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whence the word special is said, be wary of the speaker
whence the word special is said, be wary of the speaker
pitfalls are in the making, one can trip up
pitfalls are in the making, one can trip up
pitfalls are in the making, whence the word special is said
be wary of the speaker, one can trip up

the memory stores info well, an utterance hollow ne'er forgot
the memory stores info well, an utterance hollow ne'er forgot
wising up seeing the light, one is misguided
wising up seeing the light, one is misguided
one is misguided, the memory stores info well
wising up seeing the light, an utterance hollow ne'er forgot

a revelation did dawn, that guy wasn't legit
a revelation did dawn, that guy wasn't legit
his line but a fallacy, clearness of sight now prevails
his line but a fallacy, clearness of sight now prevails
clearness of sight now prevails, that guy wasn't legit
a revelation did dawn, his line but a fallacy

a revelation did dawn, one is misguided
pitfalls are in the making, whence the word special is said
that guy wasn't legit, an utterance hollow ne'er forgot
his line but a fallacy, wising up seeing the light
one can trip up,the memory stores info well
be wary of the speaker, clearness of sight now prevails
Old man, you surface seldom.
Then you come in with the tide's coming
When seas wash cold, foam-

Capped: white hair, white beard, far-flung,
A dragnet, rising, falling, as waves
Crest and trough. Miles long

Extend the radial sheaves
Of your spread hair, in which wrinkling skeins
Knotted, caught, survives

The old myth of orgins
Unimaginable. You float near
As kneeled ice-mountains

Of the north, to be steered clear
Of, not fathomed. All obscurity
Starts with a danger:

Your dangers are many. I
Cannot look much but your form suffers
Some strange injury

And seems to die: so vapors
Ravel to clearness on the dawn sea.
The muddy rumors

Of your burial move me
To half-believe: your reappearance
Proves rumors shallow,

For the archaic trenched lines
Of your grained face shed time in runnels:
Ages beat like rains

On the unbeaten channels
Of the ocean. Such sage humor and
Durance are whirlpools

To make away with the ground-
Work of the earth and the sky's ridgepole.
Waist down, you may wind

One labyrinthine tangle
To root deep among knuckles, shinbones,
Skulls. Inscrutable,

Below shoulders not once
Seen by any man who kept his head,
You defy questions;

You defy godhood.
I walk dry on your kingdom's border
Exiled to no good.

Your shelled bed I remember.
Father, this thick air is murderous.
I would breathe water.
vircapio gale Sep 2012
wakefulness demands a certain clearness when asleep . . .
it doesn't come as planned
"tat tvam asi"
LaBerge says to me in dream of me
"this world you are, withstanding even torments thou art never seen."
and that's enough to suffer aching, opaque psyche summit, forward
heart to rise an interspecies knell when danceless fades the bee in droves...
aimless whales who singing deep in love are cut from evolution's murky chain...
fungal blight of hibernaculum, in deafened sonar sending sudden drop of death;
to horror fragment melt, the ocean swill from ancient caps to sunken polar paw
diverse in massacre of tropic forest fertile mists, lives dispersed
and balance tipped from blindness not unlike the sterile statue's, there
                                                          i­n dusty courthouse corner, shadow-lined with infamy...
what imagined cartoon causal Captain Planet              
                            villainy to blare across oneiromantic globe? and (dreaming?) civil strife,                  
       eradication's alter triumph pose to measure blame in inner life?
of empiric meditation's top, in *******
churning out abuse in deeper,
                                                         ­   younger hidden traffics yet to terrorize the net...                                  
                                             the scraping of the sky had punctured through                                
                         ­                                      from metaphor to fact
                                       the sooty barbs
                            in radiance rebound    
and irony affected 'green'
                  folds crisis and solution into one                            we hope
                like what we say we are, becoming change                      in wartime summer fling    
we                                                        
say we can in world of 'me'                                      
in guilt-assuaging verve
                                  the heifer-gift to village fief
    but then to rest against organic pillow-conscience gray                                                             ­       
                                                               soundly snoring smokestacks fill from ground to sky
still for sly investment windfall   fog  billow, shake...                             
transcontinental scape of dream imbued anew:
i am the genie of my ownmost inner lamp
in dreamtime-being spacious constellational of reach distilled
in contemplation's tratak zoom mInute
   with jet black finger trace
    i net                                                              ­                                        from out the inter-earthen air                
                                             ­                                              the lump on lump of coal
                massaging from                                                             ­      as if an ivory atmospheric                  
lift                   of      weight  
                           the sculpture of our past condensed in elephantine ******
                                                 miasmic fossil shower-haze of sporogenic fear,
mneumonic nail-tusk night of carbon-spirit back into its hold -- originary dark,
Dark light from burning black                                                 once again contained                                                      in elemental subterrain                                                       ­                                                       
         ­                                        --now it underlies the ground inside for triple shielding outshine
--outer-- light to cool us breathing once again . , ,    
false convenience in abeyance in a human time!                                
i am right now of inward self my soul supernal carbon imprint copy                             
for accounting every speciesistic mind to open wide enough and quell the "all-too human plagues--                                                                           ­       cheering all penultimates, in beams reflecting ante-truth          
                                                 down halls of mirror-minds that lightly discourse
on the ingress of a centaur saving power
channeling the leylines of inception,
ecstatic dreamworld of apotheosic glee:
parting the eidetic clouds,
commune an avatar intentionality . . .
ensorcelling the foodstuffs of the world to feed a dozen million refugees,
insectile diet pride attends in homes of affluence,
the abstract mass of media, become eupeptic cud of understanding bats and even bees--
for biospheres a Goodall stewardship arrives
(her perfect chimp call too resounds across the earth!)
and dwindled frogs their former ponds (unknown, destroyed without a sound)
return to chirping vibrant green symphonic swooning life
the glacial march of tears to halt . . .
all ecosystems rife withall
the panegyric of marshlands globally reborn  
along with shining waters, algaeic sun alive at play
in double-helix breath of dolphin families' bubble art
a sudden resurrect from ****** harvest cove arise cascading joyous leap
on final absence of the metal herding knock of trapping pods
no longer hacked in waves of pink, mere preparations for a restaurant sink--
they are free to swim the depth of worldheart dreaming unknown dream entire real again
marine apsaras dip in spectra (flicker eyelid) rays, reintroduce the dawn
her fine apparel calling forth transhuman destinies
unsplicing brilliant minds from ****** task of splicing GMOs
recycled randomness accepting death before we die
mycelium in runs of spilling-- all undone --
migrational attuned our resource use
and CSAs to thrive in eco-city scapes
no solopsistic somniac pretends
--the dream imbued in final hue
a momentary lapse, creationary flux--
the bombs defused in flick of wrist
indentured and enslaved, imprisoned innocents, oppressed and even self-deprived released
through selfhood's metaviral claim
ground of each dependent intertwining
whatness will to be
a place in which to hum in tune or out of tune
to heal and in a another dream aside from this perhaps with me partake
in true oneiric panoply of conflict held
--with permeating rigpa geogaze--
colliding ideologies transmuted into trust
in panharmonium of varied vision
and what the ever present boons of real, imagined symbol-real
create awake












