"extends" poems
1
Backwater nymph,
queen of serpentine black tresses
flaunting its coconut oil gleam;
envy of leggy girls from the Western ghat mountains,
and lissome maidens from the plains,
who can never eat as much fish, even if they wish.
Wearing hibiscus flowers,
on coiffure like hood of a king cobra,
your coral lips silently speak
of hot peppery kisses,
waiting for me at shaded corners.
Your sultry body in me arouses desires,
that could only be whispered in your ears.
2
On a coconut lagoon when we met,
for the first time and spoke,
non stop, as if we knew each other life long,
I heard music in your words.
Oh! in the tongue you spoke,
I heard the cadence of a nightingale
ecstatic, on its wings above the clouds,
love had prompted us to fly above the storms.
Your gleaming coal black eyes,
like silver hooks, tug at my heart strings,
that makes music, only I can hear,
you are a free flying lark,
above Kerala's lush coconut coast,
that extends from sea shore to the mountains.
3
**When we relished steaming brown rice,
mixed with clarified butter,
with spicy tuna curry, tasting so dainty,
cooked in bubbling sweet coconut milk,
my eyes like two crazy butterflies
circled your face, a blossomed Champak*.
Mashed cassava and roasted squid,
melted on our tongues,
in a perfect culinary language
any one would understand without effort.
4
Your lips had cinnamon scent,
spice land's boons,
when we kissed we touched heaven
of scents and spicy tastes.
When our eyes fell on each other,
near the ancient synagogue,
the hay days of which is over,
a long jasmine garland coiling your hair,
marked you different,
from the the ladies of your neighborhood,
surrounding you.
How well you did pretend
that you have never seen my face before!
You have mastered love's cunning,
and all the wily tricks to cheat
the enemies of our fiery love
my Freudian mind perfectly understood.
Just imagine the brouhaha we would invite,
when we elope, in the last boat,
to Alappuzha, stealthily at midnight.*
May 1, 2013
May 1, 2013 at 1:33 PM UTC
I slip the straps and release the clasp
of your over-the-shoulder boulder holder.
Gravity asserts itself, and you sigh as
I wonder if I should get even bolder
because
The jaws of love masquerade
as petals of a flower
so
Just say if you want me to stop.
We are, after all, in the middle of a shop.
I was attracted when I saw you smile.
As we passed in the frozen food aisle.
Now people are staring though the window.
Shocked at my nonchalant innuendo.
And if your purse metaphor extends to this.
We can go to the Bank for a little kiss
though
I may not be able to afford
nine feather mattresses and a golden pea.
But if you could make do
with a lilo and a marble
then …
You've pulled Princess.
© Pagan Paul (30/05/17)
May 30, 2017
May 30, 2017 at 11:54 AM UTC
Not knowing, where the universe begins
Or how far, the darkness extends
Can one know, where it actually ends
Aug 21, 2019
Aug 21, 2019 at 11:38 AM UTC
The evolution of art never halts
Once we began dancing around fire
Our feet couldn't stop
A place in our lives
Where our subpar seeds
Could be seen as glowing trees
That's the way I feel about my poetry
It reminds me a lot of me
I reread it and rewrite it so often
By the end it seems unoriginal and plain
And all I can hope
Is the themes and ideas that were the inspirational genesis
Remain intact
Art walks a tightrope over the most unpredictable factor
The audience
They are the other half of art
Their power cannot be overstated
And as time progresses
Their power grows
And the importance of art always extends an equal distance
But the stronger art becomes
The more it asks of it's audience
In many cases
The audience is not ready to take the call
This is one of those times
Here at the current pinnacle of art
Surfing the web
A wonderful chance as
Art is a reflection of people and society
The Internet is people and society
But just as we listen to songs
To decide what concert to go to
Or watch trailers
To decide what movie to see
We like what we like
And put blinders on to find it
Like moths to fire
We could do amazing things
If we could harness the potential
Of our collective conscious
But the threat of losing our individuality
Is too great for us
Unable to accept
Our individuality is always in the context of our cosmic existence
We are part of something greater
And we can't escape that
Even in death
We feed what lies beneath
The memory of our lives
Shrinks to obscurity
The maggots that cover our corpses
Flourish to maturity
Everything this world creates is art
And we are it's most complex creation
Not necessarily the best
We just have the most parts
And the maggots that use our dead bodies for sustenance
Were once the monsters that roamed this Earth
They had no nationality
Or political affiliations
Or religion
And they're still here
Waiting to reclaim their throne
Once "smarter" species seek suicide
Jul 26, 2017
Jul 26, 2017 at 10:19 PM UTC
Tar-dark world. The defining color is black, the inky night of her nocturnal hunts and the deep, bottomless dark of her alien retreat.
