Long More and more Poems
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first love's false flame burned way too hot
and left me nothing but the want
for fiery passion to remain
to keep me bound in love's pleasure-pain
like chasing an addiction high
more and more but always just shy
I find that I am in a cage
I have lost this ancient war you waged
so injured, I then licked my wounds
to passions heat I am immune
all warmth leaked out with your goodbye
too frozen to fall, the tears I cry
I can still feel that dizzy spin
the world revolved around you then
I feel so lost all just a blur
I did not see the black hole you were
yes, my whole world revolved ‘round you
you weren't the sun that I pursue
I guess I had my eyes shut tight
and did not see your dark heart of night
the warmth I felt upon my face
was not the sun but my disgrace
thank God your gone and He forgives
and true love, so warm, inside me lives
Scribbled thoughts so blue
Rummaging through old boxes that have been ignored, stored away from today that belong to our past. My scribbled thoughts across the tattered pages.
My mind construes, weeping out of my heart back then, I can’t pretend that we still live like that today.
Constantly pleading to be closer to you, Yet you keep at an arm’s reach. I keep coming back for more and more. Just to get ignored. Now I don’t even cry. We haven’t changed – not you not I.
Scribbled thoughts so blue
Now our sons are caught in your blindside, shielding them from your love too. Reassuring them their father loves them is something I wish never had to do.
Loving you isn’t easy, when it feels like this isn’t where you want to be but unconditional is what we vowed to do.
I’ve felt like a single mom for so long, independent and strong . Our youngest will soon be gone and once again no bond.
My very being is still longing for what I wanted way back then scribbled on those tattered pages in pen.
Wanting to be the first thought on your mind, enjoying each other side by side participating in the life we have built. As the scribbled words scream out this is a convenient place to stay.
Our lives drifted apart, perched on your tobacco leather throne reclined escaping into your TV zone.
As the frayed edges lay across my ring, tear filled eyes scanning the time lapse gallery displayed on the walls, searching for you - non-existent; that’s you.
Scribbled thoughts so blue
The boys have brought me so much joy!
People would always ask “where their dad is at? “. Making up excuses I hated the lies; I could see the hurt in your own parent’s eyes.
I Pray to God for patience to help me to hold on. You are not a bad man. But it’s time to think about me.
Cautiously at the crossroad I stand still waiting for God to give me some guidance as to His will.
I know God loves me and that should be enough. I want to share the rest of my life with you unconditional is what we vowed to do.
The blue ink starts to bleed through the tattered pages as tears stream down praying to the good Lord what to do?
Scribbled thoughts so blue
Form:
Poetry is dead
We’ve had a good life together, but all things end.
I know I couldn’t be, but I tried to be your friend.
All the thoughts that I had in my mixed up head,
They are yours to keep now. Poetry is dead.
Nothing left for you to criticize.
Watch me smile as you question my lies.
Give it time and the fire inside will die.
The light is fading, more and more, all the while.
Passion is gone, because love is a bore.
I believed more than you ever did, but no more.
The time has come, this love is done.
I can no longer run and catch the sun in my dirty hands anymore;
Because I am so bored and high flying birds do nothing but fall.
Standing before a ten foot brick wall,
With no will left to break through an imaginary door.
It does not exist, because I am not a kid;
I do not write it, so it does not exist.
I no longer open my mind to doors.
You walk through me like I used to matter, once.
Red light, stop sign, dead end view.
Words are done, give me a gun,
Are you sure this love is bullet proof?
What does a green and black cat in a dream mean?
I was at work at the electrical shop and all the while I was sleeping.
We were having a meeting and the cat sat on my lap
And while they talked and talked, the cat was suddenly gone,
And that was that…
(C)2018 Aa Harvey. All Rights Reserved.
"Life is about moments: Grasp
them when they drift your way."
Quote by _ Constance
I was attending a party on a sleek yacht one evening. The music was playing,
the booze flowing, laughter filled the night, some folks were dancing, others
just lounging on deck chairs. I was leaning against the rail talking to a man.
He was handsome and interesting .... when suddenly, the yacht jerked and I
was falling through the air. I landed with a splash into the ocean. The cold overwhelming me and for a moment I was still, next, I was with someone as
the man I had been talking to jumped in to save me and had brought with him
life jackets. We held each other as great waves crashed the yacht slipping
into the ocean. We began to swim fast to avoid going under, we swam and
swam, only pausing to rest and look up at the sky.
the bright star glittered
in the dark velvety sky ...
and the ocean roared
With the waves and wind pushing us we gained distance from the yacht, in fact we could not see it anymore. We alternated swimming and resting and I guess that I fell asleep because when I woke we were on a wild tropical island.
I have never seen anything so lush and beautiful, and the sounds of animals
were haunting. I was not afraid yet, it did not occur to me that we were lost.
But, suddenly I recall deep blue eyes looking down at me with worry in them.
Swirling around I found him standing scanning the ocean.
the waves were crashing
rolling onto the sand beach ...
roaring endlessly
Days turned into weeks, and months. We had become quite skilled at this
survival thing, we had shelter, fire, and blue eyes was great at fishing while
I foraged for wild plants we could eat, each day passed I loved him more and more, a part of me wanted to stay on this tropical island forever with him. But,
one day we were rescued, I stood looking as our island retreated with a deep
sadness, I had been happy with him. Then, he had me in his arms, kissing
my tears away and whispered, will you marry me, yes was my quick answer.
the breeze was gentle
and birds were singing in trees ...
as two love birds wed
The rumbling and shovelling
Pandemonium and desecration
The killings and maiming of souls
Boko harambee, the harem of
murderers
The genie let loose, murder
incorporated,
Unlicensed to kill
It's the wild! wild!! North on
the brink!
