Move Into Poems | Examples

Horror Poem Number One

Driving down the black tongue
Of the desert highway
Mirages rise
Like pools of water on the highway
Reflecting even the sky beneath

 Suddenly, a darkness arises
A flatness on the pale horizon;
There is no time or purpose to slow down -
It rises, and engulphes the world 

We move into it
And it

Getting better

It's amazing how much I thought I had healed.
I thought I found safety and happiness,
That I was moving past all the hurt from before.
But it just snuck it's way into this home.
Until every corner was wallpapered in hurt. 
Until entering every room felt like walking onto the firing line.
"In the kitchen watch for him throwing dishes, 
In the hallway he'll push you down or throw boots at you. 
He'll kick the bathroom door down if you lock it but you can hide in the shower at his mom's house because he won't kick her door down.
Avoid the bedroom while he's awake at all costs".
I thought I had gotten better.
That he'd bring me safety.
I thought HE had gotten better.
But I plan my exits in every home we move into,
I try not to let him in-between the door and I,
So I can run when he decides he's angry.
I didn't do anything to deserve this sh*t.
I am kind.
I know I am.
I always try to be, at least. 
But he tries to hurt me.
And I try to make peace. 
I get it now.
Things aren't better.
And it wasn't because of me.

A haunting

You’re in your spot again tonight. Although I can’t see you I know you’re there. A cold spot existing near naked firelight, I suppose it’d matter if I actually cared.

Perhaps you blame me for being born. Perhaps I could be wrong. But either way if the intention is to fright you’ll be hanging around so very long! 

I’d encourage you to move into the light. Don’t wait until I’m done. There must be something better on the other side, find peace and move along.

But, I see you in your spot again tonight! I suppose I should have known. But know that even when I die, you’ll be standing there alone.

Conjunctions

We must have
looked through the same window.
Though we had yet to meet
an image developed
a reality fleshed out
an inevitable coincidence
began to move into place.
Until (only yesterday)
the camera
became a second window for us.
There is a real photograph now-
we are looking into the lens
as if we had always known.

the worst of cures

The worst of cures

He had bought a flat in a new apartment bloc still not ready for the buyers, but since it was Sunday, he drove to the building to have a look risky surgery and worried he might live long enough to move into his new home in time
A lift had been installed took it up to the seventh floor, flat looked roomy although it had no floor or windows there was a terrace without railing on the terrace he took in the view, could see the bay and the ocean, the sun warmed his face 
Suddenly, he burped, had a blob of something foul in his mouth which spat out in disgust, saw it make a splash on the asphalt that turned green where the blob landed, this caused him to lose balance and without a railing a fatal fall
The obduction showed his body was cancer free

the pay back

The pay back 

The Adelsons, a rich Jewish family in the USA
Gave millions of dollars to Trump with the understanding of let Israelis move into the West Bank as we see the IDF are moving in there 
Killing many, trying to dislodge the Palestinians
It appears what the failed to do in Gaza
The military are now brutalizing the local people, which is against the law, that as we know Israel does not respect

Ocean or Tears?

I've heard of the term dry drowning
But I never believed I could
Yet today is the day I'm left frowning
Because the person I thought could never leave would

So as the salt stains my face I wonder
Was this a result of my blunder?
Is this the ocean or tears?
This would be one of my worst fears.

To see the day my closest friend, who I would consider a sister
Could so easily up and leave as to no trace
the feeling is rather bitter

So as the salt stains my face...
Is this the ocean mist?
Or is this the repercussions of the words you've hissed.

As you continue your daily life
Know I am always on your side
Even if you make me cry.
Or even make me dive-
Into a world, full of thoughts
All these feelings I know you've brought

So as the salt stains my face.
I realize it was never my place...
We'll never move into our 2-bedroom dorm
Or get to dance in a thunderstorm.

We'll never travel around the world
Or be able to get our hair curled-
By one another for our wedding
And that is what I'm really dreading.

So as the salt stains my face
I knew it was never the ocean to take the place
Of the tears that stained my face.

GRADUATE

Graduate to a higher framework of thinking.
Move into the Upper Class of the Divine.
Life is not narrow, restrictive or limiting,
It's all in your state of Mind.

Guard carefully your thoughts and emotions.
Sift them for the brightest nuggets of gold.
Glean the best and most perfect image
Of your Highest good that you can hold.

Then, let it shine in each moment and hour.
Fight yourself to save your own Soul.
You hold the key to your future and destiny.
Open your eyes to watch eternity unfold.

You are more powerful than you know;
more capable than you can believe.
Life unfolds moment by moment; breath by breath.
Graduate to a higher Understanding; 
Finally, set your Mind and Spirit free.

