Best Deep Seated Poems
I see that acacia tree
and I get vacuumed back to the past.
When we both had
a different type of light in our eyes,
with the reflections of that clear brook
evident in our irises,
where we thought that the
sun only revolved around us, and us alone.
We thought we knew better,
or did we?
Did we truly know anything at all?
My heart gurgles a bit,
as it chokes, bleeding on memories...
I am beside myself,
and I look so stupid,
hugging that tree,
a lifeline to what was.
I envy that tree, for its sturdiness,
its roots being so deep-seated,
so much unlike us,
easily broken, swayed, uprooted.
I loathe that tree,
for it still blooms,
blushing with its bright pink flowers
so delicate-looking and beautiful.
So unlike myself.
I feel ugly now. I actually am.
With hate and guilt eating at me from my core,
how could I not be?
I am rotten.
I am corroded.
From the looks of it,
I seem to have drunk from that
brook (now polluted), ingesting the trash
strewn there
I just never knew how much filth there was.
I am not infallible.
I thought you were.
But I was wrong. Dead wrong.
You tried to pull me up, but
became too heavy for you...
I dragged you down with me,
so deep, too deeply
that I had to bury you.
Along with my heart and soul,
which have both turned into stone.
I am stoned.
Yes, I feel so heavy,
so heavy I wish someone
would bury me,
throw me in the sea
so I could sink to the bottom and be forgotten.
Or better yet,
is there a magic pill
being sold somewhere
that can make me go back—
Start all over
and do things over?
What I would give
to recapture that light,
to have you back
but I know it is too late.
You’ve gone already.
Left me...
Or so I thought.
I always had the tendency to be wrong,
and it had never felt so great.
I turn around
and a different kind of light
kindles my I(rise)s.
Like that acacia,
I bloom again.
You walk through the metal detector
You look at me with a deep seated scorn
You loath that I made you remove your stuff
You had to take off your shoes belt and jewelry
You’re thinking “I’m no criminal or terrorist so why me”
I am only doing the job the government requires of me
I am not the reason you are harassed and had to partially strip
I do empathize with you seeing I have to do the same thing too
No one cares that I am a Screening Officer I am searched when I travel
The government says what’s good for the goose is good for the gander
You want to get mad at someone then look in the right direction
The ones who blatantly took the lives of our families and friends
Who took the choice of traveling to most places away forever
Who took the privilege of carrying most things on board away
The freedom to travel with our liquids and gels peanut butter and jam
Don’t blame me because I am risking my life to keep you safe
Don’t blame me for someone not caring about your fate
Don’t blame me for what Mr. Harper and Mr. Obama says
Or for what the UK says is their Standard Operating Procedures (SOP)
Don’t blame me I am just the messenger that holds many lives in my hand
Outside of civil man’s well tended garden,
A field of briars willfully encroached,
Threatening the peaceful flowers without pardon.
Oh these gardeners fought hard as the briars approached.
“You don’t belong here, you’re not good enough!”
“You are snarled with iniquity and with thorns.”
“You live a life so very harsh and rough…”
“What good can you bring?” they said with deep seated scorn.
And the briar replied that hot summer day,
“Deep within these unforgiving boughs
Lives a flower who doesn’t have much to say
Except a story concerning what you espouse.”
“You see there lives a dragon scorned just over the way,
Who tossed opportunity and harbingers to the wind,
Because life is glorious and he loves to play…
Carefree and cavalier is how his days were spent.”
“He playfully trampled gardens carefully tended,
By pious gardeners without wings who would never fly,
Until he happened upon a flower wonderfully scented,
Crimson in color, the flower reflected beauty in his eye,”
“Eagerly he reached forward to make it his own,
But this glorious flower was protected by thorns,
And gave the dragon a prick to change his tone,
And it was in that prick that true love was born.”
“Now the dragon is older and has spent his days,
Watching over this rose, the love of his life,
Learning about beauty and awe inspiring ways.
His world now protected by thorn and briar.”
“He has discovered great beauty and learned much,
And no longer does the dragon destroy with fire.”
