You'd tilt cartons under your nose;
milk missed your mouth and cooled my toes.
Droplets have hardened when they've seeped
under the bed, the run now steeped
in stickiness since you've been gone.
If shadows sleep, mine has withdrawn
under the bed asleep like dust
when squeaks wake up the bedframe's rust.
Your absence forces me to yank
the mattress off to scour the rank
sourness and rough smattering
of crumbs, the stuck broom battering
lampshades reddening my eyes , beets
as if I am a ghost in sheets
circling a glass bowl's facedown rim
embedded in the dust grown dim.
The revolutionary
The revolution germinated in my womb,
The tenderness and care never negotiated.
The external pressures never an obstacle,
The birth of the world’s most beautiful era bloomed.
Came the dawn of surprises after a storm,
The ship swayed hither to thither.
The fight and insurrection had already begun,
The world’s most beautiful and the strongest life was born.
The trunk was burned and she just witnessed,
Holding the hands of the needy and the swayed.
Detached yet focused, marching to the goal,
With slogans and spirits high she bore in her heart.
Sheltered was she, but the discontent seeped out,
In an urge to reach the pinnacle of the dream,
Reminders and warnings kept she to herself,
To be the spectator and observer of her own play.
Sandhya T.P.
The end has come while the rest wasent found.
Lurking truths have seeped into every sound.
The misery is loud.
Trying to wash the wounds from all my cuts.
It rises from the bottom of my guts.
Why was it not written to remain as love.
Looking for the answers beneath each cup.
Never knowing if it could have been.
This entire saga has been one bad dream.
Now I must keep walking into the abyss.
Will I ever find true bliss.
Missing each and every kiss.
The journey was bumpy to say the least.
The arguments generated an uneasy feast.
Creating constant agony as we never stayed happy.
A lonely path was written for me, As I spill the tea.
I thought I was in control.
Her words were strong in packs as they whispered to capture.
Did she realise that her weapon created the demolition of chapter.
Allure downfall
Embodiment of temptation
Seeped into my bloodstream making your way into my heart
Ache behind the art
Tender in the dark , killer with a kiss
Softer than scars louder than silence
Moon fire
Promise are slippery things
Watching her laugh with him feels like a final goodbye
I thought giving her space was all she needed
My girl
I watch her slip away
I should be the one
The one who makes her laugh
The one who fills all ing holes
The one who handcuffs her and growls in her ear
" MINE"
She shot me but she's still my girl
Craved Liar on my chest still my little Assassin
She ing stabbed me and I would give her a knife and let her do it all over again
I just want my girl
He is no longer in love with me.
His spoken words flesh caught like dull razors.
Churning pains toss me in raw seeped reelings.
I feel feather fragile as weighty aches
conflict and trip me upon foreign ground.
Heavy, my eyes are merely tear-weak slits.
God, in prayer I do ask, with mercy come
and ease my wrecked self with gift feels of numb.
There was a young woman who yearned for a mate.
Sadly cat food was all that she ate...
The cans with seafood she clearly favored and from
this diet she never wavered.
Many thought her an attractive gal, in spite of slight
whiskers and her woeful meow.
None dared go close as her breath was so foul..
Come night on a twinkling star she would wish.
At the break of each dawn she'd gargle and swish.
Regardless she always reeked heavily of fish.
She couldn't rid of this seafood scent which seeped
thru her pores and wouldn't relent, so she
moved outdoors and bathed at a brook.
One day she got snagged by a golly whopper hook.
Across the wandering life’s changing dynamic landscape,
I traversed following the footprints of destiny
the tortuous pathway in the undulating topography,
that winded for me, tracking the trail of racing time
to the amorphous future, taking the ordained shape,
Many streams in spate I had swam with passion
across the waves of somber squall.
With the buds of nascent hope clutched close to heart.
I chased butterflies in the blooming valley of flowers,
with dreams flying through the rainbow archway.
Drifting with the whistling wind in the forest,
the radiant rays from the sunburst sky
seeped in to enwrap me with ecstasy.
Navigating the wasteland at night I found your arms,
I saw love glow on dew in my meadow at dawn.
The spent sun sinks at the edge of the twilight zone,
across the disappearing trail of the time past,
marked by the fading footprints of fulfillment.
