Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
 Mar 2019 sunprincess
ryn
Van Winkle
 Mar 2019 sunprincess
ryn
•high in the
mountains, he grew we-
ary                 and ragged•
•                     his sight turned
                           cloudy, chin un-
                             shaven and face hag-
                                    gard•removed his boots
                                    for his feet did stink•
                                  sleep he wanted but not
                                without a drink•one big
                              swig and he downed it all•
                        then he was asleep before the
                      sun could fall•many days visited,
             many shadows cast•over this slum-
     bering man, many moons had passed
•one fateful day, his eyes did twitch
and then did open•he sprung aw-
ake to the life he had forsaken•his
musket dusty, his clothes in di-
sarray•his chin - a long beard
that has seen countless days•he
ran to his home before noontime
chime•he found only disbelief, for he had slept




a lifetime•
 Mar 2019 sunprincess
Lily
“Floor me with flawed beauty,” the
Poetry professor said.  “Give me a
Reason to read your poem, a deep
Craving to know the workings of
Your mind.
“Let me know the things you
Hate, the things you
Love, the things you couldn’t care
Less about.
Make me care.
“I see beauty in you, not
Perfect or pristine, but
Flawed,
Ugly, not-fit-for-the-
Human-eye-beauty.
“I’ve been teaching for 20 years; write me
Something I don’t already know.
“Floor me with
Your
Flawed beauty.”
I wrote this while I was listening to my professor talking; the skill I tried to use in this piece is called "enjambment", which is when you purposefully put in a line break so that the first word on the next line is the most important and carries the most meaning.  Let me know how it works, or if you notice a difference in the impact of the words :)
 Mar 2019 sunprincess
ryn
Voiceless
 Mar 2019 sunprincess
ryn
.
What he didn’t say
with voice,
he spoke clearly
with tears
that never left

his eyes.


.
She embraces me in chill
Comforts me with her will

Touches my heart in kisses
Twisting in the seditious

Her sadness blankets my heart
Her beauty right on mark

For she has stars in her eyes that haunt me
Her compassion reaps all sea to sea

I am married to the night
My Angel of delight
I told someone the other day that I often feel out of place, even out of time. I feel like a book in a society that has no patience to read, much less comprehend, any longer. Some of my pages are fragile and very few get to read those. However, transparency is how I’ve turned my pain into purpose. It’s how I connect with and sometimes help other people through their own struggles. I accepted this feeling of being out of place...I understand it to be partly because of my commitment to peace in a world ravaged by conflict, strife and war. But I’m forevermore committed to being an active presence of peace and to help others find it.
Be at peace!
I say it’s cozy - you say it’s cluttered.
I say it’s comfy, you say it’s crowded.
Two hundred miles from what we knew and loved
Those miles have somehow slipped between us.

You say this place must be bewitched
You put down things, they walk away.
I say your mind is occupied-
You’re not living in the moment.

Hamstrung by a phone line waiting for connection
Someone in India has a hand in our lives
And decides who we can talk to,
Limited now to only each other.

The sun gave a hint of blisters to come,
Then cooled by an unexpected deluge
That turned cardboard cartons to sagging mush
And soaked us as we tried to save them.

They said it rained just ten times a year
But our record for the first two weeks:
Two monsoon pours and 4 more others
While thunder and sheet lightning filled the heavens.

The sky lights up like strobes on crack
While thunder rumbles in the distance
Overture to monster downpour
Dried and gone before the sunrise.

No Welcome Wagon rang our bell
No casseroles appeared
Nothing more than a random wave
To welcome us to this new life.

They said there’s no humidity
So the heat is not so bad
My gauge shows that glass half full
And we’ve been lied to once again.

We put our rubber plants outside
They were quickly cooked to mush.
We salvaged only two leaves each                       Small reward for major effort.

Who can live in such a place
The natives always say it’s lovely.
But nothing we were told is true
And somehow we must find a way.

ljm
I wrote this when we first moved here.  I'm not thrilled with it, but it's all I have at the moment. Forgive me.
Walking streets
Where I’m unknown
I stifle sobs
And dab my eyes.
I don’t belong.
I don’t fit in.
There’s nothing here
That smells of me,
That looks like me,
That calls to me.

I climb a hill
To watch the sun
Pour pink and gold
On lacy clouds.
I scan the valley
Full of houses.
Which one is mine-
It’s hard to tell.
they look the same
But I do not.

My footsteps do not
Fit the path
I need to walk
If I’m to find
A welcome here
I worship the wrong
Ideals and ideas
And I must hide
Behind a silent smile
Lest I be ushered out.

I cannot run
I’m here to stay
There is no other
Universe for me.
I’ll choose a
Another middle name-
Chameleon sounds right.
I’ll make them think
I’m one of them
And blend into a life.
                ljm
Another old one (well, 6 mo. old, anyway).  From my "I don't want to be here" period.  I'm better (resigned) now.
 Mar 2019 sunprincess
Lora Lee
in the crackling dawn
firebuds burn,
electric
spirit cells lit
in aeortic pulse
ventricles open
to a psychic doorway
stepping through,
she remembers it
that ember
of arcane ritual
divination of
intimate fires
ancient inner knowledge
sparked

Now is a time
for mourning
for celebration
for resurrection
tears streaming
like cool rivers
her palms splayed
reaching up
spilling over
her breath
as steady
as the stars
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-V4QAYUvenE&list=RD-V4QAYUvenE&start_radio=1&t=0
 Mar 2019 sunprincess
ryn
Clockwork
 Mar 2019 sunprincess
ryn
A nighttime recess.

An awareness embedded
within the thickened folds,
layered - one upon another.

Second upon second.
Minute over minute.
Hour after hour.

Rendering me unheard
and vague.

A stream of consciousness
that runs uncaptured.
Unexplained and unreasoned.

Consistent and tiresome.
Haphazardly predictable.

Routine like
                      clockwork.
Next page