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Mystic Ink Plus Jul 2019
After all
I thought by now
You know me
Every little details

And still
How can you be far?
Escaping the reality
Just like a common dream
Genre: Abstract
Theme: Symbiosis
I spent the night with you last night...
There is something so nice
About spending time without thinking twice
Or speaking about feelings and rules
We forgot the harsh conversations and sang like fools
we let go just for one night
You picked your guitar and I picked a play fight
I showered in close proximity to you
Entertaining thoughts of what you would do
If I walked into the hallway dripping wet
But I put on the pajamas you gave me instead
The oversized t-shirt smelled like you
In your flannel bottoms I slid into the living room
You smiled, said comhere
I draped my legs across your lap
losing all fear
We threw popcorn at the tv
We laughed at each character’s misery
You tucked me in and held me tight
I learned the taste of your skin last night
So what if we aren't in love in the end
All I will ever need is for you to truly be my friend
And keep kissing my mouth
As if it's a wound you can mend
I don't want to be your girl
But I don't want to be just another endeavor
I want you to bury me in your mind
And stay not too close
but not too far
Sometimes it can be simple
ATILA Mar 2019
Here is a poor cat
Striped, sweet and shy
Minding its own world
But somehow feel grateful
For the touch of me
Who is passing by.

With saint hazel eyes
This cat artlessly purrs
To provoke a symbiosis between us
Surpisingly soothes my blue whale heart.

It also seeks for a comfy gesture
That will fit just right
It is that simple and pure
And makes heart feel light.

What a purrfection cat!
That prides itself for having fur like velvet
But never acts like a brat
Leading me to give it a soft peck
Because we have a same wavelength
Plus wanting another species to cherish our rant
That sadly never ends.

There's a saying;
'Humans who think cats don't understand them are the stupidest ones'
So imma get all lovey dovey with this cat
See if you care.
Weird poem but OK :(
Pagan Paul Oct 2018
And it grips her submissive mind,
sweeping her along unbidden,
through timelines inducing nausea,
passed worlds previously hidden.
Tumbling stones rumble unheard,
a slide that sends gravity shifting,
starting a new path through time,
the butterfly effect begins shifting.

The images stop swirling,
a vision fades slow into sight,
a row of glowing Seers Spheres
racked in the pale moon light.
Eleven cradles for resting orbs,
four relieved of their weight,
claimed by other time travellers
already gone through the Gate.

And she sees Grimly approach,
picking a Sphere from the rack,
carrying careful in clean hands,
then through the door turns back.
She sees herself seated rigid,
watches Grimly hand her the Sphere,
a bolt of understanding hits and
her mind becomes crystal clear.

She realises these are tests
for the next vision is of her,
as a child in a camel train
leaving the great city of Ur.
Crossing the desert once again
with oils and perfumes so pure,
amidst the most luxurious goods
of gold, silver, silks and furs.

And the images diffuse, refocus, Judderwitch by a grave,
of an unfortunate sacrifice, the girl she could not save,
a flame handled dagger marks a headstone epitaph,
and her weeping grief slowly turns into a manic laugh,
as in the grave paces away, a woman screams out loud,
buried alive with a nest of spiders, no forgiveness is allowed.

And the scenes change, redefine, Judderwitch on a street,
with a mutilated corpse, an horrific sight for her to meet,
as a black rat starts to happily nibble at the naked feet,
and she shivers. She shivers? The Empress of Evil cold,
an anger courses through her at this alien feeling untold,
whilst her body stiffens at the answer she beholds.

Grimly sees her body stiffen,
a knowing smile graces his lips.
His eyes move to a vacant cradle,
as Time plays out one of its tricks.

And she knows.
She understands.
The Seers Sphere is Time itself.
Exactly one eleventh of
All Time.

The race through Time gently slows,
the globe feels warm as it brightly glows,
and deep inside she already knows
she is accepted and with Time she flows.
Connection with the Seers Sphere grows,
as the Ritual comes to its joyous close,
and the Seers Sphere hummed as it chose,
Judderwitch, and on its journey goes.

