"exerting" poems
Light train chugging, working to outrun
Over exerting, pulling along your freight
Sand is running out under the diminishing sun
Fastidiously you tug on your enormous weight
Segmented equal in seven hulking proportions
Weaving between sleeping rocky giants
Assertion in your drive gifted from the high heavens
Borne of light your cargo load of tenants
Silver blurred rays glinting back as reply
As you power your way through
Defying seconds, before the last rays should die
Against odds, delivering what is due
Questing to alleviate my inflicted darkness
Spear of brilliance slicing through my mind
Illuminating the farthest and tiniest of crevices
Nook and crannies that willed me blind
Careful manoeuvring to keep your balance
Through scenic views fraught with treachery
Furiously working to keep your cadence
Hopeful of unloading the load you carry
What lies dormant in that cargo of yours?
What sleeps easy within those boxcars?
What stokes the fire to diligently run your course?
What promises you bear, travelling near and far?
Bales of hope and crates of strength
Supplies of kindness and self-worth
Reside within your immense length
Intact and lay quiet within your formidable girth
Reliant on the light that fuels and feeds
Your axles seem tireless guiding forth those wheels
Thundering over land with the power of a thousand steeds
Armed to your teeth with alloys and steels
Expelling grit and dirt as you pummelled across
Grey-white fumes, shoot up to the sky
Flag flogged by wind, billow and toss
Blaring your whistle as you race on by
Propelling forward, horizon up ahead
There it is...in all its tenebrous glory
Darkened locomotive seething mad with dread
Brace for the clash and the loads the two carry
Sep 28, 2014
Sep 28, 2014 at 8:03 AM UTC
I.
the emperor
sleeps in a palace of porphyry
which was a million years building
he takes the air in a howdah
of jasper beneath saffron
umbrellas
upon an elephant
twelve foot high
behind whose ear
sits always a crowned
king twir-
ling an
ankus of
ebony
the fountains of the emperor’s
palace run sunlight and
moonlight and the emperor’s
elephant is a thousand years old
the harem of
the emperor
is carpeted with
gold cloth
from the
ceiling(one
diamond timid
with nesting incense)
fifty
marble
pillars
slipped from immeasurable
height,fall,fifty,silent
in the incense is tangled a cool moon
there are thrice-three-hundred
doors carven of chalcedony and
before every door a naked
****** watches
on their heads turbans of a hundred
colours
in their hands scimitars like windy torches
each
is
blacker than oblivion
the ladies
of the emperor’s
harem are queens
of all the earth and the rings
upon their hands are from mines
a mile deep
but the body of
the queen of queens is
more transparent
than water,she is softer than birds
2.
when the emperor is very
amorous he reclines upon
the couch of couches and
beckons with
the little
finger of his left
hand
then the
thrice-three-hundredth
door is opened by the tallest
****** and the queen
of queens comes
forth
ankles
musical with large pearls
kingdoms in her ears
at the feet of
the emperor a cithern-
player squats with
quiveringgold
body
behind
the emperor ten
elected warriors with
bodies of lazy jade
and twitching
eyelids
finger
their
unquiet
spears
the queen of queens is dancing
her subtle
body weaving
insinuating upon the gold cloth
incessantly creates patterns of sudden
lust
her
stealing body ex-
pending gathering pouring upon itself stiffenS
to a
white thorn
of desire
the taut neck of the citharede wags
in the dust the ghastly warriors
amber with lust breathe
together the emperor,exerting
himself among his pillows throws
jewels at the queen of queens and
white money upon her nakedness
he
nods
and all
depart through the bruised air aflutter with pearls
3.
they are
alone
he beckons,she rises she
stands
a moment
in the passion of the fifty
pillars
listening
while the queens of all the
earth writhe upon deep rugs
11.2k
Did you know that if you don't stretch in the correct way, you might end up thwarting the entire purpose of your workout and suffer unwanted injuries?
Doing pre-workout stretches thoroughly will determine whether you are benefiting from your workout or whether it's worsening your muscle tear. Here are the major stretching crimes that you should never commit.