.
Poetic T Nov 2014
Upon the wings of doves it was pure
Their purest white Feathers
Glided,
Floated,
Nestled
Its clearness, Its symbolic touch
Upon my yet to be woken heart,
For this beauty showed what was
In front of my eyes,
Feathers did come down like snow
Not only touching mine,
Awoken,
Revived,
Vitality
Sprung forth, emotions were flowering
Everywhere,
My heart was touched
By a feather of purest love,
That is when our eyes meet, I saw a feather
Caress your loneliness and we
Were transformed from
Solitude,
Seclusion,
Sorrow
To hearts that were now awoken,
The true feeling stirred from inside,
To love at first sight,
We were like the feathers
Our hearts had taken flight,
We were in love as white feathers fell,
The symbol of love had opened our hearts
To what was always Within our now *flourishing hearts.
A snake came to my water-trough
On a hot, hot day, and I in pyjamas for the heat,
To drink there.
In the deep, strange-scented shade of the great dark carob-tree
I came down the steps with my pitcher
And must wait, must stand and wait, for there he was at the trough before
me.

He reached down from a fissure in the earth-wall in the gloom
And trailed his yellow-brown slackness soft-bellied down, over the edge of
the stone trough
And rested his throat upon the stone bottom,
And where the water had dripped from the tap, in a small clearness,
He sipped with his straight mouth,
Softly drank through his straight gums, into his slack long body,
Silently.

Someone was before me at my water-trough,
And I, like a second comer, waiting.

He lifted his head from his drinking, as cattle do,
And looked at me vaguely, as drinking cattle do,
And flickered his two-forked tongue from his lips, and mused a moment,
And stooped and drank a little more,
Being earth-brown, earth-golden from the burning bowels of the earth
On the day of Sicilian July, with Etna smoking.
The voice of my education said to me
He must be killed,
For in Sicily the black, black snakes are innocent, the gold are venomous.

And voices in me said, If you were a man
You would take a stick and break him now, and finish him off.

But must I confess how I liked him,
How glad I was he had come like a guest in quiet, to drink at my water-trough
And depart peaceful, pacified, and thankless,
Into the burning bowels of this earth?

Was it cowardice, that I dared not **** him? Was it perversity, that I longed to talk to him? Was it humility, to feel so honoured?
I felt so honoured.

And yet those voices:
If you were not afraid, you would **** him!

And truly I was afraid, I was most afraid, But even so, honoured still more
That he should seek my hospitality
From out the dark door of the secret earth.

He drank enough
And lifted his head, dreamily, as one who has drunken,
And flickered his tongue like a forked night on the air, so black,
Seeming to lick his lips,
And looked around like a god, unseeing, into the air,
And slowly turned his head,
And slowly, very slowly, as if thrice adream,
Proceeded to draw his slow length curving round
And climb again the broken bank of my wall-face.

And as he put his head into that dreadful hole,
And as he slowly drew up, snake-easing his shoulders, and entered farther,
A sort of horror, a sort of protest against his withdrawing into that horrid black hole,
Deliberately going into the blackness, and slowly drawing himself after,
Overcame me now his back was turned.

I looked round, I put down my pitcher,
I picked up a clumsy log
And threw it at the water-trough with a clatter.

I think it did not hit him,
But suddenly that part of him that was left behind convulsed in undignified haste.
Writhed like lightning, and was gone
Into the black hole, the earth-lipped fissure in the wall-front,
At which, in the intense still noon, I stared with fascination.

And immediately I regretted it.
I thought how paltry, how ******, what a mean act!
I despised myself and the voices of my accursed human education.

And I thought of the albatross
And I wished he would come back, my snake.

For he seemed to me again like a king,
Like a king in exile, uncrowned in the underworld,
Now due to be crowned again.

And so, I missed my chance with one of the lords
Of life.
And I have something to expiate:
A pettiness.

Taormina, 1923
Nora Mandrus May 2012
Light the lanterns and watch them float higher.
Can I pick out a few stars and hold them?
Can I bask in their light and their fire?
Tonight I vow these stars will not grow dim.
The dark blue sky is an endless canvas.
I plan to paint my life in its blank space.
The cold, brisk air brings about a clearness
My mind empties as I walk my own pace.
The music that comes through my headphones gives
Me a purpose and the darkness of the
Night gives me the strength and want to forgive.
City lights cannot vie with a nova.
The sun will come tomorrow but I will
Be looking for the first star from the sill.
Heather Feb 2012
A year ago today...you took my heart, you took my soul, you took everything I had and created love.
Nights so magical, no one could ever forget.

Kisses so sweet it's unexplainable.

Every broken piece I had, you made whole again and I cannot look down on you.
When I thought I was lost, you pulled me back and showed me great things I cannot even begin to fathom.

A year ago today...I fell in love so madly, so deeply, so unforgettable

You make me laugh, you make me cry, you make me things I cannot write.

A year ago today...a year ago today...those four words make so much come to mind:

Love, hate, happiness, loneliness, clearness, confusion, anger, wonder.....hate?

A year ago today...and I have not stopped falling...and I don't think I ever will

A year ago today...I can't stop writing it...

