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a fog of uncertainty
or mist of opportunity

discouragement of the fearful
passion of the pathfinders

boredom of the erudite
opportunity of the ready

despair of the overcome
pride of the calm conqueror

crumbling of the thoughtless
savvy of the thinker

rebellion of restless seas
wisdom of the calmer waters

coarseness of the unmodified rocks
refinement of a rare diamond sage

repeating dirge of the pessimists
excitement of the optimists

shock of the confronted
pragmatism of the realists

dissatisfaction of the takers
fulfillment's flame in the givers

empty shell of the ever selfish
and balm of those who

to the bewildered
smile kindness
In response to Joey's lovely, timely poem: 'Seeing is Believing'

There are many variations in the responses to modern life of those around us, especially to the daily bombardment of the news of 'mass disabling confusion and denial' or the 'barely contained hysteria' observed in reactions of many to an actual or even perceived foe. These altered societal parameters are proving to be a challenge for some, a way to shine for others.  The choice is for us to make, perhaps with a change in outlook for the best outcome, hence I wanted to share the reality and opportunity of our day...
sweet corral
in savage fields
you were to me
salvaged visions
hushed syllables
relayed in gasps
now stilled

and I sang to  
this favoured space
place all ages stretch
dance to meadow’s song
but havens don’t last
for spent shepherds
seek sleep too

I face myself
as dark clouds
I saw fomenting
omens of looming
deepening chill told
of friendship's succor
earmarked to go

confronted by
naked and scarred
discarded outcasts
dirges of limbs
parts broken
by storms'
scythes

you stood
beside me
sturdy strong
then winds ceased
and bland tones
transmitted
often

no sunny sky friend
you are but in storms
you see the beaten
traveler's plea
as rains
strip
breath
Sometimes we happen to come by someone we grow to deeply love as a precious friend, however they may well not see things quite that way, as they could be the perennial helper of those battling the stormy night, and when too much of the everyday mundane increases and swamps the scene, they can unexpectedly withdraw, needing space to chill and just be, and you feel such regret, remorse, shame even, that you didn't realize you were becoming a bad smell, a suffocating presence and you need to draw back or lose the contact, connection forever.
eleanor prince Dec 2019
In solitary spaces
I find parts noise hid
screaming simulacrum
in broken cobwebs

a life pending
in crevices
sensing
chill

broken
concepts
mantles for
ruptured elements
their soft core exposed

casualties of bloodied past
salvaged fragments
society's furnace
discarded

singing
synths
waiting
  Dec 2019 eleanor prince
savspoetry
*      *      *      and you are      *      *            
   *           *  just­ like the moon *      *          
*        *   *      -----so, alone-----      *      *    
   *      *    but you shine bright  *      *    
*     *            at the darkest  *      *     *
   *      *      *     of times  *      *      *      *    
*           *           *           *         *          
  Dec 2019 eleanor prince
Maddy
Empathy is one thing
Your side of an adventure or story is quite another
Might be similar but it really is never the same
When you say been there done that
It is about you
Sharing that is fine
When it is about another
Listen and be there if that is necessary or required
You really don't know

C@rainbowchaser2019
eleanor prince Aug 2019
those eyes are scarred
from damaged winds
on pavement singed

rent scenes recite
a diatribe
how do you live

holes dirtied leak
torn shadows sigh
they shelter filth

you cull the heat
until dice turns
to excise rage

with scalpel sharp
reprieve in sight
a poor man's

prize
----
©
At times we see old eyes pass us by, biding their time.  It may be on the street, in a bus or train.
Sometimes we see it in the mirror.  We know we would never do the deed. We seek to rise above injustice, to transform. But the primitive mind wants its moment, if only in mind ©
eleanor prince Aug 2019
babe stirs
safety a wild call
lost to night

blood ties shunned
explosions blurring
lines

diesel spillage
corrosive
chill

breaking walls
of sleeping
child

carnivorous plants
insects torn to
shreds

by those lost
removed from
breath

passing pause
brisk breeze
grants space

as dawn
stirs
sentience
organized abuse
of every kind
impacts generations
of innocent
children
until dawn
of awareness
arises
and one
manages
to break
free
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