Not doing a proper warm-up
According to gym instructors worldwide, this is the most commonly committed crimes in any gym. A warm-up is a must before any kind of workout — cardio or weights — and must ideally last at least 12-15 minutes.
Assuming that stretching is a warm-up
Stretching and warming up is not the same. You need to warm up first, before you are ready to stretch. A slow jog or brisk walking on the treadmill is a good warm-up.
Rushing through your stretching exercises
Stretching should be for the entire body. You cannot skip any parts. Involve stretches that work your lower back, shoulders, calves, stomach, quads etc. You should not move from one stretch to the other in very quick succession because that may cause untoward injuries. Try to hold each stretch for 20 seconds. When you breathe deeply and hold the stretch, your muscles get trained to tolerate the maximum that your limbs can go to.
Giving stretching a skip after a workout
You have done an hour of strenuous exercise and now you just want to rush out of the gym; that is a huge mistake. Spend some time bending and stretching after your sweat session. Then, do a cool down before you leave the gym.
Not stretching every day
You need to be your flexible best always and that can only happen if you stretch daily, even on the days that you aren't gymming. This ensures that your gym days are more fruitful and that you make the most of them.
Not breathing properly
Breathing right is a very important aspect of stretching. Breathe naturally while you inhale through your nose, expand your rib cage and upper abdomen as you fill in your lungs. When exhaling, breathe out through your mouth, preferably making an audible sound. This relaxes you. While stretching, you need to breathe out when you are exerting, that is, when you are actually contracting your muscles.
Doing static stretches
Never stand still and do stretches that work only one muscle. You should rather do stretches that work a group of muscles — like a lunge that stretches your upper hamstring muscle, your ankles and also your glutes.
Ignoring pain while stretching
When you are in the middle of a stretch and you feel pain, stop immediately and consult an expert. Your stretch should make you feel a gentle pull only, not immense pain. If you are hurting, you are doing it wrong. Rest a few days and then go back to working out under a qualified trainer.Read more here:www.marieaustralia.com/formal-dresses
Mar 31, 2015
Mar 31, 2015 at 5:40 AM UTC
Let them not seek to discover who I was
from all that I have done and said.
An obstacle was there that transformed
the deeds and the manner of my life.
An obstacle was there that stopped me
many times when I was about to speak.
Only from my most imperceptible deeds
and my most covert writings--
from these alone will they understand me.
But perhaps it isn't worth exerting
such care and such effort for them to know me.
Later, in the more perfect society,
surely some other person created like me
will appear and act freely.
3.7k
Exerting true power
I bloom
Into the flower
Of the present.
Jul 2, 2022
Jul 2, 2022 at 4:57 PM UTC
We all vibrate at different frequencies of speed
Exerting different energies which cause a difference in needs
Necessities that matter like atoms hidden beneath
Range from molecule to Saturn on an infinite degree
Waves collide with others causing ripples in between
Blending fusion with illusion, then division in our genes
Editing a code that's impossible to delete
We evolve the grand scheme with every thought to be unique
Feb 10, 2015
Feb 10, 2015 at 7:29 PM UTC
I understand now
Why an increase in sleeping
Is a warning sign for depression.
Being sad?
It's a tiring thing to be.
Constantly exerting every ounce of your energy
Trying to appear happy to those around you.
When others ask if you're okay
"yeah, just tired"
easily becomes the automatic response.
Maybe because it's halfway true,
You are tired,
You're tired of life
Of things always seeming to go wrong
Instead of right
Tired of people letting you down
Of your dad drinking
Or your parents fighting.
You're tired of being tired
But most of all you're tired of being sad.
Sleeping,
That's the only time you can really get away
From all the tired.
It's when your mind wonders to a different life
One where the words
"Just tired"
Don't exist.
I think that's why people sleep so much when their sad.
Their dreams
Are so much better
Than reality.
