Passageways Poems | Examples

The Helderbergs

The trails runs the edge for several miles,
a clifftop walk, it is no great trial,
atop a long precipice of limestone,
where big, black vultures soar, and make their home,
a rugged wall, by ancient peoples known,
so it looms, this stubborn piece of wild.

Atop it a state park has sat for years,
small fences up to calm a parent’s fears,
but you know kids, they’ll always go ahead
and fearlessly peer over that great ledge,
the beauty awes even in their young heads,
like all souls, they’re stirred by the wonder here.

Some metal stairs descend down to the base,
so folks can walk along the smallish caves,
‘hold up the earth’ in a picture they snap,
see Minekill Falls, and walk around its back,
find passageways where Iroquois made tracks,
and Tory soldiers hid in olden days.

It seems so close, you can see Albany,
but when the winds blow you almost believe
that this place is at the edge of the earth,
like some lost land you found after long search,
quite thankful that people have seen the worth
of these tree-clad cliffs in their majesty.

Evil

He has an evil eye.
The scorpion is unlikely to stop being a villain. 
Who sits quietly. 
And enjoys sunlight sometimes. 
And shadows at other times. 
The scorpion would like a cup of tea.
He feels the sting. 
When the bee in the beehive. 
Won’t give a spoonful of honey for his tea. 
Despite the fact that-
They both enjoy sweetness. 
The rejection is stinging worse than his own tail. 
So he enters the maze instead. 
Where the serpent lives. 
The scorpion doesn’t like tall hedges. 
But wants to visit his friend. 
The serpent. 
He meets his friend, the serpent. 
Who is a villain as well. 
The serpent looks down and sees the evil eye on his friend’s back. 
Wonders why he doesn’t visit often. 
Well, 
This maze is a little serpentine. 
With evil passageways and dead ends all around. 
But that’s just who the serpent is. 
Ride on the serpent’s back. 
He trusts that you won’t sting. 
Enjoying sweetness. 
And evil too. 
The maze is easy when you’re with someone who understands it. 
They exit the maze. 
To wreak havoc all around.

The Devil's Dance

It's the devil's dance, he is a chancer,
As he tries to take this life to cancer.
The news to fill your heart with dread,
As you, process words inside your head.

This news it brings a bitter sting,
The devil's joy that fate can bring.
He's a chancer bold in every way,
In truth, your thoughts, filled with dismay.

We face this news as laughter dies,
With a heavy heart and teary eyes.
The tears that run they stain our cheeks.
His vice like grip, the devil, speaks.

Your thoughts they turn to hope and fear,
This devil's waltz, so insincere.
As he leads and takes you by the hand,
Our teardrops fall in no-man's-land.

For though he leads you in a trance,
Transfixed within, this devils dance.
It's the fear of knowing the unknown,
A life once had is overthrown.

Leads up a path where no one plays,
It's dark and lonely passageways.
"Your life," he taunts a mocking cheer,
"Is but a game." to draw you near!

I let him waltz and play his hand,
I'll find the strength to make a stand.
My life is worth more than his game.
Where angels fly I'll stake my claim.

Blue Hour

she looked me dead in the eye and said,

“your soul is a town that has never seen a blue sky”

i laid awake think on that,

and i spoke in the dark of my bedroom, 

“i have only ever seen blue, the melting colors dripping off the sky. but while you see only the blue of the day time 

i see the blue as the moon sees the blue

i am the blue, yes you’re right, 

the melancholic blue of the past fading out, 

like street lights that halos light up the strangely familiar passageways of your youth, 

and it kills me, to only see the blue in one way, 

not dripping with sunshine but soaked in nostalgia of a midnight,”

i spoke it from my chest and relived,

i drifted back into the blue darkness that holds my deepest dreams of the past.

COMPROMISED

This house is crumbling 
Its pillars of learning weakened
The future now a fading shadow
And the fruits of our teaching
fragile and hollow.

Where once young minds were molded for life
Public exams have become mere passageways
A sprint to the next fleeting spotlight 
As we race against time’s endless chase.  

Children no longer study for hours 
Nurturing their minds, preparing for the test—  
Instead, they tread shortcuts with ease
Sliding through with chatbots, cheating with keys.  

Education stands compromised
Public exams, losing their prize.  
The future dims before our eyes  
The flame of knowledge slowly dies.

Rhymed Senryu Moonlight Truth

                         

        Tell the truth always
               Even in moonlit hallways
                       Souls are passageways


                 
                      7/1/2024

Paranoia

What's that, that noise I heard through my music?
It sounded loud, is something wrong?
Was it something bad, or did I just assume it?
Maybe nothing at all and it's just the song?

What's that scream, is it from someone near me?
Was it a shot, gunfire from the person over there?
Are they coming for me, am I being attacked?
Do I make up every way bad things can happen to me?

Am I the next, the next headline to be on the news?
A part of the fatality that makes up a few?
Will the end of my life be on this day?
Or will I live on with safe passageways?

That person is too close, are they going to hurt me?
What's that in their jacket, is it a weapon?
Am I safe, how can I get out of here?
What do I do, have I gone completely insane?

Trauma has a funny way of messing with the brain
Never will I truly feel safe ever again
On guard, a knife carried with my crystals
Still isn't enough to save me from the paranoia

The Work

I've lived in it all my life -
the self's grand fiction -
refuge for the child, youths
rebel fortress and a walled  
cloister to house
the holy relics gathered
on the pilgrimages 
of my mind. I have built it
line by line with words
baked into bricks. 