Come back to me...come back
and make it just today

Today...the day
I fall in love again
anastasiad Dec 2016
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Jack Jenkins Apr 2016
Wait for my silence to speak, it will be quite clear.
Sit and stay awhile, and let your mind clear.
Look through the scope; see the stars! The sky is so clear.
See my heart? You can look through it because it's clear.
You know that I love you, because it's abundantly clear.
winter sakuras Sep 2018
Neurons travel and wind
around your head like
draping tree branches, Christmas lights,
strings of tangled red yarn
weaving a possible
fate.

When the cords are
simply content with
remaining relatively still,
being with you
is like
sailing on smooth,
tranquil, clear blue waters
of a vast, magnificent
ocean,
a blossomed sunset
in the distance
dripping on white, sandy shores
of an island of lost paradise
awaiting our arrival.

But when the cords
flail and twist, tying each other
into knots and cutting off
the clearness
and levelheadedness of thought,
being with you
is like
trying to hang on to
the back of a typhoon,
frigid black waters flailing,
crashing against
foamy, thick quicksand,
roars and curses of a
tyrant sea god
raging seas of water against
the skies,
rapidly expelling
hurtful, sharp anchors and lunging
them to the bottom
of our sandy beds.

And I wonder
what it would be like had I
possessed more
powerful features
as your sea goddess,
as the moon and stars
from above,
and the sandy beds
below that would
catch both
hurtful anchors and
salty tears
you let loose.
09/01/18

When loved ones around you are content, sometimes it feels like what you have then is enough.
Then sometimes when they abrupt with anger, sometimes you feel hopeless as to what plays out as a result.
Heike Borgard Jul 2014
as fortune turned his back on him
and hope got out of sight
the sun eclisped and love escaped
into the fading light
all on his own, betrayed, alone
no one even near
had denied the truth for too long
he stood and froze in fear

His silent screams remained unheard
they just died away
than finally he lost his faith
his whole world turned to grey
Shades of pale, diffuse light
colourless and dim
soundless echoes, ghosts of the past
whispering to him

How could he leave this zone of grey
He started to walk paths of shadow
substance blurred, he went astray
and for every step he stumbled on
he had to give a piece of his soul away

soon he'll be a wraith himself
last tribute left to give was his fear
awakening clearness stroke him hard
this would not be his end – not here

Ravishing beauty, colourful shades
how could he have been so wrong?
ignoring the welcome that twilight did offer
this was the place where he belonged
embraced the twilight, felt libidious power
recreated, completed, transformed
into someone new
but Twilight's kiss demands its own price
Now he'll be haunting you.
( © Heike Borgard 2014)
Yenson Aug 2018
Let us Rise and Rejoice for the Wise Controllers of the Streets
Please give praise for the Keepers of Asinine Righteousness
Who have the power to read our minds easy as giving sweets
Esteemed Professors who are  World Experts with Greatness
In Neuro-linguistic programming and know all the upbeats

For example anybody with working eyes can see with no cheats
The woman's complexions is not Black even without clearness
Alas I make a joke and  lightheartedly say its Black in mirths
Nobel NLP Programmers jump in glee and frenzied eagerness
That is Trigger to void progressive actions with that lady petite

So Professors et vacuous masses devoid of brains go on heats
Sprinkling Blacks all over in project as useless as their dumbness
Tell not dorks I do not see her as black in any way but a tease
Another deluded wasted efforts from the addicted mindlesses
The poor lass graced with honey-gold skin tone is not for meets

Crass semi-illiterates play mind games on levels of bog peats
Psychotic obsessed nonentities with deluded tendentiousness
As if there's a meeting of minds with piffling anodyne greats
Dumbos declaring we are playing with your mind in earness
Show me how a genius compares with Quixotic foolishness
Does a mind riddled, ravaged and stressed with insignificant nonsensical
mediocrity writes like the produced poems so far. Who is drawn into the Narcissism of arrogant ignorant, debauched, redundant ex-colonialism remnants, seeking Authoritative validation by its inglorious serfdom's,  trying to cling to some last Hooray! Bargain basement bullies drunk on insignificance in faux non-power tripping. Contemptible s galore...yesterdays. peoples, yesterdays shame.
Apologies to all my true and decent contemporaries of all races, who share exclusions with me from this charade of idiots, by idiots for idiots....love you all.
Genevieve H Mar 2014
Your words are warm
but there's a sense
of coldness, clearness
between us.

We're frozen shut;
both world-weary
holding each other's
icicle hands

unable to thaw
but freeze together
a blanket of frost
between us.
No, no! Go from me. I have left her lately.
I will not spoil my sheath with lesser brightness,
For my surrounding air hath a new lightness;
Slight are her arms, yet they have bound me straitly
And left me cloaked as with a gauze of æther;
As with sweet leaves; as with subtle clearness.
Oh, I have picked up magic in her nearness
To sheathe me half in half the things that sheathe her.
No, no! Go from me. I have still the flavour,
Soft as spring wind that’s come from birchen bowers.
Green come the shoots, aye April in the branches,
As winter’s wound with her sleight hand she staunches,
Hath of the trees a likeness of the savour:
As white as their bark, so white this lady’s hours.
i Apr 2014
when hot water runs,
and it relaxes your shoulders,
try not to get shampoo in
your already watery eyes.
because if those white bubbles
that are dripping from your hair,
get in your eyes,
it is positive that it will
sting and burn,
until it gets the attention needed,
but not even the coldest water
can get it back to its
previous clearness.
Stand still, and I will read to thee
A lecture, love, in love's philosophy.
      These three hours that we have spent,
      Walking here, two shadows went
Along with us, which we ourselves produc'd.
But, now the sun is just above our head,
      We do those shadows tread,
      And to brave clearness all things are reduc'd.
So whilst our infant loves did grow,
Disguises did, and shadows, flow
From us, and our cares; but now 'tis not so.
That love has not attain'd the high'st degree,
Which is still diligent lest others see.

