Spinning to re-shape
on the lathe of misfortune
tools of memories
slice the old dead-wood away
shavings curling around feet
Round and round I go
ghostly hands remake my form
what I was, is gone
what I am, waits for pruning
severing grief from rough years
New clay on the wheel
trembling hands begin to mold
the shapeless mass pile
a new form slowly rises
shaped by daring, bold fingers
Painted ponies churn
straight road offers no answers
yet the circling does
we learn the truths we forgot
etched deep in the wheel's lament
Wood or clay spinning
hands caress, carve, and refine
as circle chants on
form and spirit are re-birthed
making a new beginning
Round and round I go—
shaped by the spinning
the rough falls away
a new form rises
in the clay, that's spun today,
-on the merry-go-round
-on the merry-go-round
Why are you back
Looking in the mirror and only seeing disdain
These things begin to taint my brain
Why are you back
Intrusive thoughts of severing skin
Again they begin
Why are you back
Inability to feel joy while surrounded by it
Numbness consuming me bit by bit
Why are you back
I told you to go
I knew you didn't want to; I felt the no
It reverberated through my bone
Leaving me feeling oh so hollow
But now you are back
And I feel everything that I lack
I feel it tenfold
And nothing can hold
Me together again
Sadness begins to pour
Over the edges of my soul
Drowning until I'm left in this blackhole
I'm scared. I'm scarred. My vision's gone black
All from the fear that you might be back.
Severing of ties with our allies.
Court orders blatantly defied.
Plans to privatize, those federal
agencies now downsized..
Green card holders traumatized..
A thousand cuts.
A thousand bleeds.
Our wounded democracy falls
to it's knees,,
Lawyers and judges receive death threats.
Freedom of speech being suppressed.
Deportation with out due process.
Defunding colleges and PBS..
A thousand cuts.
A thousand bleeds.
Our democracy hemorrhages.
Our rights recede, as we
sleep walk into Autocracy...
Unrealities and realities
grind together in mortar’s mouth,
spilling, pulverizing, volatile perfumes—
succumbing scents of citrus, crushed copper,
musks of bruised lightning,
threshing thunderous throbs.
Instability incarnate sings her reveling wails,
fragrances of something
Beyond Name.
I guide existences into black curve,
severing them against sharp, obsidian walls,
letting them rupture—letting them bleed
—syrups and statics—
messy marrows of forgotten equations.
Their shapelessness mutable,
pliant pages to pulp in the plunge
of the merciless pestle.
How many combinations will one
blend and crucify—
to crush, to coax, into coherence?
Rasps of bone bend against sanguine salts,
sheens of opulent oil merge with ember embryo—
iron filings licked into life by tempests reigned.
Anything of matter becomes
moisture—mass—mold—
hunger pooling at my basin’s heart,
seething for impending strike,
for sudden and unforgiving
birth.
A prolonged loud silence
Shattering my belief
Baffling my spirit
Summoning an inevitable end
Of what we had between us
Shunning my existence
Severing the bond that tied us
The heart lies bruised by the callous attitude
And distance grows further between us
Nothing it seems stays forever.
At the cusp
Of a wave, a change, a fall
Into total darkness
Here we stand
Or rather slide
Headfirst into destruction
And as we fall
Into chaos and dissolution
We will at last be saved
And in that moment
What we took for granted
Will be lost
Within the total chaos
Law and order will be established
And with it the end of freedom
This is the new world order
That awaits when their machinations
Come to fruit
You, me, us
Reduced to so many parts
Without regard for who we really are
And in the change
As the light of dawn unfolds
Will we be revealed as spirt or flesh
And in the severing
Will we sink or fly
In terror or relief
This is the cusp
We find ourselves on
As the powers that be extend
And as they grow
And we still have a choice
What will it be
(10/25/24)
The last rays of sunshine disappear
as the dark clouds interweave,
The show ends, and the crowd leaves,
Left behind were dashed hopes and
unfulfilled dreams scattered on the
ground,
Next to the exit door was this unfulfilled
dream, unwrapped and unbound.
An unchivalrous Knight abandons his
Lady Love, breaking his promise,
severing their bond,
Searching high and low, he was nowhere
to be seen and nowhere to be found,
He left behind a once cheerfully bright
soul, like a Spring Blossom, in a sea of
tears drifting far and wide.
Her shattered heart helplessly looks
on as memories slip like sand
through fingers,
And while feelings of betrayal and
abandonment still lingers,
In the garden of her heart where love
once lived, silence blooms,
Her body, painful and lifeless, cries
out in agony from grief and sadness
that looms.
Seeking solace, she looks for a way
to escape and a place to hide,
Finding none, her heart cries silently
knowing she must endure and muster
the courage to take the next stride.
By Zyrool
There can be no severing,
Our oneness is eternal;
One in onederful onement:-
“Embrace and Release”
In the quiet of night, I pondered—
the art of severing ties, like pruning a tree.
The weakest links, once tightly bound,
now set free, like a maiden’s unclasped bra.
2024 dawns, a canvas for transformation.