Walking the last mile, I’ve reached the point of no return,
the weary footsteps can’t take me back.
based on the song-tears of a clown by Iron Maiden
---------------------------------------------------------------------
afraid people will see your truth
so you lived wearing a mask
a mask
to protect you
from all the worlds
judgements
as you spun your
crazy world
you entered the masquerade
you took a leap
into the unknown
to be the funny man
the clown
but this mask you wore
also protected you from
your created illusion
and the paranoia hiding
within
all around they lit up your name
outwardly was a glow
but
inwardly the whirlwind spun
spinning inside
the darkness
dominating all bounds
the black fog of frustration seeped
into your soul
torment spread its tentacles
trapping you inside the cage of hell
most fly into heaven
but upon a demons wing
you descended
you mended hearts with laughter
a real life Patch Adams
The psyche was burned and left us numb, floating like a boat without oars on an endless river,
the world was darker than the pitch-black of a closet full of hungry bats,
and the whiskey and wine seeped deep into our weary veins,
when the blood was too weak to carry the burden of our lost dreams,
we surrendered to a dance of shadows, a waltz of memories and forgetting,
on a horizon where the stars were extinguished by a dense cloud of silence,
we feel time slipping away like sand through our fingers, mercilessly,
in a world where hopes are just lost echoes in the night,
and our souls wander on untrodden paths, searching for a spark of light,
in a land of memories where once we dreamed of being immortal,
but now only shadows keep us company on this silent journey,
and wine and whiskey become our allies in the battle with forgetting and lost time.
For Timothy Lee
You excite all my senses.
I happily lack any defenses
against stimuli your love dispenses.
Your ways lack false pretenses.
Whenever together, true joy commences.
Eyes, ears, taste, scents, touch -
all intoxicate me so much.
My heart and soul clutch
because our love grants such.
You are my sweet penuche.
Thoughts of me and you
paint a picture perfect view.
Our combination is love's brew
sweet seeped through and through.
Daily, love gifts us anew.
A recent share on a post, that is so relevant to poets writing in a world seeped in instant self gratification.
Title.
The Entrepreneur
(A lone voice whispers)
We do what we do, because we are old school
Inspired by the likes of visionaries such as, Michelangelo or, Vincent van Gogh
For in a modern world driven to seek immediate validation, and the trappings of success
We may be becoming a rare breed
For deep down, we know this unconditionally
Unconsciously
We are a work in progress
We who do the hard work constantly, through patience, and resilience
We know we will eventually see the journey has been worth it
As we are blessed
When the world eventually sees or embraces our portfolios
For that immense need driven by relentless consistency, patience, and resilience
Will eventually knock on a certain door to be opened by us
Marked
"For the brave
Who conquered the Lands of Broken Dreams filled with Regrets"
(C) Copyright John Duffy
In Fontaine’s mist, where waters shine,
A god once dreamed of something fine.
Furina laughed - refrains so bright -
But in her chest, it didn’t feel right.
Beneath her crown, her heart would ache,
Its fragile beat begins to break.
The whispers hissed, “She’s not divine..!!!"
And doubt seeped in like rising brine.
The trial came; her mask fell through -
No goddess now; just someone true.
The deity’s gift of life unbound,
At last her feet could touch the ground.
She swayed with tides in endless streams,
A fleeting wisp of shattered dreams.
Yet still she stood - though fragile seemed -
Atlas in heels, or so it deemed.
Would she endure such heavy chains?
To bear their hopes through loss and pains?
Or would she falter as one did too,
And find her strength in something true?
In Furina’s tale, one sees their own -
The masks one wear to stand alone.
But when one dares to drop the act,
Such truths would one by one refract.
(A) decade squandered in dread lost to shadows that never asked permission.
(N)egativity seeped in, a silent trespasser carving itself into my marrow.
(X)-rays reveal nothing, yet the ache hums beneath my ribs like a buried scream.
(I) stir in constant panic, clawing at the edges of a moment unraveling in my hands.
(E)ntrapped by an existential shadow, pressing against bloodshot eyes like a veil of lead.
(T)ortured by potential, by shame, by echoes of what will never be spoken.
(Y)earning for escape, but the exit is a mirage, dissolving before I can touch it.
We are born aware of our soul’s treasure.
We know we are from spirit sourced designs
and graced with faith traits far beyond measure.
These truths grow loose when spirit earth aligns.
As earth life feeds us human emotions,
we drift from truth and our hearts refashion.
Days of human ways grow false held notions.
God nudges us to reclaim His passion.
When a child, God tingle-touches our skin.
We feel otherness seeking us aware
with love seeped passions that ignite within.
We cannot name it but thrill to its flair.
Time bends us to lend us a spirit mend
for it’s when pained that we seek beyond sight.
When we strive for a spiritual blend,
it is in quiet we find truth’s bright might.
it’s lonely standing outside the cage
with the left of centre attitude
as
the majority look upon
with disdain
whatever happened to freedom of expression?
the darkness casts no shadows
now that
the sold dream has morphed
into a nightmare
and
the path to dystopia
is starting to get worn
populism has become
democracies illusion
when opinions expressed
go against the grain
whatever happened to
freedom to free speech?
a muzzled voice can’t scream
so they just point
and silently laugh
at the different
but who is laughing?
behind the light the fork tongue speaks
through blinded eyes and closed ears
they perceive it to be true
the oils blackness has now seeped
the 21st century plague has eaten
the jelly brains now blindly follow
question not
when the alarm bell rings
they all stop to sing
its tune
and those standing left of centre
are looked upon with disdain
whatever happened to the right
of having a different opinion?
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