Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Rama Krsna Jul 2021
this oriental rose
textured with occidental precision
desperately seeks perfection
in all things worldly

nature’s true signature
wreaks havoc instead:
in the rocks of the grand canyon
in a mole on a cheek
in the dried but fallen leaves of autumn
even in the scribbling of our children

embrace wabi-sabi
where wafting moments of melancholy
transform to sheer joy
in the subtle realization
that coexistence with incompleteness
the proven path to release one
from the chaining bonds of perfection


© 2021
dedicated to all the perfectionists out there
Tamara Lynn Feb 2020
When we focus on what makes us human in the expansive cosmos that is our only home

It’s a humbling experience to have the knowledge
that this existence is impermanent
And that we are not alone in the awareness

These beings among us are the only ones we know of that will ever grasp the concept of our place in this universe

For that we can at least empathize with one another
Realize that love and peace is what we should pursue

If for only but a second could we all zoom out
and come to conclusion that we don’t really have a clue

That it’s okay that we don't have every answer

At times it’s necessary to admit defeat
We can find solace in the incomplete
Meditate on the beauty in the madness
Rest our minds amongst the mess

The way of this world is not meant for perfection

Entropy is inevitable
Destruction and decay
We can hope and pray

But this universe doesn’t speak that language
It’s set on its own path

Time flows in a linear direction
from which we can’t turn back

Nevertheless we are apart of a whole

We have to keep that in mind and hold on tight
Please allow this message to console

In the midst of this glimpse in the timeline of human life
It’s crucial that we waste no time and choose to live it right
Lunar Mar 2017
the radio static of a blank station
the moment raindrops hit surfaces
the gliding of wooden sliding doors
the tick-tock of the clock on the wall
the sounds of leaves flying in the wind
the period of time a guitar is being tuned
the mellow piano scale of moonlight sonata
the echoes of footsteps in an empty hallway
the breathing of a newborn and a dying man
the far-off engine roars of a car on a highway
the supersonics of an airplane flying overhead
the crashing of tidal waves upon the breakwater
the ****** of chimes or frozen icicles on a cold day
the scrape of my pencil on paper as i draw and write
the scratchy noise after a vinyl record finishes to play
the ruffle of bedsheets when someone is restless in bed
the bristle of hair when mothers tousle their children's hair
*his voice
this poem's alternate title is "Wistful Sounds".

w stands for wistful and wabi
s stands for sounds and sabi

wabi-sabi: the philosophy and design principle which appreciates the aging and decay (due to time and weathering) of an object, idea, or even a person. It is said that wabi-sabi is the feeling that stirs a wistful, sad melancholy close enough to spiritual longing.
Nabs Dec 2015
By Nabs

Cacophonies of sound, greeted us to this world.

For you, an angry guttural rumbles of disappointment.
Made courtesy of your father, whose glare would make your heart harden into steel but rot on the inside.
For me, was a choking silence that sounds too loud, too empty, too there.
But it was familiar and it was better than being completely alone.

The rain had been coming for a while.
Seeping into the marrows of our bones.
Drawing bitter smiles and bared teeth.
From two strangers that happen to collide with each other.

I want to say it was beautiful, but It wasn't.
War is never beautiful.

You were made from the finest china.
Crafted from ivory, patterned with delicate blue bamboos.
Your bones creaked at night, hollowed because life it self was nothingness to you.
So why would you let your self be filled with hollow?

You would rather let them filled you with glass
Shard of sharp fragment of others, pushing everything into your cup.
You tried to not mind how it gots cracks lining its smooth surface, how at some place it's chipped, and how it always on the verge of breaking

I can see you long for it, to just shatter.

I know I wasn't what you wanted.
I am not made of cotton candy or sunshine.
I am not full of the sweet words you long to hear.
I am not capable of being your light nor your saving grace.

But I can see you for who you are, isn't that enough?

"No it isn't", you replied with fury in your eyes.
"You dont know me", you spit.
"Dont pretend like you do!", you growled
As we battle each day, gritting our teeth and slamming our soul.

The noises that was buzzing in my ears sounded almost like a prayer.

You hated the cracks on your tea cup with vehemence.
At night when you feel asleep, tired from hating the world and yourself, you would dream of a world where you do not exist.
"Please", you screamed.

I find that too painful to know, so I just stabbed my self in the heart.
Bleeding out the warmth I felt, leaving me feeling like winter is coming.

"Do you remember how long this war had raged?"
I asked to you, when a sliver of peace wedged itself between us
You looked at me, and I looked straight back at you
You went quiet, lip pursed, shaking your head.
"There's no war".

It's raining bullets, a gift form you to me.
I cracked a smile, one that so very brittle and hungry.
The smell of gun powder eloped me, and I pretend that it was a hug from you.
I almost didn't catch your whisper,

"It felt like eternity".

The bullets felt more like flower petals, now.

We often dance this odd waltz of our.
Broken parts of our self, steps that retreats, pieces that are incomplete
Yet when we dance, you flashed this rare smile of yours.
The one that you tried so hard to forget because you told yourself, you don't deserve to.

So I wound you closer and closer, wishing that we could meld like this forever.
But forever existed after death, one of the thing we don't agree upon.
And this felt like eternity too, I wanted to shout.
But I didn't, and you walked back to your empty castle.

It's too cold outside for angels to fly.

Some day, I see my self splintered on your floor.
Lying beside your shattered mirrors.
Blood staining our hands as we gripped each other cages.
I wish this would be over, but I know Im lying.

We are caged, You and I.
Shouting pleas and prayer to be let out.
Soul stuffed in a heart shaped box.
Beating against our ribcage.

No amount of clawing could get us out,
for the keys have been lost in the mist.

The day I asked you to abandon your castle,
You got angry until I asked you to move in with me.
You had this awed look on your eyes
When, 'yes', slipped out your tongue.

A truce.

One I dearly wished would last beyond time.

I find you breathtaking.
A contradiction of shattered and whole.
An universe caged inside a fragile vessel
And yet you never realize that.

You always said that you are a monster.
One that said I shouldn't get close too, one I should have stop battling.
One that said they should've stop clutching me.
"I'm scared that I've decided to never let you go"

"I wont leave you"

When we lay beside each other,
I would trace your spine down to your back
Wondering how can't you see how beautiful you are?

The way your eyes are warm, despite your insistence that you are a cold *******.
The way your kindness shown through your mercy.
How tender your heart is and how you cannot hate God for chaining you to life.

You hated your self instead, as a form of repentance.

We are always walking on eggshells,
Of boundaries and blurred lines.
Playing skip with each other,
Waiting for the other shoe to fall.

"Why are you still here?", you said while cradling me in your embrace.
"Because I wanted to", I replied.
I didn't say the other reason.
The one that want to say it's because that you do not realize when you cracks, gold will ooze out to fix it.

I closed my eyes and inhale the scent of coffee, robust black coffee with a hint of mint.

" I'll always have your back, no matter the road you choose", I said when you got back to our home with red tainted feathers clutched on your hands.
You stared at me, gaze searching.
I stared right into your eyes, hands poised to knock at your window.
I knocked.

You took off your tattered mask,
I looped my hand around your neck.

"You do not need to shatter your self more just to be perfectly broken"
A poem for characters in my story

— The End —