Moments of peace are fleeting;
just as dew will vanish at dawn.
Smile and savor the seconds
'cause before you know it they're gone.
Exiled to dusk,
Fractions of the sun
Begin to lift away,
Casting our reels
Into a pond of uncertainty,
Clock hands bend
With advancing shadow,
And speak of time
Only in past tense,
I so want everything
I ever felt for you
Preserved for posterity,
Even should forever
Be far less than
The invisible cloak gently floats
Brought about by fleeting thoughts
As negative ions continue to flow
Lo and behold
A weighted coat now soaked
It's heavy presence diverts growth
Complex context controlless
Slight shortness of breath
Shoulders and neck show signs of stress
Remain calm as this moment will pass
Shake to break the chains that hold
Twist then turn throughout their folds
Simplified code creates new modes
Move into motion to lighten your load
(@PoeticTetra - instagram/twitter)
Janus-faced, she sits in her
Sinister bathing tub
Cleansing herself from
The very ones
She devised subtle ends to
Lest they should claim
Her heart for a kingdom
Vandals of her plumage
Whom she allowed
To drink from her stream
Once or twice
A god of vengeance sent her
A message in a bottle today
To prove the origin of her flow
And remind her that time is
what is seen
and what is unseen
but impermanence doesn’t bother me
if what i’m seeing is you
some things aren’t meant to last,
and that’s okay.
You scroll through your social media where people have sworn not to show what they feel like so their 'profiles' can be aesthetic to look at.
You look at dog videos and swear not to think about your dead dog with whom you never got to cuddle one last time.
You walk through streets you've never been to hoping that it'll lead to a story.
You kiss boys and girls you don't really like and pretend you're waiting for the three-days-later call. You constantly listen to Cardi B because you can't take another Bon Iver song.
You fake a smile, an ******, a brave face.
You look at where you're staying and pretend not to long for that one little park in Paris where you could spend your entire life.
You unblock the ones you lost and feel a fleeting sense of comfort in knowing that they're not happy either and block them again, to feel 'powerful'.
You look back at your journey and sigh because you haven't done enough. You curl into your uncomfortable bed.
And then you realise you're not done.
You realise your journey is just starting. There's so much left for you to say and do and teach and feel. You realise that the best part about yourself is that you're hopeful, despite it all. You realise that despite all the bad that has gotten to you, there's still good, and you can create it. You realise that you've places to go and people to fall for. You've learnt to become your own teacher and your own pupil. You realise that the sky is not the limit for you. You think people calling themselves a work in progress is a cliché, but you know you're one yourself. You're not magnificent. But you will be.
So you light up a cheap cigarette and play the Bon Iver song. And you wait.
This is obviously not a poem, but prose. I just wanted it to be up here.
When I watch you being a dad... I love you.
When I see you smile and laugh... I love you.
When I see the boys getting along and wanting your attention... I love you.
When I see you trying... I love you.
But there are also times when I feel stupid and hurt...
When you yell at us even though you know you shouldn't...
When you get upset for the kids being kids...
When you put them down with the words you say not even realizing that you're hurting them or me...
When you call me names...
When you forget to do things you say you will...
When you stop trying because I've stopped asking...
A new day breaks,
same ageless sun comes dawning;
its tender touch enough to stir landscapes lush and sprawling.
The morning’s warmth breathes life,
illuminating colors young and still crawling;
the frost of nighttime evaporating and slow thawing
awakens anticipations, dewdrops naked and still yawning-
a newborn alienation in the face of creation, left fawning.
Holding onto what it can while free falling,
ambiguous mist collects then forgets
what it reflects is its own longing;
capturing, refracting back,
confusing light diffused as itself when recalling.
Condensation grips, flips image and slips,
fights gravity and hangs there stalling,
and yet it is not prolonging its inevitable dissipating, dissolving
as indifferent heavenly bodies keep revolving,
dusk recurring and always resolving.
but I open
and you are gone