Long Unreachable Poems
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The longer you run, the more they chase.
At least, that’s what they told me.
And I complied.
Because that’s what women like me do.
When your own heart seems to fade, you run.
You run, so the heart remembers its own existence.
You run, so the heart remembers to beat.
And I ran.
I ran until my lungs threatened to ghost me.
How ironic.
I ran until my limbs dragged on like lead in the ruins of my own angst.
I ran until my bones shook with the force of my sheer will to outrun my very own shadow.
And suddenly,
Attention.
The men piled up like bedsheets on a laundry day.
Each one treating me like a conquest for their own egos.
But I seem to have forgotten how to stop.
I run and I push.
I run and I slam doors.
I run and I’m labelled.
Untouchable.
Yet at the end of the day, all I am is untranslatable.
Unreachable.
Unattainable.
I was told the more you run, the more they chase.
When all it does is amplify your bone-rotting solitude.
STILLNESS OF THE NIGHT
In the stillness of the night, my mind races like a mad
woman, all these thoughts running, rambling in my head.
I find sleep so elusive, aloof and distant and no matter how
I try, it is unreachable that I pray and pray to quiet my mind.
In the stillness of the night, in its darkness and quietness,
I don’t move, don’t make a sound and yet, find my mind
restless, wandering from one thought to another, unable
to silence, empty it for hours… only then I reach stillness.
10/31/21 "S" Contest, New Poems Poetry
Constance La France
Theme: #3 - Stillness
Adrift
upon the vagaries of life.
I have sailed this sea
prayed for a hint of breeze
a whisper of hope
a passing cloud’s shadow
run through the troughs
of crested confusion
withstood the fury
of its nameless demons.
Sailed –
toward an unreachable sunset
growing ever nearer
run full sail at sunrise
fleeing the darkness
sat - becalmed
deafened by the silence
shouted into the emptiness
of doubt.
Mended
tattered canvas,
caulked with dusty rope
aging cracks of voyage
tarred and oiled
split and cracking masts
held pains polished
rudder wheel.
Set sail
into the darkened sky
seeking passage
through the jagged rips
for storms will rage
a failing fury spent
as sailors sail
into a future’s end.
John G. Lawless
10/8/2015
The whirlpool stars of the Milky Way appeared when she was feeling grey.
Mother-of-pearl constellations shimmered across her skin in the candlelight.
Saturn’s red rings spiraled wildly at her climax—
A solar flare unleashed in breathless surrender.
Turquoise desire bled into solemn greys,
And those greys married verdant dreams, swirling in slow motion.
To gaze at her was to weightless drift in a heavenly sky,
A vacation from this unforgiving world.
Her allure was all-encompassing, enchanted and unique,
Spiraling me into a pheromone-induced high
Each time she glided by like moonlight on water.
She was a celestial mesh of chaos and charm
Unreachable, until the universe paused and she murmured, stay.
Under the moonlight, the train whistles like a specter of the night,
Through the veil of silence, carrying stories and secrets of old.
A girl with ebony eyes descends, her heart turned to stone,
In the station of death, where shadows whisper buried secrets.
In that suspended moment, time shatters like crystal,
And her life condenses into a cold blade, deeply embedded.
In the heavy silence, an unseen hand brings the final pain,
While stars shed silver tears over the faded blood.
Metaphors are born from her suffering, a poem of parting,
Questions drip onto the cold, mute marble floor.
The girl becomes a myth, a story written in the pages of eternity,
Where magic and melancholy intertwine in the dance of fate.
In the station of death, silence becomes an animal that bites at time,
And the train moves onward, toward unreachable horizons.
Under the starlit sky, the world continues its indifferent journey,
Leaving behind the echo of the girl, a whisper lost in the void.
Only the magic of the night keeps her memory alive and bright,
In a world where no one stopped the train for an embrace.
An endless journey, through shadows and ungrasped lights,
In a universe where destiny and dreams are woven with chosen threads.
When I first met Pater there was something intimidating about him. He was five years older, more accomplished, I was a lowly sophomore undergrad and he was a doctoral candidate - there was an adolescent envy, on my part.
My friends said, "Just text him back!"
He had an out of my league energy. First off, his face in repose looks like a scowl, a younger, chiseled Humphrey Bogart. He seemed like he didn't care if I watched him, so I watched him with his not caring and I remember thinking, 'I want him to care, I’m going to make him care.'
Meanwhile, he says he was watching me - he said I seemed like one of his unreachable galaxies (he's a physicist). He was afraid that I might spin away uncontrollably if touched.
Boy, was he wrong.
Shall we wax poetic?
our minds make other bodies too rich
My purposes were proud
my interpretations poor
his attention a weight heavy on my worth
but my desire was a wolf behowling the moon
his smile seemed as the sun
his frown could set me down sharply
but both were dearest to me
his voice seemed a music to hear
his sighs the most convenient of messengers
giving skills to my weak fumblings
As angels do bless the unworthy
love can break, like sky, through the darkest cloud
to delight, shake the set and unbuckle the meanest of habits.
ps. Cosmic events absolve everyone of responsibility.
