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Kim Sep 16
Is it where you come from that matters?
Is it your history, your line of descent?
Do they really know you, they chatter
Would they sit down with your friends
Where do you come from they ask
What is your story they say
Will you do away with your mask
Let them know you if they may

What went before doesn’t matter
Only the present counts
It’s a fresh start you barter
For your past in the ground
But when it comes down to it
They still want to know
Where did you come from
Where will you go

You choose your own fate
Your life is in your hands
Your future’s for you to make
You’re not bound to the land
Let them know you by your deeds
By your words and by your song
Do they need to trace your feet
To know where you belong?

What is a reputation -
But a binding rope
No leeway to stumble
For it’s a slippery *****
If the days gone by are to colour
Every speech and action
Where is the scope to discover?
Aren’t our lives but a fraction -
Of what they could be
If we believed we were free
To set forth and make waves
Or float along with the sea

But then again you may say -
Do people really change?
Can they let go of the hate -
Washed clean by the rain?
And can we trust someone who lays
No claim to yesterday -
For whom nothing can vouch
But the words of their mouth?
If one is constantly changing -
Then where does one stand?
How can the others trust you -
How can they shake your hand?
Is trust merely an illusion
We conjure up for ourselves -
To alleviate the confusion
To put reason on the shelf?
One day we all must choose
When there is much to lose
Whether to cling to the family tree
Or take flight and be free

Those you grow up with are forever
They’re the ones you never leave
Where you came from is your start
The first page of your story
But it can’t tie you down
It can’t hold you back
You mustn’t be afraid
For in the attack
They may have the armour of the known
And the weapons of their forebears
But you will have freedom
And an army of your brothers
Your brothers in thought
And ideals and humanity
Your sisters with whom you fought
The winds of disparity

So I suppose what I’m saying is
The only story worth telling
Is the one that unfolds
In the final reckoning
This is an old one, posted here a few years ago. Made a slight edit. Thought it was more relevant than ever so decided to repost.
Kee Aug 10
No longer with the monster I once called my lover
But him being a monster doesn't seem right either
But I can't help it
He put me through hell and back
I can't forget that sometimes there were moments of pure bliss
they just didn't last
Now
what is anyone supposed to do with that information?
All it tells you is that I'm broken
it feels like the trauma bond will never go away
I don't want to be tied to your soul anymore
so how do I let you go?
why am I still in love?
Anais Vionet Jun 16
Oh, you swamp me with charm - get out of my head.
There’s something about you - a warmth - like the comfort of home - that pulls at me.

I study your landscape of attractive surfaces like a star chart - logging my weaknesses - to strengthen my emotional firewall. I WANT you but my “wants” just seem untrustworthy after recent deprivations.

To be honest - I can’t afford you - not now. You’re a delicious pastry - with strings - and I need to cut all my strings.

You’re something younger me would have wanted - before the pandemic, when scandalous thinking was uncomplicated and freedoms taken for granted.

Last year simplified my reality.

Over time, boredom melted me like wax but a new me crossed some threshold of certainty - that to flourish - no, just to survive - I must become more than I am, or find I’m less than I hoped.

In 2019 goals seemed way, way someday things - far off reference points to seek out - like an inchworm. Social details occupied me like an unfocused dementia - there was an unacceptable level of childish thinking.

But now I’m an escapee on the run who won’t be taken back alive. Old attachments must be stripped down and the old world made disposable - if I’m to achieve escape velocity.
2021 - my year for post-pandemic escape  =]
Fae Jun 2020
The ribbon of our lives
tied by our emotions.
Just like
interlaced fingers.
Eternal, just like
my emotions for you.
Unrequited affection.
Never satisfied.
Thirsty for more,
but never attainable.
Some of these poems have no titles. Also as per usual, the images have no reference to the poems, any relation is creation of your own design. They're old poems I found from high school - college. They're mostly terrible but I don't like keeping the old papers. So.. here. © 9 minutes ago
MSunspoken Mar 2020
A cicada to a tree
A flower in the earth;
Ties in life
Timing way before man

