Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
“In some office sits a poet,
and he trembles as he sings,
and he asks some guy,
to circulate his soul around”
Joni Mitchell

<>

joni:
your both sides
then and  now,
was my guiding glasses
for a life of motley loving
and love, gained, pained,
lost and found
as a younger man,
and now, as old soul
with rear view perspective,
the glasses tinted transition grey,
(matching his pallor, his hair.
his transient perspective,
trembling fingers as he writes,
with humility,
0
pleeze circulate these
decoded words
mate them out of clay
hoping  come new daylight
one or two, even a few
will lend a rosy thistle, blow softly
an encouraging breeze
upon this poem
the freedom to burn into
glowing embers
in our circulating worlds
of pass/fail
it’s my mere soul
you pass judgement
with a hint of tasteful scents
on
and beyond
with an
honorable push
your mentioned
breath,
guiding them
to the currents
where poems go to
blossom
Nov ‘ 24
Bekah Halle Jan 15
Too much in our bellies, too much in our hearts,
We spew out hateful words, crying from our disenfranchised parts; our families, the world inside and out,
All need peace and strength to fight
The war outside, rather than focus all attention on the war inside.
  Jan 14 Bekah Halle
Maria Etre
Maybe my heart
was born too small
for the love
it carries...

That's why it
shares it
just to
give itself
breathing
space
Bekah Halle Jan 13
time and times to remember
sailing mostly quietly by

a memory worth remembrance
-love you found despite yourself

travelling a finite road
-with eternal consequence

friends and past lovers gone
-often prayer leaves the lips

a whispered personal conversation
-with the God of Love

in your loneness
this is the best you've got.
Bekah Halle Jan 13
guilt
the terrible torturer
twists you from the inside out
when affected
we're like lambs to the slaughter
Life's about the suffering
Peace a destination
What is more important
Is what happens duration

Impossible to self-pardon sins
Plagued with doubt and fear
What if darkness creeping within
Sronger than the light inhabiting here?

Worrying is not worth the toll
I have to pay my dues
No one can walk path for me
Don't wear the same size shoes

Each break and bruise instruction
Finish line forever unknown
Happy endings fantasy
Majority synthetic like silicon

It has to shift before we surrender
To assimilation of society
In-between consciouslessness
And controlled compliancy

After Point A wandered astray
Point B hopeless cause
Meandering sheep in a deluded daze
Progression practically on pause

Creativity and cerebration rare
Killed in each as a child
Brainwashed being obedient
Different labeled 'wild'

Those in power yearn to program every step
Shaping image to fit their mold
Corrupt agenda is nothing new
Most don't realize they are trapped in their hold

I want to lead uprising
But I simply am too afraid
Remember when surroundings were calmer
Present for past I desperately long to trade

We had plenty of time to correct behavior
There is an existing disconnect
From planet earth and each other
Too immersed in screens for paths to intersect

A thousand unanswered questions
In silence reality is revealed
Up to us to find purpose in this dimension
Stumbling blindly through this battlefield

We are closer to cliff than we realize
Inching towards edge each day passing by
Shadows halting vision with uncertainty
Wings clipped so we are unable to fly
About the way society is in relation to our government and just how we have been regressing and it's exactly what those in power want. Wake the **** up people, especially Americans!
  Jan 12 Bekah Halle
David R
dry as a beggar's over-parched throat
as an over-burnt piece of blackened rye-toast
as the golden sand in Sahara roast
was the air o' the day of the black death-note

as the air crackled with the laughter of death
and claimed the millions as it left bereft
daughters of the earth their heart a-cleft
from the breath of the devil with the head of Macbeth

Houses, untenable, ditched searing memories,
Turned sarcophagi from life and its treasuries
Scorched skeletons of sagas and histories,
Of family feuds, celebrations and victories,
Of open secrets and whispered mysteries,

Years of toil blest by gold sunbeams,
The laughter of babes and the giggle of teens,
Now fractured windows and ash blackened beams,
Skeletal remains of life and its dreams.
BLT Word of the Day Challenge #untenable
Next page