Hypothesis:
What is an ego anyways
Are we born with it
And from the moment we have the willpower
we’re tasked with muting it
Or does it grow from experiences of rejection
Fed by whom?
Is it intrinsically preserving,
Extrinsically repelling…
For the sake of avoiding philosophical debate
Let’s say we have an agreed upon theory
Experiment:
I’d like to think my ego dissolved
The moment my mother dropped me
From her arms before I ever had a chance to challenge Piaget’s concept of object permanence
And when I plummeted to reality
I landed upon the selfless idea
That if their need for affirmation
Could supersede my need for survival
Then I could keep from ever falling so tragically again
Analysis:
And though ego death happens in silence
It’s showboating that sustains ego life
Suppose one without the death
could never question their impulses.
Without an initial fall
The ego can’t even see it’s own reflection
Muting of mums, yet rainbow’s nigh.
Memory clouds don’t often lie.
Darkened skies of treetops. One drop.
Subdued arcs in photo workshop.
Release of the silver lining.
The truth of matters reclining.
Facts are not new violets in rain.
Kissing splotched photo, without brain.
Virga won’t release history.
Weather remains a mystery.
Slight chance of weeping; willows fade.
Jellyfish don’t reach hunter’s blade.
I see, I know truths vary
I feel, it all is complex
to love, to be loved
trust, to be trusted
to know attachments
knowing to detach
know sorrows of death
to know life's pleasures
I see, I know truths vary
I feel, it all is complex
soul, a tethered calf
bleating tested truth
unfeasible. Oh!
most times muting gut
I walk through mirage-
in false courage, pride
I let myself through, dearly
The Door of Uncertainty
Burning sun departing
ember of its fire
graying
as autumn leaves
spent
and blown by wind
of confusion
obscuring clarity of truth
opacifying colors
muting sounds
masking fragrance
boredom of night
broken
by lumens
on windowsill of sky
waning moonlight
flickering of stars
as tremor of aging
before darkness of soul
without life
angels of night
raising gaze to Light
beyond the lights
inviting a return
to the Sun fire
burning stubble of fear
with peace and
hope
of a better tomorrow
coloring soul
with graces
dancing with joy
at the music
of daylight
Love
Second Place Winner-Brian Strand: Only Feb 2025 Posted-2/13
The cloak of Night suppresses sounds;
all, but the faint beat of my heart.
Zoning out of reality,
I shelter in Night's quietude.
Muting the Day's cacophony,
the cloak of Night suppresses sounds.
And allows me to sort my thoughts,
without the annoyance of noise.
When Chaos rings inside my head:
distractions echo through my mind.
The cloak of Night suppresses sounds,
city life, tethered to the day.
Stepping outside of the moment,
my mind disengages with time.
For at the fringes of quiet,
the cloak of Night suppresses sounds.
Shamed by being unprepared, bewildered, befuddled,
I watch nature transition to twilight, ever so aplomb,
with birds and mammals crepuscular, they're at their prime,
when the daylight fades to muted at twilight time.
Birds calls echo like searchlights looking for a mate,
as the sun casts red and orange beams into the clouded sky.
The shadows grow to long and menacing fingers
stretching across the landscape as silhouette puppets
that play on the walls, efficacious and audacious.
Now the day has begun to fade into night.
I tend to nap and daydream in this half-life twilight
betwixt between, black and white, day and night.
Switching off, muting and blurring my attention,
until something in Nature jolts me awake,
like an alarm clock, making me bolt up, alarmed.
With heart racing, my distraction disarmed,
shaken and stirred, awakened and disturbed,
I take notice of the gentle glow and flow of twilight,
and see what I would otherwise have missed.
Nah it aint that
if you wanna be
real and all
you tell me to
call you on the telly
you never pick up
when I call
Change the definition
of Love
to yo' own conveyance
All that woman is
ricca monroe jazz
Dude tryna build
a relationship
ya'll say he either moving
too slow
or he moving to fast
You're still the one
the only one
top-me, number one
on toppa the stack
Don't you label me
as someone your
freinds can relate too
for real you know me better
than that
Your single freinds
act real strange
they use to smile
Said I wanna baby
now everythings changed
aint no tippin out
if you go you gone
your momma taught you
right from wrong
don'n me
to find another
I aint your freind
and I aint your other
We done vowed
our marrage bed
A leaf dried to brown maraca, rustles.
Moon-beam driven breeze, curls in ears, whispers.
Subtle call of summer's passing, puzzles.
As green summer grass fades to grey, whiskers.
You can hear the patter of dew, pinging.
The limbs of trees squeezed, tight and shrunk, crackling.
Bells toll the end of summer's reign, ringing,
As the cool winds shake the eaves loose, rattling.
Geese V's migrate south, honking and hinking.
Squirrels chattering, alert owls hooting.
Pebbles in streams bang together, clinking.
Brash summer sounds are quelled quiet, muting.
Autumn whispers winter's advent, looming.
Lilting a soulful bluesy song, crooning.
