"clearest" poems
O ye who travel the meridian line,
May the vision of a new world within you shine.
May eyes that have lived with poverty's rage,
See through to the glory of the awakening age.
For we are all richly linked in hope,
Woven in history, like a mountain rope.
Together we can ascend to a new height,
Guided by our heart's clearest light.
When perceptions are changed there's much to gain,
A flowering of truth instead of pain.
There's more to a people than their poverty;
There's their work, wisdom, and creativity.
Along the line may our lives rhyme,
To make a loving harvest of space and time.
________
Source:
http://www.writespirit.net/blog/archive/2006/12/03/poems_ben_okri
33.6k
Living is a cross
That any one of the rock-faces
Comprehends.
We are drawn
To many seas.
We drown wholesomely
In the failures of confrontation.
The rain
Drenching
Our doorsteps
Has nothing to do
With the simplest desires
And lacerations
We bring
To the smallest acts
Of living.
The child
On the broken catwalk
Hearing the sounds of our hunger
Without understanding
Throws echoes back
To the earliest abandonments
Of love.
Minor devastations preceding
Horror
Resonate the ineffable.
The mothers that wake
At the slightest sound
And the fathers that
Smoke all night
And the rest of us who are
Vigilantes from the demons
Of oppressed sleep
Find at dawn the clearest
Images of bewilderment.
Even the best things
Collapse beneath the weight
Of ignorance.
Living is a fire
That any one of the wave-lashes
Comprehends.
_________
Source:
http://www.universeofpoetry.org/nigeria.shtml
16.3k
All the flowers of the spring
Meet to perfume our burying;
These have but their growing prime,
And man does flourish but his time:
Survey our progress from our birth—
We are set, we grow, we turn to earth.
Courts adieu, and all delights,
All bewitching appetites!
Sweetest breath and clearest eye
Like perfumes go out and die;
And consequently this is done
As shadows wait upon the sun.
Vain the ambition of kings
Who seek by trophies and dead things
To leave a living name behind,
And weave but nets to catch the wind.
9.4k
"With all memory and fate driven deep beneath the waves
Let me forget about today until tomorrow@With all memory and fate driven deep beneath the waves
**Let me forget about
today until tomorrow**"
lyric, Mr Tambourine Man,
Bob Dylan
<>
Rebel troubadour, always resrless, asking the obvious,
with answers readily apparent,
yet no one knows them out loud
Here we are,
two old Jews,
crossing paths at our shared six point star,
we aware, we know, that the
questions will likely be there tomorrow,'for they
have always there come the morn,
so we do not raise our voices anymore,
indeed,
the questions grow up best when asked softly softly,
and the answers,
blowing in the wind,
are clearest, sharpest obvious when
whispered,
So,
~forget about today till tomorrow,
until tomorrow comes no more~
And is this an only love poem?
To be sure,
Be sure.
For only love is the bridge between yesterday,
Today, and Tomorrow,
No matter what!
Jul 9, 2025
Jul 9, 2025 at 9:31 AM UTC
if we were to live in my own little world
how the skies would be covered with silly grey clouds.
where the gloominess darkens the clearest blues
and the rain glistens like it was sent from the heavens.
where the winds blow with private tales of the world
and the trees whisper the secrets of the night.
you might not like the lifestyle there,
but i truly enjoy the greys.
Mar 21, 2015
Mar 21, 2015 at 9:30 AM UTC
Pretty Pictures; as you are embracing me
Lost in an earthly mood of tranquility
Evident than the shadows fusing my feet
Obscure like pretty lies melodically
Pretty Pictures; sailing, forever will be
Rhapsodize; vividly crossing in my mind
A face of cherubim winged up the sky
Cascading through visions abrupt
A star shoots afar than any distant eye
Longing endless of her passionate touch
We are novels, with so much stories to tell
Red laces, stamps of gold, a lush lullaby
I was the house you painted white
Agitate the deepest hues, then we'd fly
Midnight kisses, Dawn then traded goodbyes
Blithe; for we need nothing to pretend
The clearest blue water, a heaven's scent
To the grass wading courteously
Cloud nine's hanging then lifts my feet
Showering up above washing all anxieties
Pretty pictures; like ribbons untangled
A touch of silk as my heart would lilt
Inner feelings frolic then they'd tremble
For in you the excitement is always a thrill
From the simplest to a goddess divine
Pretty Pictures; moments as you were mine
Oct 8, 2017
Oct 8, 2017 at 1:08 AM UTC
I’m not feeling all that well, my friends.
