"cobwebs" poems
mining till day
In bajan we must and bacca we trust
never going to brake bedrock
enchanting diamond sword
crafting table
rpmx13
asfjerome
flaming arrows
traping in cobwebs
Jun 3, 2014
Jun 3, 2014 at 11:28 AM UTC
Babels of blocks to the high heavens towering
Flames of futility swirling below;
Poisonous fungi in brick and stone flowering,
Lanterns that shudder and death-lights that glow.
Black monstrous bridges across oily rivers,
Cobwebs of cable to nameless things spun;
Catacomb deeps whose dank chaos delivers
Streams of live foetor that rots in the sun.
Colour and splendour, disease and decaying,
Shrieking and ringing and crawling insane,
Rabbles exotic to stranger-gods praying,
Jumbles of odour that stifle the brain.
Legions of cats from the alleys nocturnal.
Howling and lean in the glare of the moon,
Screaming the future with mouthings infernal,
Yelling the Garden of Pluto's red rune.
Tall towers and pyramids ivy'd and crumbling,
Bats that swoop low in the weed-cumber'd streets;
Bleak Arkham bridges o'er rivers whose rumbling
Joins with no voice as the thick horde retreats.
Belfries that buckle against the moon totter,
Caverns whose mouths are by mosses effac'd,
And living to answer the wind and the water,
Only the lean cats that howl in the wastes.
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It is a land with neither night nor day,
Nor heat nor cold, nor any wind, nor rain,
Nor hills nor valleys; but one even plain
Stretches thro' long unbroken miles away:
While thro' the sluggish air a twilight grey
Broodeth; no moons or seasons wax and wane,
No ebb and flow are there among the main,
No bud-time no leaf-falling there for aye,
No ripple on the sea, no shifting sand,
No beat of wings to stir the stagnant space,
And loveless sea: no trace of days before,
No guarded home, no time-worn restingplace
No future hope no fear forevermore.
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Faith. Hope. Love.
I don't have answers. I don't really know much.
But I know that those things ignite something in your heart, casting away the darkness of fear and regret.
When the cobwebs in the basement are cleared, you find all your old dreams hidden in corners you forgot about.
And when you pound your fist in the dirt, and say enough is enough... I'm not here to survive, I'm here to LIVE... to laugh and play and realize my deepest passions... to find the ocean of joy and invite everyone I know to swim in it with me. To love myself daringly; to dance with the darkness of my fears and invite their lessons in.
Something doesn't have to change. Everything has to change.
I'm not interested in being right anymore.
I'm interested in being ALIVE.
When you commit these things to yourself, and fight for love, for hope, for the adventure of really living all the way... something happens.
Something flips inside you, and heaven begins pounding at your door.
Life has always waited patiently on you to stop waiting patiently.
Adventure isn't around the corner. It's hiding underneath your heart.
Right here. Right now.
Jan 1, 2015
Jan 1, 2015 at 2:07 AM UTC
I am so nervous and excited all at once
I start school tomorrow
I hope I can navigate my way through the site for my on line classes
I hope I will quickly learn what I need to
I yearn to attain new knowledge
I will need to get more organized
I can not disguise that I am not a morning person
I hope with my morning cup of coffee I can make it through
I will need to dust off my thinking cap and resist the temptation to take a nap
I will wipe the cobwebs off my mind and armed with determination everything should work out fine
I am grateful for the new adventure
Sep 7, 2014
Sep 7, 2014 at 6:13 PM UTC
A pebble in a sea of glass
shattered mind raindrops
fragile as broken cobwebs
sun strong and shadow deep
infinite and fleeting
planet sized in the palm of your hand
belief is everything
and nothing at all
Nov 5, 2019
Nov 5, 2019 at 12:12 PM UTC
A vacant room of dark spaces,
where furniture once lay
An empty lot of trash and cracked concrete
Where weeds take root with hopes of becoming trees
And cobwebs span for miles
Worn wind chimes still glisten in sun
Papers of bad handwriting fly with the wind
This place left unoccupied for so much time
Small lives make home in the walls,
While this home settles further beneath dirt
This place reminds me of our forgetfulness, our need to not rebuild
As a place turns old we leave it behind,
never to fix again,
never to feel loved again
Weeping floorboards
Walls crying tears of yellow paint
Roof caving in feeling hollow
Abandoned places
Forgotten
Always forgotten
May 16, 2015
May 16, 2015 at 3:42 PM UTC
Why do I find myself alone and trapped
By the four walls around my mind?
