Before the first moonlight spilled down upon us like winged doves from the sky
we were fettered together like lovers were,
In passion not yet transmuted into devotion to one another.
Above us rose a virgin sky void of stars
of constellations that would map out our cosmic future.
You, son of Adonis in my wide eyes, me, an idol of Inanna,
Convincing the future to never let this die,
Not knowing as of yet that Amphitrite and Poseidon’s coercive alliance
would coax us down the coast where we would seek refuge
in the surf and away from the trappings of winter’s swirling snows
and snarling winds.
Many years into a union of rings of gold and diamonds,
tumultuous at times but mostly heaven falling with her
heaviness upon us.
We fight side by side for a peace that seems so easily bestowed
upon others
And yet, like the ashes of Kilauea we rise without choking
At night we listen for the songs of our children
Born and unborn
reminding us we are wrapped in the protection of cashmere Carolina twilight.
In twilight, riding the soft winds so slight
Above peaks, about to cradle the stars,
Two avian are flights' whispers of light
Flowing gentle, where the horizon bars
Tracing the lovers; a "V" shape crescent,
Her wingman steadfast, bright and bold his grace,
With feathers aglow, in a hush unbent,
A dance of the heart, in love's warm embrace
Spectating flowers in awe grow below,
Shadows long, they extend to each their wing,
They glide on breezes, where soft rivers flow,
Not fall birds of prey, but the songs of spring
With each graceful turn, they map out the skies,
In harmony's notes, upon sun-lights beams,
A journey unfolds, where their wild hope lies,
Elegant like silk, within looming dreams
In twilight, riding the soft winds so slight
Flowing gentle, where the horizon bars
Trumpets of purity, dressed in all white,
Two swans in flight are the whispers of light
Life is a brief span; seize tight each passing moment,
For yesterday's pain should reflect in your sight,
To map out your routines after your heart's consent,
Thus, paving a way to banish your plight.
Don't question how others make things right,
Strive, don’t wait your strength is taking flight.
Years for thriving aren't lost, but we miss tracking their way,
Time is fragile, our plans create inner tension each day.
As we continue doubting, our spirits procrastinate;
Blind to precious moments, fear of trying escalates.
Then, it seems that frailty is imposed on dreams,
Creating tension in insight, plans, and themes.
Copyrighted
Virtues are a gift from the Donor,
Unsellable to a pawner,
Just as love is always around the corner,
So does respect attract honour,
History is a former,
The present is upon her,
The future by Jeremiah twenty nine eleven makes it calmer.
Knowing thyself is wise,
It is a journey taken to paradise,
To the best of characters recognize,
Otherwise,
What cannot be understood analyze,
From within live admiringly without compromise,
Exploring the mind where the prize lies.
The world is full of possibilities,
Map out hidden abilities,
Create a tree of endless possibilities,
When you believe in your capabilities,
The universe collaborates to unfold the existing utilities,
As a reward of the artistic qualities,
For rulers are the best in imaginative poetic symphonies.
Heard this before? “Life is what you make it”
So very true, we are all captains of our own vessel
We are the ones that map out our course
The winds of life are not always in our favour
But the happiness we receive is much more gratifying
Than always having things handed to us on a silver platter
We appreciate even the smallest gestures of love and kindness
Aside from the lunatic fringe, we are all cut from the same cloth
That one percent cause all the problems
For the ninety-nine percent of normal folks like us
All we want is to get from point A to point B
With love and the least amount of hassle
So my advice is, just let the good times roll
One day at a time and all that stuff
my scars have faded.
i still remember where they were.
i could map out every blemish and imperfection on my body.
you used to kiss them and tell me i was perfect.
but now that they have disappeared, what is there for you to kiss?
I see romance everywhere
and it opens up a void
right in the deepest centre
of my heart,
dark, mysterious, and swirling
with sadness.
I need romance
like a mighty falcon needs
air billowing under its graceful wings
to carry it to places new.
The need cannot be satiated
by platonic love alone.
I long for sweet mornings of
nonsensical mutterings,
waking from dreams and arriving
in new ones
as each day passes by
with a lover by my side.
I crave long nights of passion
in the company of another,
somebody whose eyes glow
at the sight of me
and whose smile is nothing
short of evangelical.
I yearn for another to yearn
for me, and me alone;
to map out their aspirations
in the stars of our adoration,
and share a lifetime of memories
in a single, unbroken gaze.
The void is deep in desire
but shallow in experience,
wide in demand but
narrow in need, and
full to the brim
with omnipotence.
Living in Purgatory
What do you do when you've had enough
You Can't end it all
But you no longer want to continue
Because you cant move forward
The pasts grip
is holding you back
But it wants to drag you back
to the pain and misery
But you stand strong
Eager to get going
Eager to move on
But You're stuck
Being held in purgatory
See you're Alive
but you're not Living
Stuck in stagnation
Becoming Stagnant stood still
Feet are firmly rooted to the ground
But while life still runs through you
Blood pumping through your veins
Air inflates and deflates your lungs,
Heart heartedly thumping
Strong thump, thump, thump,
Eyes blinking blink blink
In sync with one another
A statue stuck in the present
Trying to run from the past
To map out a future
But here I remain stuck
Between times tenses
Whose pull will win
The past the present
or the future
Or will I remain here
In the present
Stagnant Stuck
Living my life in purgatory.
