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Cate Jan 2017
Whispering eternally into the void
Hoping internally
It can turn the black
churning bile of thoughts
into incandescent showers,
specific epiphany.

Lately, I've been laden
with the epitome of anomaly.
Loner labotomy,
living in self devised autonomy
A private economy of thoughts,
exchanging deranged for sane

Only to flip back again
Turn around, full swing
Indignant incantations ring,
Echoing down the corridors


This skeletal paradigm
Of rusted pipes
I've unwittingly installed
above once placid pools,
A wellspring for many muses.


Caught in a rift of dimension
Words begin to leak
Without direct intention
And with little attention for the details
My thoughts quickly become words
That derail more than just a conversation.
My hesitation to engage
Is a fair wage for holding my silence
Tightly,
But the precarious musings of my mind
Must tumble out to spite me.


I tried cutting out my tongue to save face
But a poet who can't speak is a disgrace.

1.8.2017
C.e.M.
I know that the
grass is green and
sun red, but sometimes
yellow like dandelions,
and the earth is brown
just like trunks of trees.
I know the skies
are painted in blues
that eventually fade
into mauve, at some point
coalescing into the seas
and limpid waters of
sun-kissed beaches, where
strange exotic fruits would
entice with violets and amaranths
redolent of a night on
some far island, stood
beneath the stars whilst
they shine white like...
a million ways out.
Each one a brush,
showing me the palette.
But everything just looks
grey and dark and
black.
A glowing presence appeared before me; was I awake or was I asleep?
I thought her first a stranger; she wasn't a stranger at all.
“What is your name?” I asked. She answered: “My name is Photon.”
I thought how weird a name to be called.

“Who are you and where are you from?”
…thinking how mysterious she was.
“I was discovered over a million years ago,
and abide by whomever gives me cause!”

“You have known me all your life.” she exclaimed.
“I am powerful, mighty, and transcendent.
If not tamed, I deliver widespread loss and destruction.”
“Only God is omnipotent and omnipresent!” I clamored.

“That is true; but I was created that way for a reason.
Mistreating me results in death; respect me, and you will rejoice.
I can be a good servant, or a cruel master.
It is you who must make the choice.”

“Are you some kind of a god? Seemingly irritated she replied:
“I am not! The power lies in your hands, not mine!
You decide to use me for good or for bad. I must respond to both.
I can be a friend or foe...bring darkness or cause a light to shine.”

As her illumination began to dissipate, I  asked:
“Where do you go from here?” “All over! My work will never end.
My task is be a companion forever, to those who chose not to believe...
but the true, righteous, and faithful, they shall never see me again.”

“Just one more question,” I pleaded, 'before you go, tell me:
who are you really, and when will you again transpire?'
“I travel the world over and manifest wherever I am called.
My name is Photon; but I'm mostly known as fire!”


By Milton Lopez Delgado
May 16, 2016
I was inspired to write this Poem while reading a book by Billy Graham entitled: "Where I Am." I was very intrigued by the name of the last chapter: "The Eternal Flame;" I could not stop writing until it was completed. I must say: "It's one of my best works!" Of course, this is my opinion. I would like, however, to ask anyone who takes the time to read: 'My Name Is Photon", to send me your interpretation of this Poem, along with any comments, questions, or opinions  you may wish to share; I am hoping they will match my intent. Thank you.

Sincerely,

Milton L. Delgado
Karen Hamilton Oct 2015
You close your eyes
You look away
You shake your head
Say 'not today'

'It's not my problem.
It's not my fate.
I'm doing fine.
My life is great'

Why should you care,
Why should you stop?
It's not your life
That's tied in knots.

It's not your problem.
It's not your fate.
Your life is fine.
You're doing great.



© Karen L Hamilton, 2012
In Order.
Everything is good.
Everything makes sense.
Everything is calm.

In Disorder.
Everything seems bad.
Everything seems to make nonsense.
Everything seems tight.

Order - Disorder.
You cannot
Have Order
Before Disorder.
ARI Sep 2015
Every penny looks the same
When you find it on the street.
Scratches cover its surface;
Unknown junk makes it unclean.

I wonder who was the first to use it
I wonder whose hands had held it close
I wonder where that one penny has traveled
I wonder who let it go.

Every beggar looks the same
When you find them on the street.
Scratches cover their surface;
Unknown junk makes them unclean.

I wonder who was the first to meet him
I wonder whose hands had held her close.
I wonder where that beggar traveled
I wonder who let them go.

Every girl looks the same
When you find her on the street.
Scratches cover her surface;
Unknown hands make her unclean.

I wonder who was the first to hurt her
I wonder whose arms had held her close
I wonder if that girl would travel
I wonder why she doesn’t go.

-ARI
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