Quicksands Poems | Examples

The pathless path

Groping in the darkness of mind, our presence
sinks in murky quicksands of desire, spawned by
ego, finding no peace in inanities …
    deaf to soul’s whispers.

Simply shifting from head to heart, we halt the
flow of thought, whence magnetism rises, birthing
mists of bliss in heart by grace, that touched thus we …
   ascend in stillness.

The path pathless, yet appears, when we so choose
without excuse, to enter God’s heart unshod,
mirrored in our own, sensed by soul in silence …
   transcending earth life.

Zen mode

as the power of The one in form
we accept and celebrate limitation
somewhere someone controls the rays
whilst the ‘fallen’ stand erect in quicksands
in the divine order of the vast universe
both microcosm and macrocosm 
mirror and enact will of God

Death Dance

Each day we wake up with grace
We know not how the day will end
We walk by death time and time again 
Unaware of our feet in quick sand

Some of us slowly sink in
Unaware we don’t fret or worry
Some of us are acutely conscious 
That we sink and move in various ways 
Perhaps quickening deaths grip
Perhaps not if one believes in destiny 

We have various choices challenges that 
Grab our focus and like hocus Pocus 
Our death dance is transformed
Do you waltz beautifully to the music
Do you sing along and try to diffuse it’s sting
Do you embrace and trace your steps
As the death rattle settles in your chest
And fastens like a lead violet vest

Embracing the best and lovingly dressed life dreams
Bubbling upon the quicksand like a silver sonnet
How do we know enough about it to fear
What if the other side is more clear and honest 
We all sink in quicksands of life and perhaps
It is the only worthy way to have lived
So put on your best dancing shoes
Lace them up with love 
And strut your stuff

transformation

quicksands bleak inside
breathless danger spreads arms wide…
choked desires subside

frail footsteps falter
life’s flow hindered by halter…
fortune doesn’t alter

time sands never stop
with debris of dreams they drop…
shattered hopes lose prop

inner light flashes
in desolate dark pathway…
new journey begins

walk out of dismay
fight the war raging within…
future holds promise

divine grace gleams life
find winner in soul’s sanctum…
timeless bliss attained

Broken perspectives

There is so little space I could give in my skies, 
Every moon has left a whole cluster of clouds full of lies, 
I cannot unclog a product polluted in disguise, 
Don’t ask me to lay in your web you chose to improvise , 
I have seen too many oceans being mistreated for wastelands, 
So don’t call yourself something that is drowning deep in quicksands, 
When you are surrounded with the wind and all it’s forgiving hands , 
Don’t disrupt my diligence by your Petty demands, 
Don’t even think about interrupting my silence , 
When all I could hear are traits of unforgiven violence , 
When all I did was extend some guidance , 
And all that lacked was to walk in patience , 
So let’s not speak of the truth , 
The truth which you failed to gift , 
To gift wrap in deceptions, 
Deceptions mistaking my kindness for trust , 
Trust lost in your idea of confusion, 
Confusion named as “issues”
Issues engraved in broken perspectives, 
Perspectives from your cycle of imagination .

Bear Hunting

The hunter knelt to check the muddy ground.
He was perplexed. The tracks were heading north.
No bears had caves on this slope of the hill.
The quicksands were not very dangerous
but deep enough to block the wild beast.
The seasoned trapper smiled. The frightened bear 
would be an easy prey, an effortless fur.
The huntsman stepped carefully through the scrubland.
He knew the thick bushes and thorny briars
could conceal venomous spiders or deadly snakes.
He was an ace. On the hilltop, the wind,
with fury, made the limbs of scattered trees
wave in a frantic and infernal dance.
The hunter saw the fearless bear — a king
presiding on a rock — staring at him.
He armed his rifle and picked up his cap,
fallen between the perfectly still weeds.
There was no wind. Not even a slight breeze. 
He raised his head and realized with horror
that the dancing branches were the heads of
a hydra. The man tried to catch a knife.
But with his feet no longer on the ground,
he knew he was its helpless prey to strangle.

Breaking Point

As if till now numbed-my mind, 
Suddenly i woke from the dream, 
Once again to remorse find

How I got here, I do not know
 But here somehow, at the breaking point.
Avoiding the quicksands that pull me lower,
I try to find a vantage point.

 And just as I strain to look behind,
I see the places where i shattered.
So sorrow brings me on my knees, Eventhough mourning now didn't matter

Then I realised-
 It takes real courage 
Not to face fears, but to have a will to subdue them.
Courage to recieve strength in weak knees,
To leave my recluse of illusion. 
And for redemption that frees
 from these chains of deception.

What brings you to your breaking point?! Do your enemies?
 No!
 Where does hope really disappoint?
 At your miseries? No!