Rooms follow years
down passageways of books,
dusty manuscripts and dreams
hung in stations along
age blackened walls. 
In high towers, windows
open to a universe
with a terrifying silence
at its core.

I hear reality's hard fist
knocking at the door,
a presence breathing 
its corrosive damp into mortar, 
unpicking me
brick by brick. And yet,
a sense of peace in surrendering 
what was never really there,
dissolving into what is

The Moon

Late evening.
I have put aside a book 
and prefer to wander
the freedom of a darkened room, 
drift through a window
into a framed sky
where a bright moon writes
itself across the pages 
of passing clouds.

It's an easy drift, 
letting go like a book dropping
from hands when loosened
by sleep, lifting up weightless
into somewhere else.
For the moment I like it here - 
the quiet, the way everything 
gently knits together,
the play of images cast
upon the walls of my room.

I have spent too much
of my life here, always 
finding it hard to tell where 
my mind ends and where
the world begins. 
Childhood still sleepwalks 
the passageways looking
for a way out. Old age
wanders the vast territories 
of this familiar room.
I have become the moon, 
writing myself across 
the pages of what is passing.

Crime and Poetry

The afternoon sun 
now clears the trees
and comes through the window
to where you are with your book,
deciphering the clues to reveal 
who committed the crime.
Imbedded in the surrounds
are the rituals that connect 
us to life and to each other, 
the daily observances
notched in time.

If it were not for these
affirmations of love,
we would be lost somewhere
within ourselves,
me in the endless passageways
of a poem without windows 
and doors, you in the forensics 
of a crime scene, 
communicating with each other 
through a bullet or punch hole
we've left in our dreams.

Amidst the Snowflakes

Amidst the Snowflakes

Like thousands of soldiers in parachutes
they come out of the winter sky

One by one hitting the pavement
to claim victory for the season now unfolding

At first they are vanquished almost instantly
a price paid for those leading the charge

However as they begin to accumulate and cluster
a formidable foe is being created

Inch by inch, foot by foot, a fortress is being built
one that can be transformed into an igloo for shelter if needed

Soon the landscape will be covered by a heavy white blanket
left unattended it will run amok overwhelming all

As plummeting temperatures assault those not ready
once open lakes and river pathways no longer escape routes

A battering ram of inclement weather hampering travel
imprisoning those caught unaware of its fury

Snow drifts form obstructing passageways
entrapping those not prepared with an escape route

Waiting out the enemy a defensive strategy now in use
As it surrounds you on all sides building an oppressing presence

High winds and frostbite commingling in the air
that will dominate at the end of the day

Beauty or beast
The conflict yet to be decided.

Andreas Simic ©

One Thing In Common

Weary travelers weave through silent
Passageways like cattle herded to market
Masked faces, eyes shifting anxiously,
Everyone wanting to be somewhere else.


written June 8, 2021

Sense of Humor

It’s amazing how a sense of humor, can change the intake filter and quash a rumor. Lightness with brevity that comes with a spontaneous smiles,Can change the attitude of Chi town, LA, or even New York City. Life wears you down and forces your access to humor deeper within. The key is to keep playing at any age, you don’t have to be a Sage. If down fly a kite, shoot some hoops. The same wind that takes the kite aloft, can help with constipation, regular poops. Regular bowel movements not only clear internal passageways, but take away the heaviness, so feel lighter to play. Then if single you may feel like another chance at someone you dated, free of the residue, wrinkles, and poll lips you hated. So the bodies rhythm can’t be out of whack, if you want to make time with Jill or Jack.

Gentle Breeze

witnessing dream images rise and subside 
within hidden passageways of mind now surfacing
nonchalant eye smiles enjoying the joy ride

mindful presence celebrating aliveness glides
in and out of hearts desires now manifesting
witnessing dream images rise and subside 

ego borne cravings of lower mind take us aside
beseeching our indulgence amidst illusions spiralling
nonchalant eye smiles enjoying the joy ride

mode non-judgmental, no thought we deride
as we embrace and release without stagnating
witnessing dream images rise and subside 

fearless and desireless, God inside, divine beside
lower mind vaporised, gently soul thus flowing
nonchalant eye smiles enjoying the joy ride

vibrant emptiness bliss vivified, minds not low tide
all destined doings done although we do nothing 
witnessing dream images rise and subside 
nonchalant eye smiles enjoying the joy ride

23-April-2021

Study In White

Acrid smoke in the scientist’s bell jar
Blankets of chenille-covered snow
Crystalline carbon diamond star
Drips forming stalactites grow
Effervescent waterfalls’ dreams
Frothy-topped cappuccinos 
Gelid surfaces of lakes and streams
Halos of angels in holy repose 
Icebergs splitting from their source 
Jasmine-covered pergolas in Spring
Knuckles clenched in fear or remorse
Love’s purest form sobering
Mandala patterns on frosted window
Newly-born flamboyant flamingos
Opalescent lustre of pearls on show
Pineapple-licious snow cones 
Quills of the porcupines’ defense
Ringlets of great-grandparents’ hair 
Steamy hot springs vapor intense
Trailing wisps of London fog air 
Undulating winter foothill maze
Veils of fine tatted lace purity 
Wieliczka Salt Mine passageways
Xilinous spider webs artistry
Yahrzeit candle flame in memoriam
Zephyrus ballooning sails on a whim

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