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AE Aug 2020
II
You taught me how to grow.
Your battles are carved into my blood vessels,
And I will carry them with me,

As reminders of patience and faith.
Amanda N Skaggs Jun 2020
Valiant vessel.
Holding much to carry far.
Useful everywhere.
Yitkbel Sep 2019
How much poetry live within me

Or am I merely a vessel

That has to be loaded and unloaded

To not waste away under the calm wind

And sink to a weighted depth of silent

And unfulfilled dreams


Yet what is the use

Carrying a soul from an unwritten land

To an unread land

Both dotted with footprints of past voyageurs

But no path or end in sight


Perhaps I am destined to be an unnamed pilgrim

That treads upon and whose marks will be tread upon

The wasteland of hapless ambitions

Transforming it into a garden of everlasting

Love, freedom, and hope


There,

You may find me one day

Though you will not know it

Nor will I

Within a petal of the rose


A dust in the dew

The wings of a honeybee


And if you look closely,

Listen closely

Within the laughing wind

As the gale brings all of us

Across the sea

Carrying vessels after vessels

From dream to dream
Sentient Dreams: My Poetry Anthology



This is the manuscript to my amazon vanity press poetry anthology: "Sentient Dreams" that I have now decided to just share it here digitally. All of the poems have been published here on HP at certain points of time anyway.

Almost all of the poems are from October 2017-July 2019.
Please feel free to share! :)

I don't think I will be adding to this specific anthology in the future. (Except three more poems that will be updated later.)


---
Vessels from Dream to Dream
By: Yitkbel
June 25, 2018
Aditi Jan 2019
I bleed in silence, in
Abandoned cathedrals,
Monasteries, and holy Shrines.
I have looked for you,
Begged the grand idols,
Visited crumbling walls
Of burnt out cities,
And antiquities -
All the places they told me
You had been.


My eyes see red
But I'm blue,
And there's a bruise
On my knee-
A blend of both.
My lips no longer move in prayers
My eyes have no tales to tell-
But my poems scream
And I live - on a middle ground
Between the two
-a whimper on nights,
A sad smile during days.

You're not coming for the rescue, are you?


I ache and long, now
More than I can love
But for what? Is it you?
I never could commit suicide,
But I killed myself, every moment,
nonetheless,
Till I heard the rhythm of that heavenly call
In your footsteps
And how you filled even the silences between us
With grace
And I was seen, and I could see
And I was loved with a love
That I could accept.

If our love had two colors,
It'd be red and blue
Like any God,
You came with your own set of rules.
Passionate red, that you brought
And the blues that I always carry
Red and blue icy veins -
With the same emotions flowing through.
But you were taken away too.
And now I'm neither red, nor blue
But despondent brown
The color of the dirt, the only thing
Separating me and you.

You're not coming back, are you?


I walk on,
I don't rest and I don't sleep.
How can there be a God if there's no justice?
And the moon is not blue with sadness;
Nor does it cry with me.
And the stars are just as oblivious and distant.
And the sun, well, it never bothered
to shine on any of us.
I see a world now, as it is,
Stripped of meaning
and all its metaphorical use.


If I could be colored,
I'd choose red and blue-
Burning bright
with a frigid determination.
To save the soul,
Sometimes you must
destroy its vessel
And when a world dies, its gods must die along.


