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Kenneth Gray Oct 2020
The poetic apprentice constantly
ponders and plans.
He dreams up wondrous writings that through critisms can stand.
He imagines mystical miracles he elaborates with his hand
Unending possibilities his vast
Mind demands

He scoures the depths and peruses vast heights.
He indulges crisp, cool mornings and envelops the nights.
He listens for lyrical lullabies and observes majestical sights.
He journeys throughout space
as he embarks on jaw-dropping flights.

The poetic apprentice searches
The depths of his heart
He dissects it and reads it
And tears it apart.
Then divulges it's secrets
And crafts them into his art

He wishes so dearly that his
Work becomes no disaster
He keeps his senses in tune
In hopes he'll one day be a master
As more work pours out the
Pressure grows faster and faster
But he'll slow down and humble himself
As his work evolves and becomes vaster

Now the poetic apprentice sighs
A great sigh of relief
He wipes off his brow
As he mumbles "good grief!"
His work is now over his
work is complete.
He knows they will like it.
Its his faith, his belief

The poetic poet now bows
To you, his work is bequeathed
I was just trying to bring a writing forward again from a slightly different angle. Just trying to be a little unique with my approach. Ive been thinking a lot of how I need to learn and grow. So through that the idea of an apprentice came to mind. I thought writing in 1st person as I wouldn't create much of a persona with the character. It would have just been me and that's not quite as interesting to write about. That's kind of the thought process with this one.
There will be a moment when

all the mountains you have ascended

that tried to bring you down under torrent and hail

will be over your shoulder

There will be an instant when all you have learned,

all you have fought for,

all your mistakes, your pains, your cold,
your love, your light,
all of it,

melt together

and you know, finally; you have arrived.

In this
a new fear will arise

telling you
you don’t have
enough time

to complete your painting,
your sculpture,
your chapters of verse,
your photographs,

All you want
in this newly arrived
way of Being
is to
have the time
witness it all to creation’s end

To catch
The impossible weight of sand
at the bottom of the hourglass
with plenty of time to
watch the paint dry.
Poem on the curious things that happen to an artist after surviving death.
South City Lady Sep 2020
silence scooped into tributaries
navigating thoughts by gondola
we glide beneath her Bridge of Sighs
tasting the acrid breath of lost words
into a palazzo where ideas congregate
exhumed from brackish waters
poems glistening between our oars'  
slippery blades at midnight
Chase Pamplin Aug 2020
The body is relaxed, face expressions are lazy. If I was hooked to a polygraph the readings will indicate my mind has been going crazy. Thoughts of: What to do? Where to go? How to love? Who are you? How to succeed? Scraped up, scared up until I bleed. I’ve been working my soul, sometimes I feel like my spirit is on blow, I’ve been working on goals that nobody knows simply because the world doesn’t need to see. Do you feel me? Yes, no, maybe so, indeed!

Orakhal Jun 2020
thy creation

Be not
reacting to dictation
Orakhal Jun 2020
Be not
warming your
hands over a cold fire

be lit
to the heat of a new desire
Orakhal Jun 2020
****** thy chest to a swallows breast
Fix feet to ground white fire blessed
Flow breath in kind on highest tide
Set compass north thru eyes be wide

Raise tongue to taste thy words not waste
Let voice be rich and sowing
Set thought no aim be blind to game
Its fert be not worth knowing
Fert - suffers bears
Orakhal Jun 2020
be bad
be good
be happy or sad
be bought
be sold
fashioned out of gold
be cruel to your kind
looking at your mind
checking out in the changing room
the blind leading the blind

Hardened be the heart
living in the way
Wrong to make a right
Fighting for a say
Waiting to be saved while following a fad
Taken by the world to it
Telling what to have

To have and to hold
To whisper a scream
To fight and to forge
To live out a dream
To suffer and save
Feeding the starve
You look from your eyes
You see in the dark

Be you up to bring it down
Alive to wake the dead
Be you clean or be you *****
Riding in the red
Opening the door
Closing it to time
Willing to explore
Holding on the line

With one hand on the plow
The other in the fight
Looking in and looking out
A little left
A little right
A little I
A little you
A little super to the glue
Taken by the word of it
Telling what to do
Orakhal Jun 2020
I look here
I get this

I look there
I get that

I look for it
and it looks back

everything I see
I put in my eye to look at
Orakhal Jun 2020
you can do

about what you cant
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