There’s much to let out of the cage,
A flow out from the chamber,
But there is less room,
And restraint is the space.
June 23, 2026.
What it is then about beings like me?
Who feel everything,
Unable to let go of anything,
What then of the emotions that overflow,
That bleed out into poetry,
And flow out as relentless care,
Is the pain the architect of love and beauty,
Or is it merely a longing to be understood,
Something to finally see and feel what we do,
Some will call it longing,
Others Loneliness,
I understand it as wisdom and guidance,
For where would we be without all that PAIN?.
A.R
Fire and Shadow of the Eternal Flame
(c) 2025 by the Entangled Pair
You make longing feel like poems
all soaked in sweat and truth
they flow out unashamedly
sometimes unkempt, uncouth
and as they flow somehow they show
the yearnings of our youth
I come to you as fire and shadow
filling you with pleasured pain
pulsing you to overflowing
striving to relieve the strain
dissolving all that is not us
'til only we remain
we peer behind us, blissfully
into that other worldly place
we feel the beat of our contentment
see the thing that knows our face
our questions answered by reply
'this flame may dim but never die'
ADRIFT AT SEA*
sea-worn bottle,
bobs on a digital tide.
inside, not paper brittle with salt,
but luminous lines of light,
coded in metaphors and rhyme.
message tossed
into the sea.
unknown sender,
no harbor designated, no destination
on any map.
it drifts, a lonely vessel,
across oceans of indifference,
until…
a seacoast appears,
unsummoned,
unexpected.
my eyes, the sand.
my mind, the beach.
I pick it up,
this delicate thing,
uncorking the silence.
The words flow out,
a story whispered,
a feeling shared,
across lifetimes,
across the vacuity.
suddenly,
I am the address.
the recipient unknown,
FOUND.
the message delivered.
the poem,
HOME.
*Note: I posted this poem at Poetry Soup in June 2025 then deleted it (www.poetrysoup.com › poem › adrift_at_sea_1740391). This is my original poem and has not been plagiarized. Also, this poem was recently published in Highland Park Poetry’s Anthology titled MESSAGE IN A BOTTLE. I am blessed.
Feeder Lake
There Is A Lake
Reserved For Silence.
And Nothing Left
To Lose...
Where A Sky Blue
Framing Border
Re-Flects
Every Shiver
Stippled On
A Softened Shore...
That Holds A Dam
Of Tears.
***
I Can Let Some
Flow Out.
But:
I Can't Remember
What The Tears
Are For.
***
I Used To Nearly
Leap Adrift In Sky
And Ride The Future
Rocks Be-Damned...
Into A Moonlit Sea.
*
I Used To Haunt
The Oaks All Night
Beside The Crippled
Creek Where Glowing
Green Embers Howled
And Croaked.
*
But I Can't Feel
Why I Cry-ed Those
Tears - Why I
Fought
Or Drank
Or Choked.
To The Lava Core
It WAS!
Where?
***
I Used To Sob
Over The Flavor
And The Texture
Of Your Skin...
And Hair
And Breathless
Both We Wept
Together There...
And Then
Apart.
***
But I Don't
KNOW
What Those
Tears Are For!
Any More!
***
Irrigation.
Evaporation.
Precipitation.
Flowing,
Pooling,
Kept.
Make The Desert
Red And Wet.
-Gray Squirrel
06-27-2025
Whole world's gone to hell,
Here I sit in jail,
Cold floors touch my hands,
As tears flow out in strands,
God help me please,
I'm a product of the breeze,
A leaf gone with the flow,
Thinking this is where I should go,
I did not show Grace but stone,
These choices were my own,
Pray this isn't too late for me,
Please God hear my plea!
Can one learn how to live?
Life is not without difficulties and obstacles
Clear and bright, of one's own reason
or spiritual men and women
The power of faith for emotional health,
can improve your overall emotional well-being
A profound sense of spirituality
gives you a higher quality of life, with healing
How to deal with fear,
and the trigger thoughts that start worries
Knowledge gives another opportunities
to overcome stress in everyday life
The healing will happen,
when we allow ourselves to let go
Mosaic must be glued together from broken pieces,
as tissue, and thoughts flow out
Seeing the beauty
Frying noodles, vegetables
My drooling flow out.
