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Glenn Currier Sep 11
Contemplation is like fishing.
Often my reason fails me
and I cast out into the waters
hoping I can catch that vital energy
feel its power, its resistance, its strength
that is elusive
but I know is there
and those moments of connection
with that mysterious force
give me energy.
I am alive
so I keep castings into the ocean
knowing the elan is there,
the verve that takes me from my mind
to dance, to move, to swerve
in that moment of now.

Author’s Note: I bow in gratitude to Brian McLaren and Barbara A. Holmes for their wisdom that inspired this poem and kneel in awe and thanksgiving to all the fish I have caught over the years, for the excitement and nourishment – the life they gave me.
I take my family photo albums
And pin those ghosts down to the walls
I keep running to my past trying my best to bring it back to life
always thinking “there’s a real life haunting.”
when I see myself any younger than 19
I take my family photo albums
And try to pin down your love
as if I’ll be able to see the warning signs
if it’s been written on the walls
I keep running back to my past like an old wives tale  
half told truths slipping through hands
and passing from mouth to mouth
Landing on my dinner plate filling it all the way up
I take my family photo albums
and wonder “why is it?”
I do not recognize who is staring back
I keep running back to my past
trying to find out everything about who I am

- I've been trying to find clues about who hid me away
Raven Sep 3
A love so deep, it rips apart your unhealed skull.
A mystery of illusions, inclusivity is dared to be dispelled.
May I hold you?
Or am I too far away.
Can I feel you?
Just a touch to make me beg of your despair.
Unwritten poetry, a querulent secrecy of written misery and longing.
I want to love, may I love?
Whom can be loved more than the love of thyself?
I fall to my aching pits.
I feel you...
But you are not here.
Written for JDM
Cathy Devan Aug 20
My head is heavy
The earth is void
The vultures await
My body is weak
Hunger devours
My legs shake
Covered in dust
This is my last prayer
Darkness overwhelms,
My whole being
Midas Aug 19
At the very end of the forest you will see
A lonesome silhouette standing in the sea
It seems gazing at the infinite horizon
While bathing under the vivid light of the moon

It was clearly a silhouette of a person
A maiden with a hair that was adored by dawn
And a body of an hour glass in the unknown
Sparkling as though diamond on a podium

But it is not what peaks my curiosity
It was the feeling that surged through me
Like seeing a very candid photography
Void with lies and ambiguity

But when I tried to reach out to the lady
She recoils from me instinctively
Now my thirst to know her identity
Burns in my throat painfully
My Dear Poet Aug 19
Between the beautiful chaos and confusion
among the truth and the illusion
She only allows you up her sleeve
Ylzm Aug 11
The greater the revelation the deeper the mystery
The closer to the light the dimmer and further it is
But compelled and captive, propelled not by will
Accelerating into the void, a star amongst many
Each and all inexorably to be our very own Destiny
Mitch Prax Aug 10
No one likes a mystery-
we hate being left in the dark.
To not know is to suffer
night after night.
What a cruel fate
to be void of
Raven Feels Aug 6
DEAR PENPAL PEOPLE, happy August:)

purple moons and blond twins soon
talking horses and no gravity forces
jumping on cars and livestream of stars
blue dives hope and carrying yellow soap
the never ringing phone had rung and infinite questions in the air hung
mystic eyes danger and love of my life a stranger
I represent Lady Dream
and her fake lashes of gleam
a fantasy
hidden secrets in her world reality
in every color deceptive
subconsciously destructive
choose your perspective
she is not new
my haven in hours of few
on the mind
never understand what you find
now I sleep to see her poisonous skies
not to rest that one for the one who dies
nightmares my addiction don't be scared
called unravel of fallen hair
might do her a night stall
yet she leaves like a swift and crawls
now I know her stories are coming back in fear
been there done that since the end of last year
like signs flooded in clear waters
better than drowning with unknown ocean callers
I greet every era illusionary welcome
I carve every ranger in memory then run
walls in paths they deceive in glisten
the ferris wheel hangs and listens
sometimes we don't talk anymore
she throws ventures then struggles in store
masterminds wrapped around her finger they strive
Neptune rains diamonds and they cut like knives
she thinks before the sunshine we play a lying game
and I play along in absolute shame
she comes back with a curious mystery every night
and hello! sweet poetry from under my pillow then ignites

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