jeffrey-James - Hello Poetry

Make angels of butterflies and diamonds of stars and you will see that you are already an alchemist Turn wind-song to symphony and rain drops to honey and you will grasp that you are already a magician Make gold from the sunlight and silver from moon and you will know that you are already a sage Turn silence to reverence and solitude to strength and you will sense that you are already a prophet But Make lessons of missteps and laughter of regret and you will be welcomed to walk among the gods

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Dec 12, 2020

Dec 12, 2020 at 8:45 AM UTC

To walk among the gods

Make angels of butterflies and diamonds of stars and you will see that you are already an alchemist Turn wind-song to symphony and rain drops to honey and you will grasp that you are already a magician Make gold from the sunlight and silver from moon and you will know that you are already a sage Turn silence to reverence and solitude to strength and you will sense that you are already a prophet But Make lessons of missteps and laughter of regret and you will be welcomed to walk among the gods

21

We are the poets The lovers, the fighters, searching for truth, gasping for air Tearing down walls, dancing through sorrow Working our way through collective pain while standing on the edge of the cold hard mouth of the world We are the dreamers Pen in hand, heart on sleeve Laying ourselves bare, tattooed with words hearts beating in iambic pentameter; wounds bleeding ink Almost broken, nearly ****** yet driven by the indefatigable resilience to heal, syllable by syllable We are the brave Shining light in our darkest rooms Stories of our catastrophic follies Revealing in verse our deepest secrets, our greatest fears Standing naked and wet on ice-cold tile in front of an unforgiving mirror yet unwilling to break the stare We are misunderstood Hopeless romantics in broken-hearted clothing Teary eyed but vision clear Laughing together, crying alone Gnashing our teeth but holding steady our hand on the rudder, gently guiding the soul of the world We are the witness and the witnessed When the story of the world has been told And the sun has set a record of all that we have written will be discovered And in that sacred text, the story of just how inexpressibly beautiful every single moment of our lives have been We are the poets - never. stop.

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Nov 12, 2020

Nov 12, 2020 at 8:17 PM UTC

We Are The Poets

We are the poets The lovers, the fighters, searching for truth, gasping for air Tearing down walls, dancing through sorrow Working our way through collective pain while standing on the edge of the cold hard mouth of the world We are the dreamers Pen in hand, heart on sleeve Laying ourselves bare, tattooed with words hearts beating in iambic pentameter; wounds bleeding ink Almost broken, nearly ****** yet driven by the indefatigable resilience to heal, syllable by syllable We are the brave Shining light in our darkest rooms Stories of our catastrophic follies Revealing in verse our deepest secrets, our greatest fears Standing naked and wet on ice-cold tile in front of an unforgiving mirror yet unwilling to break the stare We are misunderstood Hopeless romantics in broken-hearted clothing Teary eyed but vision clear Laughing together, crying alone Gnashing our teeth but holding steady our hand on the rudder, gently guiding the soul of the world We are the witness and the witnessed When the story of the world has been told And the sun has set a record of all that we have written will be discovered And in that sacred text, the story of just how inexpressibly beautiful every single moment of our lives have been We are the poets - never. stop.

27

IF I allow myself to perceive even the softest of sounds so ever fleeting and far flung I can hear that which would otherwise, unobserved, have ceased to exist And how untrue a life it would be, if not for the quietest moments when silence is nearly upon us yet escapes, hat in hand, through the open window through which the gentle sound of a mighty sparrow discovers me discovering myself and either observer or observed how we yearn to find the sacred without seeing that it is in front of us like so many sparrow songs that go unheard, lost under the din of thought - perfectly knowing nothing of that would otherwise have shown us great glory and places which we would never see. - Yet I, sitting ginelrgly on the edge of my soft white comforter know that in the sound is the entire universe summed up in a single wave.

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Nov 7, 2020

Nov 7, 2020 at 4:08 PM UTC

if not for the quietest moments

IF I allow myself to perceive even the softest of sounds so ever fleeting and far flung I can hear that which would otherwise, unobserved, have ceased to exist And how untrue a life it would be, if not for the quietest moments when silence is nearly upon us yet escapes, hat in hand, through the open window through which the gentle sound of a mighty sparrow discovers me discovering myself and either observer or observed how we yearn to find the sacred without seeing that it is in front of us like so many sparrow songs that go unheard, lost under the din of thought - perfectly knowing nothing of that would otherwise have shown us great glory and places which we would never see. - Yet I, sitting ginelrgly on the edge of my soft white comforter know that in the sound is the entire universe summed up in a single wave.

19

I dangle from the letter J holding on with a single hand to the soft curve that leads to a gentle slope Then reaching for the dotted i, so round and firm I pull it close and find my way in to U O escapes your lips and I, I can taste the T; we sipped ginger and orange slice both hot and sweet W would be too much I know not Y yet you C that which I never share but desperately want you to know

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Nov 5, 2020

Nov 5, 2020 at 8:47 PM UTC

B4U

I dangle from the letter J holding on with a single hand to the soft curve that leads to a gentle slope Then reaching for the dotted i, so round and firm I pull it close and find my way in to U O escapes your lips and I, I can taste the T; we sipped ginger and orange slice both hot and sweet W would be too much I know not Y yet you C that which I never share but desperately want you to know

17

A soft glow emanates from the place where there is no longer you and no longer me yet brilliant shards of light, slowly fading, still buzz and hum Never would I trade your memory in exchange for hole left by your loss as I found this morning, by my bedside a needle and some iridescent thread And being reasonable, I can only assume you left for me whilst sleeping that which I needed to knit my life anew

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Oct 29, 2020

Oct 29, 2020 at 8:47 AM UTC

buzz and hum

A soft glow emanates from the place where there is no longer you and no longer me yet brilliant shards of light, slowly fading, still buzz and hum Never would I trade your memory in exchange for hole left by your loss as I found this morning, by my bedside a needle and some iridescent thread And being reasonable, I can only assume you left for me whilst sleeping that which I needed to knit my life anew

13

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Oct 26, 2020

Oct 26, 2020 at 9:22 PM UTC

You’re not who you thought you were

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Like so many before, sure that you will resist when the tide draws high Once across the line, too deep the swells and how quickly resolve weakens in the face of desire It isn’t wine that you are drinking whilst they prey like dancers, on your unique brand of insecurity as you give yourself over now oh so willingly as if to say ‘I am no more than what you tell me that I am or that you want me to be’ Until you are drained of all that is you, and left floating beside your potential When they call, and they will, simply turn left and head toward the shore on the higher ground The view there is quite lovely

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Oct 17, 2020

Oct 17, 2020 at 12:44 PM UTC

Do not into darker waters wade

Like so many before, sure that you will resist when the tide draws high Once across the line, too deep the swells and how quickly resolve weakens in the face of desire It isn’t wine that you are drinking whilst they prey like dancers, on your unique brand of insecurity as you give yourself over now oh so willingly as if to say ‘I am no more than what you tell me that I am or that you want me to be’ Until you are drained of all that is you, and left floating beside your potential When they call, and they will, simply turn left and head toward the shore on the higher ground The view there is quite lovely

11