Long Sands of time Poems
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Life starts out with a slate so clean,
As the sands of time begin with a trickle
It begins with a word and then a wound unseen
More words, then everything turns physical.
As the sands of time begin to flow
A heart begins to bleed
Hanging on to a hope for a better tomorrow
Trying to come to grips, it’s not guaranteed.
As the sands of time begin to pour
The cuts are much too deep
Slicing all the way to the core
Made to feel less than and cheap.
As the sands of time begin to drip
No matter how hard you try to hide
Something inside begins to flip
A part of you has died.
As the sands of time begin to pour
You begin living in reverse
You sit up straight, take a deep breath, and open the door
You take a step, all the things that held you tight begin to disperse.
As the sands of time begin to flow
God had reached down, you began to be healed.
You came to realize that you did grow
Like an onion, layer by layer, you were peeled.
As the sands of time begin to trickle
You are free to be yourself
You have overcome every obstacle
And there, as an open book lay on the shelf,
Pages are clean
A story unwritten
It’s up to you to write the next scene,
Or leave it just sittin.
© Deborah Seale 2024
Lure of mirage
in deranged dunes,
dances in
dandelion rhythm
with oasis dream,
illusion inscribed
in sane sands of time,
sliding continuum
with desiccated travail,
thirst unquenched,
stimulus perpetual.
Dormant despair
usurps harps of hope,
vibrato dissipates
unperceived,
wisdom shroud
unfurls crafty chimera
in life of actuality,
awareness imbibed.
Stifling shadow
of ebony anguish cloud
creeps remorseless,
dissension darkness drips
opaque desolateness
on listless landscape,
mangled in
strife maelstrom,
mind sucked within
hope vortex,
umbrage unushered.
Silver spectrum
of lines transient
in acumen cloud,
splits into colors
of radiant reverie
in optimistic prism.
Convoluted canvas,
carapace conjured
for contorted hideous faces,
turning in a trance
into baroque frescos,
flicker of beauty
sparkles sneaky
in conceived smile.
…beholder, the painter.
~ATLANTIS~ Featuring:) Kelly Deschler
-------
Can't be re-written by the Gods
The land and sands of time'
Destroyed by the fire of Poseidon's curse
Atlantis swallowed by: Earth
--------
In one day and one night
Peaceful existence met its end
Built on a volcano, now surrounded by ancient rippled tears
Lava stripped apart the rich and glorious empire
Enriched by Engineers and Architects whom loved power more than the Gods
Forgotten souls, sheltered by a watery grave
History withheld from shallow sunken memories,
Western sky's hide the truth, a vision from the Pillars of Hercules
"An island situated in front of The Strait of Gibraltar"
Ghostly ruins wait to rise above the Mediterranean and Atlantic Waves
A magical island held down by the hands of death,
~
Atlantis lost city walls ---a secret hidden by mermaids
Partially buried, beneath the ocean floor it lies
The largest sunken treasure never to be found
Magnificent pillars of an imperial palace still stand
Somewhere hidden under ancient sand
Some are leaning against turrets, that toppled after the impact
Nothing human will ever inhabit these walls
No feet will ever touch these staircases, again
Only an eerie silence now resides here, with the blue-green waters
Seaweed grows along it's outer walls, like ivy on a trellis.
Obscuring it even further from the human eye.
~
Other ocean tides will never compare
Tantalizing blend of fantasy and mystery
Stone walls covered with precious gems
-Listen to PLATO'S voice-
"Look close, Look close, into the sea!"
Through the light and Pillars of Hercules
Some where out there buried in the vast
ATLANTIS THE PARADISE
~A Poet Destroyer Collaboration~
Trans Teen Girl, walking through the snow.
Running my hands through my hair, unsatisfied with how it doesn't grow.
And I close my eyes, Trying to wait for a surprise, Though
Nobody understands, I can't be free. Strangers ruin my existence with glee.
Sands of time rubbing raw across my neck, My corpse lie in the garden for nobody wants to check.
Trans Teen Girl, lost and alone,
Even if she can't see it, nobody wants to give her a home.
Ever so naive, The Trans Teen Girl keeps looking and praying for a place to call home.
Nevertheless, she can't see it. She has nobody to claim for her own.
Grains of sand running across her fragile neck,
Individuality causes young women to metaphorically wreck.
Ruining my life by coming out of my shell, Christian priests condemn me to hell.
Laying on the cold white snow, This Trans Teen Girl will never know
Happiness.
SCROLL OF LIFE
Although the light long ago faded from my youth
Clarity of my memories tell one; go home,
If only to find the innocence and the truth
From whence I travelled this world, like a gypsy roam.
When the scroll misconstrued paths collide in the night
Unprepared for the dawning the golden sunrise,
Horizon awakened one of emerald bright
Freeways of poetry and words woven without guise.
The misunderstanding of the unrolling scroll
Gave one measure to digest the loss; the delay,
In sands of time ribald an everlasting toll
The scroll we have a new understanding this day.