None of you came, so I had to come to you.
Patrick Austin Sep 2018
Autumn Angel, bring in fall,
see me, like me, text me, call.
Connection made is strong and now,
life comes quickly, she comes how?
Traveling vessels far and near,
planes and ferries bring us here.
Walking, waiting I grow eager,
business first before I meet her.
In the district lounge I perch,
finding me will end her search.
Her approach was my delight,
for now, we can begin our night.
Strong and vibrant she is ample,
allure and wares for me to sample.
Pints and chatter, Blue Ribbon prize,
my glare is locked into her eyes.
Her exchanges are so charming,
pleasant, light and not-alarming.
Time has come to find our way,
joined departure, plans to play?
Lodging and rides arranged by phone,
She knows her way, away from home.
5th floor shoe box, now our lair,
pajamas, toothbrush I’m prepared.
Netflix and chill is common trend,
Hulu and hold is our new friend.
I lay beside her, still not sure.
She watched her show, as I watched her.
I longed to kiss her neck and ears,
doubtful hindrance of my fears.
Surely right, it must be so,
She wants me here, and this means go.
I slowly start to kiss her lobes,
Her standing neck hairs brush my nose.
My mouth, it waters, for her kiss,
She turns to me and grants me this.
Her constellations are so bright,
Her moles like stars, I count tonight.
Her lips transport me to this place,
where there’s no time but only space.
I’d live here for a thousand moons.
sadly, departures come too soon.
Our time is short, not long enough,
I touched her face, she felt my scruff.
Constant contact, senses aflame,
I want her more, she feels the same.
Her essence sweet like summer flowers,
I found the center of her powers.
Far inside, my fingers reach,
while I explored her weeping peach.
Touching, tasting, and some teasing,
Her satisfaction, was my pleasing.
I want to give her more of me,
the part that daylight never sees.
I gave myself the best I could
& tried to make her feel so good.
My comfort lies in her content,
She understands, our needs were met.
Lying by her was so free,
I love the way she feels by me.
Alongside slumber was so grand,
snoozing blissful, hand in hand.
Several times I would awake,
was so pleased with my evenings fate.
When light began to fill the room,
we knew that we’d be going soon.
We didn’t want to leave this place,
I planted kisses on her face.
Once again we shared in pleasures,
in life, these are important treasures.
The final moment had arrived,
we packed our bags, prepared to drive.
The sun shone like no other day,
as we drove down towards the bay.
I sadly had to disembark,
but kissed her more while we were parked.
We said goodbye and rightly so,
our faces had a special glow.
This magic evening, all a blur,
more vessels take us where we were.
This poem is about my chance encounter with another traveler and our romantic evening together before we parted ways. "Hulu and hold" was an original idea that came to me during our night together.
E McNamara Jun 2018
i wish i could fall into
those pots and vessels
and shatter like ceramics
we are pieces of pottery
Adorned empty vessels,
Adorned empty vessels,
Beautiful on the outside,
Empty inside,
Empty,no emotions,no empathy,no love,
Adorned empty vessels,
Hoping to cover up all the scars with whatever they can,
Adorned empty vessels,
Hurt and broken inside,
Adorned on the outside,
Looks are deceiving they say,and they never lied.
Adorned empty vessels,
Empty tins make the loudest noise they say,
Well thats probably a scream for help,
Adorned empty vessels.
Stefania S Oct 2017
the cup bought on a whim
one of those mornings
willing to spend more than five
for what should cost a buck
but the leaves drew me in
the circle broken by lame marketing
often the case in life
how easily we break our own circles

this morning alone i've reheated its contents three times
what used to be a daily purchase i now prepare at home
the cup its carry
i'm probably killing myself with the reheating
the construction recyclable but that means nothing
anymore
reheat inside of that and you'll get cancer
someone says
makes no sense though because the coffee is ******* hot
and the ******* cup holds it every day before it's reheated

i want to be that cup, i think
ready and willing to carry around the contents put upon it
no fuss or bustling
just a vessel
inanimate
thought little of, pushed to the corner of the closet
brought out for utility

how to be a cup?
how to trade the drive and flourish
the passion that keeps pounding away
the flashes of intensity that find their way into tiny timbered moments
silly though, because of course i can't be the cup
no more than i can be the actual coffee
Brooke P Aug 2017
floating smoke in the summer air
drifting along then dissipates.
the pounding in a head,
vessels pulsing and constant movement.
fingers dancing across a keyboard, to
incorporate a checklist of knowings and
to-be-knowns -
the insecurities of new scenery
mile marker after mile marker
and you’re happy, but irresolute.

someone tripped over the cord again,
yanked it out and dragged it away

a moment, and a guarantee
let’s look and see, to be sure there’s something more
than a simple crank of a machine, grown
rusted and unmanageable over years
I’m tracing back,
looking for something
I think I missed it.
these fingers that hold my wrist
and suggest
“please, let me assist”
you know what’s best.
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