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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.


i.
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'

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


iii.
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.

iv.
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.

v.
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.

vi.
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.

vii.
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 :)
https://hellopoetry.com/collection/28451/judderwitch/
PPx
.
AnnaWann Jul 2018
Her. Him.
Hurting
Herding
Her team
Burnt him
Turning
Her win

Him. Her.
Winter
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
Sleeping.
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.
Tamal Kundu Dec 2016
City
becomes joy,
gathers hope, together
concrete and man spiral, infusing life,
aspirations endless. Continuing journey unfolds
gradually; individuality lost and found and found and lost.
Roots pulsing, always expanding;
slums persisting by negated wealth—
poetry written.
Invoking rain,
civilisation assimilates
~River~
assimilates civilisation.
Rain invoking
written poetry.
Wealth negated by persisting slums
expanding always. Pulsing roots
lost and found and found and lost. Individuality gradually
unfolds journey continuing. Endless aspirations
— life infusing—spiral man and concrete
together; hope gathers.
joy becomes
City.
Form : Palindrome
Julie Grenness Feb 2016
What are our millennium fables?
Women keep giving each other labels,
No harmony for our ecology,
An alliance should be our synergy,
No accountability for the economy,
No wise leaders to steer us to unity,
Century's getting older, folks!
Any teamwork to cast off these yokes?
Symbiosis should aim at harmony,
Let's pray for millennium synergy!
Feedback welcome.
Nebek Wormer Dec 2015
the last one wasn't really the last one
been away for sometime
but came back sharper than a talon

clout more magnified, but style still undefined
just been living life outside of the lines
and if i were to color in, then surely the lines were created with the strokes of my own pen
never came to Earth to win
only came to plant a seed and sprout to grow
forget what society says what life is about
intelligence leaves more room for doubt
but dont stand there skeptic
pick up the pace and start spittin septic
so that no one will want to go after you
be a hard act to follow


just let the brooth consume
just let the brooth consume
...
just let the brooth consume

laying in my room
another weekday morning
hittin the snooze button
hopin i dont miss anything important
nothing that i write is ever imported
just the essence of being
just the essence of me
Nebek Wormer breaking through the scene
maybe been listening to the clock tick tock too much
always skippin breakfast
never eatin lunch
unless its a blunt to the face
sorry to be blunt but im just up in this hellopoetry place
tryin to displace everything and anything
just giving you something to taste

maybe this wont get the <3's but im writing this as fast as thoughts travel
currently sittin in the dark of my mind
heart provides the light
see me take off now
outta your sight
Literally wrote this in the time it took you to read it. Been spitting for awhile now, now is the opportunity to eat it, but i wont force feed you. I aint no parental figure. just trying to put words to disfigured pictures hanging over the mantle above my bed. dont come knockin becuase this poet already dead.
JDK Nov 2015
The other me is of the dastardly type.
Quite a *******, really.
The other me likes to stay out all night,
and is awfully fond of drinking.

He says, "Y'know what your problem is?
You spend too much time thinking."

The other me doesn't take advice.
He prefers to make his own way.
He says, "You've gotta stop going with the flow,
and start making some tidal waves."

The other me is good with women,
and often calls me gay.
He says, "You'd might as well be a ****** -
that thing between your legs gets no play."

The other me is restless;
uncouth, rude, and reckless.
He takes over sometimes for days on end,
then leaves me to clean up his messes.

The other me is an *******,
with no regard for anyone but himself.
Arrogantly vain,
he puts those who care about him through hell
and drives me completely insane.

Me and the other me got into a fight today.

It started when he told me that I need him.
"Come on man, I mean, honestly.
I'm the only thing keeping you alive right now.
You're nothing without me."

(The other me likes to use the word "harmony."
He says it's a precarious balance.
"Our togetherness is destiny,"
but he'd **** me if I ever gave him the chance.)

So I hit him first when he least expected it.
You see, he'd never expect it from me,
but he laughed when he realized his nose was bleeding,
so I hit him again and he dropped to his knees.

"Dude, what the hell are you doing?
I thought we were friends . . ."
Then I leaned in real close and said,
"Stay the **** away during the work week,
and you can have every weekend."
it's only a villainous virus if you can't keep it in check.
Grassblade Jun 2015
Take me high into the sky
where I can't breathe

because you need me to fly
and without you I'll die
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