It’s been that way forever.
You could see the clearest of days;
I would see stormy weather.
The doc said that there’s nothing we can do.
He said, “Just blame it on the low dopamine
and the serotonin blues.”
Now some pills will make it all better;
others will make it much worse.
It feels like I’m in a witch hunt
and everyone else threw the curse.
I really could use me a broom; this is true.
I’ll just get away from the low dopamine
and the serotonin blues.
I just can’t get out of bed today when
it feels like I just jumped in.
With this little game of counting sheep,
you know that I just can’t win.
The mathematician will be retiring soon.
He has a bad case of the low dopamine
and the serotonin blues.
The hours—they turn to days.
The days just turn to weeks.
A squirrel just had his nuts drop.
You can bet it’s one of the meek.
Whatever sound, it really was in good tune.
Perhaps it was the low dopamine
and the serotonin blues.
It’s time to get the oil changed—
getting thicker deep inside.
If I get a few more things fixed up,
I’ll have me a real fine ride
with a radio inside that ride just for my crew,
one that plays my low dopamine
and my serotonin blues.
So the ambulating bandleader quit.
I think that he’s still on the mend.
He claims that bad-boy poetry could
lead to a worldwide trend.
All agree this cat has way overpaid his dues.
It’s only the low dopamine and the serotonin blues.
Jul 26, 2014
Jul 26, 2014 at 5:13 PM UTC
Giraffes have their heads in the tops of trees, merrily munching
great big beautiful eyes and just the cutest faces, heads way up there in the clearest rarefied atmosphere
what a stretch that must have been for evolution, millions of prototypes,
and then the finished article, just as well we do not eat them, can't imagine eating a Giraffe burger with ketchup and fries.
Feb 22, 2016
Feb 22, 2016 at 6:02 AM UTC
she asked for
a birthday calendar
simplistic in design
quite endearing
nonetheless
to collate
each and every
important date
mark them down
in her neatest
clearest handwriting
she thought that
if she hung it
in pride of place
on the wall
by the kitchen door
her eye would
be drawn to it
each time
she left the room
she would not
forget to send
the appropriate message
of congratulations
and many happy returns
when needed
or expected;
yet although
the calendar may
coincidentally
be showing
the correct month
it has remained
on that page
untouched
ignored or
unheeded
for the past
eleven months
Jan 30, 2023
Jan 30, 2023 at 10:02 AM UTC
I often wonder if I am detached from myself.
Maybe I am too in-tuned to the moon.
I'm the rose that became fully bloomed under the sunlight of noon.
I took my doom and ripped into two.
I shatter my pride but ironically,
my pride told me to put it back with glue.
Who knew that I would walk in these shoes,
blood pumping through my hopeful heart and I'm singing the blues.
The way my soul moves, I swivel in and out of the grooves of the wounds that you can only see in my eyes.
I see the world like you'll see my demise; beautiful immortality saying her softest goodbyes.
When I cry, doves hear me.
I flock with the birds over the clearest water,
and it sees right through me.
Oct 9, 2014
Oct 9, 2014 at 5:57 AM UTC
Reality is simpler than it seems,
But it asks from you the clearest lens
Commonly what is seen, a Shadow:
Uncolored
Nebulous
Restrained
Empty
Achromatic
Larger
than you
in a sunny day of true september,
an external light however
Do not dress yourself by your shadow
Feel your body,
Feel the fabric,
Put it on
Take it off
and let your truly self decide between the blue scarf or the red hat.
Feb 21, 2015
Feb 21, 2015 at 7:19 AM UTC
I want to lay naked beside you,
With warm fire glow flicker at night.
As we lay naked together,
In pure and innocent light.
I want to lay naked beside you,
Soft touch trace the curves of your skin.
As we lay naked together,
Defining the woman within.
I want to lay naked beside you,
Your ear feels my lips, hears my voice
As we lay naked together,
Soft love words of careful choice.
I want to lay naked beside you,
Hold you close, feel the warmth of your heart.
As we lay naked together,
Love fire that does not depart.
I want to lay naked beside you,
Know the truth that comes from our best.
As we lay naked together,
It stands through eternity’s test.
I want to lay naked beside you,
Bare all, ‘til the secrets are gone,
As we lay naked together,
In the clearest light of the dawn.
I want to lay naked beside you,
With our hearts entwined so tight.
