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Aug 2017 · 123
Haiku #49
Jurtin Albine Aug 2017
death has never left
it's wandered through everything
waiting for life's chance. . .
Aug 2017 · 132
Haiku #48
Jurtin Albine Aug 2017
an old age adage—
you know, I was young once too. . .
just like you. . . deaths next
Jurtin Albine Aug 2017
Her eyes
are of nighttime skies
that deeply pool at the base
of a silhouettes shape.

Her form
is of the dreams
that the legend makers
should keep.

The way her hair falls down
and around her face
mirrors the waterfall
and stands in its place

while she showers under its spring,
time and time again,
in her elegance that has
learned all too well how to play pretend...

But does she know
the way back out again?

Does she feel the sunlight
that dries her perfect black strands,
or the way it cures the newly formed streak
that turns back in due time?

Does she feel the way
the rays caress her skin?

Does she know more
than only one way
to let love in…

A vast indifference is
a confusion causing spin

that an easily listening heart hears,
and with compassion can
put back in a safe place…

A warm embracing state
that no undertow can take.

A sorry call
when distance is installed,
and has well over stayed…

To be involved
with memories
of golden days,

which were actually
bright side
silver linings,

While on the inside
were filled with pain,
and the pressures
of the day…

But I cannot complain,
nor just give in,

nor ever give away!

And a chance
for gracious change
in all the signages
that cry out to be brave

in the face of all those fears
that have haunted like bad thoughts
over all those nasty years...

And if fortune does indeed
favor those who face their fears,

let it also favor those
who turn a wink
and a solemn covered ear,

So that they can try to escape
the horrors
that they neither want to see,
nor hear

...

Let love be thine guide
that's never so quiet
that it falls on deaf ears,

nor never so silent
that it ever becomes a whisper so soft
that only silence can hear.
Aug 2017 · 136
Haiku #47
Jurtin Albine Aug 2017
ant: tiny being—
exoskeleton off to
teach paths to the youth
Aug 2017 · 131
Haiku #46
Jurtin Albine Aug 2017
bubble gum; new, chewed,
blown, popped, flavor stopped, placed—
beneath table top
Aug 2017 · 151
Haiku #45
Jurtin Albine Aug 2017
the atmosphere swirls
within a disruptive storm. . .
violent trees sway
Aug 2017 · 132
Haiku #44
Jurtin Albine Aug 2017
black starry granite
carved mass placed as level floor—
walking space adored
Aug 2017 · 127
Haiku #43
Jurtin Albine Aug 2017
freshly clipped green grass
mixed with spring renewed flowers—
scents of revival
Aug 2017 · 171
Haiku #42
Jurtin Albine Aug 2017
a laid down towel;
the sea salt scents the sand—
sunbathing in bliss
Aug 2017 · 154
Haiku #41
Jurtin Albine Aug 2017
bed sheets wrap around. . .
clothing us excitedly—
she stares deep within
Aug 2017 · 131
Haiku #40
Jurtin Albine Aug 2017
a raindrop falls from
the sky landing in the sea—
whims of sun's delight
Aug 2017 · 131
Haiku #39
Jurtin Albine Aug 2017
her beauty persuades
like nothing before—
holding, trembling, still. . .
Aug 2017 · 177
A Far Off Beauty
Jurtin Albine Aug 2017
She waves in a far off land
One that I knew
Like the back of my hand

And on the ever changing wind
The bows flow in spiraling circles
At the tail end of a kite
That pushes forwards
With all its tethered might
As it swoops and dives
At the command of the breeze

And suddenly,

As if with great ease,

It's back to its stable posture

Sailing proud and feeling free

And I know,

Like the kite,

Where I to would like to be

Released from the hand
And sent forth to fly across the land
In hopes of where birds and clouds do tell
Drifting peacefully with messages for the beauty fair
Who stays and waits in a far off place
That she could hear the words uttered by a man
Left blowing for the wind to understand

(...)

And there he stands still.

Wondering...

Waiting...