Except our loves at this noon stay,
We shall new shadows make the other way.
      As the first were made to blind
      Others, these which come behind
Will work upon ourselves, and blind our eyes.
If our loves faint, and westwardly decline,
      To me thou, falsely, thine,
      And I to thee mine actions shall disguise.
The morning shadows wear away,
But these grow longer all the day;
But oh, love's day is short, if love decay.
Love is a growing, or full constant light,
And his first minute, after noon, is night.
I'm a captured tooth nerve
amalgam appeased
restrained in containment
by my keeper
then I can be a prisoner
escaping the jail
my warder has lost
the keys of control
on dark days
my fathoms swirl
in murky mass
infused with blinding kelp
on good days
my porthole shows
clearness of eye
the glass reflects well
just to confuse
my ores composition
is misunderstood
the translation
metamorphic
changing
minute by minute
hour by hour
these ones are buggers
my microscope
isn't good with definition
will I or wont I
who knows
my borders are contested
being diplomatic
I make pacts and treaties
no monicker is required
the tried and tested
gentleman's agreement
that will do  
my margins
can be thick or thin
comments fit in
usually they range
between
insult and praise
depending on the mood
I oft go to open cut mines
to find common minerals
which are useful on a daily basis
real effort is called for
when I delve into deep shafts
sometimes gems are quarried
precious ones to behold
well enough said
a letter is to be written
dear meditative home
we're returning soon
if we're delayed
after hours
p.s. leave the porch light on
William A Poppen Dec 2017
Like a newborn
I am stimulated
By whatever is near

Discombobulated
Things become unfathomable
I’m unable to grasp
My surroundings

What is near and
What is far?

Distractions flow
Like tattered streamers
Waving from a
Parade float heading
To the junkyard

With blurs all around
Life becomes like
Circular bands of light
Emanating from streetlights
Along a foggy riverside highway

Whenever lucidness invades
Life seems simple,
And I realize
it is simple

All that is required
Is to traverse
Layer upon layer
Of  events and missions
Difficult to accomplish
Is life complicated or simple or a combination of the two?
Hal Loyd Denton Oct 2012
She stood under the bluest heaven at first she was just clothed in the latest smart fashion as our eyes
Met it was the genesis of love picturesque a slow lazy slow cloud drifted into view a piece of this white
Chiffon texture descended rested on her shoulders and then like a drape being lowered flowed down
Her body and dream like hundreds of grey doves flew up all around her making the sky a tender loving
Grey where your thoughts find the sweetest release at that moment I couldn’t discern if my heart had a
Fluttering sensation or was it the doves wings making such a sound did they all coo in unison that
Perfect conditioning that floats to you when one is near and it overshadows all the scenes and place
Instantly all is pleasing with such clearness the rest of the world stops to give this natural wonder a
Reverberating wonder or was it her voice soothing as water softly flowing and falling over placid rocks
Music drawing air and sun in a mixture at first as if to collapse but then it swells as if from the deepest
Well or was it the pools her richest brown eyes afforded to try and stand on a solid footing impossible
As fruit is welcomed by gravity and pulled from the tendrils there is no escape it is the plunge then the
Basking first it is just her surface experiences that attract with curiosity but then the inner warmth
Of the soul is felt luxuriant her heart you feel its strong pulsating beat enthralled you travel to beauty’s
Inner Sanctum here the strength of her femininity charged and with aliveness shoots the most delightful
Rays into your heart and mind the sweetest delirium carries you to isles of bliss you are elevated to a
King by her wishes alone your former heart of stone now melts into ecstasy of thought and knowing
Yearnings pass you to throngs of unquenchable longing together you stand under the beating water of
The water fall it flows on out into the dry waste land you occupied only moments before I just described
The outer smallest details of falling in love words are too limited to tell the whole story that would
Explain Why guys sometimes become speechless try to harness a raging river bare handed and then try
To describe it at the same time impossible just find a special someone and enjoy the ride of a lifetime
Hal Loyd Denton Jan 2014
From the movement of bright water dancing what surprise pleasure there is flood and white
Water rafting gentle falling rain or the more memorizing gray mist by its draping cloak normal
Surroundings become mystical but for timeless enhancement to appear in water and light and
The smallest movement to the soul it is an entry way into beauty comfort and the perfect
Amount of dazzle a mere kiss from nature that embodies sanctuary a certain amount of
Disbelief but it is the boldest statement from awareness you can shift your body and soul along
This gilded avenue we didn’t even mention ice and its hold on the imagination it stands to
Reason when the earth is covered by three quarters of its surface by water then the two
Extremes that is evident in tears that can be sorrow or joy the practical reality is that even tears
Of sorrow are curative in their nature they are the only thing that is strong enough to engage
Pain and loneliness they give it crystal clearness a lucid endowment you are given the freedom
To seek and find the answer that will turn back even a tidal wave of grief if windows can be
Rendered magical by the presence of rain upon their surface much glory will be found when
You look out at the world with your eyes filled with tears the spirit has raised from great depths
Now it is free flowing suspended behind these eyes of blessedness the greatest earthly power
Exist the human mind distillation ability to capture wonder be amazed at the sight of a butterfly
Especially when it is only the briefest spectacle that follows on to give portent and complete
Knowledge of spring itself streams waterfalls a panorama that glistens that bulges and thrills
With all matter of life blossoms flowers that are never more intriguing when they have the cast
Of moisture on them fragrance is wafting in all directions of the earth’s domain the sight and
Sounds of a new born calf its fragile state it bawls for mother and the life she provides you are
The sum total of all this were you not created as the top masterpiece with a word or a smile
And Just the tilt of your head you are splashing generating emotional waves that all humans
Crave By sunlight and moonlight you are the power that banishes heartfelt hurts when you look
In the Mirror you’re the essence of true life a new field that is budding the crowning
Achievement of a Holy contract that is established in the earth for this reason happiness is
Yours to express and invest in each life you can give at this level and not be greatly rewarded
You were not made a slave but as a fount and a treasure of purist water too continuously
Provide climate control through you life will never be a desert but a garden for all to flourish
and reach their potential
RMatheson Aug 2012
I'm having fists of laughter, daisy-cutter dreams in formaldehyde,
creating the worlds most loved sport by kicking the heads of Danes.

Mutually assured corruption I can feel
creeping down the inside of my nostril,
across my tiny hairs,
but I am still, let it come;
it runs out and onto my lips. I **** its mercurial
clearness down.

I was born without fingernails or teeth,
forever stuck gumming the soft pink nail beds.

I keep everyone out of my life;
it is the only way to justify never seeing you.
Desiccant children pour from their mothers' laps
as if they were clear beads from that little paper shoe box packet.