I search for some way to scale them
A rope or ladder I never find.
I did not choose to be in this desperate place
Here where my darkest thoughts are kept
The deepest corners are a lair to pain
Dusty crevices long since swept.
Amongst undisturbed sticky cobwebs
Lies a part of me coated in dust
The tortured memories of nightmares past
Don't want to uncover, know deep down I must.
This house built to harbor hatred and hurt
Changed from a home to a prison cell
Halls that used to be a welcome escape
Have instead transformed into an exitless hell.
May 8, 2018
May 8, 2018 at 1:44 PM UTC
A most pious man
whose well-tempered music
brushed the cobwebs
from the throne of God
Evolution was made manifest
across deep time
these lyrical figures
achieve the same purpose
in the space between the morning star
and the dawn
A fallow field
is sewn with pearls
a moonlit beach
illuminated by shadow
every scrape of the fiddler's bow
merges mind with the present
harvests the meaning
in the moment
The composer
that good man
was
for a time
church organist at St. John's
its notable steeple leaning
all askew
as a rebuke against God
or perhaps the drunken architect
A finger of candlelight
plays across the manuscript
a fugue echoes
through the still church
And though no living person
on that still winter's night
shares the organist's solemn delight
the stirring mass of possibility
that is posterity
awaits
Oct 9, 2016
Oct 9, 2016 at 5:49 PM UTC
Strong currents flow different ways
From where the bridge was, after the first plunge
Soothed the sun-burnt skin and the hay-splinters
Loosed the straw stuck in ears
After I left you under the porch light
Alone on the other side of the night
Where poplars reached for the moon and stars
And the cows chewed on bits of memory from when
In the cobwebs and calf pens
They were brought to life by your gentle hands
You crossed two worlds to find me in the darkness
But I was not the one you were searching for
You prayed for miracles while
God stood by, arms crossed
Just taking in the sunset and the clouds
Like an old tree beside a grave carefully fenced
To keep it disheveled amid tended fields
Thus the cancer had its way and I could not
Fill the void left in your heart or mine
With no more tears to soften dry leather
I put our hearts on skewers and held them
Over the bridge's burning planks
Too close and they were immolated
Not carefully spun to stay golden and warm inside
So I packed my own hollow heart full of nothing
Filled the passenger seat, until
There was only room for me and the steering wheel
And no way to turn
Mar 5, 2019
Mar 5, 2019 at 6:55 PM UTC
A Mummers Funeral
Time slip't, a careless moment, words without thought or foment.
No smile, no glance, no touch, nor care
none of these things ever so fair,
was thought or brought to share.
I've gaps in my memory,
And holes in my shoes.
not enough time,
Too much *****
Nothing left of strength and toil.
The grapes of wrath? That wasted soil!
But for the Ghosts of Things unsaid,..
Shadows host the Deeds Undone.
Bare walls and plank't floor,
cobwebs of nothing more.
A Home empty; a house.. a shack,
a time-worn agent my soul to wrack.
Shadows flitting through
cobwebs in the corners of my mind, Have taken in my soul to bind..
I've holes in My memory,
And Gaps in my Blues.
Too much time,
And Not enough *****
Dec 31, 2016
Dec 31, 2016 at 8:54 AM UTC
In this space and time, that we call memories,
Eyes closed tight…we wince to recall special moments long gone.
Some, we merely exist to relive, and others are meant for painful lessons learned.
Strumming through the cobwebs, we coerce ourselves through this jaded door,
Only to find, this time, a feeling of sorrow followed by expressions of grief.
Like a bank account, we deposit memories daily,
Some are easily recalled and others are over and done.
It’s those memories that reside within our hearts that cause special remembrance,
And miraculously, we have the ability to morph these from anguish to memories of tranquil joy!
Sending a smile and all my love to you…….. I’ll be watching for you in the stars.
May 17, 2017
May 17, 2017 at 4:50 PM UTC
All lovely things will have an ending,
All lovely things will fade and die,
And youth, that's now so bravely spending,
Will beg a penny by and by.
Fine ladies soon are all forgotten,
And goldenrod is dust when dead,
The sweetest flesh and flowers are rotten
And cobwebs tent the brightest head.
Come back, true love! Sweet youth, return!-
But time goes on, and will, unheeding,
Though hands will reach, and eyes will yearn,
And the wild days set true hearts bleeding.