All the while watching that kites proud flight,
At its greatening height,
Holding the string within his hand


Closed firmly

And

Grasping tight.
Aug 2017 · 130
Haiku #38
Jurtin Albine Aug 2017
flower petals crushed—
life’s temporary beauty
transferring senses
Aug 2017 · 155
Haiku #37
Jurtin Albine Aug 2017
the place between space
and sky; the narrow womb in
which we do reside
Aug 2017 · 164
A Far Off Beauty
Jurtin Albine Aug 2017
She waves in a far off land
One that I knew
Like the back of my hand

And on the ever changing wind
The bows flow in spiraling circles
At the tail end of a kite
That pushes forwards
With all its tethered might
As it swoops and dives
At the command of the breeze

And suddenly,

As if with great ease,

It's back to its stable posture

Sailing proud and feeling free

And I know,

Like the kite,

Where I to would like to be

Released from the hand
And sent forth to fly across the land
In hopes of where birds and clouds do tell
Drifting peacefully with messages for the beauty fair
Who stays and waits in a far off place
That she could hear the words uttered by a man
Left blowing for the wind to understand

(...)

And there he stands still.

Wondering...

Waiting...

All the while watching that kites proud flight,
At its greatening height,
Holding the string within his hand


Closed firmly

And

Grasping tight.
Jul 2017 · 121
Haiku #36
Jurtin Albine Jul 2017
levity of space
tossed into infinity—
so gently we float
Jul 2017 · 167
Synthetic Symphony
Jurtin Albine Jul 2017
Life is simple
for something that just is
and never wonders why,
doesn’t get depressed,
or feel the need to cry
for something it doesn’t get.

It just fights for it’s life
with an instinct to protect...

I didn’t mean to project.

I was just sitting in a florescent glow
and watching flames within me grow
another chance to become known
and something else upon the floor…

I’ve seen deflects so common
they scream to be forgotten.

I washed a window late,
or not that often.

My view can be so rotten
that sunny days
seem but a murky haze,
and watching rain
can even put a smile
on my face.

I’m not a lace
to be done up,
or a shoe with a sole
to be stepped on.

I could have thought that
I would have been the road,
but I’m not manufactured...

I’m the soul within
and I’m keeping myself afloat.
Jul 2017 · 346
Taste Imagery’s Kindness
Jurtin Albine Jul 2017
(Kiss, **** and Hold)

I fall in and out of love like it’s nothing,
but I get torn apart like it’s everything.

Simple,
so simple…

Like adding and subtracting...

I’m a fraction
of what I’d like to be...

To be me as a hole
wouldn’t even come close to the wholeness
of the other human being.

You begin within a dream
I end upon awakening
and it’s all the same again…

I wished a world away
and made the other uneven.

Words written in pavement tell me to know who...

Graffiti on bricks tell me what kind of terror comes next…

I’m looking back at grinding noises
and forgiving someone that might not even notice…

Well I tell myself something to another that hears my echo.

I’m inappropriate and hurt a budding flower
and the suffering of tomorrow is now what I’m after.

It was only my self deprecating
laughter that made my sorrow not bother.

I don’t believe in fodder,
but cold fingers hurt warm flesh
and make a nervousness
less like a jump
and more of a grab
to keep me at bay…

It’s not that I came too close,
but she’s scared away…

Anyway.

More or less we still exist…

Not saying it’s completely useless,
but I wait like the rest,
or I fail the test...

I almost try my best,
but what can you expect
when I never wanted any of this.
Jun 2017 · 125
Haiku #36
Jurtin Albine Jun 2017
levity of space
tossed into infinity—
so gently we float
Jun 2017 · 318
Ew
Jurtin Albine Jun 2017
Ew
There once was an old lady who lived in a shoe.
Unfortunately for her, before she moved in, it had stepped in poo.
Now when she invites people over to stay
they say,
"Your house smells like ****."
and then they go away.