A watcher of men, she is everything and nothing. She might be too much of something, or too little of something else. Time will sort out the particulars.
There are no simple entry points – she demands engagement, and to be taken as a whole. Her discomfort is over her own allure, her undisturbed surface. It’s more about intuition and gesture than dialogue. They remain as echoes. They’ve made her beautiful in a real way, with hips and blemishes and dimples in her skin.
The imprint of the lives she begins to grapple with as her time on Earth extends, leads her to stop seeing herself as a mere conduit for her mission, and to start developing a sense of subjectivity.
Her life force is overlapping, shaping itself into a pattern of rings that simultaneously suggests a birth canal dilating, the stages of a rocket separating, and a lunar eclipse as seen through a telescope’s lens.
She's a life-form you can’t quite understand, but it’s carrying on relentlessly, like a beehive, moving backward through the constellations at first approach.
Feb 23, 2025
Feb 23, 2025 at 2:06 PM UTC
A life in poetry, A love in art
Set forth on a path that extends forever.
Though the closest reaches climb high
Over mountain and dale, through ravine and shadow,
The path goes on and as it does, descends into light:
So much light, more light than one can resolve.
It blurs the boundaries of the great valley
Splashes of green, the wonderful glare of richness
A river runs through the valley and nourishes the fruit
The sweetest fruit. It nourishes the body,
Nourishes the soul: renews, enriches, grows, sustains.
The path extends to the horizon. And beyond.
As it grows from the foothills it branches
Forming a fractal road of possibility.
Like roots growing from the mountain,
There appears nothing more natural in the world.
As the paths go on, they passes through diverse landscapes
Some places they make sharp changes in direction,
Some places they pass through further patches of shadow,
Some places they grow wider, Some places they get rocky,
But nowhere does the path narrow, beyond the first stretch,
Where the paths split, and over the mountains rejoin.
Beyond that there is always enough room for two
To walk astride.
Side by Side in Sunlight.
Hand in Hand.
For Maya.
Donald Guy
July 5, 2010.
Nov 3, 2012
Nov 3, 2012 at 2:37 AM UTC
We Two are One:
Remember when
Long time before
You tried to catch your heels
Flying solo bound
Remember who
crept in the darkness of your room
and played upon your heart
such beautiful sounds
Remember the childhood wonder
and forgotten dreams
of sleeping rainbows
Whilst mother earth
blows stolen ****** kisses
leave dancing shadows
to find their way
Onto the crisp breath's
upon the lips
of such youthful lovers
and time stands still for a moment
And loves air is fresh to inhale
Remember
you are the enormous tide
that extends your mark
upon this world.
The grace of spirited waves,
tossed and turned by timid sprays
Enlightened by the suns rays
In spirit and fortitude:
Solitude awaits you no more
Welcome the deluge and purity
This elixir of life, Behold!
For if loves cool waters
are united, rippled
every wave would
be paved in gold
Exhale the release
Inhale the vision among us
Grow and evolve
just as the rivers flow
Embrace love together
and reflect nature's gazes
For you are
each others sleeping rainbow
Do not forget your united destiny.