Jun 21, 2014
Jun 21, 2014 at 8:37 PM UTC
Sub-atomic particles
the atoms they form
molecules, cell organelles
cells, machinery of life
organs, organisms
communities and ecosystems
planets, solar systems, galaxies
galactic clusters and their inverse
black holes the doors to other
universes, a contradiction
in terms.
For language and its shadow
consciousness must hold matter
the material world snugly inside concepts
theories and hypotheses to be
experimentally verified using vision
and the other senses, collecting data
and interpreting the known facts
accumulated over time.
Can matter
exist without a consciousness to behold it?
Believing in
our mortality (the species)
we have created God
(a supreme being)
probably not carbon-based
to encompass every universe
but is God
inside or outside
consciousness? Can God
tell us what to do
or must we tell God
alone
what to do?
Here is ego
projecting personality, exerting force
on community, asserting the existence
and predominance of component DNA.
An already hackneyed theory that DNA
survival drives
procreation, personality, savings bonds
everything but poetry (most poems included).
Mustache, cowboy hat
horse whisperer, gulag master
Odysseus, King Lear
salvation in the details.
Yes, these personalities individual and interesting
as opossum, bear
oak and ash
beech nut, pine cone
Grand Canyon sandstone, Green Mountain granite.
Aug 9, 2015
Aug 9, 2015 at 5:13 PM UTC
The thumping and darkness in the bowels of Irene
sit lugubriously on the edge of serenity
the pounding and the tears through all these years
languishing in turpitude and solace from her knowledge
unceremoniously, recklessly and without feeling
while listening to her tongue lashing and
harshness of her venomous and thoughtless words
cracking like a whip, “do you think I’m an idiot”
Not once but twice while searching through black clouds
of disappointment and destitution … no rhyme…no reason.
All due to confusing north from south and east from west
reality from fantasy as we all feel the sound of her thunder
Irene crashes on and above the banks of New Haven,
Guilford, Fairfield and the Housatonic
lapping and licking at the shores while throwing
her magnificent weight in her favor, and the swells explode
the question, “how can she possibly know the children”
Even though downgraded and ebbing
the uneven strength and fortitude asks the question
and all my determination fades in the wind.
Trees weakened as we begin to dig out and explore
power lines and internet down, hampering communication
flooded streets and nervous bridges impeached
yet Irene serves notice with an ace of her own
dressed in her sheer-like vest and turquoise ring
her hazel eye filled with scorn and distain
while brightness and candor follow her path
with her feline temperament scratched and clawed
the tears begin to taper amidst her howling breath.
Irene begins to move northward stoically away from me.
I’m not a victim so I pick what remains of my heart
and begin to reattach my churning stomach
with the threads of her words of disbelief
bringing the force she was most capable of exerting
as the storm continues her long, unforgiven journey
hatred and disdain replaced by disinterest and apathy
as the breath disappears, the light becomes brighter
and Hurricane Irene decides to leave Connecticut
impact in place, on the broken bows of the sturdy trees
perhaps she was right, after all was said and done.
Sep 11, 2011
Sep 11, 2011 at 2:43 PM UTC
The frontiers meet in the flow of time. In the calmness do the fabrics of the realms intertwine. Like a thread of lace, like life, an aesthetic tapestry is woven. The masterpiece intricately crafted, with such a gentle touch.
Though within the weavings, something's revealed. A perfection of symmetry, like a mirror, underlines these expressions. As if like the stones at the base of a river, are these expressions of symmetry the base of this tapestry - a desire etched in.
The gentle craftsman, with a stern yet gentle movement of his hand. As simple as taking a breath, does his work take form. The life within the lace vibrant in expectations, crafting a genesis exerting extravegance.
The tapestry draws nearer to completion, it being embroided into the waters of time. Each strand of fabric, being woven with purpose. Encapsulating the forms in the thought of the master of craft.
A great expression of joy radiates through the craftsman's smile. Engineering such magnificence to a maturity. This tapestry, framed within an everlasting water, an awe-inspiring sight. Radiance fashioned in the glistening of the eyes of the realms.