Covid’s grip loosens, and clarity emerges.
Meltdowns yield to focus, tears to savings.
My sex life, like New York’s winter, chills.
Raw verses spill forth, unfiltered and true.
Yet my smile softens toward strangers,
and I find myself liking humanity anew.
Trust remains distant, a horizon to reach.
Biblical tales echo vulnerability—
the weaker devoured by the strong.
Have I surrendered my worth for fleeting moments?
No tears stain my words; they remain silent.
As I gaze upward, pondering thoughts,
my brain’s triad—forebrain, midbrain, hindbrain—
collaborates, yet sometimes drifts apart.
Do I know myself anymore? Today, I listen.
Goodbye, old lover; hello, new friends.
Life’s tides carry me forward,
and I embrace the journey, raw and unafraid.
May vulnerability be my strength, not my undoing.
100 days in captivity
10,000 children killed
who can speak?
who can speak?
the silent cries deafen
tidal wave of suffering
washes over the memory
of lives snuffed out under the rubble
bombs bury the guilt of oppression
there is no extra care being taken
what is true is death
fragile is a disjointed word
how can you say fragile
when they are gone
freedom, release are empty
shells without meaning
do not kidnap babies
do not kill babies
killing their families
severing their limbs
by your superior armaments
that flatten their homes
that is not mitigation
that is a lie
do not uphold a lie
the rabbi intones
God does not distinguish
us vs. them
humans, stop the slaughter
ceasefire now; rebuild
Always lingering just beyond the realm of hurt
Emerging against whispers of the heart
Appearing against its hesitant pleas for caution
Showing up when the heart advices not to
Flourishing amidst uncharted moments
Thriving amidst an unexplored territory
Running away from problems unencountered
Unwanted eyes wide open
Witnessing the undesired scenes unfold
Crafting smiles amidst sorrows grasps
Severing ties that never truly existed
Enduring sleepless nights, questioning why
Does it trouble you to surpass the rest?
Elevate, unleash your untamed spirit, don your smile,
For it’s the essence of being human
Making occasional missteps in choices
An open invitation to amend and rectify,
And restore harmony once more
In pride's embrace, a dangerous plight,
Its venomous grip, a blinding light,
An ego bloated, consuming the soul,
Leaving behind a heart bitter and cold.
Arrogance births a relentless divide,
Breaking connections, severing ties,
With eyes fixed on oneself, blind to the pain,
Compassion erodes, drowned by disdain.
Inflated egos, a fragile charade,
Masking vulnerability, truths unswayed,
Pride's lofty heights, a treacherous climb,
Leads to a fall, in the sands of time.
Humility's cloak, cast aside in haste,
Leads to a world engulfed in distaste,
For in pride's realm, empathy subsides,
Leaving a void where humanity hides.
Let us shed the shackles that pride has wrought,
Seek unity, compassion, lessons taught,
For in humility, true strength resides,
And bridges are built, where love coincides.
A dying flight of flames has transformed into ashes.
The final maddening dance with embers passes.
Landing into a glowing heart of pain.
Feeling continuous onslaught of the insane.
Ashes stir and collect in a swirling wind.
Ignites it into a majestic fiery form to begin.
Dancing flames begin to swirl into a new form.
It rises and spreads its wings to be reborn.
The Shrieking cry of anguish it bellows forth.
Severing itself from hells grasp for all its worth.
Finally, streaking across the star lit sky.
She gently swoops down to us saying goodbye.
An existential waiting for Godot,
when aggravated, drinking much Bordeaux,
could even bring Thoreau dismay and woe,
to mutilate one’s ear like poor van Gogh.
When we despair, impatience flaring, though,
in spite of claims of piety, we show
our unbelief about the debt we owe,
a faith that’s shallow, feeble, even faux.
Oh Lord, come to me now and do not go!
—————
for the Monomixorhyme Poetry Contest
63 words, 90 syllables, checked by HowManySyllables.com
sponsored by Hilo Poet
written on 11/4/22
Waiting for Godot, (pronounced “Guh-DOH”, although some prefer “GOD-oh”) a play written by Samuel Beckett in 1948, is often view through a Christian existential lens.
Henry David Thoreau, author of Walden was a transcendentalist, philosopher, and naturalist.
Vincent van Gogh was a post-impressionist artist who suffered from mental illness and heavy drinking, famously severing his own ear with a razor during an argument with his friend, Paul Gauguin.
By my enabled senses five, attention externalised, I beheld the magical world of myriad objects, reflecting their luminous auras. As I exhaled, the world disappeared and through my open fontanel correspondent to the crown chakra, I entwined with universal consciousness, melding with God’s blissful domain of boundless love and soft white light. My subtle body felt God in-dwelling all forms, breathing His life force by His sublime pranic breath, magnetically energising each being by Holy Spirit. Then sadly, as my body aged, to my dismay, the fontanel closed, thus severing the divine connection. I now feel incomplete.
dreams hold forth promise
cajoling us to let go~
for God is within
05-June-2022
Like A Child Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Regina McIntosh
Related Poems