You were meant to fly
as in your dreams.
Only higher.
And together.
Forever.
Amen.
Nov 5, 2012
Nov 5, 2012 at 7:11 AM UTC
The lights go out as another day
Draws to a close,
In the distance sirens of an ambulance
Ripples through the stillness
Of the night,
I ache,
I'm tired,
But I'm restless.
The staircase extends beyond my feet,
Up into a blank space
Where light cannot reach
And darkness can wait
For me to enter.
I can feel its eyes on me,
Fixated on my body
As I approach the first step.
I don't know why,
But the lingering presence
Is always there,
As if it waits with arms crossed
And draped against my bedroom door,
It sense my fear and I sense its intent:
To creep into my mind,
To feed off the chaos that stirs
Each and every day.
Apr 14, 2015
Apr 14, 2015 at 2:07 PM UTC
Deeper than the captivating shape it has,
Lies a greater purpose it stands for.
So vast and strong,
It rotates laterally
and extends at your will.
It stands strong, defying gravity
cushioning you for your comfort
and holding your pelvis still.
So appreciate it for more than it's curves;
stand tall and thank your behind
when you bend.
For it is greater than
it seems.
Nov 5, 2018
Nov 5, 2018 at 6:25 AM UTC
My Godmother being Emma Williams
A woman who died at 98
A God fearing Godmother to whom I truly appreciate
I still remember her even to this date
Mrs Emma Williams was more than a Godmother as I always called her Aunt Emma
My Godmother was a woman of true love
She was born in Barnwell, South Carolina having hospitality to think of
I remember going to her house, she would always cook me a meal
At one point, we lived in the same Brownstone in Brooklyn, New York
My Godmother lived on the Second Floor
We lived on the First Floor
What happy memories I have and remember
When my Godmother moved away to another location, I still visited her
I remember one afternoon she pulled a bag of laughs out, and all I could do was laugh uncontrollable
I also remember when my Grandmother died, and I called my Godmother for encouragement, I told my Godmother I wanted to cry
She stated, “Don’t you cry as you are never alone”. I felt inspired, and saw a world that I never known
Now my Grandmother and Godmother were good friends
But my Godmother is being remembered, and will never ever be forgotten
“My heart extends into Heaven, and my focus being on my Godmother. The joy you gave me here being on Earth. You enriched with my life full of goodness and blessings beyond. I will remember you now and forever more.
Oct 24, 2019
Oct 24, 2019 at 7:21 PM UTC
Gloomy morning attempts,
lazily an abstract,
on the damp canvas
eastern sky extends,
halfheartedly smearing,
dark monsoon clouds
along with some white and grey patches,
then slowly, warms up to a red mood;
as if by a second thought
adds full of flight of birds,
for an effect.
Avian splay, what a display!
The sun visibly gets pale,
upset being just a part of the picture,
unable to dominate, as his usual practice.
Not at all pleased at the emerging picture,
he sulks at the prospect,
of more dull, vain clouds rushing in,
spoiling the composition with their-
chance megalomaniacal dominance.
Jul 30, 2012
Jul 30, 2012 at 1:48 PM UTC
"Women who wear hats are the most beautiful."
The way her small smile extends;
the brim of her hat protecting,
capturing its radiance.
Her cheeks, flushed a deep red,
darkened only by the shadows,
of the worn, woven straw.
Her eyes, a dark, vibrant brown,
dancing with soft melodies,
as she hums with warm breath.
"Women who wear hats are the most beautiful",
he said,
"How interesting is that?"