Apr 4, 2019
Apr 4, 2019 at 8:01 AM UTC
Choose your destiny, but your destination has already been prepared
you have only to follow the light of truth, with no cause to be scared
mercy is given to the merciful, and only in the land of the living
after returning to your heavenly abode, there is no longer forgiving
Know that the place to mend is here, and the time to achieve is now
passing into the world of souls, correction they will no longer allow
our personality traits are in need of repair, we must dig very deep below
if we fail to improve the error of our ways, forever will we remain low
Three things, jealousy, lust and honor remove us from this world
struggles of the body and duties of the soul, to us has this been hurled
we do not have the choice to desist from exerting our efforts, this is a must
heavenly eyes are watching, whether we will choose wisely and learn to trust
Encountering life’s trials and tribulations, mitigating circumstances they will weigh
what is required of us is to withstand, but for the right results we must surely pray
like in human affairs, judge your neighbor favorably is the correct way to go
becoming entangled in the net of gossip and slander, from them does sin flow
This world is the place where we are expected to toil, that is why we were created
at the end of this journey, we will finally see just how everything was interrelated
a person’s face in the image of G-d was he created, and yet we embarrass him so
his face turns red as he wishes himself dead, we have murdered him we must know
Those that lower themselves in this world, in the next they will be raised up high
everything is revealed, and for all the good you’ve done forgiveness you can rely
He neither sleeps not slumbers, throughout our lives G-d does patiently await
our shortcomings are no secret, despite our mistakes His love will never abate
The day is short and the work is great, consider your obligations the hour is late
how important it is to take stock, our destiny is ours and we control our own fate
suffice it to say when all else has passed, one thing alone remains to be said
look forward to what you acquired, eternal happiness, for you alone lies ahead
Jul 28, 2015
Jul 28, 2015 at 4:57 PM UTC
Embers (2).
Can't talk, can't swallow...
there's a block somewhere
i turn to the other side
new fields.....unknown skies
make hands and mind, busy with new chores...new projects
learn to breathe slow...in a rhythmic flow
eyes look up...trying to find my kite among those, flying high,
with a begging glimpse...sent with prayers
the hours go by...so...very...slow
a distraction is most welcome
while waiting, for things to work out on their own.
while...waiting...
trying to be feisty...determined...in exerting efforts
to cleanse a steamy, foggy mind..intoxicated
with highfalutin truths, and plans that come...and go
they surface....then hide....they confuse
affecting those innocent: one, two, three...even more...
deep within are demons that struggle
to overcome each other...
....dancing with the flame...
so untamed
so alive
soaring inside
not at all like embers dying,
they're all fired up, sharp-edged...hurting
singe-ing innards
ahh...still can't breathe...it burns inwards
possessing throat and voice...can't speak
slowly, the airs turn bleak
how i so want to shout to the Heavens
just this once, to beg...for my own manna
to ask for more fresh air
make sure patience never wanes
to bake and strengthen under the hot sun,
the tiles and stones of my concrete wall
i ask for more beams and rays...i don't want to fall
i ask.......for red-orange embers
.......to permanently brighten
my charcoal-black skies...
Sally
Copyright October 9, 2015
Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan
Oct 12, 2015
Oct 12, 2015 at 9:26 PM UTC
I know of the creases in his shoes
but not the color of his eyes,
how utterly meaningless, romanticized
faults of man.
to be taken by the random
coming together of chromosome,
chance and missed chance,
In a dream he came to me;
he spoke to me in rhymed couplets
And my heart of sinew and muscle,
romanticized into something of feeling,
tuned for one moment to the sound of his
end rhyme
then sinks
to the bottom of my belly where it
pulls like a diver’s weight.
