Though my missing you has become a bit of a wistful feeling,
I still feel serene in recalling songs you always sing,
Contently knowing you have always been my soul's calling.
The bastioned confidence of quarried pride
Conceived no ingress save by iron decree;
Yet vesper-dew, where noiseless graces bide,
Tutored the adamant to clemency,
Till lichened liturgies, by increments unseen,
Unthroned the obdurate from its sovereign mien.
The littoral catechised the granite's bone,
Not with assault, but sacramental wear;
Each undeciphered ripple, one by one,
Absolved the precipice of all its air,
As though the meekest ordinance of tide
Could loose what catapults had never tried.
Thereafter—vision trespassed into sense:
A child, ungarlanded by name or throne,
Inclined his silence with such innocence
That altitudes remembered they were sown;
The mountain, recollecting elder birth,
Relinquished all pre-eminence to earth.
Then every fortress, founded upon weight,
Began to expatriate its ancient claim;
The stars themselves postponed their sovereign state,
As though eternity had altered name;
And what no conflagration could dissever,
One feather of the Infinite undid for ever.
Woke up at 3a.m., heavy lidded. Had no other go but to embrace it. The clock was ticking 4:20 when I was facing my book feeling groggy, but my desire to score won’t let me doze off. Got dressed up in my school uniform and found myself waiting for the school van. Despite my wait, the van made an appearance 35 minutes later. It was an exam day and I’ve already lost 35 minutes. My mind was in a state of unrest. Got in the van with the very same state of mind. I got to witness the outside world between 8:25 a.m. and 8:55 a.m. for the first time which seemed to me so eternal. I happened to see my friend after a very long time. Though I didn’t get To talk to her, my heart began recollecting the memories. The sun was brighter and more glowing than ever. The gentle chill breeze approached me through the window. My state of mind? Was peaceful than ever before. Maybe sometimes it is good not to resist what is to happen.
In her cold, snowy breasts
They lay me down to rest
The pattering of earth
The gravel and the dirt
It doesn't hurt
I don't even feel it;
I hear it as it hits
The top of the casket
I hear my darlings crying
And throwing tearful fits
By far, the worst part of dying:
The grieving I feel
From family and friends
If only they knew,
Though death is real,
Life never ends
And we’re always with you
Even if you’re too sad to see
The wilted rose beside you
Is me
The clouds and falling snow
Is a me, you’ll come to know
When you look out the window
And trace the blowing leaves
And imagine their dry crinkling
And somber familiarity we’d share
Both loving the crisp winter air
How everything seems golden
Yet bare
Your heart sees me
Sees me standing there
Next to the old tree
As a cat’s glare gathers in the gloom
Recollecting me
Bored with urban life,
Once I went to my hometown.
Nostalgic I have become
Recollecting the thrill
Of plucking guavas,
Of having silly fights with friends,
And adventures in fields.
Stellars so bright and so many
Generations of eyes fascinated with augury
Pillars behind the moonlight so plenty
Constellation of dyes adulated with sobriety
When you were young and gazing at countless stars
Year after year never slept at night without litted scars
Scars of night's canvass of twinkling lights
Pulsars beeping in the midst of darkest sights
Now that everybody has grown old
Asking why many stars have gone so cold
Where did most stellars hide and go?
Wondering why they disappeared and said "No"
Above the places where you grew up stargazing
Below are spotlights of people's wishful thinking
Now that you've aged and started recollecting
Bow and applaud yourself...
You survived even without dreaming!
Today, I've been dreaming of the searing soulful sun again.
Hoping to find my way again, one day where I can believe in myself again, day sleeper.
I'm just a daydreamer, wishing for a world where I can exist freely once more.
A world where we can unite as one again.
One with ourselves, remembering the warmth of being held again.
Recollecting how it felt to truly exist again.
As we watch the world grow, I unfortunately missed it again, day sleeper.
But that's just me day sleeper.
Dreaming about having hope again, i missed the times I could thrive again.
Please god make me feel whole again.
But that's just me day sleeper.
Day sleeper, sleeping through my troubles and woes again.
Drifting through the undiscovered morning.
Once again, I find myself sleeping through the dawn again.
Day sleeper, please let me day dream again.
Day sleeper.
("Reflections", 2023, original encaustic)
Acquiring the Taste
What is it that makes life meaningful?
What is it that makes us whole?
Somewhere deep within
Is the quiet place
Of peace and serenity
A secret healing garden
That has open doors for us all.
And it doesn’t matter which one we take,
What matters is simply finding it, entering
Acquiring the taste
To return again and again
Making it a habit of mind
A beautiful obsession
Of the light that knows no dark.
