Georgia, USA    1966 -    590 followers
"The truly creative mind in any field is no more than this: A human creature born abnormally, inhumanly sensitive. To him... a touch is a blow, a sound is a noise, a misfortune is a tragedy, a joy is an ecstasy, a friend is a lover, a lover is a god, and failure is death. Add to this cruelly delicate organism the overpowering necessity to create, create, create -- so that
without the creating of music or poetry or books or buildings or something of meaning, his very breath is cut off from him. He must create, must pour out creation. By some strange, unknown, inward urgency he is not really alive unless he is creating.”
― Pearl S. Buck

© all poems are intellectual property of Neva Flores
"The truly creative mind in any field is no more than this: A human creature born abnormally, inhumanly sensitive. To him... a touch is a blow, a sound is a noise, a misfortune is a tragedy, a joy is an ecstasy, a friend is a lover, a lover is a god, and failure is death. Add to this cruelly delicate organism the overpowering necessity to create, create, create -- so that
without the creating of music or poetry or books or buildings or something of meaning, his very breath is cut off from him. He must create, must pour out creation. By some strange, unknown, inward urgency he is not really alive unless he is creating.”
― Pearl S. Buck

© all poems are intellectual property of Neva Flores
  Reposted by Neva Flores Smith  ·  14 hours ago
Sea Witch
Sea Witch
1 day ago      14 hours ago

i want to hold your
l                          
                            a          g      
                                                     u        h
(inside)
my stomach so that the
warmth
would stop me
from clenching my jaw
because i know that if
~ light ~
were a person,
i'd have already met him.

you smile like you've
swallowed the sun.

never have i felt, never have, have i, felt, have, i.
  Reposted by Neva Flores Smith  ·  3 days ago
Jack
Jack
3 days ago

So still, the air this night does sing,
beyond a truthful stare
A symphony on silent wing,
sweet lyrics on the air

Of every word my heart does find
in rhythmic tapestries
These choruses shall make you mine,
so soft upon the breeze

O’ wind come take this tender heart
and to the sky now lift
In solitude now weave the dark
in dreams of endless kiss

Imagine there are only two,
affectionate thy voice
In melodies of passion new
O’ starry night rejoice

I call upon this springtime moon,
bright sentry high above
Please sing aloud a wondrous tune
within the key of love

So that her ears may come to know
how sweet this world can be
When hand in hand through life we go
in perfect harmony

  Reposted by Neva Flores Smith  ·  5 days ago
Roger Turner
Roger Turner
5 days ago      5 days ago

I'm looking for an answer
As I move from town to town
I leave a trail of empty bottles
For the voices I must drown

Nothing in each bottle
Not an answer in the glass
But, I'm still looking for an answer
To a question life has asked

Bottle after bottle
In each tavern and each bar
I travel round by greyhound
I long sold off my car

I leave a trail of empties
And of cigarettes and dope
Looking for an answer
Looking for some hope

I'm sure it was a question
And I know I heard it clear
I think I was on my seventh bourbon
Or maybe my ninth beer

I can not quite remember
Where I heard the voices first
Were they asking me a question
Or responding to my thirst
I'm looking for the answer
To a question, that I think
Was asked to me by voices
That I heard once in a drink



The voices are much louder now
They will not quiet down
I have to find the answer
I just have to find the town

Nowhere in my memory bank
Is there space for one more voice
I have to find the answer
Or I have to make a choice

Do I keep on looking for
The answer in the glass
How do I turn the voices off
And put them in the past

I know a million taverns
Like some folks know the stars
They look up to find their answers
I just keep looking for the bars

I leave trail of bottles
And I look in every glass
'cause somewhere there's an answer
To a question I was asked

I can not quite remember
Where I heard the voices first
Were they asking me a question
Or responding to my thirst
I'm looking for the answer
To a question, that I think
Was asked to me by voices
That I heard once in a drink

Neva Flores Smith
Neva Flores Smith
Mar 23      Mar 23

Since a sea of unsmiling glass
was caught by my lover,
his sky has shifted
oh so dark
and I watch him
taking cover.

He takes the rose of winter,
wonders why
it doesn't bloom
and it’s too bad
he doesn't know
he never gave it room

Now all hope he has
of home and hearth
and my consolation
drifts across the land
as the wind……….
of all of his frustration.

Copyright @2014 - Neva Flores Smith - Changefulstorm
Neva Flores Smith
Neva Flores Smith
Feb 23      Feb 25

My heart loves the eyes of time
and inside I feel that I know I hold the soul
which looks into the life of each and every word
holding the light of my life each day.  
The world hears my mind and sees my eyes
when night places a smile on my face.

My heart sees the sweet dreams of the sun
when my tears hand my spirit
to the song of the air
and my thoughts hand my pain to truth
and the winds of the moon.  
Still,  I wonder,
what right do my wings have
to silence the beauty of my breath so soon.  

Your voice walks softly
as it sings to the shadows of the sea
and I wonder
if I will sleep with the thought of your lies
touching my skies
and if I will feel your kiss speaking to me.  
While I watch the places
where your memories rain on the peace
your lips deceived so free.

Once,
I thought I heard you dancing to the left of the winds
and I thought hope would listen
and be filled with the music of change
wishing I'd known I could forget the sound.
Because  I saw the sight of darkness
and still remembered the light
I had found.

I now rest in the coldness of what I write
and stop your arms from burning the sweetness
of the end of my years
with your clouds and your flowers that are broken so gently.  
Yet,
still............
the waves of your flames
seek the silent softness
within the paths of me.

Copyright @2014- Neva Flores - Changefulstorm
Neva Flores Smith
Neva Flores Smith
Feb 23      Feb 23

A few hours have forgotten the sky
as they tremble in their sleep.
Truly they are delicate,
you can hear them softly weep.

Water becomes unwanted
as it's blown across and battered.
Yet, the water keeps on  praying,
as if it really matters.

We drown in the reality
that every day brings us in the night.  
Still,
regret sees you and I,  
and our skin forgets to fight.

Now, fire drips from all we hear
and the wind begins to howl.
We ask if this is heaven or hell,
and to the music
we all bow.

Copyright @2014 - Neva Flores - Changefulstorm
Neva Flores Smith
Neva Flores Smith
Nov 19, 2013      Nov 19, 2013

On the inside
I am  like words
that find my hopes embraced by wounds
which cut me constantly.  
When I neglect the walk of now
my pride forgets to see.

Although I smile into each day,
silence screams and laughs
like lightning erases humanity
as it exists.
My sight of the outside world
becomes the flame.....
trapped as it forgets

 
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