In my travels I spent time with a great yogi.
Once he said to me.

“Become so still you hear the blood flowing
through your veins.”

One night as I sat in quiet,
I seemed on the verge of entering a world inside so vast
I know it is the source of
all of
us.

Sometimes
You feel you are being buried
When you are simply being planted

Slowly drifting
Thoughts abound
Frantic scripting
Lines aloud
Pain with purpose
From poets’ mouths
Emotions flowing
Hear the sound
Pen on paper
Forever bound
Human nature
Hear them out
Down to earth
High in the clouds
Vast universe
Questioning now
Life and death
When and how
No rules allowed

Each of their lines
One slab of stone
But now a tower
Through their words
Feel the power
Whether peace of mind
Or darkness devour
Up late at night
The witching hour


So wide awake
With tired sighs
Challenging fate
Deep inside
Calm insights
And raging tides

Imagination
Their better side

Within creation
True knowledge lies
In every question
Double meaning hides
They draw it out
They shed new light

Thoughts on paper
Passing through time
Hand prints on history
They cannot die
Painting portraits
For readers eyes

True emotions
On the rise
Touching hearts
And changing lives

All is possible...

Within Poets' Minds

Am I really a poet,
If all I ever write about,
Is you?

now when I think of love I want to puke,
the thought literally makes me sick to my stomach because I know now what it does to a person

how you lose yourself in someone else and then all of sudden you can't breathe anymore without them

I am promising myself to never be that stretched again,
to give myself a try for once, relying only on my intuition and will to power through life and relationships, never getting too blind to see things as they really are

I wanna know what it's like to be so good alone that the earth shatters when I take a step,
electricity radiates from my skin and my soul is so loud it shouts through my eyes

i’ve been thinking a lot
about your hand in mine
the way that our fingers
and palms intertwine

but i think about death
about loss, about worth
i admit that i fear
to return to the earth

where our bodies dissolve
into roots of a tree
and will grow into trunk
then limb, then leaf

but i've heard from a bird
that death will reverse
and your heart will beat hard
like it did at your birth

so hold on for dear life
with your hand in mine
if death makes us let go
it is only for time



© Mike Mortensen