Chula Fleming Copyright Sept 5, 1997

It's a Langston Hughes kind of day

It's a Langston Hughes kind of day 
filled with dutiful hints of Robert frost 
within the sudden humor and vague 
eccentricity of Ernest hemmingway 
the quiet freedom of Nikki Giovanni 
with a cunning soul shaking enlightment 
of Maya Angelo tinged with the noble
excitement of John keats as the clouds 
move into this rapture an intriguing sheer 
fondness of William butler Yeats while 
the soft dem lights over the lake hits 
my minds eye just so as I'm quite 
taken by the sinking thoughts of 
Virginia woolf beckoning my innermost 
calm peeking through wooden slats 
exposing the granduer of Gwendolyn Brooks 
smile mastering greatness beneath broken 
planks on the sunscreen porches even so 
i dare change a thing about this glorious 
day this Langston Hughes kind of day

Colour blazes out

Spring and Winter are locked in a battle
we know that spring will be triumphant
that in the weeks to come seeds and bulbs
will shoot letting nature's pallet blaze out.

Now things get interesting we can see
what things need to move or be thinned
we adjust until nothing clashes with each other
and get rid of drastically weeds always waiting.

As we move into May the garden is a hive
of activity pollinators hard at work harvesting
making sure that the following year is a blaze
soft yellows blending with the hot scented plants.

As you move round your garden you will see success
but also failures which you alter to fit the map
that lives in your heads now for a short while
you can sit back and drink in the creation you made.

Ruthless

Time is not our master; it's our measure.

I watch the hands that sweep the face,
one second at a time.
While contemplating minutes passed,
they’re silent, as a mime. 

The crawl of time is ruthless, and
considers others not.
Ignores life’s circumstances, plus
inhibits peaceful thought.

The mysteries of time abound.
All secrets so well kept.
I cannot understand its scope,
my reasoning, inept.

Time won’t move fast, it won’t move slow,
so steady is its pace.
Perception’s how it seems to flow,
its dust I can’t erase.

I know not when the clock will halt,
and move no more for me.
But when it does, I'll move into
The Lord’s eternity.

There are no days in God’s domain.
He measures time in love.
My journey ends when I’m secure 
in His sure hands above.

Small Yellow House

I look out the window at the tree
in the back yard next door
just behind a small yellow house.
Its crown is still green, but I 
know leaves will fall. 

A dump truck
with a flashing yellow strobe
crawls along the side street
as a city worker looks
for cracks in the asphalt.

And the neighbor’s pickup
has been gone since last week.
He said in passing one day
he didn’t know if his lease
would be renewed.

I figure that’s the way it is—
people move into the house
and are gone before I have
the chance to know them
as they grow into their lives.

And the city—
it is living and dying
even now, forty years after
the tractor factory closed.

Locals in the neighborhood
bar downtown still gather
watch football or baseball
and commiserate—
but even someone new
is greeted as a friend. 

And I’m back in town
to stay after four years
of working with construction
crews in five different states.

Two darkened windows 
of the quiet house gaze
across the front yard, ghosting
the lives of those who have
come and gone.

Socks

Conceived of wool and birthed Siamese
In grand factories by hands unheard.
My socks move into separate drawers
Like orphaned siblings.

Soon
Each of my six pairs are strangers
that move in perfect lockstep
inside loafers in offices, brogues in churches and Chucks in clubs.
Then—

For nights’ sakes, on the floor;
Rolled rainbows of imperfect donuts.
Who thinks of unmatched socks 
while he sucks in his gut to be a body stacked atop another,
to love?

The Missing

The sun now stalls
halfway up its climb
and skims a course
barely above the trees.
The swallows have gone.

Spaces once filled
with brightly coloured wings
and crawling things
are now empty. 
What is missing
has hollowed out
the day and left nothing
but vacated shells 
and casings hanging 
like trophies 
on abandoned webs.
An absence has taken hold.
You move into the gaps
left by others, make trinkets 
of ice to hang on branches
that have lost their leaves.

Every winter
is the same, has you
gathering what remains
of yourself, trying to fill
the spaces left 
by what is missing,
knowing you can't,
and never will
as each winter passes
you lose a little more
of yourself until, one day,
there will be nothing left
and you will become 
the thing that is missing.

The Bliss of Solitude

In life’s incessant din
As I search for peace within
Lone spaces I desire
And stillness I adore
Then silence is my mate
And noise is what I hate

Closing my eyes to the outer space
A window opens to my inner space
I begin to find solace in my solitude
And look up to Heaven in gratitude

Enriched with visions pleasurable
I enter into a realm so delectable
The vault of Heaven gemmed and bright
And the Earth and sea overwhelmed in light
The disquiet within me subsides
An unassailable calm slowly descends

I hear a caring voice from somewhere 
A faint voice quite reassuring, so near
Then within me the Wider Life emerges
And the lesser life finally submerges
I experience what is true peace and content
And I am so sure it is heaven sent

Oh! What solace is in my solitude!
And how I move into near beatitude!

Jan.31.2023


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