.
.
Songs for this:
Slippin' (feat. Meghan Trainor) by Paul Russell
facetime (4g LTE) by Paul Russell & Kuwada
Ever since humans sought the supernatural,
confusion seemed bizarre and hysterical;
within hills and mountains they erected their temples,
sang their praises to appease
their gods, who were thought to be angry at times...
what they were trying to accomplish
was to feel the presence of a spirit which granted their wishes!
How wonderful is the faith of true believers,
and they don't build cathedrals
as far as the unreachable sky;
the God they're searching for..is as close
as the depth of their faithful heart!
How loud are their voices,at sunrise, that ascend
like seagulls...to transform themselves
into a celestial chorus with a crescendo...
that draws them closer to a sky of indigo!
In the streets of this Babylonian craze,
religion is without atonement,
but there's plenty of defiled grace
to be consumed as the exquisitive
food of a privileged banquet...
where a doubter is rediculed by laughs and condemned;
human,human race where does God live?...
And does He approve of your false zest?
How wonderful is the faith of true believers,
clinging to that sublime hope, rising from light,
to reach Heaven without having to go through Hell;
how humble is the aspiration of the true faithful...
not relying on astrology,avoiding all kinds of deceit!
Be watchful and shun pretentiousness...
worship Him truthfully and assert your claim;
nobody but you can decide what's right!
*Inspired by the song: Different Kind Of Tears - By , Sully Erna
__________________________________________________
We all have our own stories
Intertwining on this road through life
Some things understood
Some things, not so much
Oh, how that rain falls
On all of us, during our travel
But, the sun shines on each of our steps
Onward up these hills we climb
Yes, we all have our own stories
Our own hurtful tears to cry
Familiar emptiness knocks on our hearts
Pain that may be deeper, unreachable
But, we all walk on this solid ground
On which our tears do fall
Where we sometimes bury pain
Then lift higher, when it transpires
On this road for ours to share
With scenery changing everywhere
Blessed with love between us
To accept what is not always understood
Yes, we all have our own stories
Written from laughter, tears, smiles and pain
Woven together with our own words
Even with stories not the same in detail
Within you, within me
Like the beating of our hearts,
We breathe, we love, we walk this road
Made of our lives we travel
We reach our hands to each other
At each plateau, a chance to help
Another to see the view, the meaning of our lives
Intricately woven together, in completion, as one
Heidi Sands
11/22/17
In our splendid universe,
there's more than diversity...
undiscovered planets:
like the warm beats of the heart;
huge skies of blue where anyone's
eyes cannot reach their infinity!
There can never be dark days,
and the pure joys of two loyal souls
will only lead to other unknown desires;
what keeps others from reaching this height,
and free themselves from what makes them writhe...
without having to give up anything?
That secret lies mainly with us,
jealously protected, but if curiousity overwhelms them:
we're holding the magic key...
to unlock this amazing mystery!
In our splendid universe,
all the stars take refuge in myriads,
and keep us safe from shadows,
so that we will not know sorrows;
and if the warmest sun shimmers
and breaks trough the darkest clouds,
when another storm threatens its peace,
we'll be assured to behold its magnificence!
Unworthy hearts search for an unreachable God,
but can't find Him where they wish...
until their wait becomes desperation;
why do they fail and turn back to the starting point?
We have that answer with an assurance:
turn away from all those dreadful
things that cause unnecessary pain,
and have a sudden change of heart !
The Lake
I once lived on a serene lake where memories formed so valuable to me.
I could see the mountain across the lake through my living room window.
I would sit on my couch and watch it change color, or from the balcony.
The yard had a private beach with happy moments, laughing, splashing water.
Duck and Loon would swim around it, beaver and muskrat came to visit.
Fish jumped in the air and broke the calm surface with ripples in evening.
The water was clear enough to swim, refreshing on hot days, so welcoming.
Blueberry bushes lined the shore where the water slightly slapped the ground.
Escapes in the boat were the answer to leaving life behind, floating, peacefully.
Safety brought everything into perspective so easily, unreachable, just free.
At this lake, peace flourished through trauma and beauty through pain.
Any tears cried were never vane as they were just part of healing at the lake side.
My refuge it was, as every season unfolded new scenes wrapped in evolving colors.
This lakeside refuge was my home, kept in memories and photographs I keep.
As life moved me forward, from a place full of joy amidst loss and bloomed hope.
Creativity fluent day by day and night by night it rolled on with no end in sight.
This lake brought glorious positive changes in a transforming time of my life
Reflecting back to me, everything I am and everything I can possibly be.
Heidi Sands
11/24/16
*Placed 3rd in Contest: Nostalgia