Clings to this one daily need
Feel they cant survive without
The Solitary's.
Tighter, out which harm so led
Further still, by their own hand
Lightning's starey is.
My girl grew up in a tank
I didn’t
Victoria, you are more constant
than the reliability of air
You hold me tighter
than true love at its best
I wore my longing like a coat.
Kept the sharpest words in my throat.
I leaned in close; the blues just knew,
I would let them bent notes come through.
Bare boards beckoned worn-out shoes.
Slow feet shuffled with the dues.
One heel circled, one stood still,
As the lights turned round like a windmill.
While the dye brush waited by the wall,
I heard the blank canvas start to call.
I held back each splash just enough,
To leave a white whisper, in the rough.
I let my feelings rise up halfway,
Enough to ache; then to fade away.
My heart was folded, tied up with care,
To glow with all that is left hidden there.
The blue kept curling into the white,
Like the Milky Way deep in a velvet night.
The spiral nebulae all slowly grew—
To tie-dye the sky, with an ancient hue.
The tighter the bind, the brighter the bloom.
Stars need darkness, to brighten their room.
Hold back the colour—let just enough take flight.
Raindrops can teach sunlight to shape its light.
When the last slow glow chorus ends,
Twilight mends what that daylight bends.
One lone blue spark escapes the seam,
Just far enough to light the dream.
Hold your fingers around my soul
as we tightly embrace our love
held as an eternal truth
where death has no meaning
and neither does time
for love's bond is stronger
and will last beyond the measurable
though we are suspended through eternity
it does not hold us
we are the holders of love's existence
the guardians that grace the faceless emotion
that we give a face
as we hold firmly onto each heartbeat's cadence
even as our flesh dries
and our belted arms grow tighter
merging us together in perpetuity
sealed and impenetrable
held in an armored manifestation
of love portrayed as permeant lovers
encased enduringly, frozen in time
never to be unfrozen
she has closed up her soul
tighter than Fort Knox,
no lover has been able
to peel away the layers
like an onion petal
her heart broken,
lifeless,
by your broken promises
of love and marriage
while you were away
fighting in the war,
finding love abroad
to occupy your time.
she was here waiting...
planning the perfect wedding,
the perfect home.
white picket fence
in the country.
rose bushes and lush lawn
with a long gravel driveway.
now she struggles
to crawl out of bed,
and focus on getting
through the day.
her vivacious spirit gone....
her glow gone.....
all that's left
are hollow eyes
into emptiness.
The world keeps spinning
although my loved ones are thinning
at times life moves swiftly
at other times it slows so I can see
the important things and I cling
to the things that may be sight unseen
like love, faith, and friendship
that sometimes sticks tighter than kinship
I am grateful for time to spend with those I love
while still on earth and will see those in heaven above
when this life on earth is finished
and life’s troubles will be diminished
where peace and love will be abundant
I long for this, yet I am not quite done here yet
Beheld
Through lenses, welled,
A pool,
Reflections -
Echoed pressings of,
A fool:
Can I be the poem, and not the poet?
Bestowed with solace, still and stoic?
The admired, not the admirer?
Draw a gaze as licking fire, cause unrazable fixing desire.
The captured, not the capturer?
Found; unbound, sound faith unfractured.
The written, not the writer?
Penned in tense intention, tide-script monad gripping tighter.
Can I?
In this life -
Be the loved, and not the lover?
Stood under; not left, bereft, to wonder.
The wish, and not the wisher?
Made; spoken verily, heard, save tokens merely whispered.
The yearn, and not the yearner?
Nor rough refuge, nor shunned sojourner.
I exhaust myself so foolishly,
Being poetic, mulishly,
Admiring, captivating, writing, loving, wishing, yearning,
While never learning -
To be the moon and not moonstruck, dismayed?
Not to hold to those, who never learned to stay.
i FEEL IT INSIDE OF ME,
THE DEEP DARKNESS THAT'S CRIPPLING MY MIND BODY AND SOUL,
CREEPING AND LURKING TEARING ME APART PIECE BY PIECE,
READY TO BE LET OUT,
IM SCREAMING FROM WITHIN,
CAN ANYONE HEAR ME?
DOES ANYONE EVEN CARE?
IT'S ALL THESE DEMONS RUNNING RAMPID AND DEEP,
OVERFLOWING AND COMPOUNDING,
i CAN NOT SEE THE LIGHT,
MY FALME OF HOPE IS SWINDLING,
ALMOST OUT,
I WANT TO YELL OUT PLEAE SAVE MEM
BUT THE MISERY AND DARKNESS RESTRAINS ME,
IF I OPEN MY CHEST OF AGONY ,
WILL YOU BE THERE TO CONSOLE ME?
