The noise of the day
has subsided and folded
into a quiet
under the soft covers
of a July evening.
The eyes seem to resist
the particular and instead
focus on nothing
but the sum - the glow
from shore lights
smudged on water,
the dark sky powdered
with translucent clouds
and the faint filaments
of stars strung out overhead.
Tonight, I don't want
the granular detail of things
to steal my attention
but to enjoy the blending,
the stand back meld
of colors, of each stroke,
forming a picture transcending
its parts. I want to feel
the evening being
put together
into a boundless whole,
to be beyond
the smallness of myself
and be absorbed totally
into the mystery
of the composition
I knew, and you knew, that if I listened to "Unchained Melody,"
I would have given up yesterday. Without the praises and disappointments, those long, deep sighs experienced during moments of passion, our love felt superficial in comparison. Everything changed when I saw his face in my dreams. Suddenly, the sweet melodies of Gheorghe Zamfir's "Unchained Melody" called me back, and I became the Greek goddess you never heard of. I am free.
My last sigh and our final embrace have turned to dust bunnies, leaving only one reminder: your brown jar of honey, untouched, sticky, and outdated, much like your attempts to seduce me. Those negligees you once loved faded in color, just like yesterday's tears. Everything we once shared in this world now feels so unreal.
I am free, free to love with each breath and each melody, despite the intimidation. We were everything, and I welcomed those nights. However, I am now the brave heart of my soul. My fear has subsided, and my smiles are long overdue. A new secret reveals itself. Close all doors.
As the heat subsided
A cool grayness crept in
Exhausted shadows slept
Limp leaves exhaled hope
Open windows inhaled it
My cough was empty, my lungs struggling
There was no mucus, I was worn out from the hacking
My mother put Vicks vapor rub all over me
The soles of my feet, my back, my neck, my chest
It was two a.m. we were desperate for sleep.
She fixed me vanilla chamomile tea
Stirred in honey
Drink this, she told me. You will be much better
Nothing helped my sore throat before this tea.
After this tea, I was a little better
My cough subsided enough so I could sleep
This was 1962, and I have never forgotten it.
Divided Sky
Relentless downpour.
Reflections through rain puddles.
Angry lightning.
Wind binding.
Over-cast darkly.
Thunder striking.
Dark tones through juxtaposition.
Divided sky, emotions.
Contrast shaded purple hues.
Sky falling pursued.
Trees recognized from a distance.
Angry sky with trivial effections.
Light to haunted dark.
Solitary roaming through the graveyard.
Gloomy after-math.
Clouds velvet subsided.
The Boat
Where do you stand in your life?
How do you face tomorrow in flight?
What about the 12 men who were worried in the storm?
Believe and be calm like before.
Knowing that you have lost your way.
Tomorrow brings a brighter day.
On the boat you feared the night.
As the winds blew, yield to the rain that’s in sight.
Carry the lamp that shows the way.
Surpass the raging waters, stand brave.
You have forgotten how much he cares.
Through his voice, nothing else compares.
Sometimes we rush into thorns and worry.
We don’t ask for help in pride, our vision is blurry.
The storm on the boat has subsided.
Through him, sail on the water into the light.
Our lives are short just like the passing wind.
The stripes he carried were in red.
Drift downstream under a colorful sky.
Be open minded and never say good-bye.
Walk on the narrow road.
He will find you no matter how far he has to go.
Along the way he has always been a friend.
One day above, we will meet again.
Luke 8:24
I tried to unlove you, I swear I tried,
But your eyes pull me, like waves to the shore,
How can I forget what never died?
I search for you where the lost hopes hide,
A glance from you—my heart beats once more,
I tried to unlove you, I swear I tried.
Among the crowd, where echoes collide,
Yet only your silence cuts to the core,
How can I forget what never died?
My heart still follows, though fate has denied,
Like a story unwritten, an unopened door,
I tried to unlove you, I swear I tried.
If love was a fire, it would have subsided,
Yet here I stand, still longing for more,
How can I forget what never died?
"If it stays, it’s love,"—I whisper, teary-eyed,
"If it ends, it’s a tale... if it never begins, folklore."
I tried to unlove you, I swear I tried,
How can I forget what never died?
In the old graveled alley, overgrown with weeds,
at footfall, locusts sprang and leaped,
triggering a riot.
But soon their swelling motion
subsided like fried popcorn on a skillet.
