What I Feel Jul 13

Look at me.
An invitation that demands.
A clenched fist paired with open hands.
Now what I ask of you is far more great
than casting gazes over faces.
No. I invite your soul to look in mine;
A true communion slighting wine.
I want to know your joy and pain,
feel tear drops fall like gentle rain.
I need to see your secret smiles,
take comfort in your cheers or trials.
These seconds, drawing out like years.
We live through all our darkest fears,
intricately, intimately, bound with breath.
Each heartbeat sounds the death of death
as I look into you, and you in me,
gaining strength from strength at what we see.
For eyes, they say, are mirrors to the soul,
and your eyes reflect my heart whole.

What I Feel Jul 5

Deep and earthy scents,
moss pillows and tree-root beds,
rocks my stable base.

Calm haiku #3
What I Feel Jul 5

Gentle breezes, kiss
my face and promise peace, and
whisper me to sleep.

Calm haiku #2
What I Feel Jul 5

Water gently laps
against my feet and now I
know that I'm at peace.

Calm haiku #1
What I Feel Jul 5

Your apathy walks atop my broken faith with
Nonchalant animosity.

I have been itching to use those last two words in a poem. It was originally going to be longer, but I felt that it conjured up such a strong image that it only needed ten words.
What I Feel Jul 4

We care more about
aesthetic obsession than
matters of the heart.

What I Feel Jul 3

A child is our ancient world's greatest gift.
So ignorant to ignorance they drift
through life, not seeing why we war or how
we hate the heartbeat of our life, but now
we try to stifle 'childish fantasy',
not seeing peace on Earth as they can see.

A child can make an instant, lifelong friend,
a common name or age will make them spend
their years together, joined at hip and heart,
each whispered secret promising the start
of stronger bonds and brighter days,
each hand in hand, traversing life's black maze.

A child may fight you over something small,
they kick and scream and bite and swipe, but all
their conflicts can be solved with one embrace,
forgiveness instant, smiles now back in place.
No secret sourness stored within their soul,
all faults forgotten; friendships, morals whole.

A child will speak with honesty profound;
the truths they speak to you are not yet bound
by pressures of society to lie
to save themselves - the words they speak will fly
through clouds of foggy falsehoods, set you free,
and open up your eyes to let you see
     just what you are, and what you've done,
and what monstrosity you could become
if you insist on murdering their world,
for it is worth its fragile weight in gold.
Ironically, materialism tries
to kill their tender, unpolluted lives:

"It's time that you grew up. You're not a child.
Don't let these frightful fancies grow so wild.
You've got to get a job and earn
your own money, quite soon you'll learn
the adult world is not so nice; no second chance,
so wake up from this stupid, silly trance.
     No time to idly sit and daydream dear.
It's time we got this situation clear:
a life of student loans and debts await.
Your choices now affect your life-long fate.
Bad grades, you say? Well, that's so awfully sad.
But don't expect our help. You'll only add
     to costs it takes to get you lot in work.
Although, those grades will only make this worse.
Who wants to hire a failure? No one does.
So get it right first time, my pet, because
you'll be ignored and shunned and judged, although
we'll masquerade, and claim we care or know."


But what if I don't want to choose this way?
I've got a voice, but you won't hear me say
that I don't want to live my life like this.
The future you have carved for me, your bliss,
is hell for me. Why can't you realise?
This world looks better through a child's eyes.

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