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What will become of me?
Where will i go?
When the high hill paths are closed to me,
Escape, blocked in with snow.

Shall i now live in barren tundra?
And wait for new spring thaws.
Or anticipate the thunder,
So board up all my doors.

To risk the high hill paths,
At this late time of year.
Or barricade myself in thoughts,
Squalid solitude; and fear.

See one path leads to heaven,
And one leads straight to hell.
Do you know what will become of me?
I Promise i wont tell.
The mountain calls to me, demands my presence, I meet its gaze.

Me: What do you want from me?

Mountain: I want you to climb to the peak

Me: I can’t bring anyone else with me

Mountain: I do not ask of you to bring anyone else, in fact, you should leave them behind, now climb me

Me: No, I can’t just do that

Mountain: Whether you listen to them or listen to me, makes no difference but I know you, and you want to climb, with no safe pathway down, no net to hold you, you want to see from this height and this height alone

Me: What if I want off?

Mountain: Then jump, but know the ground awaits you, you are never free

I stand in its shadow.
Moncrieff Dec 2024
up the mountain with a tremble,
    no plan or gear or hope,
Sisyphus I must resemble,
    endless clamber; tedious trope.

no longer; I recall the base,
    the grass; the trees; the glades,
as I ascend; with unkept pace,
    the path behind me fades.

looming blizzard lingers behind,
   (it) taunts blowing in today,
upward; disheveled, lost and blind,
    no guides to lead the way.

forced to muster a clumsy strut,
     advancing; though I'm weak,
uncertain of journeys end; but,
    certain there is no peak.
Valentin Eni Nov 2024
I feel
an angel’s touch, so soft, so near,
a mountain crumbles,
its roar I hear.

I see
the shadows carved by lightning’s glow,
the light of a seed
in the earth below.

I hear
the silence stretched across the years,
curses rising from the graves
through tears.

I believe
in the stain of a demon’s dark embrace,
in the power of words
to claim their space.

I know
who will bear the weight my cross demands,
why the world bleeds
through trembling hands.

I feel
the steps that lead me closer to my breath’s last bend,
the touch of an angel
before the end.

*

I Feel
(Alternative translation I)

I feel
an angel's touch upon my skin
I feel once more
a mountain crashing, tumbling in

I see
the shadows lightning leaves behind
I see anew
the light within a seed confined

I hear
the silences an age has kept
I hear again
the curses rising from the crypt

I trust
the foulness that a demon breeds
I trust still more
the power that resides in deeds

I know
who'll bear the cross that's meant for me
I know as well
why bleeds the heart of all we see

I feel
how many steps till death I tread
I feel once more
an angel's touch upon my head
(Originally written in Romanian.) The poem engages all the senses to convey a feeling of transcendence and existential struggle. The contrast between life and death, light and darkness, is a central motif.
This poem presents a journey of awareness, moving between sensory experiences and spiritual reflections. The angel at the beginning and end bookends the work with a spiritual framework, suggesting a reliance on faith amidst the chaotic contrasts of existence. The use of sensory verbs ("feel," "see," "hear") is immersive, pulling the reader into the speaker's evolving realization of mortality and existence.
Zywa Sep 2024
I take the highest

stone, the very mountain top --


and I throw it down.
Poem "legenda" ("legend", 2017, Dorien de Wit), submitted for the Turing Poetry Competition (2017), published in the collection "never end the day with a question"

Collection "SoulSenseSun"
SerpentineSky Sep 2024
Blue mountain
Summer dreams
have led me to your summit
I can breathe here
I am alone
I am at one
with your soft mists
and rugged trails
The meadows
breathe of peace
and Summer warmth
releasing perfume
of wild thyme
of honeyed air
of rosemary
and lemon thyme
I would stay here
with the pines
and lonely stars
Yet I descend
for you hold me
to the world
K J Samuel Sep 2024
Get my boat so I may go to the mountain top,
To thy enemies Infront of thee flee,
On their carpets they go away from their home,
From all they have ever known,
Wayward unto the sea, down many leagues they flee,
Away from the wrath of ye and me,
To the Mariana trench we cannot see,
Is the destination to their journey,
Upon which we will sojourn,
And deeply yearn,
All there is to learn.
MetaVerse Sep 2024
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Abi Winder Sep 2024
there are moments in a climb
where you stop,
and put down the things you carry.

either to admire the view
or to let your lungs heal
from the constant ******* in of wind.

there are moments in life,
where we must stop,
and put down the things we carry.

either to admire the the view
or to heal the ache
of constantly living.
Jason Drury Aug 2024
What is love,
if not told to the heavens?
What I feel for you,
is locked deep in the ocean.
The more I know you,
the Deeper I go into your forest.
What I want is not empty,
like weathered plains.
It’s not murky nor dead,
as I step through your swampy past.
It’s whole and true,
as the smell of rain in April.
Its beauty is among the sun,
in spring.
All I want for you,
for us.
Is an adventure,
of love everlasting.
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