Long Filling my lungs Poems
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What is despair if not for love, what is this air if not her scent.
What crimes we commit for such an affair, what dangers we live to find someone so rare.
I speak a prayer but to god it is not, I look and stare into a mortal of goddess proportions.
If she hears me now or hears me there, if she takes my words I do not care.
I do ask a question and leave it there, do you think this world to have been cruel and unfair?
To have sat upon the chair and dinned at the table, that glorious feast where we taste love.
But alas to have only dined once and in our dreams and not elsewhere, to have touched only in voice and upon our bodies nowhere.
Is this fair or is this love, is love not fair and in being so the only one true love affair we have.
What is her scent filling my lungs if not the air, and what is love if not despair.
Serenity.
Lingering alone on my porch,
leaning against the wooden railing.
Still feeling warm to the touch,
after retaining the heat from the day.
On a June evening,
after the sun had gone down,
just below the horizon.
The silhouette of the darkening tree-line,
contrasting with the light still remaining
in the yellow-white sky,
and streaked with lavender-blue clouds.
Barely warm,
but with a slightly, cool breeze,
blowing around my body.
Tickling my bare feet and my bare arms,
and caressing my face.
Gently flowing it's invisible fingers through my long, golden-brown hair.
The essence of the roses,
now peacefully asleep in the garden,
mingle with the scent
of damp, green grass and the fresh, clear air.
Filling my lungs to capacity,
when I close my eyes, and breathe in deeply.
Exhilarating my senses.
I hear no sound,
except for a few birds singing somewhere off in the distance.
The chirping of one lonely cricket,
just awakening in the early dusk.
And, the heavenly melody
played upon the wind-chimes,
by a most talented breeze.
Serenity.
Crystalline floe’s fade in the amber glow;
shadows chill the foliage to white crystals
I cast my eyes to the orange and lavender sky
and breathe in the frosty splendor of the
snowy mountains silent facade.
A lone doe stands watching the river,
hoping perhaps for a drink of the thawing
aqua; I breathe in the scent of snow-laden
evergreens’ breath, filling my lungs.
In winter, the river is untainted,
as the crisp cleansing of the seasons’
frigidness will give birth to new beginnings;
I contemplate and revel in the
majesty of upcoming new births.
3-10-2021
CONTEMPLATION Poetry Contest
craig cornish
On this day, hummingbird's and cardinal's are signing aloud, flying all around me setting sail with a fall breeze filling my lungs full of fresh air. The cat's and dog's are all out relaxing and running all around the city with the children playing in the backyards with dad grilling, mom's in the kitchen preparing dessert and many great dishes for the wonderful day ahead with thoughts and feelings each step through. Now setting table with family and friends, enjoying and dining singing songs of praise like the bird's and bee's, flowers and tree's calling it in all prepared for the next day too come family reunion.
Walking along a path through forest’s green,
a clear running stream where I can fish.
A porch swing to sit and watch nature’s scene,
that is the heart of my Missouri wish.
Strolling through a tinted meadow at dawn,
the smell of wildflowers tickling my nose.
Black-eyed Susan, Blue Stem, Prairie Clover,
bright Coneflowers, Columbines, and Primrose.
Filling my lungs with the syrup of life,
spying the sun glinting between swaying leaves.
Hearing the melody of a robin’s song,
as it drifts upon a soft summer’s breeze.
Feel the glory of a morning’s sunrise,
as it fills the sky with a promised day.
Wonder at the beauty of sunset’s glow,
sleep sound and dream as worries drift away.
Stand in silence atop a grassy hill,
soaking in all that nature has to give.
Gaze across the beauty of God’s workshop,
knowing this is the Missouri way to live.
The sound of your voice interrupts my thoughts
glancing up to see your smiling face
a smile not meant for me but the person you think I am
the person who can smile and laugh
the person that made you fall in love
my recent past bleeding through my vulnerable state
seeing it written on my face and wanting to help
nothing for you to do
you sit and watch that same smile on your face
haunting me with every turn trying to pull me back
only to push me away into the darkness that calls to me
dragging me down into the ragging waters
filling my lungs choking on everything I remember
only your smiling face reminding me that I cannot smile
that I will never be happy again
white foam builds on the edge of the sand
slowly washing away our footprints
the clouds roll in thick and heavy like wool
the rain starts pouring
drowning the hearts we drew just moments before
the waves grow tall like mountains crawling on water
darkening, swirling thrashing, dense; thrashing and ripping through the beams of the boardwalk
all at once.
wind racing through my hair
leaves dancing at my feet
I turn around
empty.
there's no one
nothing.
not a soul.
not a breath.
not even mine.
my lungs burn.
my legs vibrate.
my throat throbbing.
visions blurring.
ears ringing.
there's not a single bit of air left in the world is there?
my hands tingle: traces of you still lingering
comforting me in the midst of the cold
I can smell your musk.