On a cold, dark night, I stand alone
In the graveyard, where shadows are thrown
Deeply mourning, I weep at the mention
Of your name, dear Kasiita, my heart's lament
In my darkest moments, dressed in black
Cold winds howl against my back
The graves beneath my feet seem to stir
Filling me with a sense of desolation
As chairman, you brought hope to our village
Resolving conflicts, and uniting us with your wisdom
Your leadership inspired a sense of community pride
A lasting impact that will forever be remembered
Years have passed since your departure from our sight
The pain of your loss remains, though it has subsided
Your memory continues to occupy a special place,
And it evokes a warmth that soothes my cold heart
May time continue to bring me peace and calm
May your legacy be a source of strength and inspiration
May your love and wisdom forever guide me
Rest in peace, dear Kasiita.
The sorrows have been known
And the pain have subsided
An ancient is about to happen
The tears have dried up
And the sadness have disappeared
An originality has to take place
Interesting as it is,
The sweetness of the tongue
Leaves the audience
Speechless
The honesty of an individual
Leaves the tombstone
Shattering
Honourable it is,
The atmosphere is productive
And the air is breathable
An ancient has taken place
The love is so sweet
And the trust has been restored
A supremacy has been contained
Interesting as it is.
Written By: D. Collins 11/13/24
I wish I could wake up in the morning to peachy clean.
Where my nightmares have subsided to normal dreams.
When just going to work isn't a monumental task.
Twenty-four hours of breathing is all that I ask.
When the brain doesn't sleep, nor does the body.
I even keep writing while seated on the potty.
I wish I coulda have done something else.
But, God gave me this. And made it "Def".
So, I sit at the table scripting each one out.
Hoping I'm in favor when they are read aloud.
In the eyes of God, I appear to be okay.
I wish I coulda showed others t how to find their way.
The wood was perfect.
Hammer in hand, he toiled.
Sweat trickled down his neck.
Her face was chiselled,
A perfect portrait:
The hawk-like nose,
The high cheekbones,
The wide brow.
But not her flaring eyes.
They defied him.
In exasperation, he threw the lamp,
His only source of light,
And watched the wood burn.
In the deserted cabin.
In a wooded glen forlorn,
When the fire subsided
They found his body
Long dead, carbonised and cold.
And a piece of chiselled wood
Charred and worthless.
originally written in 10/4/2016
Flash floods came in a sudden
After few hours of torrential rain
Villages in towns submerged
Water rose so high…surged.
People stayed on their roofs
Waited for rescuers holding faith and hope
Teams of rescuers came less than an hour
To save everyone with all their powers.
People evacuated in safer places
Government officials sent foods for days
Relief goods and help came from the cities
A unified effort and cooperation with love and peace.
After few days , water slowly subsided
Some went home, others were relocated
Clean and clear up programs were established
Clogged drainages and canals were all fixed.
Many volunteers, both young and adult
Cleaned and planted more trees for better result
Proper waste disposal was implemented
Illegal logging and quarrying were strictly prohibited.
AFTER THE FLOOD
After the flood has subsided
With insurance claims made
Pertaining to the destruction
There’s all the reconstruction
The memories will never fade
And reluctant moves decided
Now leaving a riverside location
After years of increasing prices
Insurance premiums now sky high
And still the ground is not dry
Fearing a repeat of such a crisis
And little advance information
Perhaps a home on a mountain
But never on a low marshy plain
Nor situated by a body of water
Flooding offers few any quarter
Is our future to be constant rain
Drains overflow like a fountain
It’s climate change, they all say
But there’s been floods before
Seas just a metre or two higher
In coastal regions it will be dire
It’s history, so just talk to Noah
Maybe it’ll happen again one day
Mind marooned
in complex convolution,
obscurity singular
in each living entity.
The psyche silhouettes
unique elements,
to alien attributes
they won’t adhere.
The reserved recess
hides the riddles,
sub-conscious search
completely clueless.
Probing entreaty,
the preserve persuasive
of outside world,
can’t contrive
the forsaken mind.
A pining prisoner
of own making,
a crumpled cocoon in
introvert isolation,
I see subsided
all the faces fading
faceless in oblivion,
me wedged secluded
in egoistic web
of self-adoration.
My morphed mind
turns Nemesis,
makes a mirror
of mirage for me.
Gazing gripped,
lurching to the oasis,
it’s only me
I always see,
reflected radiant
from cobalt cauldron
of the luring lake,
confined content.
In self-veneration,
a pretentious perspicacity
of fake facsimile,
I notice Narcissus
in me lonely lurk.
A secret switching
over to obsession,
specter senseless
lies latent,
languishes listless
beneath brazen layers
of arctic acuity
in the dark,
frozen…
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