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Paul Idiaghe Oct 2020
the soul likes
when I dress him up like this:
few vowels,
more consonants,

syllables, and all the rest
that float
on the white clouds
of dreaming

on the red waters
of the heart.
he could hide, of course,
but would rather

show off scars and slashes.
naked, colorless being,
he needs
the glitter of language,

rhyme and rhythm,
similar, succeeding sounds;
he needs poetry’s depth,

and immortality
and the lucid glare of eyes,
and stimuli,

to exist
to be more than a song
that plays
in silent frequencies—

so he flows—
from the deep of feeling
washes out burdens
like a mighty stream;

and unto paper
blooms up the slick and scented
petals of pain
like rain.
Heavily inspired by Mary Oliver's poem: "POEM" from her collection 'Dream Work.'
annh Sep 2019
Outta whack,
Outta sync,
Wanna write,
Can't think.

Words dance,
Outta time,
Bad rhyme.

Lines smash,
Commas fight,
Vowels heave,
Rhythm's *****.

Verses clatter,
Phrases crunch,
****** muse's
Gonta lunch.

Gotta write,
Gotta pen,
Words'll come,
Dunno when.

Day's boshed,
Outta sight,
Gonna bed,
Good night!
‘Nonsense wakes up the brain cells. ...If you can see things out of whack, then you can see how things can be in whack.’
- Dr Suess
Tatiana Feb 2019
The ground is dimpled with different footprints
large and small
deep and shallow
human and animal
Some have more depth than others ever could
having walked miles and miles.

To be light on ones toes
is a characteristic
of those not old
of those not tired
or of those who are sneaking.
I'm not sure how to decipher these prints.

But we can learn much from the steps of others.

There is truth in how we walk
with strong, deep steps
or light strides
weighted with experience
or floating in the feeling of living.

The reason behind the steps we take in life
are sometimes never known
are sometimes never noticed
we keep our heads down
but we don't see that we're walking
on a path that has been walked before.

How come we walked like this?
Who walked and tripped?
Who stepped in the trap?
How did the earth disappear beneath them?

These footprints are ancient,
preserved to reach a modern time
but their reasons were left far behind.

Sometimes we are left with all the evidence.
Sometimes we have all the facts,
but none of the reasons.
Sometimes we vow to find those reasons.
Sometimes we are content to let it remain unknown.
Since the english language counts Y as a vowel, sometimes, I might as well include it in the series
Desire Dec 2018
a nd  with my   e yes
i  widely   o pen,
I see yo u
like consonants
needing their vowels,
I need Y ou
V. Word
Originally written/posted: 20181121
Tatiana Oct 2018
Long ago, Moon reigned alone and empty
born of the Gods Sky and Sea.
The world was painted with a pale light,
that came from Moon's own might.

"Hello, I don't believe we have met before?"
    "Call me Heat."
"I am Light."

A meeting destined in the heavens above,
inspiring Heat and Light to love.
For Moon had grown sickly all night,
as she never had time to rest from her plight.

"What shall we call it?"
    "The yellow light that we lit?"
"Yes. It's like a disc. A shining disc."

Light circled Heat like a shield.
Blinding those who do not yield
with their interest or attempts to charm
Heat away from Light's arms.

"Perhaps we shall call it Light?"
    "No, we shall call it Bright!"
"Please, we cannot fight."

This world moves forward even as time stands still.
Heat takes Light's hand with great thrill.
A movement not so grand,
yet it's worth more than the price of this land.

"Feel the warmth of his heat!"
    "He climbs the sky with no fear of defeat!"
"Moon can finally rest her weary feet."

The pair watched with great pride
in the sky, their child no longer hides.
Look at him! He soars! He flies!
Bringing heat and light to the lands beneath the skies.

"My child, formed from Heat and Light"
    "Please do not feel any fright."
"My child, vow to keep balance with the night"
    "An eternal dance with Moon so bright."
"And remember above all else,"
    "That when the dark arrives,"
"know that Moon will maintain hope and life."
    "Maintain life and hope, my Son.
© Tatiana
Son vs Sun
I just wanted a good story. A warm ending to those troublesome vowels.
Well, that's the end! I hope you enjoyed my forgotten vow(el)s series! I certainly enjoyed it. It has been a challenge to try and avoid certain vowels. E and O were extraordinarily difficult, but it was so rewarding in the end. I did it and I'm proud! If anyone else would like to challenge themselves, I would suggest trying to drop vowels or even consonants. Force yourself to write differently and you'll be surprised by what you can create.
Thanks for reading!
Tatiana Sep 2018
He had wandered far in his truth quest.
A man by law, with 19 years he can attest
and ended up stuck in the west.
With limited cash in his name,
as he had abjured his family's fame.
Since his beliefs differed in his chest.

The family ideals were deceptively lenient.
Kindness was taught but he had never seen it.
His views were seen as unnaturally scenic.
A family that preached their branded acceptance,
made the man sing their praises and dance
with their rhythmic rants.