exerting itself against my body’s
own timid buoyancy
Aug 20, 2012
Aug 20, 2012 at 9:00 PM UTC
Take a look at all of you down there
So sure of yourselves
So full of the hustle-bustle of life itself
Never stopping to see what could be
Potentially the greatest things of your lives
Jutting through the stream like hot knives
No all simply let life pass them by
Not seeing all the things
Looking you in the eye
And will watch even when you lie asleep
For the final time
You all think you’re hot ****
All hit and no miss
No questions
All answers
Obsess with self worth
Convinced that you’re dust with a value
Just because a god you’re not even sure exists told you so
When the urge to **** is gone
What’s the difference between you and the dirt you walk on
You all rise and fall like the waves in the oceans
Like a glissando of smoker coughs
New ideas are thrown against the scoffs and scrutiny
Of those obstinate practitioners of organized ignorance
You are the only one who should impose sanction on your life
Not some pretty news anchor
Who nods at the teleprompter with total belief
You all chase after superficiality like a poor animal
At the snap of some fat fingers
Call yourselves Pavlov’s pet
You fattened the hand that feeds you yourselves
Have you met the total of life’s offer
Have you looked at yourself in the mirror
And not seen cheap narcissism winking back
Self-imposed limits are acceptable to live by
A moratorium of thought is not
You have free speech
Now learn free thought
Explain the intricacies of a fast food drive through
To the children of Darfur
Explain how you didn’t want to learn how to finish your schoolwork
To the little girl who can’t afford to buy pencils for hers
She will tell you with chagrin how she aspires to be a writer and a poet
But can’t afford the books to help her help herself
You express yourself by exerting as little effort
While she isn’t able to put in the effort to express herself
It’s the ultimate irony
Religion ceased to be the ****** of the masses
When it got it reached one-million views
You all can ask where do I get off
And I will only smile and tell you how I am just like you
I watch the same TV
Eat the same food
Wear the same clothes
The only difference is you can be different
And by simply choosing to do so or not is a step in the right direction
You are your own Atlas
Carry your own world
Anyone else is just liable to drop it
Nov 20, 2010
Nov 20, 2010 at 11:38 PM UTC
Well I was perturbed by the falseness of what I
lingered in,
I was shunned,
labelled the banshee of life.
The stench blistering their motions of existence.
I was life where the afterlife lingered perpetually.
My name was lunar regent, and I was alive in
the abyss of deaths veil, all that were around me
were but *e
c
h
o
e
s* of what clung to this plain
of existence, but echoes can scream in silence.
I was more than this once, once seems so long ago.
Dying of memories degradation, I wasn't giving up.
I sold my home, I'm only in my 40's. To young to be
food of the earth, breath needed to be tasted in my mind.
They explained that I had to die to live? cryogenic dreams,
subtle name I reflected on. It had come a long way since those
days freeze dried people, oxygenated gel, you had to breath it
in drowning but living, a droplet of death descended then......
Awoken by voices or what I conceived as such?
I was in street??
was this, no it couldn't be!
This was the street outside of where I just was.
The affliction in my chest was killing me,
glancing at my hands I was existent, I pinched, it hurt?
Looking around I say or thought I saw people, but they
weren't corporeal, they were faded. I could see their
features but when they shifted it was like stone thrown in
a puddle and I think I'm the stone rippling on there shores.
The atmosphere became static, agitation voiced in their
stance. Some tethered to the crest of my existence were
pulled towards me like a black hole exerting its force,
I just stood static as they were extinguished within me.
Like snow flakes falling around me, I could feel the pain of
there departing, as each flake became cinders of reality.
Eroded memories versed in my mind as each ember
relinquished its torment within me, I was a collage of pain.
To Be Continued.....
Mar 27, 2017
Mar 27, 2017 at 5:01 PM UTC
So you tell us we do not amount to anything,
and scream in our brains that we are nothing.
But before you speak, have you seen,
The efforts we have been exerting.
Aida, before you tell us anything,
Please know what you are saying.
Have you seen the efforts we made outside these walls,
and all the things we've been through, we won't fall.
Aida, please listen, I know you're busy,
If you dig deeper, you'll smell something fishy.
We did this because you provoked us all
In order to accomplish, we must throw the ball.
Aida, do you know the story of our humble beginnings?
If not, you don't have the right to treat us like you're the one who's winning.
You are not one of us, Aida.
You will never be like us.
