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ashby-brownPoems
When the shores Are More Than one can bear Each second Each wink Each bat of an eye lash Is as short A breath As we realize as Our last The bed doesn't creak Nor does the Wind feel any different A shattering Glass would barely Stir the covers Of my body underneath Of course around Our mother's Her ears attentive To the children's cares Upstairs They obsessed with Their own Eyes open Finger's crossed The ball when tossed Will surely be lost And yonder' - across menacing momentum - One can witness the Crystal filled fountain and in The distance the burning Of a single candle flame on the mountain I look for answers I seek questions I hear the secrets of the world And feel them through My finger tips as I share them With you Am I aware of my world? Or am I only living alone within it? Am I a seeker of life or Am I merely the string attached To a stranger's spool and kite? Holding myself over Until the next tide is taken For the forsaken admit No defeat To do that Would leave the ego beaten Struck with an impenetrable sickness Familiarities Only a stone's throw away from Falsely thought of companions Whose stanza's felt as weak Believe their streak Is coming to an untimely end Their bitterness Is not sweet For it makes the eye's water With its acidity Friends take steps in all directions They are not routine like the seasons To be a friend, one must learn To not be stern and when ready To let them drift into a new curve The white picket fence Has dirtied with the summer rain Stains remind me of former lives Whose prizes were never gave Caves without a rhythm or life Where every nook within Has never had the chance to bear a light Every darkness Once did harness The light of A truthful day
0
Sep 11, 2012
Sep 11, 2012 at 3:12 PM UTC
Purpose For Only the End of Things
When the shores Are More Than one can bear Each second Each wink Each bat of an eye lash Is as short A breath As we realize as Our last The bed doesn't creak Nor does the Wind feel any different A shattering Glass would barely Stir the covers Of my body underneath Of course around Our mother's Her ears attentive To the children's cares Upstairs They obsessed with Their own Eyes open Finger's crossed The ball when tossed Will surely be lost And yonder' - across menacing momentum - One can witness the Crystal filled fountain and in The distance the burning Of a single candle flame on the mountain I look for answers I seek questions I hear the secrets of the world And feel them through My finger tips as I share them With you Am I aware of my world? Or am I only living alone within it? Am I a seeker of life or Am I merely the string attached To a stranger's spool and kite? Holding myself over Until the next tide is taken For the forsaken admit No defeat To do that Would leave the ego beaten Struck with an impenetrable sickness Familiarities Only a stone's throw away from Falsely thought of companions Whose stanza's felt as weak Believe their streak Is coming to an untimely end Their bitterness Is not sweet For it makes the eye's water With its acidity Friends take steps in all directions They are not routine like the seasons To be a friend, one must learn To not be stern and when ready To let them drift into a new curve The white picket fence Has dirtied with the summer rain Stains remind me of former lives Whose prizes were never gave Caves without a rhythm or life Where every nook within Has never had the chance to bear a light Every darkness Once did harness The light of A truthful day
Written by
ashby-brown
Sep 11, 2012
Sep 11, 2012 at 3:12 PM UTC
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