What at times truth linger
How we wish lies slumber
As some do pounder
Yet many never baptise slander
While envy remains an anthracite
Vilification may tarry to alight
The Eden apple; enough a device to highlight
Unity's drag race lying in twilight
Criticism flourish in relentlessness
To define the best soul's vividness
Thought it acts of wickedness
Truly; contrary, a wholesome blessedness
Fires precise courage
Yielded to rid bondage
Time flies,
But here I am, in a race with time,
She mounts on her wings,
with every flap in every second, she goes farther,
I set my eye on the horizon as I ran, pounding my feet on the earth.
Isn't time partial ?
She runs “tik tok tik tok” in the night whilst we lay
motionless on our bed yet strolling in dream land to jolt up in the morning to catch up with what flies.
The red sunset
sends its ubiquitous rays
to cover everything
within its encircling embrace.
The silhouette of lovers
on a park bench
appears to burn with love,
setting passion's scene aglow.
Towering skyscraper windows
reflect the sunset's crimson stare
like a thousand glaring eyes
red from sleepless nights.
A fountain's slow trickle
oozes from glowing garnet angels
like blood from broken hearts,
bleeding away the sense in life.
Passers-by appear angry,
the sun inviting their innermost thoughts
to sear through bone, flesh, and skin
and silently shout their fears.
The world on fire, set ablaze
by heaven's fury, burns with the intensity
of love's pure passion, man's volcanic thoughts
and life's consuming relentlessness.
And the day-star of time,
the poet of placid skies and lucid scenes,
steps behind the world and leaves it
to put yet another day into perspective.
Reality set in, I was with the 8th wonder; days are limited of happiness
I confronted something inside; backed to a corner; which was sadness
Have no room for it; but no control; when it comes to, this kind of madness
I can only imagine how horrible it will be to live through this; hopelessness
My will be strong, for no honor would be found in giving into this weakness
Everyone has to learn to live without their best form of a lifetime's governess
There's no twelve steps, past this afflictions kind of relentlessness
But within my age, I will never be consumed by despair such as this
For I have found and burned the devils grimoire; in no form does it deserve to exist
What a blessing to not need to write
To not burn from a desire to express what words cannot
To have things I want to do
And the ability to do so
For no feelings to be trapped in verbose amber
Nor crystallized in song, dance, paint
But instead lived
Is there truly a difference
In channeling love in amber to show
Instead of hiding in away
In the piles of papers and relentlessness seconds
The beauty of simplicity
Demands a short docket
Managed by forgetfulness organization and action
SPUN POETRY
gossamer-soft
breathtakingly
glossy
never threadbare
colossal
reasonant
a sense of
atonement
in tapestry
fragments
stiched as one
sacrosanct
in
visible sutures
of passing
relentlessness
THIS IS AN OPEN(organic) FORM VERSE without grammatical symbols the ' open' relies upon 'the one breath limitation' & so inherently requires the 'reader' (reciter) to input and respond thus making the form a two way interplay and often a unique interpretation by the enigma so derived
Her graceful poise is soon halted and then obliged to turn aside.
The sacred demeanor of her innocence was the only thing to scare the pride.
Timing is the enemy they've been given from the relentlessness of it's power.
If you check the Devil's watch evil has been given exactly one whole hour.
Today is far too soon yet tomorrow will, ultimately, prove itself to late.
If you only have a moment, what moment would you create?
An epic they call fairytale or a simple story drained of soul?
If you give up to the latter you have surrendered to evil and it's control.
The ultimate is, ultimately, yours and the rest is, ultimately, chance.
If he extends his hand would you actually join the Devil in the Devil's dance?
Time drips on my vacant eyes like candle wax covering my fleeting humanity...
I ignore the loneliness and drudge on, cracking the thin plywood of my existence; hovering like a misplaced ghost, toasting with a raised, rusty cup to all my screaming inadequacies... I slip into the flawed, racing night with the precision of a surgeon, and as aimless as a lost sailor in a starless sky... The wrenching pain wraps me like a dirty blanket. Regrets plague me with a relentlessness of a dripping faucet. The gray Sunday drifts by like a paper boat on a still lake. I look to the passing clock, which mocks me openly. I listen to the same song over and over; trying to catch some new meaning within its cryptic lyrics, but to no avail. I plunge into uncertainty like a stone in a frost-covered pond in February. My fiendish mistakes chase me like rabid wolves in the night. And time passively moves on. There is no reprieve or pause. It simply moves along, unabated in its constant march... And in its wake it leaves only bones, dust, and legacies...
It was two ways to go
And two ways we went
The tears they wrung from us
Until gape the cracked faith wide
The blood we surrenderd to the dust
War is a battle between opposing sides
A contention of beliefs
A fight for wrong subjugated to right
The root of evil is the relentlessness of might
Two ways to go
But only one tell of victory sweet.
Those days in nineteen thirty eight foretold
Like a flickering finger on the wall
One day we would starve ourselves
Of hatred and forget
The blemish and blemish the British left
Like a flagpole without the jack overthrown
The comeing of the black green and gold
The coming of a bellyful of peace
Ladled idleness and the death of myth
The lingering beginning of war
So different from we knew
When the sugar corchy blew.
A solitary tree upon an isolated hill.
The willow sways it's rhythmic dance in expectation of an August gale.With leaves abound
awaiting to camouflage the ground to a carpet of golden canvas.A winters prelude.
As presuemed,out of somewhere the tempest shows forth with winds that bend her and a
sweeping rain that stings with bite.With tenacious roots bounded to earth and stone,against
the force of relentlessness she strains to hold ground.
Upon clearing,nakedness.
Stripped of her jewels,her blossoms....her leaves,an elegance that will no longer paint these
day lit skies.Spookish clouds give way the bluish heavens. Unknown to the weariness,birds pause upon familiar perches
With no colors to turn in Octobers skies she weds a leafless fall,but yet through
endurance,she remains.
The end
The rain outside my door
Its talk, a calming effect
Upon my restless spirit, implores
the need to reflect.
The rain, drenching the moors
Its pounding upon rocky crests
Like the clapping of hands, soars
Upon the senses, dissolving stress.
The rain inviting me outdoors
Its plead to leave the comfort of concepts
Exchanging the warmth of safe indoors
For the dramatic cold of clarity, intercepts.
The rain, cleansing a downpour
Its relentlessness stripping the walls erected
Around the damaged heart, explores
Upon new possibilities, wider directed.
The rain, beckoning a force
Its puddles upon my feet impress
With childlike laughter, a dance extorts
Revving the spirit, the genuine soul expressed.
By CarolineCécile
copyright © 02.06.10
The willow sways
A rhythmic dance
in expectation
of the August gale
Tenacious roots
Entwine earth and stone
Bounden firm
Anchored undaunted
Wind swept rains bite!
Against the force
Of relentlessness
She strains
To hold ground
..upon clearing
,,nakedness
Stripped of her jewels-
Her leaves
Her blossoms..
..her beauty
Blue skies dawn.
Unknown to her weariness,
Birds pause
Upon familiar perches
With no colors to turn
In the Octobers skies
She weds a leafless fall
Yet through endurance,
She remains,,
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