Resting on the edge of the raging sea,
He comes to me reaching past the fear,
Just to seek the passion I hide,
Strong with the force of nature in his hands,
Comes the release of a thousand lifetimes,
Stifling my raw emotion with just the touch of his hand,
Resisting him seems to be useless for his passion
Tears into my soul,
Like the angry sea crashing upon the seashore,
As i lay awaiting his return,
The gentleness of his touch takes my spirit
For a sweet ride,
Heavenly lifting me into realms unknown,
Swiftly I hunger for his kiss and his tender embrace,
Endlessly searching his eyes for compassion,
Only to find the innocence of his young soul,
Gently believeing love could conquerer all,
Still cautiously taking in every ounce of my passion,
With each breath escaping from his tender lips,
Draws my senses into the abyss of surging pleasure,
My secret desire come to me quickly and relieve this
undying hunger to have every part of you with me....
1st Placing : Standard Contest : Sept.25
Sponsor : Charles Messina
___________________
Raw emotion
Sure devotion ~
______________________________________
Another conversation within myself.
Another riddle within the spectrum of possibility.
Wouldn't it be wise to search for someone in this
moment of desperation?
Fighting to wipe away these tears that wont keep.
Standing in the rains of despair.
The machine becomes obsolete.
How to find clarity?
Diluted fantasies?
I know somewhere my questions
cease transcending the mark that keeps them guessing.
A fallible facsimile that I'm doomed to repeat.
I only need speak it into existence,
with words that clip dirty wings.
So now no one walks alone.
Avoiding the idea that there is no escape.
Such a desperate moment. Actually, it's beautiful
in the way that I remember her smile.
Desperate when I recall the tears that ran down her face.
My head tilted to the side, trying to make sense of it all.
Trying not to feel at blame, while simultaneously trying to feel it all.
this moment cannot define me, us. I can only wade in this
pool of raw emotion for so long.
Trying to find the pain from scars that have long been healed.
Such an ironic perfection. A momentary lapse of judgement as I let myself slip
under the waterline
I never intended to be a poet I just liked to write,
ever since a child I was scribbling on paper;
at that age nothing really made much sense,
but, I liked them and taped my writings on the wall.
Well, mother did not like my method of display,
so, I was given a journal and I wrote and wrote;
in time those scribbles became sentences,
and eventually poems and stories about my life.
My grandma the family storyteller encouraged me,
she told me write, write so the world will see, and I did;
and do, she was my mentor and my best support,
she believed in me and so did both my parents.
When, I am sad and full of grief, I write it,
I find expressing my feelings on paper is a release;
a thousand times it seems I have written of my mother
and her death, but it is still a raw emotion.
The enthusiastic logastellus,
empty handed yet so scripturient;
Try to write it feels incoherent,
without words there is no audience;
Plagued with a poor vocabulary,
madness fills an overactive mind;
First line leaves that soul unsatisfied,
not able to capture a writer’s quiddity;
You can sit warm yourself by the fire
believing the Muse comes on command;
When will raw emotion understand
it takes tools to pen what you desire;
Go out communicate in person
you’ll pick up a new line every time;
No longer with a struggle to rhyme,
No longer riddled with guiltroversion.
Silence covers
stormy seas churning within.
When all could be expelled,
sudden burst of raw emotion,
revealing every painful scar,
there's silence.
Looking into the sunset
seeking solace from the shade,
murky waters detailing problems unsettled,
Silence crosses the rift.
Deep oceans in my eyes
never cross their boundaries.
I refuse to cry.
Pressure mounts against my walls,
levies of fortitude,
misunderstandings of the truths,
judgements of the unknown.
What lies behind close doors
hidden deep by pretense.
Never do I crumble because
silence guards my lips.
Thus will be the end result.
I will look into the sunset
resolved from my affliction.
When everything could have collapsed,
fallen apart inside me,
silence prevailed.
Chanté Walker
January 17, 2024
I AM BLOOD
I am blood, representing strong emotion
Pumping strongly from a distressed heart
I was merely a gentle and constant flow
Now, suddenly a geyser forcefully spurting
The cause is not ecstasy, as it is hurting
Whatever the reason, I would not know
I’m also the messenger sent at the start
And in time, all will gain a clearer notion
it’s not just blood when hearts pour out
More a vibration one can sense and feel
There are signs that some may detect
But with both eyes closed, it is clear
To see resonance that comes with fear
That stifling a thought cannot protect
And feeling raw emotion is very real
As knowing the truth dispels all doubt
In the dimly lit room, an expensive haze
A lone lampshade casts a melancholy gaze.
Its weary glow illuminates the despair.
As the blues bear hold, filling the air.
A shattered heart's anthem, a soulful refrain,
Echoes through the room, causing hearts to strain.
The notes of sorrow dance in the smokey haze.
Tales of lost love and shattered dreams blaze.
Each strum of the guitar, each mournful chord
Tells the story of a love that's been ignored.
The singer's voice, raspy and bruised
Carries the weight of the blues.
In the spotlight's glare, he stands alone.
His heartache was exposed, and his pain clearly shown.
The audience, captured by his raw emotion,
Sinks deeper into the blues' devotion.
