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Sutherland Jan 9
The waves pull part,
our sails fill,
our ships depart.
Off you crest,
the marble's arch.

Away, away,
the swirling mass steals thee.
Away, Away,
my sail steals me.

To opposite bay.
To differing stars.
The infinite plane,
the blue in the bars.

Away, away,
oh, gem of the sea.
Away, away,
me.
This has caught a lot of attention so I’ll give a background as I do with my other poems. My significant other and I are separated most of the year by work and study. I wrote this days ago when she left again.
Sutherland Dec 2018
I walk blindly through beauty.
I numbly touch its fur.
I exhale its fragrance.

To drift is to be sure.

My vision is cut short,
that of a pin,
sculpted,
chiseled,
cut down.
Brown is my vision,
defined by the words within.

between the two,
I am.

Stability in the binding,
the spine, I bend.

The cover, my beginning.
The back, my end.
I wrote this poem from my perspective of a person in a religion. How they limit their interaction with the world around them because their bible doesn't allow them to see it.
Sutherland Dec 2018
And on this day
three minds know naught.
Light filters through a new lense.
Vision of the future.
The light can not.

Yet the world,
It
bends.

This lense will grow,
and with it, hands.
This lense will go,
and where it steps, break bands.
This lense will know,
and alter all
that the world spans.

From present to future,
the past holds no bound.
The light, with the world,
will
bend.
Their destination
found.

This child will become
what the double cannot.
The double, the steps,
the child, the top.

The world shifts
and
bends.
I wrote this for my niece that has recently entered into existence.
Sutherland Oct 2018
Murky water,
Depthless mud,
Drown by chains,
Bound by blood.

Onlooker, the key,
History, the judge,
Neglect, the decision.
Doomed to the sludge.

Filament of algae,
A shaky explanation.
The onlooker runs,
Blood left to damnation.

Onlooker lives,
Lacking of blood.
Drinking away his memories,
Of the murky water, and depthless mud.
This bares substantial meaning to me as I wrote it when seeing drug abuse by my childhood friend. Often times a poem speaks louder than spoken word. I sent him this poem and he is actively recovering today.
Sutherland Oct 2018
A gagged mouth screams mindfully in pain.
An outreached hand ****** to grasp air.
It mumbles and yells to the self imposed chain.
Veil of joy,
Depths of despair.

A fisherman watches, her mast crest the Earth.
A flower watches her buzz by.
Tears disparage pain, void of her worth.
Absent of reason,
They wither and die.

Once again,
Alone.
Sutherland Oct 2018
The Red Herring travels a divergent path,
alone in presence,
master of mind.
The Red Herring comprehends what he hath,
bearing little thought,
to the wake behind.

The Herring passes content with isolation,
alone in essence,
possessor of mind.
The Herring cares not but for his destination,
bearing some thought,
to the wake behind.

A herring finds his final place,
alone in absence,
chaser of mind.
A herring now knows his destination was never a space,
bearing absolute thought,
to the wake behind.
This one was written during a time in my life where I was reevaluating what I once thought I knew. The syntax speaks for the poem just as much as the words. I think that's part of the reason I like it so much.
Sutherland Oct 2018
What happens when,
the light from the stars fades away?

What happens when,
the twines once taut fray?

What happens when,
a longing,
once together,
becomes alone?

When indifference, like bleach,
scratches and,
tears,
grinds and,
flairs,
destroys what was,
devours what's theirs.

When all is symmetric,
white as a bone.

What happens then?
why,
now,
do I feel alone.

— The End —