The old lady cries,
"Why, oh why, do my friends leave
every time they come by?"
for you see, the old lady hadn't the faintest of clues,
that her house was actually a shoe
that had stepped in doo-doo.
Jun 2017 · 174
Haiku #35
Jurtin Albine Jun 2017
mountain top’s dew spring
crying down to the ocean. . .
renewing it’s drip
May 2017 · 182
Haiku #34
Jurtin Albine May 2017
in deaths duration
I’m found rustling in the wind
making gentle sounds—
May 2017 · 188
Haiku #33
Jurtin Albine May 2017
if you lose control
(becoming a prisoner)
over your bodies actions
(which is completely confined)
you still have free thoughts
(you still have your dreams)
A haiku that can be read between the lines independently, or all together
May 2017 · 167
Haiku #32
Jurtin Albine May 2017
magic show tricked eye,
but what’s behind a quick hand?
other than routine. . .
(misdirectionist)
Mar 2017 · 216
Haiku #31
Jurtin Albine Mar 2017
knowing or unknown. . .
who could know? when all we do
is for our own show
Mar 2017 · 239
Haiku # 30
Jurtin Albine Mar 2017
image yet to be,
no matter how much I see
it paints ‘self hidden
Mar 2017 · 168
Haiku #29
Jurtin Albine Mar 2017
so long to feelings. . .
I get it you’re you, I’m me
we could just relate
Mar 2017 · 316
Haiku #28
Jurtin Albine Mar 2017
the times debating. . .
like this time over again—
oh, wait, never mind
Mar 2017 · 201
Haiku #27
Jurtin Albine Mar 2017
to the ones with the
best perceptions goes the world,
and shared with all true
Mar 2017 · 249
Haiku #26
Jurtin Albine Mar 2017
written words on pages
all the errors(made) in (the)strokes fixed—
the soul forgives this
Mar 2017 · 209
Haiku #25
Jurtin Albine Mar 2017
a ruined stone temple
made by hands that laid the bricks
of minds forgotten
Mar 2017 · 219
Haiku #24
Jurtin Albine Mar 2017
the hourglass sand runs
crammed stream line gravity—
a handless time told
Jurtin Albine Feb 2017
Could you love me for a day?
Could you play pretend?
Could you act as if our love will have no bitter end?

Could you love me for a day,
and then go away
never to see me again?

Could you love me for one day,
like we're the only two
swimming through eternities blue?

Could you love me for a day,
and then when you awake
get dressed and forget my name?

Could you love me for a day,
and know that the moment will last forever
in that time, and in that place?

Could you love me for a day?
Could you give me that piece of mind?
And I will try to be there when we die.

Could you love me for a day,
kiss my eyes,
and make me believe it's going to be okay?

Could you love me for a day?
Could you love me in just that way?

Could you love me for a day?
And I will let you escape.

Could you love me for a day
without a heart, or a cause to break?

Could you love me for a day?


Could you love me?



Could you…




...for, just, one day.
Feb 2017 · 586
Losing It Through Amusement
Jurtin Albine Feb 2017
The day loves it—
To be loved.

Everyday is a new love.

Wondering when it can ever be enough...

And that’s why it’s safe to say,

That all the things in life are not just given away.

We’re traveling home,
As we roam,
While at our heels kicks destruction.

I’ve pushed them away—
I come oh, so, close.

A seat in the mind—
I do not know,
But I also don’t…

Such is myself and I,
Or her and herself—
(Or everyone and everybody else.)

And both in eyes…

I can take a hint.

I can fiend a disguise,
One which won’t portray a goodbye,
Or fill up the day in the life with lies.

But often is enough to know
That the safe to “says”
That say,

That every day is a new love.

And that is still—
Not enough.
Nov 2016 · 291
Haiku #23
Jurtin Albine Nov 2016
wild hares neck ensnared. . .
once sat chewed; running renewed—
got caught mid hop; stopped.
Nov 2016 · 574
Reused
Jurtin Albine Nov 2016
My words are like nations of the world’s
swirling around and coming about
in the same way or another.


Which way the wind blows
doesn’t always match up
with a compasses nose.


Sometimes you have to turn against a howl
in order to reach the next place you must receive,
like swimming upstream
in order to fulfill a cyclical life’s purpose…


When was it ever worth this?


When was it ever worth less?



I can feel it in my bones
as they urge me to find a home,
but I’m an animal of unknown.


The only type that can carry the knowledge of what they are.


The lies of a misunderstanding
where I can’t see past a breed,
or a bent genome that’s changed and left alone…


Without a loan.


The world has not yet seen oblivion...


I think I missed Venus when she was kissed
by a depleting atmosphere that thinned out
into outer space…


Sound dissipated as it reached the last substance left to vibrate.


A laugh in a lifetime (of) comedy,
an attraction left in an eye that meets the same,
a meaningless night where it can remain.


I am not always the one to blame,
but I take it anyway.


For if I don’t then there’s no resolute
and I can’t feel peace in sleep,
or a tragedy in a common community.


Without the others coming on to me
I’d never know to make believe anything...


And see a sadness shared
on faces and fists holding hands.