“But should you gardeners even dare to touch
A single branch or bough in this tangled briar…”
“You will face both the Dragon and the Rose,
Who with great love now protect each other,
From pious gardeners who would have them go,
Because neither can be kept on a tether.”
“So snip your lilies and pluck your weeds,
Make your lives as perfect as they can be,
For in this harsh briar we continue to watch love grow,
That of a magnificent Dragon and the beautiful Rose.”
If I had to paint a picture of me loving God what would I see?
would I see a portrait of a person who walks in truth and honesty?
In order to paint a picture of me loving God
I would have to access all the experiences that to me life did impart
did I have a good relationship with my mom and my dad?
was it loving and supportive or distant and sad?
did I get along with my siblings? did we look out for each other?
did we play and love each other like true sisters and brothers?
were my needs being meet? did I ever learn to trust and believe?
am I balanced enough to cope according to the lessons in life I've received?
Multi-generational, familial or systemic social receptions
all of this has played a part in my life perceptions
we all have distortions in every aspect of our living
we now must deal with the reality at this time we've been given
was my life exactly as I remember? or are there things that I've repressed?
are there issues that are buried inside me that now make me depressed?
deep-seated anxiety, personal pain and high expectations
feelings of inadequacy, destructive criticism and bouts of frustration
we all have issues that we now need to bring out and discuss
in order to have authentic relationships we need to have real trust
we all have some brokenness that needs to be healed
so that our full love for the Lord God can one day be revealed
God is not distant like a CEO in the corporate tower
God is not pressuring us with His omnipotent power
God does not keep score He just watches over our souls
God is fair and just and doesn't set for us high goals
God is all embracing He nurtures, instructs and forgives
He's kind, patient and loving in this life to us He did give
So if I had to paint a picture of what it looks like for me to love God
it would be a colorful canvas of emotions, perceptions and reflections from my heart
My words come from an innermost and secret place within me. Hidden feelings
that I have veiled and concealed over the years. Words that bleed with emotion
and speak of deep-seated pain and weep with tears. They spill onto my white
pages. All those inward words that I have held for years come dripping.
And I know that I have mastered my writing, I know my poetry is meaningful.
I realize that some may not like my words but it means nothing to me. For my
poetry is not measured by others or by being acknowledge somehow but by the
words that take my breath away. I have that kind of wonderful inner knowing.
sad words are falling
all the red orange and brown-
a feather floats by
I am absolute and certain that I am meant to write pain and definite death,
and my aboriginal heritage with boundless and unrestrained passion. I give
totally to this path. I am fixed and clear and infallible. Seems I am on a
mission to utterly enlighten others.
And when you read my words you will feel my compassion and empathy, my
love, sorrow and affection. You will glimpse and get an inkling of my journey
to the here and now, the rocky road that I have traveled. But, that road has
left me with feelings of absolute beauty, so I write poems beautifully sad.
and hidden birds sing
a song so melancholy-
calico cat stares
I feel we writers have to be mystical and in touch with our mysterious spirits,
there is a magic when you can connect with that otherworldly place deep inside
of your mind. Some may call this connection their spirit or their muse, or their
soul but when you find it, you will know and it is from that place you write.
For inside of self is your ego, your I and yourself. It is your essence and vital
force, it is your poetic heartbeat, it is where your mournful dwells and your
memories linger to be retold, for me it is my vitality and my journey that I
share, and it is where I keep my HURT.
the rain is falling
as I stand beneath the tree-
my tears fly away
___________________________
June 9, 2018
Written for the contest, An Inner Knowing,
And Absolute Feeling, My Mystical Soul/Self
sponsor, Caren Krutsinger
First Place
Trust
Belief
Deep-seated
Abiding Faith
Inspires Confidence
Promises Kept
Duty-bound
Certain
Trust
so lovely , yet wearied and worried,
as she looks away with quiet terror
from the sight of the faintest wrinkles
at the corners of her eyes in the mirror;
he finds it silly, this undue anxiety,
as she mumbles about crow's feet
that on her face she dreads to see,
reflection she is uneager to meet;
he assures her they are but laugh lines,
the true traces of real joys, happy times,
just skin-deep hints of deep-seated bliss,
amused, touched she is by this view of his.
