Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
 
and it will be late December
in the glow of the 25th
in the shadow of a new year
when the aligning takes place
one chilly night
the domino falls
and in the flutter of a hummingbird wing
we shall be no more
and somewhere
on some faraway land
one will be watching
20 million years from 2012
on a chilly December night
and catch the final blink
of a distant star
07/10/2007
i am lost in a desperate dream
that winds through liquid caves
it holds me by my gasping soul
and pulls me neath the waves
i spend these lifetimes nightly
no end where darkness lives
it bites
then smiles politely
it takes and never gives
i am breath in this empty shell
a life unlived
undone
a falling mass through time and space
that never found the Sun
02/07
  Aug 2018 Thomas P Owens Sr
Karijinbba
Speak
When you speak I see cascades of life.
Life and light tend to look the same.
Your light is turquoise and the color of jade sitting just beneath the surface of choppy water.
When you speak I feel heat.
You have yet to burn me.
You are the steady warmth of new born embers of a fire
yet to blaze. When you speak I smell salt water.
Even with a sting, you’re the most refreshing thing.
The ocean is not as paradoxical as your passionately
calm surface. When you speak I taste loneliness.
Bitter sweet like underripe tangerines.
I cannot know this beautiful mind of yours without encountering  cold, rusty, metal walls
When you speak I hear midnight.
You know how to play the silences.
I hold my breath waiting for the next sentence you’re carefully, mysteriously orchestrating. Whisper or shout
speak to me againHole in my heart
Speak Karijinbba Beloved!
Never had a problem speaking was friendly yet cautious--bit shy when meeting people who seemed to have me under a microscope as an adult yet still enjoyed listening to them speak my true love was my best teacher in the above but he never hung around long enough to break the ice nor he just poped the question I was to beg cry sing for him ask him to marry me but I was a hybrid  ET Cindi couldn't order the mice to help me out much less ask a king to be mine
i observed body language what they say and not say i deciphered the in betweens the thing NOT revealed All gets recorded in our memory bank. As a child I was silenced in a nunnery five years not allowed to speak but only with Yes or No by an evil nun as a hate crime.a form of turture
The subconscious sees hears feels tastes eats drinks it all-it's our photografic memory recorder for everything good and. bad!
We get to experience, right?
the tangible and intangible things we are that thing which God created in his image I did learn to Speak read even other languages in time i overcame that grip of evil, uderdtanding the beauty and ugliness in SIlence!. By the way Karijin my poetic nick name is a lovely hole in Australia it looks like a woomb giving birth to blue waters a honeymoon trip I missed along with my beloved groom Pc/rk.
~All tights received.~
hold your memories of me
in this distant place
between truth and hope
thought and sleep
a place that only we know
that only we can reach
you will find me there
for I have yet to leave
and will forever remain
a dream without an end
a memory without a home
I stay
adrift
awaiting your slumber
05/06 - slightly revised
I watch through sliding glass doors
she sits in the yard
with clouds unrelenting
a chill pushed by a strong breeze
storm foreboding
darkness works its way closer
yet
she reads
I had hoped against odds
to find her here
inside
a smile waiting before I leave
a kiss to linger in the hours apart
our lives
our love
slip silent into these empty moments
of realization
fade deeper
and closer
to a time when I will stare
upon an empty yard
10/06 - revised
I've yet to write of the child in me
that kept you close
and made you smile
I've yet to write of the terror in me
that held life and death
on a precariously short leash
I've yet to write of my love for you
though draining and awkward
was the love meant for this soul
take me to where the light
follows the waves to my feet
as she settles in
behind the horizon
and I will write my final words
at dusk
in the hours that remain
in the moments I have saved
in the grace of the setting Sun
9/2007 - slightly revised
I searched the face of the hollow man
as I drove the dagger through his empty heart
drained by love given
but not replaced
he cried to me
conceiving his defeat
to shield his soul from the pangs of living
the blood of fleeing life
and the tears of anguish
fell in drops
to the time-worn floor of the dismal room

a light breeze eased the curtain aside
a blinking hotel sign
revealed a dead man
lying beneath a mirror
smeared with blood
dried to the image of a stretched palm
many hours later
1974 - read this in front of a creative writing class - people avoided me on the street afterwards
Next page