For these I could face,
When there's peace within. But if there's turbulance inside, My spirit starts crumbling in.

So when I settle the struggle within, 
Even the faintest hope will do. 
Then I'll make it to the breaking point, 
Even through and through.
         -ek

Zen Mode

accustomed to struggling and striving
we know not what is non-volition 
so sink in quicksands of mind
(with which we so identify
soul’s eternal presence) 
where we languish
lost in dreams
hypnotised 

10-June-2023

Thought of the Day

When the seeker becomes the flame he sought ~
In quicksands of desire, he’s never caught

11-February-2023

Helpless Hands

Playing with breezes 
you do not understand
Time will discretely arise you
Quietly laughing to yourself
you with your knowing
extending helpless hands
as the shore ascends
you are the drowning man now
Quicksands your sully

Crippled Me

’ve been in dirts and seen the downs
I’ve continually been a verb and no noun
Refuse to help said lotus blooms in mud
But they scrunched me only in the bud
Fell down when stand apart from the row
Crippled me want you to let me grow
I’ve had a dream to visit the mountains
But they broke my sticks left eyes in pain
Plight of eyes got worse when it rained
When my velveteen clay bed turned quicksands
I lost my voice crying for help
And I started to wait for a slow death
That night only me got fortunate
I saw the horrible view of pseudo humanity
Flooded away my pride, conscience
Later but my broken sticks at prime
Here am going to get lucky lad
Another crippled will kick the mean world
Enjoying slowly dying to live peacefully
And elevated without sticks to get wings
Once couldn’t walk under the weight of miseries
It was a nightmare of me, they need not be sorry
Can’t see you with this height, today i got wings to fly
To be honest am blessed they did let me die.

Life On Rainbow Arc

Despair depressed in quicksands of time, hollow inside
Dented dreams collapse insipid, capsize and subside
Failure makes the razed life dark.

Latent beacon flashes on the desolate inner pathway
The light beckons through the drooping haze of dismay 
On a new journey you embark.

Patient probes of endeavor for the edified soul begin
Eternally searching for shimmer of divine grace within
Life girdles euphoric rainbow arc.

June 2, 2020
Contest : Triple Stanza Couplet Trail-Rhyme
Sponsor : Charles Messina
For Brian Strand's Contest A Brian Strand July 10

Nocturnal-Scapes of the Negligent Night

For I awake within a dichotomous dream,
I ask what is real that the eye may gleam…
Realities regulate as the heads at the helm,	
As dimensions deliberate a deceitful realm…

I walk through forests of faceless feeble time,
Nurturing nightmares of a calamitous climb…
Confronting creatures, succulents of the soul,
Upon Quantum quicksands of a nightly stroll…

I then Nova with the numinous sacred suns,
Ethereal explosions causing sacerdotal strums…
Decoratively dancing divine where Angel's trend,
Reaching the edge where some decline & descend…

All this within a differential devisable dream,
And idol illusions resonate and reign supreme…
For what is a dream without its raging reality?
Reality without dreams a sacrificial silent sea.




Feb.17.2019
I Dreamed a Dream 
Sponsored by: Silent One 


Placed 1'st...Thank You

The Phoenix Has Died

The phoenix has died
I can see that now
I can see it in your eyes.
Those bright blue, youthful eyes
once so hopeful, now restless...unfocused.

Once you were a phoenix
on the precipice of flight
with the promise of love and life
oh, how I yearn to see 
that life in you again!

She pulled you back, yanked you
strangled you with her apron strings
hung you, squeezed the life out of you
clingy, whining
a cesspool of anxieties
belched out and incessant.

Too caring, too conscientious to resist
you conceded, and the promptings
the promptings of obligation 
overwhelmed.

So you froze fast in a nightmare
a nightmare of anxieties
trapped
sucked into a black hole
believed the lies
kept the security blanket
and sank in the quicksands 
of stagnation.

The phoenix's wings were clipped
no longer a phoenix... no
but a goldfish in a glass bowl.

Now you languish in anonimity
never to make your mark
mugged by a mother's insecurities.

The phoenix has died.






Written on 2/11/2017

Red Inside the Red

There are, there is, there once was, red inside the red
A doubt arose regarding that which is behind the walls
What lies between, below, above the objects olden clear 
Structures must be more than surface tension purple
Designed on future's night, darker than the pink within
Red above the upper surface red clings on
All things being equal in between 
Blue is in trouble when it sinks into the quicksands blue
That is all there is when brown dries out on olive black
On solid ground near by the rusty trees with deeper roots
To take hold of truth collapsed on gray and orange
Nearly unearthed by rainbow explosions taken out alarmed
The end could just as easily be green
Standing behind the stagnant walls  
Red holds on to the bitter whatever 
Whatever that might be
It is not yellow

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