Mar 7, 2015
Mar 7, 2015 at 9:33 AM UTC
'Eternal Return'? Why?
If things will keep recurring
why are we exerting so much?
Would I share a gleeful laugh and cry a passionate cry
Knowing the same happiness and sorrows will recur
again?
It took years to reach a summit, toiling and crawling,
A slight imbalance, and again we are hurled to the beginning.
Is, Sisyphus, only a mythical figure? If yes,
then, why I see him in me?
Take a handful of men of bygone days, and contrast with
Our time, drop the embellishments of each century,
And see the emerging pattern, ask them, what are the ways
That helps In curbing the pain, answer;
"Slowly the pain is eased but increased the suffering."
Are pain and suffering different?
When was the last time you loved someone?
Do you remember the days after they were gone? Yes?
Then, why are you in love again?
And most importantly, whom are you in love with?
The person or the suffering they bring?
If Everything recurs 'ad Infinitum',
Then can we avert the things already occurred
In past, from occurring again?
Or we have lost the aptitude for resemblances?
Invention demands an offering of natural ability,
Have we gained half of we lost?
What is the tipping point for this offering, this trade?
It's good I do not have to worry much,
For me, the world ends the day I die.
Mar 22, 2020
Mar 22, 2020 at 11:53 AM UTC
I’m trying to grasp the concept of your hands grasping me, and there’s light in your serenely contorted sweat;
Bulging veins pressed against sweet warm delicate mouths exerting a mass of please, and please what?, and a quiet commotion of soft tongues making love, fighting slow and easy for something like a longer I love you, maybe, or another tight grip towards a vulnerable destination, where angels live in the whites of your glassy eyes, but I just want heavens doors to slam shut.
I might be the devil and I demand: “Oh please dear god”, but my body is your only savior and getting on your knees to worship a little never hurt anyone.
I ache for your touch, till your flames are still
I am swimming in thoughts of your ice-made skin, and I am satisfied with hypothermia
Beg for you to watch me choke on my breaths until you can write a whole new list of tasteful sins on my naked flesh.
I want to swallow you whole, want to melt away with you until we deliquesce into one.
I crave you
and me
a few hundred tick-tocks full of skin on
tender
post-possessed
skin.
Jun 30, 2014
Jun 30, 2014 at 4:30 PM UTC
I am an introspective extravert inexplicably exerting determination and ********** of normativity in my delivery. I am a Neo-narcissist, a true self-arsonist surrounded by crumbling spires of self-respect, yet I refuse to neglect my superior intellect, but my ego exemplifies my worst and testifies to my selfish intents and purposes and even worse is, my flaws. And now all I can do is pause and reflect upon what made up, makes up the mind of man in me and whether or not we are all slowing, and lazily going crazy or just me.
Nov 12, 2015
Nov 12, 2015 at 6:04 AM UTC
planning
The other day Anna created a Pinterest board of wedding ideas (Cheesy, she knows). “It’s time to hop on the bandwagon,” she said. She insists every other girl she’s aware of - except her weird Yale roommates - has one.
We think her girls back home (in Oregon) - who didn’t go to college, are matching up with the Larrys and Gregs who stayed home to become auto mechanics and carpenters - and are now serially getting married. This trend seems to be exerting an odd, psychological pressure on Anna.
“You may be jumping the gun,” Sophie observes.
Anna’s never even had a long-term boyfriend before, but she wishes she had one now. A part time BF anyway, because who has time for more? Anna is self-proclaimed awkward with guys, especially cute ones.
She created a tinder account and uses it to see how many matches she can get - but she refuses to meet any guys there because she says she’s not “desperate.” She thinks everything about tinder screams awkward, unless people are just hooking up there - and that idea, in her mind, is absolutely disgusting.
saving the planet
Late last Friday night, a graduate friend of Peter’s threw a party at his house - far from campus. The house was packed with people and the music was thumping, the crowded rooms jumping - practically ******* - in time to a Sacramento horror punk band called “The cramps" that was playing on loop.