Trickling little stream
-Into a lake
Droplets to the ground
Set a cycle going again

Saguaros in the sand
A woodpecker flying about
Sharing nutrients together
Rarely ever found

Season change as it may
Everything will come and go
First the cicada in a tree
And the streams constant flow

Crystals take shape in time
Individual beauty they each hold-
But a jeweler is always picky
The deal is one for one

The birds always flee
Right where the grass is greenest-
Gone is the icy past
Although the memory never forgotten
Someone I've known for a long time is about to move away, so I wrote this poem for her. I hate having sad goodbyes, so I hope this reminder will be worthwhile.
Amanda Kay Burke Feb 2020
I was somebody's someone once
Desired to keep me forever
Burn everything
And he was no exception
Our ties lit and thus severed
I am like a wildfire
annh May 2019
And my uncle says charmingly - as always:
‘It seems like only yesterday, mon petit chou.’

And - for the umpteenth time - my brother-in-law shakes my hand off:
‘Wow, congrats on the DOF position!’

And - like clockwork - my best friend puts a ******-happy arm around my shoulders:
‘To be perfectly honest, y’know like, you don’t look a day over thirteen, cross my heart.’

And I think to myself (******-offedly but politely, as you never know who’s telepathic around here):
’I could sit here fixed to this very patch of fading upholstery for the next 365 days with a flute of champers in my hand and still travel as far as you all believe I have, achieve as much as you unfailingly give me credit for, and look as fresh-faced as my oldest nephew...apparently.’

And then it occurs to me:
’Beneath the ill-contrived compliments and the misplaced confidence; despite their infallible ability to misconstrue my every word and complete disinterest in what and why I read out aloud for a living. They turned up. As they do every year. And we annoy each other. But we wouldn’t have it any other way. Santé!’
‘Families are messy, immortal families are eternally messy. Sometimes the best we can do is to remind each other that we’re related for better or for worse...and try to keep the maiming and killing to a minimum.’
- Rick Riordan, The Sea of Monsters
vern May 2019
we are tied to our fates with a thin red string
they are strung to our love, destiny, and death.
the young man who lost his lover
is fated to fall for another.
the new mother who holds her child
is fated for a beautiful destiny she cannot imagine.
the person sitting alone on the bench
is fated to lose his life to someone.
none of these people can see where their strings go
they live as if there are no red strings tied to their fingers
and attached to the sky.
only the watcher of our fate can see these red strings.
she grieves for the some of the strings
the saddest lives are the smallest
smiles for other strings
she sees those who will have full lives
and she sighs
the watcher cannot see her own strings
unlike the others, she is not ignorant of fate.
she is aware of fate, embraces fate,
but she does not know her own fate
was she destined for eminence, luster
was she destined for a lover, a heart
was she destined for death, sooner rather than later
she will never know
the burden of the knowledge of the red strings
weighs her down
she does not have a fate, a love, a destiny, a death.
For she is the watcher of the red strings of fate
and only the watcher of the red strings of fate.
I've loved the concept that there is some invisible red string that ties you to your soulmate. However, I wanted to reimagine it as something that ties you to any fate you have. Sometimes I feel like I am the watcher of the red strings. It's just a sense of hopelessness and emptiness that maybe I won't amount to anything or will be enough for anyone. That's a lot of emotion, but I hope you still enjoy this poem.
Esther L Krenzin Mar 2019
I catch a glimpse of myself
in everything
a miniscule glimmer
a tinkling whisper that floats into
my consciousness
I see it in wild beasts
who flash a feral grin
I see it in the wind
as it tears across the trees
It is even in the sun
when it folds into the horizon
"Like calls to like"
Some say
and believe it to be true
Clenched fists
choked laughs
trembling lips
A ravaged piece of me contracts
at the aching heart I know
is within that beautiful exterior
Perhaps, deep down, our soul is sewn
of the same material
Perhaps there is a single stitch
that binds us together
And all it takes is a single
snip
to cleave it in two.

-Esther L. Krenzin-
-Roguesong-
What brings us together?
What tears us apart?
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