Haunted by whispering calls ~ a torn leaf lifts its soul to the sad sky
snowflakes streak gazes…
infant endeavours are made~
muting icy words
slipping in the honest frost…
sorrow seeps upon spirits
grieving
ebony eyes~
wrath simmers a cold soul,
mind stranded in a cyclone haze…
anguish
Forms of poetry; 1 - Monoku
2-Tanka 3-Cinquain
Do you hear it? Do you hear the nothingness
Not a single word, not one solitary word at all
So that a teardrop sobs in the void of emptiness
Dogwood leaves scream as they plummet and fall
Did you say something? I would hope you did not
Why would you break the noiselessness of serenity
Disturbing the pressing brain cells from a thought
Like muting the sound of a full orchestra's symphony
The whisper of smoke billowing from a rolled cigarette
A beating heart so loud as to wake up the sleeping
Wiping away the silent fear and the smell of sweat
The drooping sound of willows and magnolias weeping
The tongue-tied echo does not return when you call
Flames as they vainly struggle to survive in wet weather
The dragging a snake makes when it slithers and crawls
Job's friends were respectful as they sat calmly together
Allow me to nestle in my quietness and learn to embrace it
Acknowledging silence is golden and is not open to debate
As a grateful patient seeks repose in an intensive care unit
Escaping the chaos and the confusion is well worth the wait
A
dying
scarlet sun,
bleeds upon pink
cotton candy clouds
clustering at Earth's edge,
as though tethered to the night.
Twilight starts unveiling the stars
now twinkling-like faceted diamonds
and moonbeams gild indigo waters gold.
Muting all but one lonely cricket's chirp,
silence imbues each shifting shadow
with a growing feeling of dread.
And a dark curtain descends
until silhouettes merge
and ebony starts
slowly filling
in every
single
gap.
Back I go retracing steps.
Against the tide I must tread,
Following the arrows down in reverse.
Each arrow head points back to moments gone,
To a time before the dawn of days past.
The footprints I must retread
Lead backwards on the path trod.
Heel to toe carefully placed in reverse,
To echo the way I felt at each step.
To unravel the memories woven.
Rewinding your life's design,
Sopping up past tears you shed,
Muting the cries with rags and sound proofing,
Pulling back from embraces hugs and kisses.
Is the toughest part of these retraces.
With each step, a tale unfurls,
Of joys and sorrows retold,
Where songs I knew, old and new are unsung.
I walk through gardens which were once in bloom,
Where flowers long since withered, met their doom,
This journey back to the past,
Rejigs it, to could have been!
Mothers of the world, I plead with you,
For each child you nurture, a life anew.
Be they good or bad, in your arms they grew,
Amidst a harsh world, let anger subdue.
Fathers standing tall, can you comprehend?
The struggles they face, the wounds they must mend.
Frowns breed chaos, let compassion ascend,
Boys forced into men, a cycle we must transcend.
And who should carry the weight of this plight?
The child who cries out, seeking solace in the night?
The mother balancing, with all her might,
The father, a pillar, when darkness takes flight?
Or is it society, the one to blame,
Muting our cries, labeling them as tame,
But who's there for you, in sorrow and flame,
A listening mother, with love as her name.
A father toiling, his devotion unyielding,
While you weep, he senses the pain you're concealing,
Society looms, its blows ever revealing,
Can we recreate a world where compassion is healing?
Let us rise together, mothers and fathers as one,
In a symphony of love, our battles undone,
Where society listens, its heart truly won,
And the silent cries find solace in the sun.
Lost I walk
through dark silent forest
where no breath of breeze
does rustle leaves
sunlight muted
comes down softly
muting colors
and shadows soft
In the distance
quiet babbling
of distant waters
flowing by
dark and moist
goes a pathway
trodden by
many feet
in the distance
like soft mist flowing
wisps of whiteness
I behold
shaping mist
taut tight curving
flowing lines
I do see
colors muted
half way seeing
hints of wonders
I would see
flowing onward
from me leaving
going on
in still air
seeking after
to find the pathway
to follow after
where it might be
Aimlessly wander veiled memories of yore
Each passing cloud subtly brings to fore
Recalling regrets, where laments agonize,
Thinking of you, searching forsaken skies,
Muting spent emotions of anguished eyes.
O how we rejoiced in blissful sunny days
When dawns arose on glinted arc ablaze
As golden beams pierced shrouded haze
Defying onslaught of darkened malaise
Intent on blotting zealous romantic phase.
Recalling ardent dreams with you I stroll
Where gleam of your smile brightens soul
As allure of amorous past feelings cajole
Emanating from desires heartbeats extol
In language of passion yesteryears scroll.
Every cloud etches effigy of love gone awry
Yet, thunder of stygian vibes fiercely I defy,
For return of clear skies in your longing I vie
Denouncing certitude hosting forlorn sigh,
Remorseful of ego that callously bid goodbye.
March 8, 2023
Placed 1st: Each Passing Cloud Poetry Contest
Sponsor: JCB Brul
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