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once they've
established bunts
now there's
fire as
she'd desecrate
the flag
in Orriskanny
whether it
flies round
their loops
that's still
her shape
this world
or bats
in air-conditioning
never heard
of Statius
a note of caution
stopdoopy Mar 2019
Little beads,

Jaded by time.

Bouncing.

Roll on the floor.

The end is here.

Fire Blooming in lungs,

Burning out what once was,

Creating fertile ground for the new.

Flowers weaving through veins,

Bursting through the heart.

Badum Badum Badum.

Excavating the chest,

Tearing through skin.

You see me there,

Rotting on a cracked floor,

Moss seeping through;

Long forgotten.

A smile on my face,

"Thank you for coming"
inspired by some fire ecology and, as always, personal feelings.
TheMystiqueTrail Sep 2018
Primordial chants
YAH VEH
YAH VEH
YAH VEH
meditating in the soul of the black onyx beads.

Frozen drops of bliss nestling in the sinews,
soaking me in its sublime stillness,
leading me to its philharmonic depth,
yoking me to its cosmic vibes.

I sublimate
to become the chants
that pulsate in the soul
of the black onyx beads...
Cat Lynn Dec 2017
Sitting on my thrown... A thrown of highly stacked orange chairs, all lined up in rows...

I looked down over the world, I was higher then even the tallest of my youth.  I was no show

Simply claiming my kingdom of independence.  Sitting up and watching like a lioness in demand

In demand of discernment and wisdom, for she can't afford failing... Visitors came unplanned

Tense...unprepared for this surprise attack, my heart leaped, shock forced my body to jump down...

Down to a lower level where I rightfully belonged... The third chain of a story broke promise, the ending of one of my neck's crowns

I ran, my feet punching the ground, not noticing the trail of scatter beads that followed my every foot step...

Too tiny for anyone to notice...black..and blue.. rolling away to hide.. not knowing these people's love had no depth

The jewel of the story flying away into a corner of a memory filled hall... the chandeliers crystal whispers were heard

Ignoring the callings of my fake name... I ran into the heart of the church... rows of pews starred at me... I didn't speak a word

More beads scattered behind me, as my emotions and feelings scattered along with them.

The silence never felt so dead as I ran towards the back, my soul singing a surrendering hymn.

The two left over neck crowns mourned for their lost friend, as I mourned over the lack of knowledge of the future

  Again I heard my fake name... depression devoured my hunger in one swallow,  the beginning of a tumor

"I... I just want to do your will... other may ask for love... or comfort... or wisdom...  or answers... and that isn't bad..."

"...but all I ask and beg... is to have Your will be done... use me in anyway you see fit... it doesn't matter what I must suffer... I'll forever praise you and be glad..."

"Show me your will and way..." I confirmed... not caring if people saw me as fool of weakness and hopelessness...

I heard two sets of foot steps behind me, my skin on edge, my small cold hearted hands revealing their recklessness

Running out of the back exit, I heard my nick name again, freezing I turned around to see them panting from exhaustion

Two of my fellow followers if you will, took me captive, and reintroduced me to the loud company of people in motion

Only meaning the best, I followed them and lined up with the other Christ fighting soldiers

Hand over our hearts, I didn't feel the comforts of the third crowns jewel... my eyes scattering around the hollow gym... I saw beads roll of my shoulder...

Embarrassed... I back away from the line to wonder off alone... I left without being questioned

The beads on the floor shared with me their fears of being crushed, and loneliness. Telling me to ignore the session

Seeking around my thrown for answers... I found nothing... so off again I ran... plunging my self into the silence

My black rose laced arms cross I looked around for that bottled jewel. To it, I am a giant

More then a charm... more then something that hung around my neck... It was a story... a story that redirected my path...

The tiniest things can have the most incomparable meaning... like one of the five cities of the Philistines where Goliath came from; Gath...

Such a small detail we don't often recognize... But such a butterfly effect can create a rip the space time continuum.

I found my jewel... hiding alone in a corner in that hall that contained many beautiful moments that are anything but a residuum.

Filled with relief, I gently picked it up and hide it tightly in the palm of my hand

A little bottle filled with bird seeds and rock dove feathers, indeed it's vanity, but meanings should be scanned

Walking back to my piers,  I couldn't help but to catch some of their eyes lay on me.

I don't blame them, I made a spectacle of my self over wanting to be alone and a charm, but I had to make a plea...

Entering my self into the group, I look towards the shining silver bleachers where my two chained necklace and bottled charm laid...