The rhythm pulses such as heartbeat ache.
As the lyrics weave a tale of love's mistake.
The room becomes a sanctuary of despair.
Where broken souls find solace in the air.
The expensive drinks flow such as tears.
As the crowd drowns their sorrows, numbing their fears.
But the lampshade knows the truth they seek.
That the blues won't fade, no matter how they speak.
No-one knows what goes on behind closed doors
Or so the saying goes
Though there is someone who does
A homes four walls know!
The four walls see and hear all
What really happens within a home
The raw emotion and absolute truth
Right down to the very bone
No pretence ,no sugar coating
No deception or lies
Just real and authentic humans
Not pretending for the worlds eyes
If only those four walls could speak
What stories and secrets would be exposed
The walls will forever stand stoic and silent
So only the four walls know……
I lie without consequence
A wasteless existence that stands between heaven and hell
Though I don’t believe in it.
I’ve lost my way with no way to be found
But in the dark of the night I look for a way home.
I lie without consequence
A wasteless existence between heaven and hell
I am afraid of being alone
Of standing with just my soul in its glanced reflection
Reaching for a hand that no one will grasp
I’ve looked in there eyes with promises, afraid to lose them, fearing to be abandoned and lied
I lie
And hate every centimeter of my being
Wishing every part of me would die.
I’ve feared me for far to long, God has no dealings with this soulless, passion.
Tears forever fall in the shadows of me, for I am alone
A weakened presence that dies for love, a constant wanting that will never be granted.
I lied
In efforts to rid the clutch of being rejected, I’ll do it before you try
Lied to keep afloat, a calling, a need that was never needed.
Lied to hold
Lied in fear
Lied to erase…me
But In the darkest part of my trepidation, I found a way back home
Home…. to me, a being I was once loved in raptures.
I no longer lie
But now I am alone
And that’s…okay
she meets
her final moment
with a swan song for the ages.
the theater is packed in like sardines.
a cynosure of all eyes.
her own stitched shut
as she starts to sing.
her face, baring
tracks of trickling tears,
flush with searing passion.
her voice, quivering
with raw emotion,
reaches a crescendo.
a final bow
amid a thunderous standing ovation.
sustained cheers and whistles
from a captivated audience
a celebrated soprano
rings down the curtain.
the end of an illustrious career.
goodbye kisses abound.
red roses catapult
to the stage.
a swan song
to remember.
Submitted for...
Strong Emotions Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Emile Pinet
Date written: 08/07/2022
My ponderous struck core anticipated the revival of my rebirth
Despair is a driven motive for the things I can not reach and a thought that often occurred
Strung by the strings my raw emotion unveiled in a deep tone of red a melody so sweet
It makes your heart want to unchain its center and reveal the perilous sincerity of isolated defeat
The rhythm softens like the last sound from my heartbeat
At the last moment, my hands move to create a subtle calligraphy
Animal on the outside.
Slay away all the bad times.
Get down and say your goodbyes.
Pick up all my insides.
You say I have to break bread forever.
I'd rather drink blood as thin as water.
I'd rather you didn't lead me to slaughter.
You say if I don't do this I'll die a martyr.
Demon in my fantasy.
Shy away my apathy.
Hallucinate with dreams of ecstasy.
Choke and kill my empathy.
Drowning in pure raw emotion.
Breathing in hot water vapor.
Drinking from this sulfuric potion.
An opportunity once left to savor.
Candles lit to bring forth comfort.
The mood is set to change.
Wait until I see my cohort.
The moment seems kinda strange.
Creatures chasing after me.
Stabbing me in my sleep.
Awaken from this eternal slumber.
Finding out I'm the monster.
Creeping at a low speed.
Waiting for my chance.
You won't get away this time.
You don't know my plans.
What is fear; something outward or within?
Strangely serene; how darkness holds all still.
Fight or flight? On either, truth will transcend.
Of life, love, and lust; risks rewarded thrill.
A feeling? A thought? Or just a notion?
A primevally hardwired cautiousness?
All and naught. A truly raw emotion.
Too fear, is at the root of consciousness.
Null fear; would there be any joy in love?
The valuation in that lost and gained
makes no difference in the light thereof.
Through fear; life and it’s meaning are sustained.
Fear is rooted alongside the being;
cinched, behold all that’s worthy of seeing.
8-20-2021
We turn to words.
For our hope, our bewilderment, our dreams and our pain.
Over and over, the same 26 letters rearranged.
Always a new story to share. Our love, or our sorrow, our secrets bare.
We turn to words to make it to tomorrow.
Poets find solace in passionate art.
We speak from the heart,
And articulate all that brings us together and tears us apart.
Raw emotion unrelenting.
Souls exposed ever ascending.
Words are timeless and unending.
We turn to words.
Tales are woven like tapestry,
Encompassing quaint mastery.
They reflect our deepest most intimate selves.
Poetry is to the heart, what music is to the soul.
A reflection of everything we are
Laid to bare on a page for all to behold.
We wear our words as both armor and scars.
We don't just write poems, we are poems. They are what we are.
After some time the poet may pass on.
But the poems live forever.
We become them.
And thus, we turn to words.
~2021
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