A heavy sigh leaves me
As the quiet night shrouds my thoughts
I think to myself
Like a matchstick
Shining so bright
But not for long
Words to describe my behavior
A spark at first, only to be doused the wind
Even if not on purpose
The intensity gone
The thrill turned to smoke
I love everything yet love nothing
I admire the way and works of the world
Ideas cover my mind like an artwork
Though I see to no action
My spirit willing
My flesh weak
In chase of competence
I dress my self in the inconvenience
Of my actions
Though hurting
I turn a blind eye knowing what it costs me
" You have something going for you"
What exactly?
I am not complete
My fortress a glass box; Yet I hope for coverage.
Doubt is within
My stubborn nature acting as an armor
What do you think?
I love writing.
Books,
Poetry,
I love it all.
A way to express.
Write out emotions.
Ones I dont even know the names of.
I don't know how to feel them.
But i know i feel them.
And all I can do is write.
And I hope that,
Eventually,
Someone will understand.
That I'm not alone.
That another person feels the same.
That my words resonate with another being.
Sometimes when I write,
I giggle at my words,
Or tears begin to block my view.
Because I'm writing.
And I'm spilling my guts.
And my feelings.
And I'm not sure what they are.
But they're deep.
And they're real.
And they're raw.
But they're useless.
Because no one but me sees these.
This woman a Stradivarius
exquisitely crafted,
awaiting gentle caress
when full willing,
the music building
phrase by phrase,
minute by minute
in ever-patient hands,
listening carefully
in sweet dialogue,
swaying to the rhythm
as leisurely crescendo
until full-throated
she bursts forth
in rapturous release,
melody flooding
conjoined hearts.
Echoes savouring,
treasured beauty.
Carry my whole heart in your pocket
Send me to space with your rocket
Color me willing without a cherry care
Be so thrilling that I will double dare
Dare to love despite the odds
Of living it up among the gods
I’m at a loss so it’ll be up to you
To sweep us off to lovers moon
Trace my lips with peach tongue
Hug my hips and sing me song
Do me the favor of creating mood
And I’ll return sweet love to you
Pick me up when I am down
Inspire indigo smile despite frown
With your kiss make optimistic
Despite life full of pessimistic
I love your spirit you are kind
Want to drink you like red wine
Refreshing you are and I want more
Of your sandy smiles I can’t ignore
Your eyes would melt an igloo in snow
I adore your laugh your heart of hope
Sure your pure passion is a float
Drowning in love for a gold soul
He was a puppet master
She was a willing marionette
We might get married he lied
She loved the idea
They were together for fifty-two years
He is the love of my life she told everyone
Never married, for he was forever single
His blank promises kept her magic hopes alive
Blinks of teary-filled eyes see on at a diplegic self
yet mindful transparency is willing me back
Back to my body as sinful warning zones
alarming have deluged my mind
Seized are my winks , my signals , codes in tact
I deemed the eye of imagination unkind
The intruder remains faceless knowing anon
I’m entrusted to an astral body and its danger
Spiritual warnings of facultas cognoscitive,
Descartes’ existence of corporeal self, even stranger
I am conscious and sure these be blessings
Or maybe an unconscious of the intueoritive
and what I immediately perceived were passion’s messing’s
with the right amount of awareness to shift
Senses much livelier and much more clear,
lucidly leaving the "physical world" adrift
Diplegic with a clarity of intelligo of an unhinging fear
Practiced, I am using my symbols with inner sight
and a poetic aptitude, my mindset re-sets a dream
A vision appears to me, it appears to be my hand
penning quickly, a dream within a dream, I re-write
the script and scenes which aren't what they seem
two wily willing avocado boys
dressed in costume, making lots of noise
danced a ring around my sister
she knows them well, calls one mister
first cousins, known as the two Roys
I saw them from a mile away
these two crazy jokers love to play
did not even roll my eyes
their antics now no big surprise
their costumes funny, green and gay
A willing heart is a willing soul
Be not sad
our Father in you
in me He has planted seeds
in US we are bearing fruits
of Peace, Joy and Love
we are growing blossoming
and our Father's Heart
We're Beloved
we are always, quietly true...
a willing heart is a willing soul
12/15/23
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr © 2023
From time to time
Every once in a while
Now and again
Though as much as I love to write
Due and to because
What I choose to write about
Comes from and down to from my inner heart
And on that basis and although it is cathartic
My own version and art form of expressing
Delving into documenting and revealing
Exposing my true self innermost feelings
As a caveat it also comes at the expense
And certain of cost exposing and opening up
Old wounds I have as yet to heal from
So every now and then though it pains me
I have to take a break and refrain from
That which I have come to love and rely on
But nothing worthwhile ever doing
That brings one happiness or enduces pleasure
Afterwards evaluating the positives and negatives
You are then willing and able to give up
Isn't really viewed as a loss surely then
Is it
As what exactly have you lost or learned
And that also goes and applies to all concerned
we start with a willing cow
maybe not willing
butchers take the beast apart
section by section
she’s warm on my plate
barbequed
beef
As I reach for the handle to temptation I am struck by a future I cannot ignore.
Guilt is the only reward when we ignore the voice to our right shoulder in all its' attempts at solidarity.
What torture is this to be married to an addiction with an ironclad prenup that serves to destroy my soul.
My inhibition brought to light by a chemical demon who refuses to be denied.
Being Willing
Written: by Miracle Man
7-21-2023
God’s purpose for each is to go and do,
for HIS fields are white and laborers few.
God make us willing to share our belief.
Using your word to bring others relief.
Make us engaged, not to just grace a pew,
so we’ll win lost souls before we’re through.
“The reward for work well done
is the opportunity to do more.”
Jonas Salk MD
I knew when I was pulling on my turquoise boots that Skunk would appear.
she is my semi-pet bunny; thinking herself feral, but I feed her kibble.
perfect gardening weather today; I till rows, mark them with seed packets.
peas, beans, carrots, radishes, lettuce, and one row of zinnias and sunflowers.
Mom always planted at least two rows of flowers in her garden.
fuchsia cone flowers, hollyhocks, bluebells, which came up “renegade.” Laugh.
by the time I returned to the potting shed, my autumn scarecrow was waving.
he does that on a breezy day. Tomorrow I told Skunk, seeing a fox yonder.
Hide and seek the darkness, concealed tightly within my light
Deeply veiled my calling card, invisible the ink with which I write
Love's not all lost, carrying you with me, please hold on
It's spawned, not neglecting, what I've held is not gone
Orange was never meant to be your color
Replacing you, there will be no other
There's nowhere to hide I will not leave your side
Open your third eye, just swallow your pride
Live, or die, I am still willing to be your ride
The cell to which I live in is three feet wide
Being is life that gives life, truth that gives truth
It is not perfect, good or divine
It is simply beyond all these attributes
Immeasurable and unutterable
It is the Silent One of Light: The Father
Knowing is the light reflection of being
Through whom the One itself knows himself
Thought that became a shining reality
Knowing is the forethought of the all
She is Barbelo: The bright Holy Spirit
Willing is the only offspring of knowing
The child willed for the all to come forth
Being anointed by being to rule all
Who also willed to come to the world
He is the way, the truth, and the life: The Son
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.