Details |
Sean Yeterian Poem
"Wondrous" this dynamic group,
That concocts their hearty poetic soup,
Then sit, then wait, always polite,
For comments that the others write.
But lofty are artistic goals,
As we bear our hearts and expose our souls,
And catapulted into heaven,
When we receive that cherished rate of "seven".
A "six" is like a pesky "B",
Like the one I got in chemistry,
Then pondered of my studious failing,
My heart and spirit, reeling, ailing.
Hunting sevens each new day,
New techniques, a different way.
Isn't life's adventure such,
We hunt our sevens way too much?
Comfort, silence, laying low,
I type this poem, a gift, although,
Should you love these words I write,
A seven will help me sleep tonight.
Copyright © Sean Yeterian | Year Posted 2010
|
Details |
Sean Yeterian Poem
Airborne amongst the clouds.
Looking down on lands expanse.
Dreamlike swirls in foggy haze.
Mountain peaks rise fearlessly from surface...
Not intimidated by their height...
frigid spikes in awe of your weightless station...
...you are flying.
Movements absent of effort... sliding through airy elements with...
... just a thought.
Just a nod and then you're there, when you were just here.
Landscapes calling below... you laugh joyful...
Condemning grounds faulty gravity for crippling holds...
...in your waking hours.
Shallow elevation, mans craft at sights focus...
As you drift graciously through their skies.
Wondering of sleeping spirits cuddled below...
Do they know?
Can they feel the breezy wafts of air you leave behind?
Sun rising, painting rosy colors mixed with reds and blues...
Stark relationships with mountains darkened shadows...
Glory of Gods showmanship at your visions quest.
Moving swiftly, feeling wake upon you,
So much to know, to see, to feel. You hurry further...
...ignoring consciousness' tugging call.
Frozen breezes numb your cheeks, arms extended for winds embrace...
Pulling back to earthly vessel,
Your soul comforts into place...
...yet mind not wishing to leave its lofty travels...
reluctant, slow to waken body's senses.
You think upon the wondrous time,
You lifted soul into heavens graces,
And left your chains behind, inside that shell...
'Til daylights demand recalled,
Your spirit to its place.
And you wait anxiously for evenings call,
So another journey might begin...
But time dims hopeful dreams of flight...
And you soon forget the windy whispers,
That held you in their grasp.
But for a night and early morn...
You flew.
And Spirit held you in its soft, gentle...
Loving embrace.
Copyright © Sean Yeterian | Year Posted 2010
|
Details |
Sean Yeterian Poem
In my dreams it seems,
All my chains are cast.
Gleeful streams of screams,
From flying way too fast.
This flight so right,
The power of this feeling,
So light, such might,
Into the night I'm stealing.
Such speed, this need,
Sliding though cool air,
Please feed this seed,
As I swoop without a care.
When fire expires,
And the spark has left my eyes,
Requiring this desiring,
I'll fly through urging skies.
Cruising near it, gentile spirit,
By family then surrounded.
Can you hear it? Never fear it.
Loves embrace will not be grounded.
_______________________________
And then I'll be home.
Until then I walk the tribal path.
Copyright © Sean Yeterian | Year Posted 2010
|