You are an apricot full of sand;
I am a Mongol stealing maidenheads.

A peach is a rose -
deep inside
drips cyanide.
Nicole Dawn Jun 2015
Who says depression
Must be gray?

It's not

I see red
In the blood
From my cuts

I see,
Blues, greens, purples
In the bruises
From the
"Accidents"

I see white clearness
In the tears
From the sadness

I see orange and yellow
From the hot
Bursts of pain

So take it from me,
Depression
Is not simply
*Gray
Beleif Jul 2014
Coexistence
V


What did they see?
They felt disbelief.
What didn't they know?
My clearness was shown.

What didn't they see?
A world beyond their peaks.
What I could have owned,
That struck them unknown?

What I've failed to see;
What they've failed to believe.
They brought forth their ignorance,
Bestowed upon me.

Motionless, I lay.
Surrounded by ghosts of ice.
Spiritless, I venture.
And cleverness,
I display.
She fell asleep on Christmas Eve:
      At length the long-ungranted shade
      Of weary eyelids overweigh’d
The pain nought else might yet relieve.

Our mother, who had lean’d all day
      Over the bed from chime to chime,
      Then rais’d herself for the first time,
And as she sat her down, did pray.

Her little work-table was spread
      With work to finish. For the glare
      Made by her candle, she had care
To work some distance from the bed.

Without, there was a cold moon up,
      Of winter radiance sheer and thin;
      The hollow halo it was in
Was like an icy crystal cup.

Through the small room, with subtle sound
      Of flame, by vents the fireshine drove
      And redden’d. In its dim alcove
The mirror shed a clearness round.

I had been sitting up some nights,
      And my tired mind felt weak and blank;
      Like a sharp strengthening wine it drank
The stillness and the broken lights.

Twelve struck. That sound, by dwindling years
      Heard in each hour, crept off; and then
      The ruffled silence spread again,
Like water that a pebble stirs.

Our mother rose from where she sat:
      Her needles, as she laid them down,
      Met lightly, and her silken gown
Settled: no other noise than that.

“Glory unto the Newly Born!”
      So, as said angels, she did say;
      Because we were in Christmas Day,
Though it would still be long till morn.

Just then in the room over us
      There was a pushing back of chairs,
      As some who had sat unawares
So late, now heard the hour, and rose.

With anxious softly-stepping haste
      Our mother went where Margaret lay,
      Fearing the sounds o’erhead—should they
Have broken her long watch’d-for rest!

She stoop’d an instant, calm, and turn’d;
      But suddenly turn’d back again;
      And all her features seem’d in pain
With woe, and her eyes gaz’d and yearn’d.

For my part, I but hid my face,
      And held my breath, and spoke no word:
      There was none spoken; but I heard
The silence for a little space.

Our mother bow’d herself and wept:
      And both my arms fell, and I said,
      “God knows I knew that she was dead.”
And there, all white, my sister slept.

Then kneeling, upon Christmas morn
      A little after twelve o’clock
      We said, ere the first quarter struck,
  “Christ’s blessing on the newly born!”
Hal Loyd Denton Feb 2013
She stood under the bluest heaven at first she was just clothed in the latest smart fashion as our eyes
Met it was the genesis of love picturesque a slow lazy slow cloud drifted into view a piece of this white
Chiffon texture descended rested on her shoulders and then like a drape being lowered flowed down
Her body and dream like hundreds of grey doves flew up all around her making the sky a tender loving
Grey where your thoughts find the sweetest release at that moment I couldn’t discern if my heart had a
Fluttering sensation or was it the doves wings making such a sound did they all coo in unison that
Perfect conditioning that floats to you when one is near and it overshadows all the scenes and place
Instantly all is pleasing with such clearness the rest of the world stops to give this natural wonder a
Reverberating wonder or was it her voice soothing as water softly flowing and falling over placid rocks
Music drawing air and sun in a mixture at first as if to collapse but then it swells as if from the deepest
Well or was it the pools her richest brown eyes afforded to try and stand on a solid footing impossible
As fruit is welcomed by gravity and pulled from the tendrils there is no escape it is the plunge then the
Basking first it is just her surface experiences that attract with curiosity but then the inner warmth
Of the soul is felt luxuriant her heart you feel its strong pulsating beat enthralled you travel to beauty’s
Inner Sanctum here the strength of her femininity charged and with aliveness shoots the most delightful
Rays into your heart and mind the sweetest delirium carries you to isles of bliss you are elevated to a
King by her wishes alone your former heart of stone now melts into ecstasy of thought and knowing
Yearnings pass you to throngs of unquenchable longing together you stand under the beating water of
The water fall it flows on out into the dry waste land you occupied only moments before I just described
The outer smallest details of falling in love words are too limited to tell the whole story that would
Explain Why guys sometimes become speechless try to harness a raging river bare handed and then try
To describe it at the same time impossible just find a special someone and enjoy the ride of a lifetime
Walking again
in evening dusk
it is a must

walking through immense wonders
poetrysites, poetryhomes and all that wonders
need to walk this evening bright
see the afterglow in the ditch alright

greet Hello Poetry and Hello Friend
walking through this immense land
who will I meet, who shall I greet?
where, what and when I'll tweet

all poetryhomes I have been
not really many sites I have seen
sad sound, mad sound, all insane
hellooooo oh no not that again!

walking through this endless land
looking for the right poetryman
afraid I must give up this time
no not again poetry sublime

the evening dusk lasts nightless long
what was that song, what had gone wrong
must I not do this walk or not...?
irgendwo I have a friend, but forgot

in this endless meadowland
just see a tippy-bit of gland
where is that ditch from far a stitch
with enough water and which
this is the source of health

finding it, oh what a wealth!
the afterglow is still the same
where is that source, is this a game?
oh, there at quite a distance
I can see with no resistance

oh so sorry, that man has run away
so, no poetryman this way
but where is the source now
clear chrystal water with that glow

oh look, the source...wow!
surely I'll find that bestimmt now
approaching the ditch that clear water
I hope it shall not alter
anymore into red water

bow myself into deepness
and see the beauty of clearness
wow, clear chrystal source
I see someone, please don't force

oh...hello....no one.....is it?
oh hello....feel so stupid
there is someone, it is Sylvie
now you know it, it's Hello me...


