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Nathan Irving Poem
The bleeding of souls under the umbrella of dissatisfaction causes us to look for them
They, who once were a cause of all things, who fought our causes when we knew none
The small ones, ones who fear everything except nothing and live mysterious lives on the continent of imagination
They reigned over smaller things under the larger scope of rain that poured abundantly over them
They were never satisfied
The rain poured daily, moment by moment they sat awaiting its storm and fierce rain
Souls scattered under a storm with no umbrella
Education was their Father and He rained over them with his undying love and open opportunity
Access was never denied and He felt His drops of love nourish each one
Copyright © Nathan Irving | Year Posted 2016
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Nathan Irving Poem
The eyes of March are always watching me
Though scattered from a constellation past
Oh March only you know my history
The stars maintain victory from the blast
When I could not find you in the Pisces
I figured your airy scent wanted more
So I slept twenty-one days in nighties
When I awoke there he was at my door
There was peace, There was air and no more lies
I knew the three of us would meet again
Knock, Knock, the door, and March to my surprise
For one whole year I lived no peace within
But now two days from today we can say
No more Pisces, just an Aries' birthday
Copyright © Nathan Irving | Year Posted 2015
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Nathan Irving Poem
Who is she who has stained my heart?
Who is this woman of glory, valor, and virtue?
She, like a melodious instrument, plays songs of wonderment that my soul enjoys.
She with joyous harmony completes my every measure of symphony.
Who is her who has spoken my name in a language I have never heard?
Who is her who embodies my justice, my peace, my abnormalities? Like a calculable equation she is the invisible function to my relationship with God.
Like a grand sword her edges are sharp yet still in my hands. Like an eternal flame we ascend, smoking out our impurities and causing them to thin out in the air.
Who is she? Who is her? Who are we?
We, incompatible compatibility complete each other's cycles, words, phrases, and dramatic soliloquies.
Lovely lullabies kissing the tongues of our inner ears - like a choir we now sing jubilantly in desperation of finding each other.
Who am I?
I am not her. She is not me.
Total belonging is key and everything we desire to be, we are.
All that we desire to do, we become.
And we, the stuff of each other's greatest dreams are outcast from the world's Sorrows and become something else.
Yet, we still are very far apart, singing songs on different oceans - staring out into deep blue aquatic territories, exchanging love languages from separate rivers. Deep we go into the 6th and 7th Heavens inspiring Angels...
Higher we climb into dimensions unspeakable, toning out the sights and sounds of Forces greater than we. So high up the altitude seems to be where we began.
Our spiritual coordinates dissect abomination, destruction, and peril. The map of my She-wonder floats majestically in the wind. I too float.
"Where am I?" She plainly asks.
"In me," I reply, "in my prayers."
Copyright © Nathan Irving | Year Posted 2016
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Nathan Irving Poem
They stand holding hands together on the seashore, alone yet surrounded
Hearts ablaze within their small frame bodies, no longer beating, no more love
Amidst dull eyes of confusion they smile, captivated by the glow, mist and rain
The horror before has now been granted no attention and the only matter of the life that was blows mysteriously in the rain
Toes pointed outward toward the edge of the seashore
A rainy day of red water comes to an end where the Sun chooses to shine forth,
Through shadows, Through classrooms, Through doors, and principle thoughts that eagerly await Justice
They were once, in the rain
Feeling the rain
Copyright © Nathan Irving | Year Posted 2015
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Nathan Irving Poem
Summer rain held back in dark clouds and chaotic skies,
Piercing the atmosphere with fire unveiling inevitability. Truth soaring beneath the vast array expanding over the universe, and just as songs begin, another night now ends, finally it’s morning.
Mourning the summer pardons the winter when fields grow white with plains stained by nature’s blood. Summer rain now a symbol of hope delayed and the fiery Sun reveals our progress. Birds keep soaring under the expanse of Heaven over Earth and our dreams awaken us to new realities as we mourn the night, finally welcoming the morning.
Copyright © Nathan Irving | Year Posted 2024
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