ripples weave designs unplanned ... a verse forevermore His tales, entwined in cryptic airs where freedom seeds are blown, warn Guarders of the Realm ‘beware’ ... his heresy is sown His life outlined a chronicle along a lonesome road It started out as doggerel ... and ended as an ode
With a little help from my extremely talented, but somewhat modest, friend “ANON” AKA JC... Thanks JC, for the depth of your support and your breath of inspiration...

Details | Words Poem | |

From My Treasure Trove

My life, like everybody else’s, is a treasure trove
with a mine from which one’s treasures are derived.
The familial bonds we form are platinum; our friendships gold.
These are precious ores that most souls are born to find with ease.
But all of us have other precious stones we need to mine. 
They are the fruit of skills and talents put to their best use.

My treasure trove abounds with gems already -
ones that I discovered as a child.
Though rough in their natural form, most of them I opened
as I grew in understanding of God’s gifts for me.
Others not so easy to break open were able to be shaped,
for once I sought them out inside my mine
and cracked them open. . . their radiance was revealed to me.

Our precious gems, God-given, must not be squandered.
Once mined, they need to be shared.
Artists, teachers, scientists, tradesmen, leaders, even dreamers -
we all have different kinds of gemstones hidden in our mines.

Once, later on in my own life, 
I came upon a silver tool used by many different types of artists.
I’d seen it in my youth but hardly used it.
Thousands of words lay embedded in that specific tool God gifted me.
I delved into the depths of my mine and learned
that I could tap and tap the silver worded tool upon each stone,
and finally a gem would then reveal itself to me.
The more I searched for stones to tap,
The more wondrous were the nuggets that appeared -
And there were more of them than I’d believed I could ever find -
buried there so deeply in  my mine!
The art of crafting them and polishing them up
I was able to improve upon in time. . . 
and found that even those less valuable could shine!

A poet’s gems need not be bought or sold.
Displaying them with love and pride alone can be fulfilling.
How I thrill to view a wide variety of gemstones
freely shown from others’ treasure troves.
From the rarest and the clearest multi-faceted 
color-shifting Alexandrite and tanzanite,
and the most remarkable of diamonds, rubies,
sapphires, emeralds, amethyst and jade, 
down to the lowliest of onyx, quartz, garnets, or agates,
each stone has something of the poet’s soul within it,
especially beautiful when polished to a brilliant sheen! 

The more I open gemstones in my mine, the more of them I find,
and my silver-worded tool lies nearby at the ready.

Details | Words Poem | |

Somber Is the Color of The Day

Somber is the color of the day...

The window glass, enhanced by dew, this dreary afternoon
Prisms of light from a pewter lamp, reflect upon on the fog
A rainbow splashed against the wall forms mirrors of my mood

While quietly, I sit, and ponder it all, my pen is close, my chin in hand
Pinned back, my strands, a sweater, old, is pulled around my chill
 woven in colors, of various yarns, as varied as thoughts that take me away

My mind is lost in a wakened dream
While trees are tossed about in winter wind, 
               and leaves lay dead beneath the snowy mounds
                 a fire glows, and a storm now keeps me bound

One shard of light from a neighbor's home
       across the hill, a distant mile
           The dimness in a room from winter sighs...
                then something sparks a word ...a line, .. a verse, ... a lullaby ...

The day is sadder than the words I had found...
        so somber is the day that keeps me bound

I hide away this moment....a cup of tea, a Golden Lab for company..
One peek beyond the distant hill, a touch of sun
A glimpse of mountain, pastures deep, my dog that sleeps...

A momentary chance to free my soul
In just a brief, but deep departure from the ordinary...
I explore my thoughts, search my heart, wonder what this day will bring...
    I watched old memories, long kept cold, ...unfold as if a dream
      Unsort, relive, those worlds untold.... 
            Exploring new words, I now have found
      
Stumbling through my mind,  unintended
   Watching the words tumble as if unattended...
      Unfolding, exploding, and falling in chaos
             Paying no mind to the reader's conception
                   Cleansing, pleasing, as my soul fits the pieces...
       
                     Beneficial.... to the reader...will it matter? Who knows?...
                       But a satisfying journey traveled and found
                           by myself....and for myself, ....as the one who's  creating...

     Looking out from blurry windows...a dark day continues ...
             on a somber colored day, that kept me bound.....



_________________________________________________________________

Details | Words Poem | |

FEELINGS

FEELINGS


Feelings,
Masters of my destiny
Lords of my life
Strength of my dreams
Instigators of my actions

Burning fire you are 
Consuming my whole 
Being:
My heart
My mind 
My soul
My spirit,  
As you relentlessly
Demand: 
To be conceived
To be formulated 
To be understood
To be expressed!

A Herculean task it is,
I swear, 
Such an enterprise,
For how one could ever
Constrain, you, the unconstrained 
And mold you into:
Phonemes
Syllables
Words
Phrases
Sentences 
And still retain 
Your explosive 
Dynamism?
 
No language exists,
So vast
So deep
So accurate
So supple 
As to pay justice,
To your intensity
To your desire
To your beauty
To your love!

Thus, having no
Alternative, 
I turn to the only language
There is,
The one that the 
Cosmos speaks,
And
The universe alone
Comprehends:
The language of 
Harmony,
That we humans 
POETRY name
BUT 
Even then 
To describe you
I AM UNABLE!



©Demetrios Trifiatis
   28 January 2013