Come back, true love! Sweet youth, remain!-
But goldenrod and daisies wither,
And over them blows autumn rain,
They pass, they pass, and know not whither.
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I'm no good at this
and my cabin doesn't help.
Decades of dirt and grime,
a decaying outhouse,
cobwebs and insects,
windows nearly opaque:
Cabin, you are lovely,
but you are filthy.
I am in urgent need
of a French maid
(uniform optional)
or maybe just
a compassionate
and tidy friend.
Or, probably, I'll just continue
not to look too closely.
Ah, the bachelor's life!
- mce
Apr 11, 2015
Apr 11, 2015 at 8:07 AM UTC
Sometimes- sometimes there are people that come into our lives who have us thinking that they're both the moon and the sun. We believe they must be part of some greater light that has the ability to fill those dark cracks in our hearts- our very beings, blinding us with their glory... But they aren't.
Actually, they're were just dust that got swept into our eyes, making everything blurry and more difficult to see. Causing our blindness. And, all that time, they were really just filling our cracks with cobwebs.
So, darling, let them go.
You don't need them to fill the vacancy anymore.
Sep 21, 2016
Sep 21, 2016 at 2:08 PM UTC
My heart was mechanical
Oiled always by love
Cogs moved independently
Springs always moving in rhythm
This was love in my heart
Intricate pieces moving as one
Affection,
Emotion,
Trust,
Was what fuelled this love
It beat strong
Never wearing down
Always would it beat strong
But then betrayal
Disloyalty,
Sorrow,
Neglected
Dirt had entered this heart
Oil contaminated
Springs oxidized
Cogs bent out of shape
Broken parts,
littered the floor of this heart
What once ran smooth,
Started to go cold
Cobwebs,
Vines,
Empty,
Was this damaged heart
Where once movement
Who could mend
This once loved heart,
Then the tinkerer entered her life
Full of friendship
It took Time, for her to let him in
But what once was reclusive
Friendship,
Blew the cobwebs away
Companionship
Cut the vines away
Loyalty
Filled that empty space
Love
Was the catalyst, that started
This clock work heart again,
Some piece, still lay
On the hearts floor,
For if a clock work heart is broken
It will never be as it was before,
The rust faded oiled once more
A clock work heart is a fragile Piece,
Only give it to those who will
Hold it gently in there grasp.
Aug 25, 2014
Aug 25, 2014 at 7:12 AM UTC
Maybe,
It’s not about finding
The light at the end of the tunnel,
Maybe,
The tunnel doesn’t even
End, and the light isn’t
The warm glow of a
Sun so high above,
But the dim illumination
From a floodlight, dusty,
And draped with cobwebs,
And maybe,
The floodlight isn’t there,
It’s shattered and its pieces
Bury into the skin of your
Bare feet as you step on them,
And continue to trek forward in
Darkness, towards the next light.
Maybe,
That’s a good thing.
You’re in a tunnel after all,
You can’t drown in blackness as
Easily as you can the sea.
Maybe,
The extra darkness
Makes the next floodlight
Brighter, and you’ll
Stop, and bathe in it a
While as your aching lings
Finally rest.
Maybe,
If you’re brave,
You’ll think you can
Live under the light,
Unaware that you’ll
Lose your knowledge
Of the darkness,
And when your light
Finally coughs,
And shudders
And dies,
You’ll get lost in the dark again,
Turned around,
Heading away from the new lights ahead.
Or maybe,
You prefer the shadows,
Carry a bat,
Or a golf club,
Or whatever blunt weapon
Catches your fancy,
And you smash each light
You pass,
Cutting the feet of all those
Behind.
Maybe,
There isn't a light at the end of the tunnel,
Just an endless string of floodlights,
Bright,
Shattered,
And lost.
Jan 20, 2015
Jan 20, 2015 at 7:12 PM UTC
Her throat is growing flowers
But she's got cobwebs in her mouth
She has so much to say
But she just can't get it out
Jan 1, 2015
Jan 1, 2015 at 6:08 PM UTC
Saltwater Poet.
Waves washing over me cleanse my soul.
Salt-soaked sand glues itself
to my skin,
it clears the cobwebs in my cluttered mind.
Anchoring back near the coast
is my ultimate goal.
Reaching others through my words
with the help of my
Nautical Muse.
Nov 19, 2014
Nov 19, 2014 at 3:23 PM UTC
Some days I am Ana's teacher, some days she is mine.
This morning, we look through her kitchen window,
the one she can't get clean, cobwebs massed
between sash and pane. The sky is blue-gold, almost
the color of home.
