On the table, posing silent,
It taunts our outlook, coyly –
Un-sharing of its true intent,
In Mona Lisa mystery.
We bite at its enticing mass,
That bends our mind in simple bait –
This still-life liquid in a glass,
A frozen frame on reel of fate.
Some say it’s half the way toward gone,
While others see there’s more to pour.
But are we blessed for adding on,
Or simply cursed for drinking more?
Just midway toward decisiveness,
This glass awaits its destiny.
It’s in the hands of thirstiness,
Or trapped by formed capacity.
Seems that we get what we perceive,
In bias of the eye’s invent,
By what it is that we believe –
Or, maybe what is never meant.
Too soft to describe with words
Letters have sharp edges
And speech can’t define
If peace were a river
I would be a leaf
Falling in my deadness
The freshness of green gone
Helpless as I am
Swirling in the wind
Destined for the dirt
But the water draws me close
Flowing with alien weight
The scent of hope and solitude
Kisses my thirstiness
My eyes overflow with the current
My soul pours into the river
And I become whole
Content in surrender
Drifting without knowledge
Led with no resistance
Slave to the water’s design
Yesteryear’s child rolled in the snow all flakes blazing in frosted happy crystals
Broke through ice on winter scape lakes and warmed with steaming chocolate
Roasted chestnuts on sticks in the fireplace thawed glowed marvelling joy
Hot molten marshmallows mellowed frost bitten hands soothed adventurous soul
Winters were glorious with immaculate seasons greeting revolving excitement
Nostalgia romantic reminiscence foresight or withering delight’s sadness
Miraculous icicles descending dripping noses silently disappeared
Memories evaporated forgotten glaciers relinquished destroyed
Ravishing blistering heatwaves desertification thirstiness
Aggrandised humanity's perverted ‘advancement’
Tsunamis hell frozen
Conscience obliterated
Snowballs
Written on 07th April 2018 and counting
For ‘A Melting Snowball’ contest
Entered as Free Verse because
Melting Snowball form is not a Poetry Soup menu
Word count per line from 13 to down to 1
The weather's cold i'm thirsty i am whispering in this cold wind and snow
i'm whispering;if you were in my home,your blond hair which is as hot as sun would delete the word((cold from my world))i would escape from thirstiness with your oceanic eyes,which are like Pacific,and Atlantic to me even though you are not in home waiting for me,you have an abode in my heart.
That's the reason my heart is not frozen yet.
A phoenix without wings
There's a hot spot on my waist my hearts burning is not out of love it's out of pain
I don't want to sleep in a hot bed i wan't my room cold,may be coldness relieve my hearts fire.May be freezing make me escape thirstiness
Even though my teeth may shake,hug each other and make a sound in my silence
limitless
endless rounds repeating
banquet of unmeasured sustenance
liquid light
released into coolness
assuaging my soul's brown thirstiness
eyes open
unguarded, unafraid
sinking in spangled star reflections
color arc
rushing joyful cascade
letting go, untethered forever
October 26, 2014
Faye Lanham Gibson
I'm overwhelmed..
with each name you named yourself
YOU gave me all what thy hands owned:
iceberg sea, from thy eyes,
wrenching laugh from your lips,
thirstiness, sadness and
all the yesterday' songs.
YOU gave me all what thy hands owned;
I've given you, nothing, but
a shudders mouth,longed to cry.
falling dew
one token
drops of happiness
a foundation
for dreams
Your light i am
A pale white glow
shimmering softly
in slow descent
Melting cold winds
calming your tide
reaching the silence
above the sand
You shall not die
when the flame fades
when i immerse
in vetdant shades
You shall live on
eternal youth
with all its strength
and hidden truth
And through the night
wet salt and mist
reveal the thirstiness
of hundred tales
till the moon shines
in its crescendo
dripping its honey
in still embrace
Sky sprinkles stardust
upon your lips
till new dawn greets you
with a new kiss
leaving footprints
in warm sunshine
sailing within
an ocean paradise
chambers reserved
for one so beautiful
only in dreams
holding hands
once kissed
becomes real
The prairie says grace,
Before receiving the rain.
In a time of drought.
·
The parched land laments,
Requesting in desperate pleas:
For the clouds to cry.
·
Then a drop of hope,
Moistens dry, cracked, lips of dirt:
Quenching thirstiness.
·
The land in prayer,
Resembling God’s praying hands:
Praising the heavens.
They keep following me, the
misty, bright , blind-me
painful lights that burn through my tender,
swollen heart. I run and I run
but I never get away, my torn
bleeding wings never stop.
and my head twists and nods with every
slow move I make, I run as fast as
I can, but the thirstiness on my pillow
and my faceinthesky winks through my cloudy
smoggy atmosphere, and I scream
for some comfort, my running shoes become steady,
but my legs don't work
like they are supposed to, and I end up
arriving on time
to the wrong place.
I can’t stand to sit…
Waiting to be included
In your anecdotes,
The missing piece,
Yet, I love to hate…
My absent reverie,
Lost somewhere
Between oceans and mountains.
Feeling like I’m right of left…
A discombobulated mess,
Issuing faint poetry
For the sake of communion.
My heart is back to front…
Of the distance,
Smashing head-long
Into being there.
I try to forget remembering…
What it’s like
Being among you,
And want to cry.
This wet thirstiness…
Is drowning me,
Aching for the creativity,
Waiting, sitting, standing,
While I become a squared circle.
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