I have been given
A talent for verse
I may be no genius
But I’ve read much worse
My thoughts are arranged
In cadence they rhyme
These inner expressions
Of mind, space and time
Whenever they dance
Emotions are stirred
Conveyed from the heart
Like the song of a bird
A painter will hope
And a poet will pray
That what they create
Will be felt in some way
By those who would gaze at
And those who would read
Their brush strokes and verses
Creatively freed
Just scratchings on paper?
A few simple rhymes?
So carelessly spent
like nickels and dimes?
Not careless, you see
But purposely placed
In balanced perfection
And rhythmically spaced
The writing of poems
Can help to unwind
Some deep-seated tensions
And unlock the mind
So take my advice
Let activity cease
And your inner expressions
Will find their release
Then joyfully wait
And watch as each line
Of poetry leaps
From your heart to mine
In the silent garden where the spirit resides,
Grow shadows of ego, where true light hides.
Not soldiers in armor, nor cannons’ loud boom,
But whispers of self-importance fill the room.
They rise from within, a fog in the mind,
Leaving compassion and empathy behind.
The paths are neglected, the flowers don’t bloom,
As the ego-shadows cast a pervasive gloom.
The First Shadow, a monument, tall and grand,
Demands all attention throughout the whole land.
It speaks in the voice of “I am, and I know,”
Ignoring the wisdom that others can show.
Its roots are deep-seated in fear and in pride,
Pushing all kindness and humility aside.
It sees every challenge as a battle to win,
A solitary fortress, where no one gets in.
The Second Shadow, a mirror, polished and bright,
Reflects only the self in its limited light.
It measures its worth by the external gaze,
Lost in a labyrinth of self-centered haze.
It craves admiration, applause, and acclaim,
Feeding a hunger that whispers its name.
It twists every moment to serve its own need,
A garden choked over with a self-serving weed.
The Third Shadow, a mountain, unyielding and steep,
Holds onto its grievances, buried and deep.
It builds up defenses of judgment and blame,
Protecting an image, a delicate flame.
It sees the world through a lens of its own,
A seed of resentment, persistently sown.
It struggles for power, for control, and for might,
Lost in the darkness, avoiding the light.
These shadows entwining, a tangled-up vine,
Choking the growth of the truly divine.
They drain the life force, they wither and fade,
The potential for beauty, a vibrant parade.
They dance in the twilight, unseen and unheard,
Their power diminished by a single kind word.
But notice the sunbeam, a delicate gleam,
Piercing the darkness, a hopeful, soft stream.
For even the deepest of shadows can cease,
When the light of awareness brings solace and peace.
The garden can flourish, the ego can cease its reign,
And the self finds connection, again and again.
She's a woman of mystery
with a deep seated soul
You may try to understand her,
but you'll never know
She likes Deepok Chopra
and girls' night out
She may get angry, but
she'll never pout
She'll show you she's witty, honest,
funny and fun
But, try to pin her down and
like a cougar, she'll run
A corporate gal now helping
others find employment
She listens to music for centering
rather than enjoyment
She keeps her heart in the closet
where it's safe and secure
It'll peep out for a moment
but not for long be sure
She's strong both in mind
and spirit
She’ll admit she’s fragile, but
you’ll never hear it.
She’s loving in her strength, but
you may not see it
She’s kind in nature but
may never free it
Rational and sensible is what
she displays to the world
Her true emotions are hidden as
they’re twisted and twirled
She’s running from something,
but she’ll never tell
She’ll convince you she’s happy
when she feels like hell
She’s my friend, I like her,
but I’ll never know
The true Rokeyai, and the
depths of her soul.
If you listen when it's still all around
You will hear the very sound of silence
It's the basic sound that is the background
That allows other sounds their existence
Silence gives music its reality
It's the space between notes that is free
This allows them to resonate freely
And that creates a sense of harmony
Silence is not the absence of something
It's a thing in itself with great power
Skilfulness of it's placement in speaking
Is the hallmark of a great orator
It can express feeling with great effect
Better than words during some occasion
Like a silent minute to mark respect
For those who gave their lives for their nation
A deeper awareness of the divine
Can be sought in silent meditation
Silence helps to focus the restless mind
Engaged in spiritual devotion
Silence is a balm for the weary soul
Providing peacefulness and upliftment
It heals the worn spirit making it whole
And fills it with deep seated contentment
A huge ego breaks off love’s embrace,
A tiny ego slips off love’s embrace,
No ego, no embrace of love!