I want to lay naked beside you,
All done and undone is so right.
I want to lay naked beside you,
All my life, every day, every night.
Jul 31, 2018
Jul 31, 2018 at 6:23 PM UTC
In mighty kingdoms far away
Grew an elven king, stern and wise
Whose young daughter grew in the fields
with eyes as blue as the clearest skies
Elenir, was the daughters name
who danced amongst leaves like gold
whose laughter rang like a thousand bells
whose fair skin would never grow or old
There a traveller came from mountains
and lost, he wandered beneath the trees
he drank from nameless rivers
and voyaged across the savage seas
They met under the sheets of stars
as she saved him from himself
he touched her hair, felt her voice
and till death, he stayed with the elf
His human life frayed away
After a mere blink of years
She watched and stroked his aging face
and wiped away her tears
And when he passed, she could not bear
the pain that she felt inside
the once swaying trees that danced
felt empty, old and dried
She traveled up to the clifftops
Elenir cried her lovers name
She threw herself into the raging oceans
for her life was never the same
The elven king was despaired to see
the loss of his cherished daughter
He cursed the lands
Set fire blazing
and froze the wicked waters
He hide away his treasured kingdom
and watched as the world around him burned
His soldiers pleaded, his people begged
to not leave the world so spurned
But his heartbreak was too great to deal
The world fell into darkness
and with the once-beautiful Elenirs death
the skies grew black and starless
Dec 18, 2015
Dec 18, 2015 at 12:37 AM UTC
*i hate to break it to you kid,
i'm not mindful of narcissus'
economics that's all oh so very modern...*
but women are their own orbit,
more chance to find a single mother
than a single father...
it's against nature to make the man
without god,
as it's against nature to make the woman
with god...
thus we have the tectonic plates
making man with god, accepting
or doubting, church or laboratory...
and woman... an eroticism of jaw eaten
faces... but a kiss to be a fingerprint
likened to erasing the dangling of the bitten
jaw... erased only once by the aphrodisiac of sirens'
wail of aquatic opera so damnable that only
one man heard it, while others scolded
being in audience with beeswax...
and by second chance, erased, indeed,
but only by the suffragettes as the new nuns...
as the new nuns dare comply to change,
like every male become female and
vice versa,
and the popes disclose their continual
loss of matrimony in their misogynistic
involvement in ****** if i'm not the pope
and do no encounter such practices,
i'm not a pope at all!
*only a ninth spoke as the necromancer,
and of the nine spoke clearest,
as it spoke, it dawned on me
that sauron was invisible for the sword
to strike, a gravity enveloping,
a gravity envelope, rather than a skin
of infinite diadem sharpenings,
for nine rigs unto men,
seven unto dwarfs, three unto elves,
but none unto the orcs... strange....
ORC ARKHAN MORDOR ARRAC!*
Feb 14, 2016
Feb 14, 2016 at 10:36 PM UTC
whenever I feel the tremble start to ooze its way
from my compact mind to the tips of my fingers,
I immediately anticipate the fate
that I have always been able to foresee
whenever that familiar first jolt of an anxiety attack sails its way,
like a vessel in a storm
throughout my entire body
heart pounds an intolerable caution
lungs wheeze frigid determination with a rough friction
that lightly scrapes my core with a ticklish flutter
shoulders lift up into a hunch; absolutely automatic
the top tray of teeth lock clenched into the bottom tray’s hold
a fleet of air hisses in and out of two nostrils like a monk’s meditation
capacious eyes flicker from
the lid to the lash to the iris to the pupil to see everything
everyone is staring
everything is too intimidating to look at for longer than two seconds
then, the tunnel
the clearest, acute vision waters into a soft edged frame,
into a pixel mud of a picture, into a black peripheral,
black corners rounding in – a narrow and petty circle
I use it and follow it to wherever my
deepened impulse decides to take me
silently contemplating,
silently speculating,
silently examining
the fears I let my feeble self
get swallowed up in.
Sep 3, 2012
Sep 3, 2012 at 1:42 AM UTC
Among the swaying elm trees,
are whispers from on high;
The words are slightly garbled,
but their sweetness flows in sighs.
Each lilac touches wayward hearts,
with deepest blue and velvet glow;
The daffodils sprout yellow wings,
reaching out to join the show.
And hummingbirds sip honeyed wine,
from the feeder hanging nearby;
We watch as the finches gather,
shining golden in the clearest sky.