HOLDING ME CLOSER AND TIGHTER,
UNTIL MY SUFFERING IS DONE,
CAST OUT ALL MY DEMONS,
AND SAVE ME FROM MYSELF
The taste of blood is on his tongue
A scent carried by the wind
Haunches move to a rhythmic song
A song only he can hear
Beneath the moons dim glow
His eyes have found the prey
His mind is drawn to slender throat
And flesh torn away
He is the horse and rider
A silent Death approaches
Space between the two grow tighter
But only one will notice
The reapers shadow cloaked in fur
A scythe sent to harvest
A single lone but deadly cur
Twisting through the forest
Upon his pounce, the kill is swift
His jaws are locked in place
A final jerk and bones are split
A painting of gore and grace
Now to return, since he's through
With another life he's smothered
A Death to all that he pursues
A savior to his brothers.
Christopher Pitts/2019
two sisters started
not knowing
who and what waits.
then met one who came alone
and other two who were friends since long
and they waited
not with patience.
got in a car complaining
about the heat, the path
and the lack of space.
then joined a group of three:
two brothers and their neighbour.
and they all went up the mountain
driven by Tamang.
when joined the one
who knows the most,
the others were already friends.
a glimpse of their journey
climbing mountains
yet to unfold.
they climbed for 5 days
led by the elder Tamang.
each day had its own
stories, colours and shenanigans.
each day each one faced something new;
of the journey
and of themselves.
each day the knit became tighter.
finally they came back together
not complaining
about the rain, the way back
or the lack of space.
holding on to
their breaths and the last few days .
then the two , who started together
separated first.
the beginning was uncertain
and the ending came fast.
and I close my eyes
trying to relive it again.
The hands of time
With those fingers worn
they unravel knotts of life.
Then!
Tie tighter hardship strife
bind its shackles that hold.
Hear the tolling of the bells -- Iran lives!
As the danger ebbs and flows,
in the clamor of a fragile ceasefire,
the sobbing of innocent victims,
collecting their belongings in the rubble
of bombed out buildings,
away from the mad extrapolations of a one-sided victory,
hear the jingling of the bells,
heralding a new beginning,
a new chapter in Eastern civilization,
holding the barbarians at the gate, no matter how they encircle them
like hungry hyenas proclaiming a blockade with a pilgrim's shadow.
Cyrus stands amid the roar
and holds within his hands the tighter clasp of a civilization,
a luminous point peering deep into the darkness of Western civilization.
By squeezing you a little tighter,
It makes our love burn even brighter.
Your touch is the fire igniter,
For that prize, I'm the fighter.
My fingers tracing your every curve,
Forcing a breath not to lose my nerve.
Two souls entrusted without reserve,
A precious gift I do not deserve.
Moving forward with steady devotion,
Standing fast through all commotion.
Time forever lost in pure emotion,
We're skin to skin lost in quiet motion.
Pulling at the knots, the noose became ever tighter,
each strand of string looping,
clinging tightly to one another.
Hands trembling, I sought to unravel its might
yet the harder I tugged, the deeper the night.
It resisted me at every motion,
binding me to the shame I thought
I could disown.
Each twist, and knot within a knot
were where my skills had amounted to nought; null; worthless.
Despite the frenzied desperation, the knot held.
Why
another failure?
Yet as I came to see; maybe knots aren't necessarily a bad thing.
Like the sewing, where without a knot
one could not finish a seam,
or upon a wooden bridge,
where wearied travelers might praise the builder
for leaving knotted handholds in their wake.
Perhaps one day I might even say
"I'm glad I failed on that day".
For though I have indisputably failed,
the knot has shown me my bounds,
not defeat; but rather a testimony.
A map of flaws I would no longer hide,
a vanishing mirror to be glanced back at
only briefly during my strides.
The dark side of the moon, like earth?
Carefully shadows will appear; surface.
Each new discovery’s like a baby’s birth.
Astronauts alight with mysteries to erase.
The dark side of the moon; negative space.
Its quarters and crescents mingle with stars.
Lovers still arm in arm; with a tighter embrace.
In love, one day, will be considered “over Mars.”
The dark side of the moon gives no cures; ills.
But you never know if the answer for cancer
Is in the crater’s depths or on the black hills.
One bright night will behemoths rescind; a blur?
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