© Sylvia Frances Chan
saturday 13-04-13
@22.31 hrs p.m.- W.E.Time
Hal Loyd Denton Apr 2013
From the movement of bright water dancing what surprise pleasure there is flood and white
Water rafting gentle falling rain or the more memorizing gray mist by its draping cloak normal
Surroundings become mystical but for timeless enhancement to appear in water and light and
The smallest movement to the soul it is an entry way into beauty comfort and the perfect
Amount of dazzle a mere kiss from nature that embodies sanctuary a certain amount of
Disbelief but it is the boldest statement from awareness you can shift your body and soul along
This gilded avenue we didn’t even mention ice and its hold on the imagination it stands to
Reason when the earth is covered by three quarters of its surface by water then the two
Extremes that is evident in tears that can be sorrow or joy the practical reality is that even tears
Of sorrow are curative in their nature they are the only thing that is strong enough to engage
Pain and loneliness they give it crystal clearness a lucid endowment you are given the freedom
To seek and find the answer that will turn back even a tidal wave of grief if windows can be
Rendered magical by the presence of rain upon their surface much glory will be found when
You look out at the world with your eyes filled with tears the spirit has raised from great depths
Now it is free flowing suspended behind these eyes of blessedness the greatest earthly power
Exist the human mind distillation ability to capture wonder be amazed at the sight of a butterfly
Especially when it is only the briefest spectacle that follows on to give portent and complete
Knowledge of spring itself streams waterfalls a panorama that glistens that bulges and thrills
With all matter of life blossoms flowers that are never more intriguing when they have the cast
Of moisture on them fragrance is wafting in all directions of the earth’s domain the sight and
Sounds of a new born calf its fragile state it bawls for mother and the life she provides you are
The sum total of all this were you not created as the top masterpiece with a word or a smile
And Just the tilt of your head you are splashing generating emotional waves that all humans
Crave By sunlight and moonlight you are the power that banishes heartfelt hurts when you look
In the Mirror you’re the essence of true life a new field that is budding the crowning
Achievement of a Holy contract that is established in the earth for this reason happiness is
Yours to express and invest in each life you can give at this level and not be greatly rewarded
You were not made a slave but as a fount and a treasure of purist water too continuously
Provide climate control through you life will never be a desert but a garden for all to flourish
and reach their potential
Leanna Miller Oct 2015
An evening after a sweet summer rain
Brings a provisions I cannot explain

A scent of after rain dew
Bring fulfillment to greenery anew

The sun in the west has set
An evening of renewal to never forget

Clouds break apart and wither away
There is clearness to the firmament, I say

The stars come and appear so bright
The calmness of the air feels so right

The coolness of a tranquil breeze
Puts my racing feelings at ease

Darkness has filled the sky, a dark blue
And twinkles of happiness, the stars are new

The summer stillness, the gentle wind
Sends me to God in which I depend.
Hal Loyd Denton Nov 2013
She stood under the bluest heaven at first she was just clothed in the latest smart fashion as our eyes
Met it was the genesis of love picturesque a slow lazy slow cloud drifted into view a piece of this white
Chiffon texture descended rested on her shoulders and then like a drape being lowered flowed down
Her body and dream like hundreds of grey doves flew up all around her making the sky a tender loving
Grey where your thoughts find the sweetest release at that moment I couldn’t discern if my heart had a
Fluttering sensation or was it the doves wings making such a sound did they all coo in unison that
Perfect conditioning that floats to you when one is near and it overshadows all the scenes and place
Instantly all is pleasing with such clearness the rest of the world stops to give this natural wonder a
Reverberating wonder or was it her voice soothing as water softly flowing and falling over placid rocks
Music drawing air and sun in a mixture at first as if to collapse but then it swells as if from the deepest
Well or was it the pools her richest brown eyes afforded to try and stand on a solid footing impossible
As fruit is welcomed by gravity and pulled from the tendrils there is no escape it is the plunge then the
Basking first it is just her surface experiences that attract with curiosity but then the inner warmth
Of the soul is felt luxuriant her heart you feel its strong pulsating beat enthralled you travel to beauty’s
Inner Sanctum here the strength of her femininity charged and with aliveness shoots the most delightful
Rays into your heart and mind the sweetest delirium carries you to isles of bliss you are elevated to a
King by her wishes alone your former heart of stone now melts into ecstasy of thought and knowing
Yearnings pass you to throngs of unquenchable longing together you stand under the beating water of
The water fall it flows on out into the dry waste land you occupied only moments before I just described
The outer smallest details of falling in love words are too limited to tell the whole story that would
Explain Why guys sometimes become speechless try to harness a raging river bare handed and then try
To describe it at the same time impossible just find a special someone and enjoy the ride of a lifetime
Heart-affluence in discursive talk
  From household fountains never dry;
  The critic clearness of an eye,
That saw thro' all the Muses' walk;

Seraphic intellect and force
  To seize and throw the doubts of man;
  Impassion'd logic, which outran
The hearer in its fiery course;

High nature amorous of the good,
  But touch'd with no ascetic gloom;
  And passion pure in snowy bloom
Thro' all the years of April blood;

A love of freedom rarely felt,
  Of freedom in her regal seat
  Of England; not the schoolboy heat,
The blind hysterics of the Celt;

And manhood fused with female grace
  In such a sort, the child would twine
  A trustful hand, unask'd, in thine,
And find his comfort in thy face;

All these have been, and thee mine eyes
  Have look'd on: if they look'd in vain,
  My shame is greater who remain,
Nor let thy wisdom make me wise.
This truth came borne with bier and pall,
  I felt it, when I sorrow'd most,
  'Tis better to have loved and lost,
Than never to have loved at all--

O true in word, and tried in deed,
  Demanding, so to bring relief
  To this which is our common grief,
What kind of life is that I lead;

And whether trust in things above
  Be dimm'd of sorrow, or sustain'd;
  And whether love for him have drain'd
My capabilities of love;

Your words have virtue such as draws
  A faithful answer from the breast,
  Thro' light reproaches, half exprest,
And loyal unto kindly laws.

My blood an even tenor kept,
  Till on mine ear this message falls,
  That in Vienna's fatal walls
God's finger touch'd him, and he slept.