Maybe he is just a rebel;
A phase where instead he sings treble,
because the bass is in a bubble.
His head shakes and dusts rains,
falling just like earthly remains.
The ideas caused by yesterday's pains.

Heartful man, take care in the west
Listen as lives differ with the rest.
Make a pledge and mind the dread
Keep a level head.

Keep a level head.
© Tatiana
No 'O' was surprisingly more difficult to write than No 'E'. The amount of times I wanted to use the words "to," "of," "for," "you," etc. and then realized that I couldn't, was more of a challenge than I thought it would be.
Also I couldn't write "vow" so "pledge" it is.
The amount of times I've looked in a thesaurus is unreal.
Tatiana Aug 2018
Travel under the eastern sky
keep your eyes on the road, do not ask why
that barren landscape, the color of rye
makes the hardened townspeople cry.

Legend states that the dusty flatland
was a servant to the sun so grand
the sun demanded amusement from the land
and the land created the dance of the sand.

The sand would fly throughout the desert space
for the sun to bestow her grace.
The act would make a storm and erase
any proof of fate and leave no trace.

The townspeople never spoke of the event,
but you must know what happened to an extent
when small ones run away at the advent
of these storms, the sands erase all torment.

You must vow to not wander from the road
when the sands hear the sun's lovely ode
and feel the need for a storm to explode
to dance and bury us all, as the sun foretold.
© Tatiana
Hey hey I actually wrote this one before my concussion so with a couple of edits (and after much rest) i'm ready to post it. A part of me feels like there is an 'I' somewhere in here, but I'm fairly certain there isn't. I think my use of sounds that sound like 'I' are confusing me lol. No 'O' is next.
Tatiana Jul 2018
In my thoracic cavity is a clock
that rhythmically sounds tick, tock.
Pumping blood through my body
giving my hands an opportunity
to point out a good quality
And a fault.

It is good that you know I am with you
but a fault is found in this sad room
as sounds of this hospital's gloom
absorb into my aching brain
I almost miss your words full of pain
what you said will always stay.

"I think of days of old
days of gold
days that told
us to cling and hold
onto occasions
that you and I had.
Days I thought could not go bad
  Days I thought could not go bad."

Your clock ticks, but it would not tock
arrhythmic palpitations hold your body in lock
arms turn into stiff, limp imitations of parts
your body can find out how to start
its own trip into that forlorn dark
with no comfort from a singing lark.

I'm no lark, I bring no comfort of dawn
but I'll stay up with you as you yawn.
Your soul's windows full of worry
build up this notion your light will go in a hurry.

I vow to you as your light grows old
that you and I had days of gold
that you and I had days of gold.
© Tatiana
This is sad and trying to avoid the letter 'e' is extremely challenging.
No 'I' is next
Tatiana Jul 2018
Follow the odd northern winds
with just some sense of indifference.
Do not become glued to the ground
its toxicity will weigh you down.
So push yourself up, fly with the wind
twist, turn, spin with the debris.
Twirl with those stuck in the breeze
enjoy the feeling of weightlessness
the kind the ground never could give.
Fly through the sky, throughout the night
do not stop even when it becomes light.
It is best to ignore the ground below
since it is not good for you, trust me, I know.
I just need you to vow to me right now
don't look down
don't look down
don't look down
© Tatiana
oh boy oh boy this is difficult
No 'E' is next.
Anika Nelson Oct 2017
My wrist begins to flutter
Eyes launch a dilation
Thoughts descend to encounter the lead
All to create a selection of words

Developed by 26 letters
Colliding and stringing together
As a whole

Consisting of vowels
Meaninglessly rising to the top
Attaining popularity
Among the rest of the 21 others

And consonants
Creeping and crawling
Just to be acknowledged
B,C,D,F,G,H,J… and so forth

It can’t be done nor spelled without
A, E, I, O, U.
Y, O, U. You.

One consonant
Two vowels
But a word
Filled with power

Who are you?

Are you the Z creeping and crawling
just to be acknowledged?
Or are you the A
meaninglessly rising to the top?

Just like the millions of words in usage
Formed by both consonants and vowels
We also need each other, from A-Z and everything in between

26 individuals
Each one with a certain ability
To be capitalized.
Which letter are you?
The letter awaiting its turn to be first?

From A, B & C's
Uniting with L, M, N, O, & P’s
To make a bigger “picture”
A bigger, story.

Now in this time
More than ever
We need unity between man
To form something bigger

It starts with U
A letter nevertheless
But also Y, O, U

Now it's completely up to you
How are you going to write your story?
How are you going to string together the vowels and consonants?

Because in the end
The only one that can create a perfect ending
To your own story
Is A, E, I, O, you.
This poem relates us the poet with the letters our fingers type and the words our hands write. Enjoy!
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