Ana, I say, each winter
I get more lonely. Both of us would like the sun
to linger as that round fruit in June, but Ana says
it's better to forget what you used to know...
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As I gaze upon the vast expanse of the night sky
As I look upon the greatness of the seas
As I ponder on the things I cannot know
As I dive into the deepest parts of me
It is there that I see and I come to believe
In the presence of one who at times reminds
The heart and soul of peace love truth there are signs
I am blind to my mistakes keep playing in my mind
There is chaos and sadness but sometimes I find
A love quiet and strong sadness and pain but hope in the rain
A stronghold a shelter when I am burdened and weak
It is here the presence resides that I seek
There is a longing an ache a burning I feel
So great that I am caused to kneel
But it is here somehow that something begins
In tears and in pain the great weight of my sins
Seems a little lighter and I know that God wins
He paid the greatest price on one fateful Friday
And He is faithful good and true in my day
Sadly it seems sometimes this world is forgetting
The kind of example that Jesus was setting
To show us the true meaning of life and love
What it is to be human and divine
A single candle in the dark can brightly shine
Illuminate my deepest darkest corners of me
Clear away the cobwebs, sweep away the dust
Clean this old house of pride, jealousy, and lust
Help me once again to see
Just how much you must love me
Sep 13, 2014
Sep 13, 2014 at 11:17 AM UTC
Right now, loving you feels
the way my toes do when stepping on pebbles
(the stones they put on your back in physical therapy)
or mining ore -
supposed to be cold, but extremely hot to touch.
A copper meadow
shimmy into a tree so you can look up my dress
and catch me like gold armor when I tumble, tumble.
One defense, two defense, three defense, four
worms with spines as soft as hair
try to spindle cobwebs where we skip and hopscotch
skeletons dunk our heads in some sea
but pickaxes
make air pockets, iron is a pillow for us to sleep.
The lights cease when you leave
no longer nearby is the helmet that exudes site -
I think I could mine meteorite from your soul, there’s
only demonite in my own.
Let’s build a house with it
then wait for the bad men to leave, it is night again
perhaps they shall be burned by my evil.
Shrouded in wood, tucked into a golden chest
the walls are a deep purple
amethyst, aubergine, build our ceiling some citrine -
bunnies swallow the window frame
and I cry because somehow it is my fault,
I try to jump but I fall. And you open the door, you let
in some monsters, how I hate you for a moment.
But no bad man can get you
even ones who have skin sunken like a dead spider
pull out an archery kit
seventy-seven arrows, I put them all in hearts
leaving one special hook for you Cupid gave to me.
We make a great team
demonite meteorite silver copper topaz gold-tipped
and sterling the vultures listen in jealously
knowing this is what love can feel like right now.
May 16, 2013
May 16, 2013 at 12:17 AM UTC
Hanging on to each day, trying to sustain,
as a spider on a web hanging by a thread.
Weaving our way through time and pain
left to hang by lovers, life and death.
Making my way through life;
strength and power of spirit take their leave.
“Be brave, chin up”, all clichés borne out of ignorance…
what do they know of me?
Each must travel this journey on our own terms.
No flack jackets to spare us from hearts shot through by pain,
no maps to guide our way.
We stand; alone, vulnerable and lost.
Where is the one to guide me on the right path
through showers of pain and cobwebs that bind?
Let me see through this to a future of love and life.
Let me see you.
Aug 26, 2012
Aug 26, 2012 at 9:33 AM UTC
every achy bone inside me a relic
of the former self still inhabiting this shell.
exquisite fossils of the life once lived
my silhouette, housed in rock,
yet the softest part of me rotted out.
the vacancy in my expression
mirrors the hollowed out spaces
between each rib and every "what if"
my lungs carry haunted cries
apparitions you forged in my memory
phantom fingers singed the word
“remember” into my paper skin.
i am still smoldering.
chambers of my heart filled with cobwebs;
every strand of silk an unfulfilled wish.
we are still tangled up.
the spiders have crawled from our throats
but the dust is settling.
your fingers have intertwined
with the segments of my spine,
fists taking root in my chest, cradling a stone heart.
knuckles bent comfortably around each vertebrae,
your hands are cold.
the weight of all my sins is crushing me,
i suppose i should have noticed
when you read the lines in my palm like an obituary.
forgive me.
- m.f. & j.a
Dec 9, 2013
Dec 9, 2013 at 4:42 PM UTC