A selfless ego suffocates from love’s embrace,
A selfish ego wards off love’s embrace,
No ego, no embrace of love!
A super-visual ego overshadows love’s embrace,
A deep-seated ego is colonized by love’s embrace,
No ego, no embrace of love!
A healthy ego humbly looks above,
A healthy ego can lead and also serve...
Its nerves know not pressured blood,
But developing it is almost hard!
Darkness
In a quiet room the darkness encircles all
The slightest of shadows seemly abounds
Your eyes grappling to focus wherewithal
You become attuned to all the subtle sounds
Within the shadows lurk your deepest fears
In childhood memories of forgotten tales
Once again fearsome efficiencies appears
In your imagination, within all gruesome details
Deep within the psyche of the blackest hearts
There is this darkness where hate controls
Somehow hurt turning into anger imparts
Buried deep within their tortured souls
Perhaps that they not know the harm that they do
When consumed by only hate in their tortured souls
Controlled by past events they have lived through
Deep seated anger and hate takes many tolls
Darkness takes on form in many strange ways
Be it the void of all light, in a black, lonely space
Or the blackest of souls, of all those that betrays
Darkness can change into light within a loving grace
Tonight the shore is pounded by the fretful, roiling surf,
dark clouds tempestuously race across a yellow moon;
the ocean's breast heaves a heaviness of bitter tears
flinging gray shadowed sobs against silent, white-faced dunes
Far across deep seated waters, another golden strand--
do you pace there the churning surf line as here I do;
are these waves that beat against my blistered, sand burnt feet
a desperate, longing message dispatched tonight from you?
Somewhere harbor lights safely chart the well worn channel
for anxious, weary sailors longing for the arms of home;
but you and I, marooned, remain in lonely shadows
forgotten memories between us, darkened pools of foam.
Copyright, October 22, 2014
Faye Lanham Gibson
(Just who are the most self-righteous people on earth?)
When God created Adam and designed the fall,
To reveal Christ's glorious salvation call.
Self-righteousness, then came into play,
To plague mankind in a wicked way.
Sadly, by nature we tend to be,
Righteous in our own works, you see.
The christian struggles most every day,
To keep his self-righteousness at bay.
But, the most self-righteous man on earth;
The one most permeated with its curse,
Is the atheist in whom we find,
Through the perversion of his mind,
An evil heart that readily condemns
All who dare disagree with him.
The beam is there , yet he sees it not,
But, 'oh the mote, it's in clear eyeshot.
From his cocksure "pulpit" above,
He promises to bring utopia and love.
He delights in questioning God, too see,
If he can set God at his knee,
Even to replace Him on His throne,
There to self-righteously rule alone.
He's been this way since the day of Cain.
The atheist, as God, will proclaim,
To be the righteous judge for all,
Obeisance to him is his clarion call.
The tyrant appears in manmade splendor,
Declaring there is no god but Caesar.
And given a little time, he'll appear again,
And we see the rise of Joseph Stalin.
Don't be fooled by this false hope,
That man in his own wisdom can cope,
With the ills lifes struggle brings,
Into our mortal transition scene.
The "seeming" right way to man, at best,
Becomes the wrong way leading to death.
As the battle royal turns out to be,
The war between my flesh and me.
Because the great danger exists,
In our deep-seated self-righteousness.
Unlike the atheist, we pray every day,
That God's Holy Word light our way.
But, the atheist will have none of this;
No matter how much "man made" pain exists,
From his self-righteous attempt to be,
The righteous judge for you and me.
With this "revealed" knowledge we should find,
Not hate, but love of a Godly kind,
For our adversary the atheist, you see,
But for God's grace, thats what we'd be.
1Cor.2:14 "the natural man recieveth not"...
Rom.8:7 " the carnal mind is enmity--neither can he know"....
John 6:44 "no man can....
John6:29 "this is the work of God, that ye believe"....
Lionel