Changing the channels of life’s plans through currents and tides
who leave their marks on rockless sands…


Only in viewing can I comprehend,
only within a glass can I confide,
and only when it’s passed I no longer have to hide my pride.


After all,


I am being pushed through the hours ride.
Nov 2016 · 235
Naked of Hope
Jurtin Albine Nov 2016
What a cold place the world can be
when nothing’s left to gain reprieve.


Stuck in a picture,
without blush,
knowing that the teals and hues
will never be used to set you free...


No longer being
able to believe
in the least degree.


Life’s a funny thing though,
for one day you can see
what the day before
could not be gleaned…


The white turns off of the grey stage
and prisms onto your own page.


With vision restored
you’re welcomed into
the colors warmth.
Oct 2016 · 309
Haiku #22
Jurtin Albine Oct 2016
angled paintings hang
cocked crooked; sheepish designs—
off set; unaligned
Oct 2016 · 316
Haiku #21
Jurtin Albine Oct 2016
the comfort of bed
calls weary minds into its stead—
folding in retreats
Oct 2016 · 600
If Trees Could Talk
Jurtin Albine Oct 2016
A young spry tree;
So quick to shed it’s false spring(time) leaves

Unlike the old spruce
That’s seen so many seasons
That it’s learned to hold out as to not get hurt

But gone is it’s excitement

Unlike that youthful sapling
Who at first light will bend to ignite
And just be happy to be free of the first winter's plight



To survive the thought of an endless freeze
And slowly become accustomed to the seasons(reasons)
That the old tree knew

And to too grow through

And wither away in slow
And bitter agony
As the sun that lifted up
Could no longer compete with
The mother that beseeches
It’s weathered worried trunks
That no longer bend to greet me
And say The warnings to a weary last seedling
As it travels
On it’s way

*“Spring is here
And only within can it stay”
Oct 2016 · 315
White Buds
Jurtin Albine Oct 2016
Do you always wait until the divider divides
before you decide to say hi?

When I've already said my goodbyes
I meet one last lingering eye…

Until I find myself to face
and have to deal with the choice that breaks.

Although you knew that it takes two
and you probably shouldn’t try to lie…

A serious look from the subjectively shy.

I remember back to a meek voice
that would(n’t) fail to hide.

I find truth on whispers that
scratch the essence of my mind…

And I too push on by
a forever that reflects.

On paned surfaces
a smile turns and dies…

*There's no reason why.
Jurtin Albine Oct 2016
The place you’ve arrived,
dived,
and returned to the surface;

gasping for air.

It was all around,
but nobody cared...

until it was no longer there.

What a sparse remark to make
around something that can’t be saved…

Suddenly I feel like
I’ve been here before.

I followed emotions that
bring me to the floor.

Plastic and currents,
breaks and neck aches...

They relate to a lake
where swimming once occurred.

Was I here?

Am I there?


It’s hard to concur
when you speak
such sleek
negative
things.

I forgot as you chimed in on me,
or about my personality.

I’ve had a fill beyond the rim.

I've spilled out
and everyone can observe my ****.

Closing time passed,
and here I stand with nothing left to grasp.

The promise land was not mine,
but another’s who I blindly followed...

How much longer can I endure?

...I have not the strangest of clues.
Sep 2016 · 392
Haiku #20
Jurtin Albine Sep 2016
streets wind dotted lines. . .
routes driven alone in life—
lights shine paths ahead
Jurtin Albine Sep 2016
I’ve got a confession
What’s my lesson?

Marlon brando flounders
off the coast.

Who can boast?
The host

Steal the roast
and walk away

without even
a ******* toast.
Sep 2016 · 228
Haiku #19
Jurtin Albine Sep 2016
a fire burning—
warmth flickering yearnings dance. . .
the ash of what was
Sep 2016 · 328
Haiku #18
Jurtin Albine Sep 2016
summer, winter, spring—
what bountiful harvests bring—
fall: charming; wicked
Sep 2016 · 251
Haiku #17
Jurtin Albine Sep 2016
a single seed passed
off the dandelions mane—
soil home, start again
Sep 2016 · 261
Haiku #16
Jurtin Albine Sep 2016
a lover in mind. . .
touch her hand, sparks collide—
feeling please don't die
Sep 2016 · 236
Haiku #15
Jurtin Albine Sep 2016
the day humans flew—
floating aloft through the sky—
wistful spirits grew
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