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Eloisa Jun 19
I found my fate below my feet.
So I continue to tread gently.
Sobering up from the intoxication of seeking.
My light has never been lost and need not to be sought.
I’m breaking the walls I built to cover the real me.
Coated with anxiously raised endurance and strengths.
All the layers of fallacy.
My true nature has always been fragile.
Yet I’m toughened by life’s impermanence.
Holding on to the very meaning of life.
Embracing all sufferings and hardships.
Without losing sight of my creative and truer self.
"For more than 500 years, pottery in Japan has found a new lease of life through kintsugi, the traditional Japanese art form of sealing cracks with lacquer and gold powder. This technique of repair embodies the wabi-sabi aesthetic, which embraces the beauty in imperfection."
there are songs
in the anger
of the waves
upon
the rocks
and the tearing
of the wind
through the long grass
in the plotting
of the clouds
gathering low
in the sky
and
in the droplets
whispering
upon the page
Brandon Amberger Nov 2015
When I look into my reflection
I stare at every imperfection
I appear broken, even shattered
All of me in bits and pieces scattered
From the lack of understanding and compassion
These human instincts were once in fashion
Unfortunately greediness, laziness and corruption got hold
Our society became bitter and cold
Where we have this need to conform
Too afraid to practice a passionate art form
Instead we are this predictable bleak gray
Just waiting to die and decay

So I say...
**** THAT! I'm living my life, my way!
Rama Krsna Jul 2021
this oriental rose
textured with occidental precision
desperately seeks perfection
in all things worldly

nature’s true signature
wreaks havoc instead:
in the rocks of the grand canyon
in a mole on a cheek
in the dried but fallen leaves of autumn
even in the scribbling of our children

embrace wabi-sabi
where wafting moments of melancholy
transform to sheer joy
in the subtle realization
that coexistence with incompleteness
the proven path to release one
from the chaining bonds of perfection


© 2021
dedicated to all the perfectionists out there
Purcy Flaherty Feb 2018
Lief is flul of all srots of imprefections;
Nnoe of which shuold hnider uor ovreall msesaeg;
knidnses, preseverance and unedrstanding is hte kye.
It's a mixed up world.
TomDoubty Jun 2021
“You are treading on thin ice”
the impatient tones of my father
arrive at my ear as glistening
I liberate my treasure prized away
from the dark-cold pond,  the ice raised distorts my sight
to comprehend  an impatient God

“Look boys, this is the land of God”
you praise the valley carved from glacial ice
you are filled with the beauty of the sight
four sons in crescent around their Father
breaths misting the air, turn away
along the ridge above the fields, which are glistening

Are memories always like this? Glistening
where everything is theatre and God?
Now I feel the urge to look away
there is truth in the distorting ice Father
which held tightly fractures, to reveal you in plain sight

That day you praised the sight
with prayers not glistening
but all sour odour and “our Father”
If you conceived a greater God
you never told him to the boy who lifted the ice-
to those who raised their arms in prayer you looked away

We are left to find a way
in life, there is no seer and no foresight
only earth and dirt and ice
but in this barren tundra glistening
scraped out with our bare hands is God
God the Father

Now I stand at that same pond a father
my son treads its edge and turns away
I am no longer in his world, but looking over it his God
And what of my sight?
Is it glistening?
I feel an unease as he raises his own comprehending ice

To all Fathers with their fading sight-
Don’t turn away from all that’s glistening
An impatient God turns to ice
Ave Maria May 2021
They call you judgmental yet frown upon you when you are not exactly like them
They try to pick apart any possible reason for an action you take, a mistake that you make
Then boil it down to their own perfect little answer
Their expectations they hold for others can be grueling with how many hurricanes run through your head, though they claim not to ask for much
To act as if they can see right through you can sometimes be their favorite way to pass time, though  of course they don’t know half of it
The strong vibes of arrogance and judging glances they shoot behind your back are enough to suffocate you, but you choose to hold it together with a smile
Until the weakness returns, where you break down and shake
You try to place words together in your mouth, your poems, in your eyes, your soul, anything.. but the largest part of you screaming out remains silent
To expect to be fully understood by another is foolish  
For their selfishness and their narrow way of thinking are evidently highly prominent
And far too many complications are forever involved
The attempts to silent your mind  unfortunately prove to be futile
A cigarette, one drink after the other take away the gnawing pain that will eternally make its presence known
Moments of happiness turn dark as ash ever so quickly
To laugh at oneself, to lose one’s mind is hauntingly easy enough
In a world where no one truly knows your name.
Jake Mar 2021
You don’t need validation.
You have already received it
through the simple act of being born
the beautiful, imperfect creature that you are.
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