It’s not hard to do, entering this space,
It doesn’t even involve work or effort,
The work and effort
Is simply remembering, recollecting
This which is our birthright, and
So allow the faith to bloom
On its own, in its own way and time.
The work is thus just getting out of the way
Not bringing our usual haul of baggage
To the sacred
Remembering instead to notice and enjoy
What is simply here and now
Needing no addition or subtraction
No condition or preparation.
What is and always has been
More intimate than breath,
More subtle than substance
More pervasive than space
Clearer than sunlight
Lighter than air, and
More terrifying than anything imaginable.
(2/21/24)
I’m reading old poems that I wrote;
(Most are wonderful, if I can gloat!)
Many capture events
That my old brain prevents
Recollecting, from times now remote.
I’m remembering travels and days,
Each occasion my writing portrays,
That I thought I’d forgot
But apparently not
For when written, each memory stays.
A spiritual sickness enveloped my stagnant heart.
I searched for her in darkened obscure visions,
A futile illusory chase that led to a desert of love.
Had I become addicted to her presence?
Deep in my heart, I knew that all was distorted.
I wondered if I really loved her,
Yet I could not bear the loss, knowing her as I did.
Finally, she disappeared from circulation,
It left my strength sapped from a wide goose chase.
Life trickled by slowly, as I lost my job, wasted my money,
Rendering my situation an almost irreparable ruin and loss.
Looking back, recollecting my bad choices
It took me some time to discern the inevitable damage
That rendered my skeletal life beyond repair.
Could I renew and restore my affluent fortunes?
Life had its ups and downs, like desert dunes.
All I needed was a fertile oasis. Walking on the hot sand
Was painful but I had to try. I began my journey anew.
Will I ever learn? Who knows? One can only hope.
After all, the desert is never endless though it may seem so.
Little Arianna! Sweat granddaughter!
So zealous in to decorate Christmas Tree.
Through Face time, I am only watching thee.
My dear, I am not with you this winter.
You are putting stars, hanging bells with cheers,
Your jubilant face I am to descry.
Last year I was with you ! Now me to sigh !
Recollecting past Christmas days, I am in tears.
History repeats, now I am far away.
You and your Mom busy to decorate.
In Christmas me alone to celebrate !
‘Wish you Merry Christmas’, only to say.
Desperately needing a release to find
Individuality of myself
Voiding all legal contracts and becoming
Obsolete to my ex
Recollecting past memories of my younger happier days
Capturing that smile I once wore
Everything works out in the end
Metal chair adjacent in the corner cold to the slighted touch
Kangaroo Silent seated yet standing still
Placed under someone stilled, I am soul chair
Firm balance touching buttocks cheeks
Spine tingling gracing back
Kangaroo paddle cushion fabric meets
Humanity stands abreast two-feet, I am soul chair
Laden chair holds human anatomy as I sit I am a chair as I stand yet I’m a chair
Designed for one person and consisting of one or more legs,
a flat or slightly angled seat and a back-
Chair contains its purpose all humans do so
Mind above the rest by thinking by using their minds.
Human achieves knowledge by recollecting sitting
What was known before that human's soul entered the body
Kangaroo Physical and soul so bares sitting down in a soul chair,
10/22/23
For Wild Animal contest Poetry Contest
Personification poetry form only.
Sponsored by: Shadow Hamilton
There is no better person
Where would I start
To tell your story
Recollecting my thoughts
More than you,
It was those sunny Sundays
The 20th of August to be exact
Whereby I usually go for a walk
Little did I know that it might be my last
Mesmerized by the disbelief of it
The constant kicking of the leg
In the freeway between Dawn and Amalinda
Falling on my back,wandering what would be the headline
What a tragedy,missing woman
This man is going to kill me
Rolling on my side,wandering what would Amantankwende clan say at my funeral
I am going to die
Getting up on my feet,wandering what would my so call friends say about me
Be careful who you surround yourself with
What would be the cause of it
The truth is a rare commodity
It does not set you free,
There is no better person
Where would I start
To tell your story
Digesting the events
More than you
The rain hit hard.
Pounding and banging on the windows
like fists of lament
Then the darkness came
A reminder to call loved ones
Being one of the lucky ones
my cell rang and I smiled
The lightening lighting up the sky
was some sight
The electricity a message of love.
A few hours later, listening to music
recollecting our conversation
tears pushed through
A mixture of being grateful but knowing
you won't always be around
"I'm okay mum..."
I just hope I never forget
the sound of your voice.
"love you!"
Sub Categories
Looking for the formal definition, structure, and history of this poetry form? Visit the Poetry Dictionary entry below. Then return to explore how PoetrySoup members bring the form to life through their own poems.