Love is not of the body
but a language every soul speaks
like a stubborn strand of hair
appearing where it’s least wanted.
No heart truly goes numb
no mind ever forgets
it only takes a deep breath
to face what lingers inside.
Love begins in silence
in that pause before the touch
the quiet before the bell
and the echo that follows after.
But heartbreak arrives louder
when the heart insists it won’t be fooled
turning the echo into proof
a sound of breaking, rebounding alone.
The kiss is not just silent
it is nonexistent,
like the womb
of your love~
the barren wasteland
of too hot or too cold,
emotional ups and downs,
the highs excruciating~
the lows bottomless,
unlike the lowest level of hell,
no rebounding and ascending
to the ecstasy of the sublime~
only descent into the madness
of your nightmare.
I know I shouldn’t listen to the sad songs because it makes me think of you but it hits home too
Some days are tougher then others
I begged to be sent another but yet what would that do ?
Would me rebounding with someone else get me over you?
I just want my mind clear of you
Any and everything that reminds me of you I try to run away from
I never thought that I would be so done
So done over you
Damn you made me look like a fool
I still think about the way you once showed your love for me
It makes me happy but then I think about how you constantly intentionally hurt me
That’s when a mixture of sadness and madness comes in
That’s when my anger kicked in
You loved me until you didn’t
You hurt me for the sake of it
You did a good job pretending that you loved me
Yes I still think of you but hopefully with time that will go away
I will be okay
I’m healing and getting myself back
When I do I’ll be so happy that my mind is clear of you
HOW THE ECHO FILTERS REALITY
An echo is always intended as a sort of reply
An answer, if you will, to reinforce meaning
Yet each, in its own way, takes the initiative
And maybe accused of being unappreciative
As towards a new reality it could be leaning
But over time, it must slowly but surely die
Multiple repeated attempts one may detect
Each echo reflected by various hard surfaces
Rebounding back, almost attempting rhyme
Adding a subtle new dimension every time
A reinforcement for all intent and purposes
The original sound surprised by such effect
An echo may try to assume a new identity
Yet is ever constrained to reflect its origins
Nevertheless, it retains that single modality
However much might be lost of the reality
As each repeated echo once again, begins
But as it finally dies, one may just feel pity
Generations sing songs
Long after the apple
Gifted pleasure and pain
Unraveling ripe notes
Driving lovers insane
Generations sing songs
Of whiskey beards touching
The dirty old man earth
Chasing long and short skirts
And those who just gave birth
Generations sing songs
Waves driven East and West
Firestorm raging in hearts
In rift children born with
Homely, disheveled parts
Generations sing songs
The apple rebounding
Track the Edenic ball
Birdsong from tree to tree
Salving after The Fall
A bountiful array presents itself,
From its constant electro-magnetic display.
With a spectrum of rebounding wavelengths,
And a variety of colorful todays.
This multitude of color gives us boundaries,
From the infra-red to ultra-violet.
Providing our perception with stubborn stop
Signs, as viewing beyond does not permit.
Within these limits of our vision, we're
Left with a plentiful bunch to describe.
As they are exposed through a lexicon of
Meanings, by cliche or slang rhetoric to bribe.
So while black and white are constant borders,
We go well beyond those 50 shades of grey.
With thoughts of golden parachutes and
Silver linings, granting hope to us everyday.
When the entire menu is looked upon, we've
Learned that the primary ones create most.
Whereas red and blue get used politically,
Yellow is cowardly and cautious from coast to coast.
Since there's no way to see the complete palette,
To explain all the mixtures nature has seen.
Rest assured that the fusion & various combinations,
Leaves a remnant of beauty and envy that's green.
An Ash tree tumbled down last winter,
it is only a wooden effigy now,
branched still,
limbs askew,
leftover as a lingering image
of one hour of violence.
It was a head-storm, it got into
the marrow of things,
wolf-winds tore at its canopy,
eclectic daggers struck its roots.