The lawn seems warm and supple,
as breezes blow in forest green;
Inviting us all to lie and view,
this heavenly springtime scene.
But then the sun retreats behind,
a massive wealth of clouds;
Refreshing rain falls in our midst,
cool and soft as seaside's sounds.
Enchantment is with us every day,
its essence stirs yet calms our souls;
As Gods displays His natural wonders,
life-long gifts that will never grow old.
Apr 8, 2018
Apr 8, 2018 at 11:23 AM UTC
I'm lying here with the light on. The fan is set on speed 3, and it's pointed directly on me. Social networks dance on my computer screen. Faces of people, some of whom I've never met, spout endless minutia. So do I. We'd like to think that all of this is bring us closer to one another, but that is anything but the truth. This faux interconnectedness is just another way to live together, alone. These pills are beginning to take hold. My mouth is dry, and not even the coldest, clearest water can quench it. Sometimes I equate staying up that one last hour with having that one last drink. It's the one that always kills you in the morning.
It's 4:45 AM, and my alarm is set for noon.
Aug 11, 2010
Aug 11, 2010 at 1:53 AM UTC
……Now
With springing force
I was shot out into the future
And with needle to the suture
Sewed together what I could
Lo, the spring sprung back into
The autumn
Found my porthole at the bottom
Into all I understood
Yet,
An equal opposite reaction
Fueled combustibly by action
From believing things that I was told to read
Found
Me far beyond what I
had seen
Cross dystopian ravine
Though in spite of any betterment, still brought to you by greed
Now from safely at the station
In the cold and condensation
I can see with clearest vision
The successes of my mission
Here, within, the multitudinous expanse of tears and laughs
Will be difficult to honor with a proper epitaph
Jan 22, 2011
Jan 22, 2011 at 7:53 PM UTC
This is the other side of sanity!
I think to myself,
a riddle in the middle of chastity, vanity?
what is it that I have to say?
Is this not another day or is it a play?
Vaguely we are tossed into this
post hence I have seen the other side-
this day with you...this day that never came.
I will not be able to tell the difference of pleasure
or pain.
*I am still lost dreaming on to the memory,
you stood there in the middle of high school square
doe-eyes intent, hidden behind you're intense
endless hidden truth, your boyish youth.*
A dream of gazing into those eyes some day,
I never wanted to say goodbye or go away,
this world carried me to the "other side" and it was
"too late," I was unable to "succeed." Who am I
to seek this "other side?" In the sky?
What we never do? Call this "side" what you will,
but in the end I would have gladly battled madly
through hell for a chance to share your world with you.*
Oh, here I go again, blithering sadness, sad poem!
Look to the skies when you're alone, then maybe
on the clearest of nights when this whole world
they've built of stone is gone you will finally find out
how beautiful you are so.
Even if I never got to see you understand this or
spend another day with(out) you...you are all
I can't get off my mind no matter how hard I try
I will continue to see you can't forget you
Even in my wildest
Aug 23, 2018
Aug 23, 2018 at 3:04 AM UTC
I remember the neckcurls, limp and damp as tendrils;
And her quick look, a sidelong pickerel smile;
And how, once startled into talk, the light syllables leaped for her,
And she balanced in the delight of her thought,
A wren, happy, tail into the wind,
Her song trembling the twigs and small branches.
The shade sang with her;
The leaves, their whispers turned to kissing,
And the mould sang in the bleached valleys under the rose.
Oh, when she was sad, she cast herself down into such a pure depth,
Even a father could not find her:
Scraping her cheek against straw,
Stirring the clearest water.
My sparrow, you are not here,
Waiting like a fern, making a spiney shadow.
The sides of wet stones cannot console me,
Nor the moss, wound with the last light.
If only I could nudge you from this sleep,
My maimed darling, my skittery pigeon.
Over this damp grave I speak the words of my love:
I, with no rights in this matter,
Neither father nor lover.
2.7k
There's a moment when everything accelerates
And there's no questioning, things just are.
Madly. Frantically. My mind gyrates;
Playing wildly, dancing upon each single star.
Blurred vision precipitates the tears
As I freeze, knowing in my heart of hearts
That each word falls upon belligerent ears,
And takes second place to your townhouse art.
What pain could Monet paint when floodwaters
Rise, and it becomes clear that the clearest
Understanding lies in the theatre's
Eyes? The curtains fall to the finale's dearest
Friend, and it's there I pretend that it's just a natural disaster,
That this is a craft I still find hard to master.