I can hear your heartbeat outside of your body.
its fast.
its angry.
every breath i take feels like eternal flames have replaced the oxygen around me.
your eyes are dark and heavy like lead.
mine dart back and forth searching for something.
anything.
some sort of comfort.
but I'm lost at sea point nemo.
lost in the journey between filling my lungs and finding my hands.
funny enough when I do, they're in yours
like a lightkeeper spotting a boat stray on the growling hungry water.
you see the paleness that stole my complexion like a poor thief;
the sweat pooling in my palms and my eyes draining like someone pulled the plug on life.
your calm.
goosebumps mesh with my clothes and the sun falls from behind the clouds.
the sky a gleaming blue.
the sand is warm like knitted blankets across my feet.
my stomach unties the boy scout knots it threw itself into.
my arms and your body like magnets
I don't understand but I was never looking for understanding.
I just wanted it to stop.
where'd the storm go?
the world was just crashing moments ago
yet you seemed to pick it all up and placed each piece as precisely as it was before.
maybe the only air left comes from your mouth leaving me colliding begging for more.
.
O fall, let this lore of love be the last.
Let the amber rot of the season claim everything
I ever thought I owed to human breath.
Let the leaves of your soul -
weightless, luminous,
ready to unbind from the branch, -
speak directly to the scars carved into your flesh.
I am stepping out of the skin that belonged to them all.
No more bracing for the quiet violence of human eyes
whose enamored love was laced with blight.
Give me the vast, unwritten ache of the open earth.
Give me the sharp, electric bite of frost on bare ankles
as I break into a run across an endless expanse -
fields unmarred by fence lines,
surrendering fully to the absolute air.
I want to feel the raw, unfiltered press of the wind
filling my lungs like a newly discovered ocean.
A suffocation so absolute
it bears no wish to destroy me,
only declare that I am alive entirely on my own terms.
Let the tall, golden grasses whip against my legs,
leaving clean, glowing streaks that belong only to the wild.
Let the sky press its infinite blue against my shoulders,
anchoring me until my breath is claimed by no one but myself.
Let the wild creatures run beside me.
In their eyes, there is only the untamed, uncomplicated present.
They move by instinct and grace,
pure,
blameless,
and whole.
To run among beings who exist simply to exist
is to remember the original rhythm of my own heart.
I want to rest my hand against the rough fur of a roaming hound,
to feel the steady, triumphant thump of a heart that asks nothing of me,
that sees no flesh to carve,
only a fellow creature breathing under the same cold sun.
I am weaving myself back together now
with delicate threads pulled from my own fragile shell.
I will court my own joy.
I will master the sublime art of loving myself
until the light begins in my own center
and illuminates every step I take across this new expanse.
I am my own land, my own wilderness, my own salvation.
The autumn leaves fall, and as they reach the soil,
I leap above their golden drift,
and I run.
Unchained. Unbounded. Finally, gloriously free.
Filling my lungs with my first breath
starts the cycle of birth and death.
And startled by life's rakish sounds,
my beating heart rapidly pounds.
A cool breeze evokes such pleasure
it's impossible to measure.
And yet, my gaze goes unbroken;
my astonishment unspoken.
Feelings and sensations abound
within the world that I've just found.
And upon opening my eyes,
anxiety fuels my cries.
Hushed by the sweetest sound I know,
my tears slow to a trickling flow.
For I'd heard that voice in the womb,
chiding me as I kicked for room.
The voice of my mother, to me,
is a source of comfort, you see.
So, I close my droopy lids tight,
yawn, and chase sleep into the night.
Leaning On a Stone
I was afraid of gaining weight, so I kept on puffing my cigarettes. Filling my lungs, holding that drag as long as I could. I liked that feeling deep in my chest. When I breathed out through my nose, I looked like a smokey dragon. The long silver hair that framed my face, added to the overall effect.
I wasn’t much for them warning signs on the pack. It’s a free country, ain’t it? So I kept my cigarettes in a silver plated case. Kinda looked good with my sterling Zippo. You wouldn’t often see me without a Matinee cigarette hanging from my lip or between my thumb and forefinger.
I loved me them Matinee Large Regulars. When I got a cold I’d sometimes smoke those Mentholated Cools. They kinda soothed my throat. If the cash was rolling in I’d treat myself to a good cigar. I tried a pipe for a while but it was too much of a ritual for this guy. My pops had that vibe in spades. He looked good with his pipe and fedora.
When I started losing a bunch of weight I was a bit concerned. I thought it couldn’t be the cigarettes, I had cut down to two packs a day. Ya, I did have that persistent cough,
even the mentholated Cools didn’t seem to help.
Now it seems the smoke goes straight through me. Taking a drag is a drag. I look like the skull on the pack now. My silver hair is long gone. This dragon ain’t so fierce anymore. But, if you need a skeleton for your next party, I’m your guy. I look cool leaning against a Tomb Stone. Remember though, I’m partial to Matinee Large Regular.