Fire felled - it smoked for hours,
bark scored and etched with ashes.
We did not see this,
the tempest shuttered our minds,
yet we heard
the rebounding crash,
and the longer shudder.
In the morning,
mother took her hatchet,
put on thick rubber boots,
and went to work
harvesting the easier reached kindling,
while I mourned the loss
of a climbing tree.
This year its bones are still there,
a corpse blocking a river towpath,
still reminding
those who pass that way,
of the suddenness of life.
The break up was hard
went wild finding another
rebound not for me
Devil's vengeful roar captures innocent
Exhale scorches bystanders randomly
Volcano spews brimstone belligerent
Dissolves small boy's chance single handedly
Hitler contempt casts heinous destruction
Whip of his cape compel madmen to leap
Grief ingests itself, victim grows gumption
Roots for resprout cling to resovoir deep
Wrap gilded courage with rebounding soul
Compassion coiled to return after hurt
Bravery engraved on stalwart patrol
Solution driven man spurns Satan’s curse
Devoid of vanity, heart vivacious
Benevolent flare given in furnace
Sorry
My Selfless Beloved
.
You teeming engulfing earth,
you may have this flesh
it was never mine always yours.
Take it back, farm it out to the worms
grow apples from it or any common weed.
When it thrived it ran on time,
it was clock-worked and highly sprung
suspended above a rebounding energy
but now it turning into food
and all the little hungry mouths
of a consuming soil wait to be fed.
I have this brain still
it is wired up to a creaking puppet.
I can write of things
only a dying brain can see.
I have within me an undying light
a light that I grew out of s single seed
of God
and I am keeping that
or rather God is.
It will be planted again in Elysium
where suns flower new worlds,
where bodies are dandelion clouds
each one a time-machine
for timeless minds.
Modesty is no virtue
when it comes to love.
Love should be worn
brightly~ daily! Nightly!
Shouted loudly! – Boldly!
Let love's many voices
Sound~ Rebounding heart-felt
joyful echos –
Sing love's lovely delight!
Shake the earth with
together vibration; let the
universe hear love's clear
clamor – let fly amorous
moon-beams – let stars' starry
eyes open wide to the sweet
dear call of comforting nestle –
let love be the body's spiritual
vessel
All depends on love's, dreamy,
gleam-y, creamy honey flow –
the child, needing love if
healthily, affectionately to grow –
the blossom needing love if
to dazzle, wink, make flowery show –
love must be freed, if love
to charmingly glow...if a heart
to ever another heart intimately
know –
LIFE
goes on
we just be
our hourglass empties
and fills at the same time
death is merely a pinch point
“cause slips through, rebounding effect”
Pyramids Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Joseph May
Syllable counter PS 1/2/3/5/6/7/8
Picture (5)
The wind gusted over the forsaken hills
The grasp of its strong, imperishable hands causing a trill of noise
Echoing and rebounding over the delicate curves of the Earth.
The smell of strong grasses and pollens stuck to the winds never ending lungs
Sending both dirt and leaves rustling amidst the scene
Trees and abundances of green licked at the delicate breeze,
As the dance of the sky was mimicked nonchalant by the jubilant bees
The worries of winter long gone
Due the brightening days of the freshly bathed dawn.
in this frail life we take solid form ~ bouncing shadows upon the walls
next life may hold shades of promise ~ perhaps an eternity for all
right now reflecting over past mistakes ~ are we making the right call
rebounding then failing each other ~ the drum beats to our own downfall
By
David Kavanagh
Memories
I tuck memories into corners
Saving them for rainy days
When hope heaves
And spills like tears
Those days, those days
When light flickers into dying-light
And borrowed dreams are redemption
When faith wavers, faint as echoes
Rebounding off heartbeats
Slowed into sadness
Those days, those days
Slowing time into slow-mo
Till memories erupt like fire-flies
Filling the night sky with angel eyes
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