The gypsy has finally found himself a home
Through emerald eyes seeing his sunrise; not alone.
© Harry J Horsman & Mandy M Tams 2014
Trudging scorched in the wilderness of desiccated life
in the shifting maze of your deceptive shadow I wander,
enticed, I’m seduced by your flashing face on the mirage,
my broken heart is scattered as debris in your swathe.
I don’t know where I should be going to get belonged,
but try to sense the lure of oasis in your eluding love.
I crumble into drifting dust in the desolate wasteland,
and blow away to obscure horizon in the desert storm.
From the tree of yearning that grew in despondency,
I’m now dislodged and meander as a withered leaf,
rustle with the tormenting tune of melancholic music,
on its journey of despair to the realm of isolation void.
Under the sweltering sun burning the façade of desire,
as I lumber worn out across the dunes of deprivation
with shifting sands of time designing myriad of illusion,
in the fiery flicker of your eyes I see my kryptonite.
September 23, 2021
Contest : Your Kryptonite
Sponsor : Anthony Biaanco
Wen all is said and done !!
Listen the voice of silence ??
As the truth turns into illusion
And our life a bittersweet lie
Our emotions a distorted smile
Of nothing but wasted year
That have been washed away
by the sands of time
Listen to the voice of silence
As Humanity embraces its inner beast
Stick and stone my broke my bones
But words kill
You see the devil will give you so much
Love he will infect With so much affection that you would want to spend
The last day in hell
In a world were purpose is forgotten
We're a man seeks Fame , rather than a good name
We're the is no shame in the process
As long as you get the proceed the end justifies the needs
We have been trained in the art of deceit
We nolonger know how to stand for the truth
Even in death we never speak the truth
I think that's the reason on the grave it's written here He/she liars
We leave in a world were our dreams will find you sleeping planting the hopes our tomorrow
In death beds
Life seems like a prison
My heart is longing for some leisure,so that it can indulge deep ina wide array of hobbies;But just like an hourglassas the sands of timekeep trickling down,I can feelmyselfslip.Still,I mustendeavorto manage timeand pursue my likes;Because, life, after all,is not a nonet - that canjust be reversed to make more time-Where there is a will, there is a way.
I talk to the sky, but the sky is empty
I tread the path, yet it twists and turns,
Seeking solace from the wreckage of shattered dreams,
Is there no one to be my anchor in this tempestuous sea?
I talk to the sky, but the sky is empty,
Empty,
Empty.
Will no one stay the course?
An anchor in the stormy ocean,
A tranquil shore with my name etched in the sands of time,
I have witnessed the rain,
Hissing as it strikes my rusted roof,
Exposing my soul to the elements,
Threatening to wash me away,
Perhaps cleansing my sins first.
I converse with the birds, but they echo only despair,
Like Persephone, bound to her fate,
I speak to the spiders,
But they weave webs of deceit,
Paranoia creeps,
Seeping into the madness within,
Ever-present, like a beast lurking in the shadows.
Will no one stay the course?
My mind is no plaything,
My heart not a carnival ride,
Yet I have been toyed with,
Breaking all the rules,
Lost at the crossroads of destiny.
I walk the path, but it is never smooth,
Addicted to the chemicals in my brain,
Though they are the source of my torment,
Like the hunchback in his bell tower,
Deformed by the weight of the world,
Crushed by the pressure of my own mind.
My mind is no plaything,
my heart not a carnival ride.
Will no one stay the course,
Be the voice from the heavens,
To assure me I will not sail the sea of destiny alone?
I talk to the sky, but the sky is empty,
empty,
empty.
"recently scenes of early life have stolen into my mind, like breezes blown"...Quote by - Samuel Taylor Coleridge ( from his writings)
From the yonder hazy horizon, the hills blue
undulated down the emerald landscape
in rhapsodic rhythmic waves rolling in view.
Its contours carved for my hamlet its shape,
where once was cradled my endearing home,
in the bounty of beguiling nature I was agape.
The fairy flotilla of cotton clouds would roam,
making pristine celestial scene soaring high
upon the curved canvas of the cerulean dome.
With the wind whistling across the azure sky,
my childhood joy soared to a great height
with the colorful kites I loved so much to fly.
A silvery stream glided with sparkling delight,
surging with the glistening charm of liquid pearl,
flowed with the flamboyant facade so bright.
On its rippling water outside the gentle whirl,
I sailed paper boats tinged with colors of rainbow.
I saw these glide wobbling in the current’s curl.
On these to a distant fantasy land I didn’t know,
but imagined immersed within teenage dream,
my unbound mariner mind would someday go.
The boats and kites from obscurity I can’t redeem,
for with the receding ebb the sands of time flee
beyond the horizon sinking with the sunset gleam.
Those childhood moments have deserted me,
in twilight hours the child within me I still see.
________________
October 2, 2022
Contest : Writing Challenge-Past Memories-"T" Forms
Sponsored by : Constance La France