The north overrun
The hounds on the run
The hunt only just began.
Boko haram has taken the
center stage
The grave is filling, yet it takes
more and more dead.
It's the Wild! Wild!! North on
the brink.
(Written on the 2nd May, 2015)
N.B. presently Boko haram, Killer herdsmen, bandits, kidnappers and others have overran Nigeria and overwhelming the Security forces.
Faintness may give the impression of fading separation.
An art lesson for a seeker. The seeker will then
point to what remains, when fading ends, as the recognition
sought..formlessness pointing to nothing. Or the seeker
might see the faintness as increasing separation. Nothing
appearing more and more distinct and definitional. Both
processes are, however, quite enticing, but futile. Liberation
is the end of process with this spontaneous appearance,
which resists any and all definition..but may include
the processes and enticements suggested by artful faintness.
I’ve loved and I’ve been hurt.
I want love, but I’m scared to start over.
Is it possible? Do you really think this is gonna work?
Is it based on luck? Should I look for a four leaf clover?
Can I avoid the same pain I’ve felt before?
With love, must I always get hurt?
Is this way too much? The genuine love, that I’m looking for?
I’m tired of always being on my toes, always having to stay alert.
Maybe I’m being too forward, but I’ll say it anyway.
From the moment we first spoke, I think I already knew.
I like you, more and more every day.
I want with you, a love that’s completely brand new.
Maybe you’ll promise me that you’ll never hurt me,
And my heart will believe you.
My mind will know hurt is still a possibility
Maybe you know that too.
When you tell me your “feelings”
Those damn butterflies in my stomach do nothing but flutter.
And You might not know this, but when you say those sweet things,
Oh man, my body it melts real quick like butter.
I want you, I want you to be all mine.
I never want this feeling to end.
I want you by my side all the time.
I hope that all of this isn’t just pretend.
I want this to be something real.
And I won’t let this die like the love I’ve felt for others.
I want it all to be true, Everything you tell me you feel.
I can love you more than your own mother.
So, I’m going to give this a try.
And I pray it doesn’t all end up a lie.
Sense surreal fragment of long-lost ancient voice
Song of long ago in ethereal twilight glow,
Strains of fireside echoes dancing in sure poise.
Strange yet familiar faces in blurry show,
Haunting yet taunting tune in quaint rhapsody,
Crackling fireside whisperings in eerie flow.
Voices in the darkness hum bleak melody,
This twilight expose feeds thoughts disturbing,
Old souls from yonder times muttering plainly.
Potent vibrations stranded here lingering,
Feel the sad melancholy in windy strains,
Echoes of strange voices swirl around struggling.
So many souls in stifling surge of sure pain,
Listen to the wind borne tale and tragedy,
More and more the cacophony screams most plain.
Lingering weird dream fragment now confronts me,
Am I in a dream within a dream set free?
Leon Enriquez
20 Mar 2014
Singapore
The more I observe butterflies in our garden…the more about their beauty I’m in awe…because in every butterfly, if you look closely, you can find a flaw.
Examine them when they visit in the Summer…in the Spring…
you might see a faded color, a crooked foot…a broken wing.
Perhaps realizing their life span is so momentary…so transient…so brief…
they won’t let a little flaw deter them from flying leaf to leaf.
They know to live a happy life…they must challenge themselves…they must compete..
They know if they can reach the flower…they’re in for something sweet.
It occurs to me a little more and more as each day goes by
how much we have in common…with the common butterfly.
How each of us is beautiful…with a beauty to be awed…
and how, when you get close enough to see…each one of us is flawed.
But knowing we’re here for a short time…knowing our time is brief…
we won’t let our flaws deter us from flying leaf to leaf.
Yes, you find those of us whose colors have faded…who have a broken wing…
when given the opportunity have the ability to sing.
And those of us with crooked feet…when we’re given half a chance…
will amaze and will astound you with how beautifully we dance.
When we look past our flaws…we look to the sky
and with a little encouragement…and a little love
there is no limit to how high we’re going to fly.
I once played high school football…I even wrestled on their mat
but I was never a first class athlete…and I am comfortable with that.
My exploits in both fields will never be well known
but when it came to sports in general…I like to think I held my own.
Which is why when Deborah suggested we go bowling…
when she initially planted the seed
I thought, I’m coordinated enough at 66, and enthusiastically agreed.
And despite the fact we hadn’t been bowling since 1989
I thought, given my confidence and physical ability, I was going to shine.
I know I’m not as strong as I used to be, but after tying up my shoes
most balls were much too heavy…so I chose one the children use.
“Isn’t that ball a little light?” Deborah asked, (what was that a psyche?)
I ignored her veiled rebuke and concentrated on my strike.
My feet were planted, I lined it up and was mystified and appalled
when my first roll of my first frame became a gutter ball.
My confidence was quickly waning
I wondered: Is this what the bowling Gods have wrought?
“I think you want to knock the pins down?” Deborah smirked
as I lined up my second shot.
It seemed my brain and arms were at odds with one another
they weren’t working together at all
and when I rolled my second shot…
another gutter ball.
I improved and was eventually satisfied with my result…
although I found it hard to gauge.
Is it golf or is it bowling where it’s good to score your age?
No matter…I got a little better as each game did unfold
and here is what I learned the more and more we bowled:
I may not be the greatest athlete…no crowds…no adulation
but I still can have a lot of fun…once I accept my limitations.
And when Deborah asked, “Will we be back?” I said, “Of course we would.
We may never be great bowlers…but we make these shoes look good!”