© Pagan Paul (05/10/18)
Poem 5 in Judderwitch series.
(Part 1 was posted a few days ago).

My Judderwitch poems are now in a collection :)
Pagan Paul Oct 2018
Tumbling stones rumble unheard,
a slide that sends gravity shifting,
starting a new path through time,
the butterfly effect begins shifting.

The ancient track
is solid beneath her feet,
though she has walked
between the stars.
She knows not the place
but has been there before,
And the trail wends its way
through forest dense and dark
to a hags tooth mound
and the Tomb of Travellers,
upon the stone door
an inscription, a warning.
'Prepare to go everywhere.
Prepare to go nowhere'

“Let time take me wither it will,
be it fluid or be it still”.

The slow grating of stone on stone
as the door swings open,
light penetrating the gloom,
and the Tomb reveals its treasures.
She enters with reverence
and moves to a vacant plinth,
a marbled seat warm and empty,
her place for the connection ritual.

A mix of herbs into a secret potion,
preparing herself to swim Time's ocean,
clear cool water to bathe her skin,
awaiting the pendulum of life to swing.
The symbols in her third eye complete,
she eases so gently into her travel seat,
bringing the brew to her expectant lips,
a bitter taste as over her tongue it slips.

Oh gently rock her mind to sleep,
just one last barrier for her to leap,
through Times gate to other places,
as the drug through her mind races.

A small squat figure emerges
in a midnight blue hooded robe,
Grimly the Guardian of the Gate,
carrying careful an ancient globe.
And her eyes glow with wonder
as she receives the Seers Sphere,
cloudy with the hue of pearl,
its significance is so crystal clear.

She places it in a depression
in the arm of the marbled chair,
settles herself and closes her eyes,
letting her mind drift on the air.
The connection ritual reaching ******,
acceptance or rejection time is near.
Will the bond form betwixt them?
She places her hand on the Seers Sphere …

© Pagan Paul (30/09/18)
Poem 4 in Judderwitch series.
This, and part 2, is a small diversion from the nastiness and gore
to explain how she time travels, how the Seers Sphere is an
elemental force and sentient, but needs a 'vehicle' to work.

My Judderwitch poems are now in a collection :)
AnnaWann Jul 2018
Her. Him.
Her team
Burnt him
Her win

Him. Her.
Hint where
Here, there
He'd dare
In her
Him. Self.
Francie Lynch May 2018
Two wrens, a couple of birds with intent,
Lit on my new magnolia tree;
The blossoms are full,
There's ants on the leafs.
It's mutualistic, and communalistic;
All thrive so well.
I wish the world could bear witness
To this simple tree.
Perhaps "simple" is too easy for us.
its bitter Feb 2018
She needed help so
he helped himself -
vaguely symbiotic

she screamed hallelujah
as he unlaced her
straining rows of stitches

illustrious open sores
her prayers answered
Oh god, that she'd never heal!
So still she lies
A cold room
Cold thoughts.  
Under cover of cotton and linen.        

A cold lonely wind
Cries outside
Longing to find solace
In the warmth of our home
But finding only that it devourers
By its own devices
What it so desperately desires.

Pain in my brow
Forged with hers.
Sharing breaks
Up the pain--
Comfort of depression's transitory end.

Why do you hurt the ones you love
When you want only peace?
A lover of the land?
Must plough the earth for yield
Break the ground in fury
To prepare it for seed.

This pain awaits our company
Like a bottle to the drunkard          
Or a needle to the ******.

Comfort is pain
Pain is comfort

In this violent serenity
As the calm peaceful sea
?Can in one moment  
Turn into a tumultuous gale.

Is love for the using
Can a person justify
Putting lines of age on the face
And gray hairs on the head
Of the one they love?

So many carry this burden.
Love shares common ground--
Seasons for ploughing and planting
And harvest,
The season of closure.?

So still she lies beside me.?
A cold room
Warmer thoughts.?
Under cover of cotton and linen.

Under cover of compassion
And understanding.

         --Daniel Irwin Tucker
You gotta keep working at it through the years.
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