Silly of my to say... but someday the third chain will be restored... but it will have a new story to proclaim...

I still could see the scattered beads, they surround the people I claimed as my home, I know each face

Yes... My emotions are in a scatter, but at least they are scatter in the same place...
I know it seems like a silly, useless, non important poem/story event to write, but I don't know. It's was just kind of funny how my emotions came in synced with the objects that are connected to my talents. Yeah it was just a simple necklace and it didn't both me that it broke. Heck I can fix it XD but the charm couldn't have been replaced.  Maybe I'll write a poem about the charm maybe it not :P. It was just a strange simple event that wasn't that big at all in the physical world, but in the mind in heart, it had a way deeper meaning. the Event wasn't even that noticeable XD but.... ehh... just kinda felt like this was something the Lord wanted me to write.
Sharon Talbot Sep 2017
Sere and yellow,
Rough and round, [bright pebbles in a mound]
Pitted and mellow,
Winding our necks round,
We wore them.

Amber beads unearthed from clay,
Fashioned by my artist love,
Glowing yellow, filled with day,
Captures sunbeams from above.
I still love them.

Some say gods have made these,
To ensnare the light of Sun,
But we women saved these,
In memory & hope of sons,
We keep them.

Fat & smooth as butter,
We turned them in our hands.
The bone beads scraped with madder,
The amber just with sand.

Those of shadowy carnelian
Embedded like a shield,
We treasure as we fear them,
Like wounds on battlefields.

The others soaked with brownish earth,
Sere and yellow,
Rough and round, [bright pebbles in a mound]
Pitted and mellow,
Winding our necks round,
We wore them.

So, when we are dead, take not from us,
These rounded, golden suns,
But bury them with us, with sword and severed buss,
To revere the slaughtered ones,
Who never returned to us.

Revised November 15, 2016
This poem was inspired by several photos taken by poet/photography and historian, Giles Watson, of amber and other beads unearthed at an Anglo-Saxon dig site in England. I was struck by the way the amber still glowed after hundreds of years beneath the earth, and the artistry of them.
I had a dream last night
There was a neckless of edible beads
The sales women said,
It will help you forget the past,
Live in the future
I said give me one, I'm still thinking about the past...
I swallowed it,
Yet, no effect!
Oh, dream moods
Give me that quick fix
Or an escape from reality.
I have a bracelet
Given to me by a friend
Bought in a foreign country

The beads are wooden
The beads are colorful
The string is woven
Throughout and around
The beads

Like our friendship
The outs
And ins
Eriko Mar 2016
the sweltering muse
ringing like crackling
shimmering hue
of pearls lost
of beaded consciousness

to look me in the eyes
pearl-less and cast
aside under the parent
orb of silver moon,

a violin careening,
weeping like the thrill
of dragon scales,
magnificent and noble
yet isolated in the rubble

harder to find a hand
about the fog and mildew
crumbling pieces of tragic
memories, reminiscence
of all the hours I wait

dwelling without haste
among the lone tree tops
see you on the dark night
with owls swaying in the blue expanse

again, once again
it's going to be tough on me
pearls withstanding beauty
and clarity,
scattered into the clutches
of oblivion

falling asleep in restless dreams
the day they scattered
bring back joy and happiness
when I find the will
to settle my shaking hands

to refine the beaded necklace
I always find hope in me
even during times like now
when all I can see
is the emptiness
in my chest

(I'll be okay, really)
Vamika Sinha Mar 2016
the words
are beads and gems
and hooks and strings

scattered in a box
somewhere in
the softness behind my breastbone

my palms are up to catch the key
whenever it chooses to land

a pandora poised
to make ornaments
from all she uncovers,
all she unleashes
Cat Fiske Jan 2016
this day was no different than any other,
as we went through the tunnel onto the highway,
I think back to this mornings homily,
how the deacon spoke of this city's cross on the mountain,
I hung onto the rosary beads around my neck,
as if I was still looking for some answers,
and as ignored the smell of exhaust fumes,
as they mixed with the scent of chain smokers,
like a disastrous duo,
and focused my body outside the car window,
clenching my rosary beads I saw the cross on the mountain,
Holding them up the the window,
my cross covered the one on the mountain like it was its lost child.
for five minutes I felt like I had nothing to ask anyone,
I felt like my life was okay,
we drove into another tunnel,
and took a right on the exit ramp,
I never felt more peace in my life,
then I did as we drove home
that night,
it's true.
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