I made it through the living room mob to the kitchen, which was oddly empty and well lit. There was a disheveled girl gripping the island bar with one hand, like we’re on a rocking ship, while trying to light a cigarette with the other. I gently wangled the lighter from her - so she didn’t set her hair on fire - and gave her a light.
Afterwards, I slipped the lighter into her skirt pocket, and noticed half the island had coke spilled all over it. “I gave it a drink,” she said, slurring and wavering on her feet, “it looked thirsty.”
That’s when I noticed her now-empty *** and coke cup next to a soaking wet little cactus plant, two ice cubes now lodged in its dirt. I reassured her as I helped her onto a chair, “you were saving the planet.”
Jan 30, 2023
Jan 30, 2023 at 3:42 PM UTC
May 16
I bit into the apple’s core one last time before
tossing it out the window. It was just before sunrise
and I was the only car traveling down the misty road
at this early hour in the morning.
5:47 and I hadn’t had my first cup of coffee. I was still
invigorated, restless at best. Sleep had run miles from
me this past eve and all I could do was act in response
to it’s disappearance.
I made my way through the curves and foothills,
pulled forward by the sweet smell of a fresh rain.
After all, it was the first dawn that the sun grew
his color, climbing the source of the sky.
My tires rumbled along the gravel as I slowed to
a still. I was greeted by lyrical birds: red bellied,
brown, and blue. The soft grass felt damp under my
toes, but it was cooling, comforting.
I could smell the sweet hay which was so skillfully
being churned to mulch by anxious, hunger stricken
horses. Whinnies bellowed in rhythm from
the depths of the stable.
I tightened the saddle around her silk coated barrel
and latched the supple leather to her muzzle. She was
hypnotized too, I could sense it. That early morning fresh
leapt forward, exerting her muscles into a gallop.
We ran as one contingent soul stamped with the power
of a strong spirit. The subtle breeze that tickled my nose,
now fiercely pulled at my attire, blowing breathes of
chilled mist down my skin.
My eyes watered as I filled the space between us with joy
and bounteous laughter. Those few seconds—we slowed down.
They become moments of eternity. We were both free. Her
breathes came in strokes, fogging our trail.
We raced against time to meet the sun. Hurling through the
trees we exhausted all innocence. Leisurely breaking from
the strenuous expenditure of energy we waded through
the clear creek. It soothed.
Greeted by the harmonious rays which shined
through the tree tops, we un-mounted. My legs
unsure at the stillness of the ground. I sat on
a tree stump, she grazed.
Our eyes became fixated on the reflection the water
mirrored back at us. Her eyes pierced the depths of the
pond’s surface and so did mine, and meeting us in the
middle was the sun, filling the gap between our faces.
May 17, 2013
May 17, 2013 at 2:44 PM UTC
writing a poem about how you really feel
is perplexing, perturbing
when you do not know
whether you feel a thing at all
numbness or coldness
dramatics or monotone
i am one of two extremes
neither allowing them to see
the space in between
that holds the truest emotions i am incapable of expressing
the truest emotions i am incapable of exerting
i am incapable of knowing
Jan 13, 2014
Jan 13, 2014 at 3:47 AM UTC
I am somewhere between the nadir and the zenith with the wind that blows behind me and who will find me now?
or do I bow before the circumstance,or take a chance,step out from the twilight,two steps out to the dark night,slight chance that there just might be ,somewhere other than this place that seems to fit this soul so tightly.
Down there,
the air became pollute,resolution has dissolved into the swamp like stew we once emerged from, crawl and sprawl our signature as if our nature was the hunting man,
neanderthal.
And Cro-Magnon thought he had the lot,he had not and never did.
The times are dreary,weary men walk home from work,exerting pressures on their tired bones and California was a dream they had in famine fare when food was scarce as were the ferry berths.
Up there,
the air gets clearer,smelling sweeter but palisades are built and pirates sell it by the litre to the thirsty,nothing beats a bit of commerce,it could be worse
I don't know how
I think I'll bow to circumstance.
Oct 1, 2013
Oct 1, 2013 at 7:52 AM UTC