Root
self-worth
mild ascend
from earth, to sky,
trip without moving.
world is a high love chord.
in a state of unmatched mirth
Hearts may wander, and life unfolds
break the mold of our unwise nightmare.
bounty of thoughtful sprinkling and motion
shades of sight carried by the divine stream,
filling oneself with fairness and faith.
stand this route in braced quietness
merely choosing for time frame,
brand of our deep psyche,
turn down craving pangs
serve our life part
slenderness
fearless
bliss
thrill
set back
which you could
to board watchful,
making us feel good
whispering in low gasps,
cosmic awareness as mind
complying with the ambition
allows love to rule over our deeds,
Spectroscopic, motionless adventure.
Written: November 28, 2022
Journey without movement Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Unseeking Seeker
I stand to see
To see the rising sun
Why stand? I sought to know
To know 'True souls'
Miles I've come
Come to unveil the truth
For my slenderness they ignore
Ignore I from their mad dreams
Subjected to my principles
Principles that none know
For I dream to write
Write what none has
Reaching to your memories
Memories which to you are nightmares
That one person I fear
Fear to ever meet
Have they not told you yet?
Yet I admire their philosophy?
'R.I.P.' they say to the gone
Gone never to age
What's the point?
Point on what haunts?
A eighth of your trust I need
Need, indeed for a second
They never sleep
Sleep to they slither away
Away to the deepest abyss?
You better think again
Again I reveal the truth
"True Souls," they go by name.
Distances (II)
by Michael R. Burch
There is a small cleanness about her,
as though she has always just been washed,
and there is a dull obedience to convention
in her accommodating slenderness
as she feints at her salad.
She has never heard of Faust, or Frost,
and she is unlikely to have been seen
rummaging through bookstores
for mementos of others
more difficult to name.
She might imagine “poetry”
to be something in common between us,
as we write, bridging the expanse
between convention and something...
something the world calls “art”
for want of a better word.
At night I scream
at the conventions of both our worlds,
at the distances between words
and their objects: distances
come lately between us,
like a clean break.
Published by Verse Libre, Triplopia and Lone Stars. Keywords/Tags: love, relationship, relationships, communication, distance, distances, convention, books, bookstores, art, literature, poetry, writing, chasm, abyss, divide, Faust, Frost, clean break
Scarlet trees, do not mind if I keep looking at you
Your branches point to the endless, sun-kissed roads,
Point to where my heart wants to be!
When I gaze at your slenderness
The thousands of hands that might have touched you
And the storm engulfing the breath of million souls
Which might have crossed you,
On foreign land, you give me the simplest of pleasures,
And the happiest of times,
Day and night.
When the sun has set and all the windows are glowing
A part of you still lingers on the darkest alleys,
One that is mine,
One that is ever so brimming with glorious crime,
I look at you from my little watchtower
Wondering, how many stories you have woven
In between the cobwebs of your branches,
How many kisses you have swathed in morning dew drops,
How many lonely walks have you carved
On the veins of your beautiful scarlet leaves…
Oh! Scarlet trees you have inspired
These words out of ecstasy,
For it is only when the crescent moon shines,
And the sky is dark blue,
I let my fingers dance
For they love the tune of the unforgettable
And they love the pain of a homeless soul
On a lost pursuit.
You entered my life when yours seemed grim,
affected lonesome heart on a chancy whim.
Weak and sick, you fought to justly live,
knowing indeed, you had loads of loyalty to give.
Wiry - thick- gray mane crowned your debonair grace,
accenting strength and slenderness to your youthful face.
Fourteen years you honored our humble abode,
strutting whole backyard, showing off what you owned.
Age griped your lean physique, riddled your body and soul,
deep down inside, I knew it was your moment to go.
One night you slipped away in the moon-less dark,
took my love - my first feline - but left your mark.
My sweet Simon - my Sam Bo, appeared by either name,
when you adorned my home, my life has not been the same…
Copyright © 2016 By Caryl S. Muzzey
Second Place Winner ~ "I Love My Pets” Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Laura Loo
Feb. 18, 2016
1/20/16
long, thin, slenderness
pathway leading to remorse
stream cannot change course.
(January 24, 2011 Wausau, Wisconsin)
(c) Copyright 2011 by Christine A Kysely, All Rights Reserved
The dreampt sky took to the horizon like fall leaves covering the iced over ground.
Pure as ever I sit and read your letter sent by wings from all over.
The slenderness of your words and a wonderous chill down the spine of my
back.
Flutters from under sounded deep beneath me,
A gaze of a wolf tracking its pry suddenly startled by the awaking of the ground,
running off.
Wings of all sorts of color covered scents elapsed the dream like a front page
cover.
The rainbow colors sent sparks high into the glazed look sky,
Just sitting as everything spins.
Wings approached me again friendly, yet ready to strike as it came to a s top on
my hand.
My hands held open as a rosefelt pricked my fingers.
A peice of paper had fallen, yet the wings had already parted for home...
A tear stained the surface of my face as it turned pale;
Curious to know if you were really here.
My hand got moist... blood seemed to drip from the rose and soon from my eyes.
I had felt the joy of both gifts in a mere dream.
Awoken by flutters at my front door, I too for to become a full set of wings.
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