The great Intelligences fair
  That range above our mortal state,
  In circle round the blessed gate,
Received and gave him welcome there;

And led him thro' the blissful climes,
  And show'd him in the fountain fresh
  All knowledge that the sons of flesh
Shall gather in the cycled times.

But I remained, whose hopes were dim,
  Whose life, whose thoughts were little worth,
  To wander on a darkened earth,
Where all things round me breathed of him.

O friendship, equal poised control,
  O heart, with kindliest motion warm,
  O sacred essence, other form,
O solemn ghost, O crowned soul!

Yet none could better know than I,
  How much of act at human hands
  The sense of human will demands
By which we dare to live or die.

Whatever way my days decline,
  I felt and feel, tho' left alone,
  His being working in mine own,
The footsteps of his life in mine;

A life that all the Muses decked
  With gifts of grace, that might express
  All comprehensive tenderness,
All-subtilising intellect:

And so my passion hath not swerved
  To works of weakness, but I find
  An image comforting the mind,
And in my grief a strength reserved.

Likewise the imaginative woe,
  That loved to handle spiritual strife,
  Diffused the shock thro' all my life,
But in the present broke the blow.

My pulses therefore beat again
  For other friends that once I met;
  Nor can it suit me to forget
The mighty hopes that make us men.

I woo your love: I count it crime
  To mourn for any overmuch;
  I, the divided half of such
A friendship as had master'd Time;

Which masters Time indeed, and is
  Eternal, separate from fears:
  The all-assuming months and years
Can take no part away from this:

But Summer on the steaming floods,
  And Spring that swells the narrow brooks,
  And Autumn, with a noise of rooks,
That gather in the waning woods,

And every pulse of wind and wave
  Recalls, in change of light or gloom,
  My old affection of the tomb,
And my prime passion in the grave:

My old affection of the tomb,
  A part of stillness, yearns to speak:
  'Arise, and get thee forth and seek
A friendship for the years to come.

'I watch thee from the quiet shore;
  Thy spirit up to mine can reach;
  But in dear words of human speech
We two communicate no more.'

And I, 'Can clouds of nature stain
  The starry clearness of the free?
  How is it? Canst thou feel for me
Some painless sympathy with pain?'

And lightly does the whisper fall;
  ''Tis hard for thee to fathom this;
  I triumph in conclusive bliss,
And that serene result of all.'

So hold I commerce with the dead;
  Or so methinks the dead would say;
  Or so shall grief with symbols play
And pining life be fancy-fed.

Now looking to some settled end,
  That these things pass, and I shall prove
  A meeting somewhere, love with love,
I crave your pardon, O my friend;

If not so fresh, with love as true,
  I, clasping brother-hands aver
  I could not, if I would, transfer
The whole I felt for him to you.

For which be they that hold apart
  The promise of the golden hours?
  First love, first friendship, equal powers,
That marry with the ****** heart.

Still mine, that cannot but deplore,
  That beats within a lonely place,
  That yet remembers his embrace,
But at his footstep leaps no more,

My heart, tho' widow'd, may not rest
  Quite in the love of what is gone,
  But seeks to beat in time with one
That warms another living breast.

Ah, take the imperfect gift I bring,
  Knowing the primrose yet is dear,
  The primrose of the later year,
As not unlike to that of Spring.
Leila Valencia Jun 2015
The mountain clearness
Isn't going to shift the mountain's vagueness
The steering eyes cant dip into another cloud
And we cant walk out again on their lives
A bitten howl has struck another chord in humanity
Freedom is the security that creates insanity
The Fickle hearts that smear threats on the infants hands
I believe in humanity
I don't believe in a single human

I wish for a night that the mountain's grip can hold us over
I shrink into a flower to be plucked because I am afraid
I think blood is an excuse for violence and violene is an excuse for war
We don't look in our eyes to find light
We turn the night into a fire under cars
Beeping. Burning. Bursting. Buzzing. Blasting

Fear and terror thickens the lump in my throat and cuts a circle from my organs
It is scary to think we are just humans, the same humans capable of the exctition of ourselves.

I wish to all of those out there. In fear. I will help.
I will do all that I can.
These are not just words. This is a promise.
Im dedicating my life to help others.
In the basement sand is melting.

Imagine that, millions of years of crustaceous love stories, rocks slowly poisoned until they, along with ancient deep sea lovers, washed ashore to become the nuisance of the crevices of leather seats of automobiles.

In the basement the rocky lobster lovers are taking new shape as
the girl in the goggles
with the hair
tied back into a bun
forces air from her lungs into the
sticky
clearness.

That can’t be very good for you, breathing in a million
(maybe more)
years of betrayal and ****** and friendship and laughter
between ***** and clams.
It can’t be healthy to take
in so much at once.

I wonder what it’s like to speak a language known by so few.
To walk down an aisle in the supermarket and reaching the curves of a coca-cola bottle,
the girl in the glasses
with the bun
cries uncontrollably yelling,
“Do you see that?
All the beauty and the sadness
in the waves of molten sand in
six little bottles.”
To give your soul a little clear house, letting everyone look inside
(without really seeing)
letting everyone walk around it, and nodding and saying
“Oh will you see what she did there?”
and seeing nothing but a misshapen
coca-cola bottle.

In the basement backbones are being melted into a new mold.

They are somewhere hidden in the waves I cannot read, amidst the million years I cannot hear of crustaceous love stories.
AW Sep 2014
Suddenly it’s rising
Like an instant onset storm
Wind speeds reaching all-time highs
As new words rush to form

Sentences that breathe their life
Into every fiber of my senses
Phrases offering their fists to
Knock down my heart’s defenses

Rolling clouds in an ominous sky
Rearranging my every thought,
Exposing me to the truths of life
With a striking thunderbolt

But blowing over as abruptly
As when they first appeared
Leaving me a clearness of mind,
Neither expected nor willed

‘Cause in the whirlwind, in the storm
Is when the syllables roll
Ready to be plucked from the sky,
Form an outlet for my soul

But now the wind is dying down
And leaves don’t even rustle
Inspiration passed me by
And left me in a dust bowl
Inspired by https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=86x-u-tz0MA
Watch from 10:11 until 11:44 or, better yet, entirely.
Ayllon Chalif Feb 2014
I'm walking around in a endless circle
No longer breathing my face is now purple
It seems as if my struggle is eternal
Immortal
I'm falling
I try to catch myself and fail
I try to continue but always bail
If I'm not good enough for anyone
How could I be good enough for myself
Living day by day in my own personal hell
Reach out for help and it's only temporary
Shivering in my skin high
I'll **** myself if you dare me
Am I crazy or ****** up
Is there a difference?
I'm afraid I'm out of luck
Lacking brilliance
My soul and mind have to much difference
So far apart not an ounce of clearness
Mentally exhausted I have no interest
My heart is closing up, someone help
I'm falling apart, someone help
I can't go on, someone help
I want to die, someone help
And once again
No help in hell
B Zells May 2014
Pinch yourself, resist the slip;
Give your body breaks on leather wakes.
Take stock within coal seams that quake.
Criss-croos, mis’lign and jump again.