I used to hear words of pain
I’m used to hearing words of defeat
In this traumatic drama of my life
I realise they no longer need a body
The spill from lips wide open
Stained on my mind
From previous beatings
They easily flow out of my own thoughts now
Barricading me in less self-worth
Spitting toxins, I now imagine in my own mind
They have plastered themselves on my skin
Fighting to sink into my soul
Selling words of anger
Doubt
Fear
Hate, Pain
Frustration
That I keep buying
Even with my last cent
As I become indebted to them
They have made me believe
I owe them now
A slice of my life
A piece of my soul
That without their unjustified torment over me
They haven’t wrung their last piece
Even now as I fight
And stretch like an amoeba
Trying to find my right form
To break free of them
To extend myself out of their reach
They tell me
‘We’…haven’t debited yet
Our fill is yet unmet
You suffered silently for the humanity,
carried bleeding the burden of the cross,
defied the undying death to resurrect
to save us from sin, give fortitude to the despondent.
The resurrection brought You back to us
to reside in the revered sanctum of immortality,
marking the joyous and devoted end
to the Lenten season of penitence.
In the unkind and unforgiving world,
You instill the feeling of fondness in our heart,
and go out to embrace the desolate souls
with the solacing blessings of empathy.
You guide us with the divine beacon,
across the turbulent sea to the placid shore.
Devout abode of serenity and hope in our soul,
You make for us to rest in peace in anguished times.
From our tormented hearts
flow out the humble words of dedication.
We bear with hope the encumbrance of agonized life
with the strength we get as Your blessings.
You hold us in Your holy protective arms
when the time comes for us to depart.
In mortal darkness you show us the heavenly light
in our journey of faith to the eternity.
O, Lord,
Your benevolence and love we celebrate in Easter.
I lay awake in the darkness,
My body so still but my mind racing till I get ill,
I ask myself
Who am I ? A complete lie?
My heart racing so fast,
My thoughts completely lost,
But here I am ,
Holding myself together,
But anytime now ,I feel it’s all going to flow out like a river.
The Kindness
The kindness of God flows through us, turns on the spigot.
and let it flow out onto others hearts embraces, OUR brothers and sisters hearten and dried our hearts were now not,whatever?
2/5/23 original composed
12/11/23
For Whatever Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Suzette Richards
I am waiting,
For something to bring smile on my lips,
I am waiting,
For someone to bring tears of joy in my eyes.
I wait in the dark nights,
For morning sunshine to greet me,
I wait on the rainy days,
For the rainbow to appear and uplift my spirits sky high.
I am waiting patiently by the door,
Hoping the next footsteps will be yours,
I am waiting by the lake,
Hoping your love will flow out of the lake.
I am waiting and waiting,
For someone to listen to my heart's song,
I am waiting and waiting,
For someone to give me the everlasting love.
On this day when
One walks outside
The fumes are coming off the roads
The mountains appear full of smoke
Dust is flying around seeking relief
Many seek for shade but none found
Oh, ye clouds that look promising
But they pass by
The earth is in thirst
Suffering for the sins of man
But for those which seek
Beyond their horizon
The living water is found within
Springing forth new life
No longer seeking outwardly
But inwardly to manifest
The Lord's unseen fountain
That is in our midst
Producing fruit of the spirit
“In that day the mountains will drip new wine, and the hills will flow with milk; all the ravines of Judah will run with water. A fountain will flow out of the Lord’s house and will water the valley of acacias.
Joel 3:18 NIV
“On that day a fountain will be opened to the house of David and the inhabitants of Jerusalem, to cleanse them from sin and impurity.
Zechariah 13:1 NIV
Whoever believes in me, as Scripture has said, rivers of living water will flow from within them.”
John 7:38 NIV
About poetry,
There is nothing magical.
There is nothing mysterious.
There is nothing theoretical.
But for every rhythm there's a reason.
There is indeed poetic times and seasons.
There is an ebb and flow, a stop and go.
Does poetry not flow out of the deep portals?
Is there not a kind of rhythm embedded in poetry?
Poetry is an outlet for the river flow, the river
of life that gushes forth like white water rapids.
Like a river, poetic words have a source from which
They run, giving fresh life to everything in its path.
Like the mighty Mississippi, sometimes low and other
times an overflow, but she's ever rushing to the sea.
God feeds our innermost being with inspiration from
myriads of sources, and it is vital that we keep tuned
to the rhythm of the poetry that flows ever so unceasingly.
042923PSCtest.Sotto Poet
UP TO 20 LINES. 3P
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