#poeticjourney
As the water falls
I feel my soul reawaken
Colors are brighter
More vivid
Greens coalesce into lush gardens of life
Made more pronounced by the grays of scattered boulders
Whose placement steers the water to lower climbs
As the water falls
I am falling with it
Its power cleanses my heart
Opening my soul up to muted browns
Possessed by both life and death as leaves turn to soil
That breathes life into the skeletal limbs that anchor the forest canopy
Below Earth’s baby blues
As the water falls
I become swept away
Dragged further from the disconnections
That mute even the yellows of the sun
Pale to that of the myriad mountain flowers drawn from stark purples to contrasting reds
That remind me of both pain and happiness earned on the trail of life
Bruises that paint my battered body with the story of water and the gravity which causes us to fall
Do not save us
For we have become free
While falling
Apr 28
Apr 28, 2026 at 2:11 PM UTC
ASTRIDE
ARMED
AHEAD
ALERT
ABROAD
ASCENDING
ALIVE
AT LAST
Astride the path that calls us
Armed with nothing but courage
Ahead lies the unknown horizon
Alert to every shifting wind
Abroad in lands that test our spirit
Ascending cliffs of doubt and wonder
Alive in the rush of discovery
At last we find who we are becoming
Feb 23
Feb 23, 2026 at 5:20 AM UTC
a life reflected in my tear— feels like
a whole ocean held in glass, _shattering_
as it dries across my cheek, breath
breaking shallow, thoughts spilling faster
than my lungs can keep.
and just when I reach for life, it drags back—
almost like smoke on a cigarette: each
inhale a promise, each exhale a quiet theft.
so time bites like an apple, sweet at first
taste, but rotting me slowly down
to the core.
wait... I found the colour of prayer
in the grass, my knees pressed low
until the earth became an altar.
to bend is to grow, to kneel is to root—
but the more I chase what isn’t mine,
the more pieces of myself scatter like
loose change, spent out on illusions.
so I pack away the versions of me—
drawers filled with colours, some bruised
like dusk, some bright as flame;
stitched together, I am still made of light,
even if the lamp inside me flickers.
and by the lovely darkness—
my contradiction, my just cathedral—
know my soul will ignite in an instant,
even if the tunnel stretches endless.
because it is darkness itself that makes
light _Undeniable_.
Oct 5, 2025
Oct 5, 2025 at 5:27 AM UTC
_A blemish_ across the mark of my skin —
screamed into a corner, I’ve screened my
eyes. My chest is like a TV screen, the flashes
of _a dream_ —the world waits for me to
tell a vision.
If I write, I could write, so good and well —
my finger type: printing stories on these pages,
_A dogs-ear_ bent down to listen, to serve the law
as it runs. how long the mile? A canine chasing
commands.
_A man afraid of the light_, finding comfort
in a shadow. shadowing the past, living
best when hidden in the shade of regrets.
our mistakes are perfect at throwing shade.
Shall I live the blemish of a dream —folded
onto itself, my best days creased like dog-ears,
marking important chapters of my life.
But a man so afraid of the light forgets there
are two kinds: the one that reveals his darkness,
and the one he’ll face at the end of his life.
Still — we must step out from the shadows
of our mistakes. Eventually, you find a time
to shine.
Aug 31, 2025
Aug 31, 2025 at 6:47 AM UTC
There’s a prayer with a sigh—
a breath let out like scripture,
written in stone, signed by a former lover.
Would you ignore every sign,
just to chase the shape of a feeling?
In over your head, thinking you’re
heading in the right direction—
when even the stars have stopped pointing.
A little too forceful, a little too often,
repeating the same mistake like it’s part
of the ritual— a pattern etched in skin,
but called _love_, to make it sting less.
_But maybe_… it’s the measure that matters most—
how the repetition finally taught you to become
your own ruler. Not of someone else’s heart,
but of your own.
Jun 25, 2025
Jun 25, 2025 at 12:50 PM UTC
"Eye now know"—or do I see?
The world rewrites itself in thee.
A bus of thought, a stop of rhyme,
Where words arrive ahead of time.
The past still echoes, whispers deep,
While future waits at corners steep.
Routes ordained, yet steps unknown,
Where choice and fate are overthrown.
You weave the we inside the me,
A poet riding mystery.
A filter, yet a lens so clear,
That bends the world, brings far to near.
Fig trees rise and vines entwine,
As history nods between your lines.
The Children of Abraham still speak,
In pauses where the quiet peaks.
O poet of the moving street,
Of chance, of time, of hands unseen.
Each stop you make, a verse remains,
A world beyond the windowpanes.
Mar 3, 2025
Mar 3, 2025 at 1:29 AM UTC
A tapestry of words I seek to weave,
In the echoes of each poet's breath I believe.
Each verse a spark, each line a flame,
In every soul’s poetry, a world to claim.
From inked hearts, where thoughts unfold,
I find my voice, both young and old.
In every whisper, a rhythm, a sound,
I shall write from their verses, where beauty is found.
Share your thoughts, let me hear your rhyme,
For in your words, I’ll seek my time.
Comment, and in return, I will write—
A verse from you, a reflection of light.
In the sea of voices, together we’ll float,
Each verse a ripple, each word a note.
So share your song, let our poems entwine,
For in every poet’s voice, I too shall shine.
Mar 2, 2025
Mar 2, 2025 at 9:49 AM UTC