j - Hello Poetry

It was dark Trembling whirlpools and waves lingered We climbed for days We climbed for weeks We climbed to the highest peaks on the earth But still, the flood rained down We built great ships and sailed Great monsters fought us from below Just as the water-bearers struck from above We wandered the waves , whipping We sailed between the horses We sailed between the C's Was this the coming of a new age? Was this the death of the fish? What of the light? What of the sun? Housed by Aquarian demise, We fought for each day How long must we wait? Can we blame the goat? Zealaz, where are you? When will your mountain appear?

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May 4, 2014

May 4, 2014 at 11:58 AM UTC

j

2150

It was dark Trembling whirlpools and waves lingered We climbed for days We climbed for weeks We climbed to the highest peaks on the earth But still, the flood rained down We built great ships and sailed Great monsters fought us from below Just as the water-bearers struck from above We wandered the waves , whipping We sailed between the horses We sailed between the C's Was this the coming of a new age? Was this the death of the fish? What of the light? What of the sun? Housed by Aquarian demise, We fought for each day How long must we wait? Can we blame the goat? Zealaz, where are you? When will your mountain appear?

22

The doors shut, cold echoes No more warm bed, and no longer home To journey through groves and streams and beaches Now not to be alone Test, a test, a test Here to find rest for all the comers, leavers, stayers, goers For the ****** and the divine A warm fire, a sip of wine This all, it shines so bright Warm light in a dark world...

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Jan 8, 2012

Jan 8, 2012 at 12:13 PM UTC

j

Safe Haven

The doors shut, cold echoes No more warm bed, and no longer home To journey through groves and streams and beaches Now not to be alone Test, a test, a test Here to find rest for all the comers, leavers, stayers, goers For the ****** and the divine A warm fire, a sip of wine This all, it shines so bright Warm light in a dark world...

11

Only a shadow A flash of fangs in the dark Tremors down my spine Only a shadow Breath drawn like blood from my lungs Can’t be real… could it? Only a shadow Defenseless in eventide Paranoid; frozen Only a shadow A flick of dark in the night, Poisoning my mind Only a shadow For that is all it can be This I tell myself

0

Nov 23, 2011

Nov 23, 2011 at 10:23 PM UTC

j

Night Terrors

Only a shadow A flash of fangs in the dark Tremors down my spine Only a shadow Breath drawn like blood from my lungs Can’t be real… could it? Only a shadow Defenseless in eventide Paranoid; frozen Only a shadow A flick of dark in the night, Poisoning my mind Only a shadow For that is all it can be This I tell myself

15

Snow has always had a unique quality to it, in that its arrival expresses a combination of pleasant, yet bleak sensations due to the lightness of its pure appearance and the cold weather which is inevitably a part of the experience; this quality made for an especially interesting happening one winter morning. Having awoken to a fresh coating of the white, fluffy powder at a friend’s house, the first thought to enter our collective minds was donning our coats and gloves, and dashing out to explore the exquisite beauty of the scene. Snowballs zipped over our heads, hills threw us along with vociferous fervor, and a snowman came into being before our eyes. In the midst of all this excitement, we were too preoccupied to notice the snow’s icy fingers as they crept into our down-encased souls. However, only a few short hours after the excitement began, the cold began to achieve its frigid goal and we were forced back indoors, the wonder of a midwinter’s day quickly robbed from our once unsuspecting minds.

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Nov 23, 2011

Nov 23, 2011 at 10:21 PM UTC

j

Mourning Midwinter

Snow has always had a unique quality to it, in that its arrival expresses a combination of pleasant, yet bleak sensations due to the lightness of its pure appearance and the cold weather which is inevitably a part of the experience; this quality made for an especially interesting happening one winter morning. Having awoken to a fresh coating of the white, fluffy powder at a friend’s house, the first thought to enter our collective minds was donning our coats and gloves, and dashing out to explore the exquisite beauty of the scene. Snowballs zipped over our heads, hills threw us along with vociferous fervor, and a snowman came into being before our eyes. In the midst of all this excitement, we were too preoccupied to notice the snow’s icy fingers as they crept into our down-encased souls. However, only a few short hours after the excitement began, the cold began to achieve its frigid goal and we were forced back indoors, the wonder of a midwinter’s day quickly robbed from our once unsuspecting minds.

1

The storm, it is not passing by quickly But the children are asleep in their beds Should we awaken them all, so brashly, or leave them at ease, to slumber instead? The winds, beginning to knock at the door, getting stronger and stronger each minute They start to rattle; the boards on the floor are creaking as wind slowly gets in it. A loud crash of lightning hits trees outside Perhaps they should prepare to run away The calm lake waters now treacherous tides A funnel takes form, dark menacing grey Why should we wake them from their calm cool sleep? It’s already done; the water’s too deep.

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Nov 23, 2011

Nov 23, 2011 at 10:16 PM UTC

j

A Storm on the Swamp

The storm, it is not passing by quickly But the children are asleep in their beds Should we awaken them all, so brashly, or leave them at ease, to slumber instead? The winds, beginning to knock at the door, getting stronger and stronger each minute They start to rattle; the boards on the floor are creaking as wind slowly gets in it. A loud crash of lightning hits trees outside Perhaps they should prepare to run away The calm lake waters now treacherous tides A funnel takes form, dark menacing grey Why should we wake them from their calm cool sleep? It’s already done; the water’s too deep.

14

Ode to the good old days   When we did things in such simple ways  We could laze and sit around for days  And pass time through and through   Not so quite like modern days  With flashing lights and cloudy haze  No, not at all like modern days  With all the work to do    But...    In a year or two or three or more  A thought comes knocking 'round your door,  A thought that strikes you to your core  And brings you hope anew   For the good old days are in the past  And we all know that it can't last  But soon to join these days, too fast  Will be today, so dull and blue  It never really takes too long  The present joins the past's sweet song  You'll soon forget all that was wrong   And treasure it all, in time

0

Sep 5, 2011

Sep 5, 2011 at 1:51 PM UTC

j

Untitled

Ode to the good old days   When we did things in such simple ways  We could laze and sit around for days  And pass time through and through   Not so quite like modern days  With flashing lights and cloudy haze  No, not at all like modern days  With all the work to do    But...    In a year or two or three or more  A thought comes knocking 'round your door,  A thought that strikes you to your core  And brings you hope anew   For the good old days are in the past  And we all know that it can't last  But soon to join these days, too fast  Will be today, so dull and blue  It never really takes too long  The present joins the past's sweet song  You'll soon forget all that was wrong   And treasure it all, in time

21

Sunshine Bluebells sprout from the ground aiming at the sun a child picks one, smells the petals, and drops it in the grass the seeds renew and the cycle begins again

0

Jun 9, 2010

Jun 9, 2010 at 8:02 AM UTC

j

Green Leaves

Sunshine Bluebells sprout from the ground aiming at the sun a child picks one, smells the petals, and drops it in the grass the seeds renew and the cycle begins again

8

A bird cries, silence; The cave swells, enticing the young freedom is at hand, in the air freedom to fly live without worry Leaving isn't easy, but a necessary evil venturing to the unknown, pen in hand through the ultimate wasteland that is life

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Jun 8, 2010

Jun 8, 2010 at 5:29 AM UTC

j

Departure

A bird cries, silence; The cave swells, enticing the young freedom is at hand, in the air freedom to fly live without worry Leaving isn't easy, but a necessary evil venturing to the unknown, pen in hand through the ultimate wasteland that is life

9