Include the date 30/01/2022, contest name, 2022 Poetry Marathon Mile 26 Poetry Contest.
Living in Purgatory
What do you do when you've had enough
You Can't end it all
But you no longer want to continue
Because you cant move forward
The pasts grip
is holding you back
But it wants to drag you back
to the pain and misery
But you stand strong
Eager to get going
Eager to move on
But You're stuck
Being held in purgatory
See you're Alive
but you're not Living
Stuck in stagnation
Becoming Stagnant stood still
Feet are firmly rooted to the ground
But while life still runs through you
Blood pumping through your veins
Air inflates and deflates your lungs,
Heart heartedly thumping
Strong thump, thump, thump,
Eyes blinking blink blink
In sync with one another
A statue stuck in the present
Trying to run from the past
To map out a future
But here I remain stuck
Between times tenses
Whose pull will win
The past the present
or the future
Or will I remain here
In the present
Stagnant Stuck
Living my life in purgatory.
No sponsor
When my house is filled with loneliness
It forces me to flee away to the web-pages
To be there to play with the ignorant
I should firstly figure out how to behave
Someone's warning shouldn't be ignored
Which warns me how to post a poem
Which is supposed to expel the boresome out
But needs to map out the inspector's thoughts
I therefore be afraid of expressing freely now
Because of the censorship that they ask for
I am not a man of speaking as I believe anymore
In case I will acquire troublesome even more
With eyelashes fluttering, irises caught in a blink,
those windows of yours are opening and closing
like a metronome ticking time to symphonies played.
Within flesh are entrances cradling a floor to nowhere,
leading to a somewhere hidden to all but you. Pebbles
could be placed upon freckles to map out a path; bundles
of autumnal leaves, crunching and burnt amber, could form
steps upon the arch of your nose. Perhaps swimming against tears
upstream, leaping with rainbow salmon, I might reach the
precipice of your eyes. I could scale down branches bowing, from
fringe and eyebrows, lowering myself onto your golden lids.
Those doorways to nowhere, to somewhere, to anywhere, see
the future ebb and flow into a momentary present, with
visions hidden under a lock-and-key past. Those eyes of yours
I could dive into, like gravity plucking fruit from a vine.
the seasons pass dutifully around her
slow sphere of cycles turning
jeans with forgotten poems in the pockets
fade, her face gains lines that map out
the long hard road, and her dusty boots
get dustier as she walks without pause
spinning,
wash rinse spin repeat
the days, the months pass and collect
puddles, oceans inside never feeling full
and she sheds her skin again
and again, heavy and weathered
blistered from the sun; another layer, new
tougher than the previous one
her hope is tucked away quiet in her heart
the only thing solid in the constant evolvement
her hope, a rock with his name written on it
as sharp as the day she scribbled it after asking,
'what's your name?'
while thinking, never leave me
i could love you
as unfading as the memories tattooed on her soul
still fresh from so many seasons ago
these things keep her going as she walks
with purpose, dutifully
without pause
Around the corner of lolly purple pink
Mountains rise suspended in the air
Immortality circles by the sea
Soft and pleasant is the weather
Treacle company in bunny love set sail
Cling to one another warm and cuddly
Ships with golden light unfurl like doves
Wings to heaven open wide, come alive
With cozy dreams, fireworks exploding
Blue sky and sea merge into one soft drink
White clouds on cotton thoughts
Will sip until they sleep
Dreams appear to map out candy lands
That pop up on bubble oceans to bob about
Marshmallows know what's coming
Their place atop hot chocolate cups
Cinnamon cake horizons rise on waves
Too smooth to understand the crazy
Bunny love and company are coming
To watch hot air balloons drift into nothing
With just enough color to take them there
Amongst the freshness of silence my thoughts are brightly amplified. scaring my mind with tracks of syllables and vowels. Which manipulated in the write sequence needed, fit precisely together to map out plays of events long since discarded into the void of a fragile matrix. Extracting long harboured and self restrained emotions of repressed doubt and fear. Splattering my continence with tall tell signs, of a carefully painted self portrait of hurt and anger, on display amongst a facade of revolving galleries, in motion apon Mr. and Mrs. Patter. Stripping away and abandoning so carefully the cradled and protected inihibitions. Leaving behind a colourful residue building up a foundation of falsely represented pride.
By Desi E.Sherman
I stood in the middle of a rose garden
I watched nature map out its own pattern
I quietly listened out for the budding
And heard the sound of a bee buzzing
I stood in the middle of a rose garden
I saw withering evened out by blossom
I sought after a floating flutter
I sought after the wings of a flower
What could be missing in this scenic botany?
Aroma and beauty is not the only expectancy
It feels like a beauty parlour without hairdressers
It feels like a sweet flavor without taste-testers
The greeter of the flower buds
The day watch of rosariums
The symbol of a warm welcome
Is in the romance of a butterfly
Daylight misses their soundless claps
Daylight misses their flight
We clipped their colorful flaps
When we killed all the butterflies
Related Poems