Idée fixe
--------------------
By:Rubato Etude
-------------------------
Mamihlapinatapai
Redamancy
Each Others better half
"Sapiomanic"
the root of my happiness
Besotted
Radiant
overly interested in
our togetherness
it stems from our love
for one another
that perfect part of
loving
that perfect part of belonging
I am in love with you!
I love yoou too
we are in love with
one another
Lovers!
sun-struck hours flatten every shade
lawns crisp into brittle patches of thirst
heat presses down with a hand that won’t lift
air wavers, shimmering with quiet exhaustion
porches hold people too tired to speak
even hope feels slow beneath this burning sky
It wasn’t who I was;
I had become a stranger in my own skin.
No one was willing to help me;
I was under the shelter of gathering darkness.
It wasn’t who I was;
I could barely afford a good meal.
It felt like climbing a steep hill,
A journey through a withered meadow.
My son didn’t want to come close.
I turned to look at him and saw him turn away.
I sat alone on the porch at twilight;
Sadness weighed down the boat of my being.
I soar on the wings of dawn;
I walk into the morning light, filled with awakening hope.
A slow sink is not a shadow symphony,
If only hope could be buoyed from being submerged.
still water holds light~
a slow curve of fading day
resting in the reeds
Accepted have I
inspected close by
The liquor offered by life
Sea of it's offered in rife.
My role, it's given.
High of sinking has me driven
To accept it ever so slowly
Too despised is water, too holy.
False pride lifts up soul
propped by haughty mind
hiding selfishness
around shame's fortress
oblivious of fall.
Such falsity
defies truth's stand
that builds strong life
by God's blest might.
Honesty
clings to grace
securing...
...heart from
slow sink's...
blow!
Few years ago, I drifted on a wetland
swiveling through the pewter
of evening as contours of statelv herons
unfolded...velvety the feathers white,
and ablaze by clear Asian ripples of before.
Yet, from a visit today, my eyes
follow them along weeds...
their poses now limp from a gray night
through rows of frail blooms, fumbling
along a marsh looking old;
their feet throttling in slow sink of motion
against those once radiant plumes:
In quiet reflection, I imagine
these birds' pliqht amidst
nature's environ , steeped in frail
passages of late life stages unattended:
How I weep for these herons' destination
beyond soiled grasses
as I wrap my fingers in prayer,
relishing this instance where
I gaze at an avian delight,
slowly yet wondrously aging through my eyes.
This struggle I have is from within
In my darkest moments I fight to grin
Because I am aware that stigma is true
Mental illness is cruel a burden to you
It’s like a disease that handcuffs minds
Depression confession lost in teal time
It’s like being stuck in tan quicksand
A slow sink in a nightmare with no chance
Looking from the inside I feel trapped
The enemy is me and energy is zapped
Why can’t I be nicer to the child inside
I tell her the truth she regurgitates lies
Lies like we don’t need the peach pill
We can pray it away use diet and will
In a manic panic we can run on treadmill
Frantically romantic we love never kill
I can never escape my cherry challenge
Shame it brings that I have an imbalance
The harder I try the more I seem to sink
Slow sink is worse than a quick ending
I can wake up from this neon nightmare
There is no cure but I am able to share
If I keep hope afloat I can learn to thrive
Slowly sink becomes a way to survive
Since you . . .
I go to bed; you’re on my mind
and I can’t sleep a wink
Sun rises, and all day long it’s about
our time together that I think
You smile at me and all my woes
vanish in a blink
My dusk seems painted more now
in violet and pink
Your kisses are the sweet red wine
so eagerly I drink
My body moves next to yours . . .
we’re utterly in sync
With you as my muse, my pen
keeps running out of ink!
My heart so overflows with joy
you’ve brought me to the brink . . .
If your love were water,
my heart would be a wonderfully
s l o w s l o w sink
I watch flecks of stubble sadly float.
They have no hope. They have no boat.
Their chances are remote.
So, it provides them no cheer, I think,
that they'll drain down a slow sink.
I look down with a hint of fear
to see my feet, then legs, disappear.
This must be quicksand. I say "Oh dear";
and my form begins to shrink
as into the earth, I slowly sink.
I watch the sun set in the West
and ask, "Should I be depressed
or be glad that my life's been blessed?"
It replies by turning the sky pink,
and begins to slowly sink.
I watch my body disintegrate
as I only gradually meet a fate
that doctors try to mitigate.
In a word, I'd say, it "stinks",
this somber, sunless, sad slow sink.
I slowly sink into the atmosphere of the day
watching the world spin by me
in an unseen pace
where it appears I'm still
and the world is moving
My feet feel as though they are sinking in quicksand
yet, the floor is hard
I rise with little strength left
for my days of vibrancy are gone
and I'm left to my own understanding of old age
as I shuffle through another day of memories
I take your weight
so that we may fall to the depths
unscathed as lungs fail
I'll hold you close
the rocks will not harm your flesh
hush you to sleep
forever in my arms
until forever floats away
Taking It Slow
Two horses traveling along a fence
stopped partway on their journey
one nibbling at dead grass and the other
standing behind it, wondering why they stopped,
so soon
Is this what couples are like when taking it slow,
or are they simply uncertain what way to take
on the journey to their future?
How speedy yet sweet the swift
how slow and sleepy the sloth
how creepy crawly the caterpillar
metamorphosing into a moth
how flutters by the butterfly
how groaning grumbly the grouse
how caterwauly the cat
wailing at night outside the house
how snips when shears the snipe
how doggedly dogs the dog
how hops skips and jumps
the tadpole now a frog
how kicks and bucks the mule
shucks how dodges the duck
that's the lot it's all I've got
there's no more so you're in luck
Slow cooked ribs.
Melting off the bone but under the bone is a brain-skeleton.
Makes me motivated to turn from an onion to the best onion rings.
Those slow cooked ribs fell of the bone and made a “plunk” sound.
Like peeling back layers of slobbery sauce over.
Everything is tasty over yonder.
When they cooked my brains?
Didn’t know they’d leave behind vein-shaped spindles.
They added a touch of rosemary.
Stirred me up good.
And maybe turmeric too.
Take up more brainspace, sure.
I’m altered.
Everything is syrup everywhere.
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.