Aug 4, 2014
Aug 4, 2014 at 5:29 PM UTC
In the greenest meadow,
With the clearest stream,
And the bluest sky,
There lived a lion.
His mane golden and his teeth white.
He had not yet tasted the flesh of deer.
On the other side of the meadow,
There lived a doe.
Her fur was a silken brown.
She knew not of lions.
The lion saw the doe, and was in awe.
She was clean, she was beautiful.
He wanted a taste.
He spoke to her in low, calming tones.
Speaking to her lovely lies.
He said he craved a taste of her flesh.
She fell for the lion.
The doe wanted to please the lion.
She offered him a taste.
So he tasted.
But the lion couldn't control his hunger.
He tore at her flesh.
Wounding the deer.
The green grass turned red.
The sky grew dark.
When he had enough, he got up.
He looked at her.
He growled, he hissed, he walked away.
He wanted no blame for his own doing.
The doe nursed her wounds.
And the water turned red.
She grew strong again.
Washed clean by the stream.
The grass green again.
The sky blue.
But her scars remained.
The silken fur turned ragged.
The doe had a friend.
One with much shinier fur.
One more beautiful than she had been.
One that was unable to stand on her own.
Her friend was weak.
Weary from running.
She also did not know of lions.
The doe told her of the lion.
Showed her the scars.
Her friend saw, and hated the lion.
Or so she said.
The sky grew dark again.
The lion came back.
His mane with deep red in it.
His teeth bloodstained.
The doe was wary.
The doe knew he was flesh-hungry.
Her scars ached.
And she knew.
Her friend was in danger.
Mar 13, 2013
Mar 13, 2013 at 3:21 PM UTC
I've looked at star filled skies
At life in microscopes
I've stared at hills and oceans
To find connectivity
But I have found
I see You clearest
Not looking past this skin
For You're the best in me
When I see gentleness
Like giving of myself
Being kind to others
Helping weaker ones I see
Caring for older beings
Showing youth the paths
And scorning selfishness
I see that love must be
His modus operandi
That is what I recognize
When everything is said and done
He is the grains on sandy beaches
He is the fish beneath the sea
He is the galaxy afar
The very tiny microbe
Everything I see
And finally
Whatever else
God is love in me
Sep 28, 2013
Sep 28, 2013 at 12:33 PM UTC
A collaboration between Elisa Maria Argiro and SG Holter.
Dear feather. You fell on my heart.
I keep you on my person now; pocket held;
An eternal companion.
As beautiful as you, I remind my
Thoughts to be.
I wake up as Buddha every day.
Peace is the corner stone of my breathing.
Dear Last Crescent Moon,
adorning Lord Shiva's brow,
smiling toward Morning Star
enjoying her sweet presence
in clearest predawn light.
She smiles too, drifting into feathery sleep.
Birdless flight, unclenched, un-
Clung to.
With this dew drop in my palm
I need no ocean to swim in.
How can Life's castle, with its wars and
Tragedies, hide within its
Towers of
Noise such quiet chambers?
Paper sails, bamboo, emerald waters.
Single feathers rest even when
Airborne.
From your outstretched palm,
sweet taste of morning touches
my tongue, oceanic dew drop
sharing itself across floating time.
An offering holding the last shining
starlight of this new morning. Drifting
now through limitless space,
finding words in our common language
on your yellow paper sails, we gaze down
from these towers of our ancient dreams,
emerald water below us waiting to catch
the falling feather.
Dear insight.
Light as the wind itself, you
Floated; fell on my heart.
Merged with heavy memories
Like paper balloons rising;
Tsunami of kamifusen
Render my whole being
Weightless.
Third-Eye-Hindsight sees me
Remembering nothing with
Bitterness.
One or a hundred lifetimes
Wandering.
Finally now,
Even waking hours feel like
Dreaming.
Dear Wisdom, Guardian Planet,
Buddha's radiance shining.
Thousand-Petaled Lotus
is now your own effulgent mind.
Smiling, eyes closed, feeling the
glowing kamifusen of magenta,
scarlet, turquoise, and yellow
floating above us,
we swim so deeply, diving down
into these warm emerald waters,
winking at the luminous fishes
dreaming all around us.
Oct 10, 2015
Oct 10, 2015 at 2:31 PM UTC
Lost days the clearest,
Though blinded I truly saw,
My doom in her eyes.
Jul 13, 2013
Jul 13, 2013 at 8:33 PM UTC