Letting off the city sleep,
Or, mattress stuck in toxic seats;
A drug, it soaks as wheat, it eats.
A dream, it’s known, they start at ends.

Blinking eyes at whorling lies,
Or, telling words and shepherds’ herds;
Clearness burns within absurd.
Criss-cross, mis’lign and jump again.

America the beautiful,
Or, Greek and Roman, British rule;
In vain, it pays to play the fool.
Daedalus: nine. Peninsula: dead.

***-aware , oo, era waxes;
Left and vexed, et al. complex, or,
Desperate: long to reach, connect.
Criss-cross, mis’lign and jump again.

A drunken wind, with knees to head;
New lovers heat to keep you fed,
Whether spilling wine or breaking bread:
An outlet towards which light shall bend.

Oh, take it out, or bring it in.
The spin and glow of broken snow.
What the cat drags in it’s hard to show.
Criss-cross, mis’lign and jump again.

Swept away with moving floors,
With secrets kept behind closed doors;
Move and seep in/out of pores.
Close those ears and play pretend.

Drawn in by the waters pull.
The belly aches, but it’s not full.
Tides ripping through that which was stole.
Criss-cross, mis’lign and jump again.

Come lumber through the urban nest;
Inside these heads: infinite jest.
Expand, progress, all to the west!
Say, no man stands to this extent.
©2014 B. Zells. This piece may never be complete, and the editing done to it over time may exceed its worth, but, right now, I'm happy to share it. Enjoy!
Savannah N Dec 2014
he slipped his fingers
through the crack in the door
looked around
behind his shoulder
he shifted his eyes side to side
someone should have told him
they noticed
he brought his knee up
to his chin
or his chin down to his knee
and with that, cracked the door
and slipped out
locking the door behind him he thought he locked his mind
the warmth still pulsed behind him
and he heard the baby cry
his ******* lingered behind
him on the ****
come on, come on
my man
come on

he was taught to keep his eyes wide open
never narrow his glance for that which he might miss
and for that he lived a fallacy with that woman
he lived just for her breath
until his own paled in comparison
people lie when they say he left because of the times
that he is a summation of statistic
because he left for what he was taught
a gross misunderstanding
of generations
of disfigured parables
which left him rewired and not suited
for this life or any life
poor husk

but his fingers fell away from the ****
and he ran
so far that the world wept
his feet bloodied
when people asked where he was from
there were moments of clearness and he felt
his time was not wasted
but it was impossible to know it
he could see things like no one else
and it was his job to write them down
and so he did
until his fingers crumbled

time got by
time got in the way
shoved down his throat
he gurgled and spit up his shame
it burned a hole in his belly
until he could stomach it no more
and
threw up a map
he stared at its edges in his calloused hands
and he knew the place, his next destination
he followed it back
a path which burned with every retraced step
and the world wept
but this time for a different reason
his ******* found the familiar ****
he looked around
behind his shoulder
he shifted his eyes from side to side
slipped his fingers through the crack and stepped inside
someone should have told him
they noticed

he's staring at the bottom of a boot
he can feel his lower teeth
stuck through his lip and
he wants to cry out
my baby boy
he lowered his head and
for the first time felt what he had done
md-writer Mar 2016
I’m sick of it,
The blasted hordes like dried-out gourds
Screaming, cawing for more water.
Feed the flesh, delight the eyes
Give us our shining fantasy. With flippancy
Strip down past all the layers of
My skill my voice my person,
And then take me, break me, make me
Into someone I am not.
Into something that is not.

Pull the paints out.
Imperfections had their day
Yesterday.
Today we’re going all the way.
Make or break you,
Take and shape you:
Tonight you’ll be the idol of the world.

Set the lights, hold your poise.
There’s a goddess on the stage tonight.
Not a person. Not a voice.
It’s the *** doll’s dance tonight.

But we’ll call it art.

I’m sick of it,
The cursed curve,
Numbers up, so clothes come down; and to think I started out
So innocent.
But the eye of the tiger is broken,
The clearness of crystal is crushed -

and those shards just make the perfect dress!

Crystalize, sterilize,
Put me on a different plane.
Separate, distillate,
Don’t let them see your pain.
“If you have to show you’re broken,
It’s gotta be so you can gain.”
Strip away. Everything.
Don’t show them who you really are.
We need an image for the covers
Not a person. Not a windowpane
Into your soul.

So break free, defying,
Undying.
You’re like a god.
No more trying. True flying
Means no more rules for me.
Don’t let them try to
Defy you:

You are now allowed to breathe free.

But only if you push the line. Flaunt your paints and shine your sparkles, leave behind your decency. You stand before a watching globe It is your job to entertain. So really, you are not your own.

The masses are the masters, though they pay.

So no, there’s no way out for you. There’s only forward
Which is downward. And no chance
To just be you. Because
Your freedom isn’t free.

They just can’t take a faulty human. It would be a let-down,
A break-down.
So let us shove you in a box.
Tell you how you have to be.
If you’re gonna keep your money
And your parody of free.
Then take the stage
Play the part.
There’s no more music
No more art.
Just a mad house, a cat house
Diced up platters serving meat.
Kiss my chains, take my gains,
For all my pains
I still ain’t free.

But still. We’ll call it art.
Can we all just take a moment to hate on the modern music industry (fed and created by the general consensus of consumption) and the abuse it puts (especially female) artists through?

— The End —