Sep 10, 2015
Sep 10, 2015 at 5:07 PM UTC
For what I know, which is not much,
I know not of what you feel and such,
But if I could be better a brother,
I would ask what makes you shudder,
I know not what causes your pain,
But I know you’ll not be here again,
So in this life, be strong, be strong,
And although I can not carry along,
What I wish I could, I’m not that good,
At expressing all that of which I should,
Know that my love extends to you,
And your indescribable heart imbued,
Keep it between us, I know what it is,
To cause yourself pain, and taste your own tears,
I wish life was easy, alas, it is not,
Lose not yourself, don’t let be forgot,
The life you know, I pray you don't,
I had no idea, of pain you smote,
To it cast out all of the remorse,
And if need, come to me, if no other doors,
Reopen for you although they should,
If need of favor, know that I would,
As brother, as friend, be there until,
Your happy, long life, end fulfilled,
I wish to be an uncle, and brother in law,
To a great man you deserve and more,
Lest it not be pain from a boy,
You are but young, they’ll use you like toys,
Be strong, be strong, our family is love,
Spread your wings, magnificent dove.
Mar 15, 2013
Mar 15, 2013 at 12:12 AM UTC
I'm fine.
The lie I say every f**king day.
The lie I say multiple times a day.
I wake up from a sleep that hasn't rested me,
And I lie. I'm fine.
When the woman I love asks if I'm okay, I lie to her.
I'm fine.
When she's breaking down due to her own issues,
I stay stong for her. Tell her it will be okay.
Possibly another lie.
I bury myself in these lies, to make sure everyone else is okay.
I'm fine.
The only reason, the ONLY ******* reason, why I haven't attempted for the 3rd time, is because I am scared of the impact of other people.
I'm fine.
I don't care what happens to me.
I care what will happen to others.
Laurens future. Her own mental health.
My Mums heart. I can't take a son away from my Mother.
My sisters big brother.
My Dads nipper.
My nephews uncle.
I'm fine.
My best friends. I couldn't forgive myself if I made the group smaller by 1.
I'm fine.
It even extends to work.
I can't let others take on the burden of doing the work I should be doing, because I ended it.
I'm not that selfish.
I'm fine.
Its the crippeling debt we're in.
How the f**k can I let the person I love put up with that on her own.
We barely live pay day to pay day.
And how can I do this to a family that hasn't even started.
I'm fine.
I am fine.
This constant feeling of something catastrophic is about to happen.
This invisible ocean I'm drowning in.
This explosion that is happening in my head, that I'm constantly holding back.
The thoughts that flitter in my head so easily.
I'm fine.
I say it with a smile.
I say it with purpose.
I say it with a heavy heart.
I'm fine.
My mouth says I'm fine.
My eyes scream for help.
I've been so good at lying, I've convinced every other communication I have.
My actions.
My words.
My mannerisms.
The jokes I flood into every conversation.
I'm fine.
I try to laugh as much as possible.
It helps convince others I'm fine.
It helps supress.
If I don't laugh, I die.
Or so it feels.
I'm fine.
Jan 21, 2021
Jan 21, 2021 at 8:58 AM UTC
Oh this feeling, the way you make me feel
is naught but solid and true. Ever present,
and always makes me feel slightly delusional,
it sometimes falters, but is widely consistent.
Theres a shift in the weather, a difference in the air,
its something of a sweeter aroma, delightful to the senses.
Its calming, giving rise to these joyful fantasies, but they are
sometimes taken to far, so I keep them penned up behind fences.
There are adjectives plenty to describe you,
and many qualities can be ascribed to your name.
For your heart is golden, your words wise, your view
on life is positive and difficult to thoroughly maintain.
Your profound adoration for puppy, child, and rose
Is much to blame for my insane admiration of you.
Theres something about your personality that grows
increasingly in such favour of something within you thats true.
Ay, yes, Its true, theres something wonderful about you,
It sees me through the deepest swells when I am blue.
I could sit in your presence and be grieved by sorrowful news,
and still you'd bring me comfort, and remedy my bout of the blues.
Why do you hide away what beauty you possess,
don't flaunt it true, but please don't sequester it.
Make proud your heart in your beauty, as it pleases
the eye, and makes glad the soul who cherishes it.
I find myself laid low to the ground,
when your hand lowered extends out toward me.
I find myself happy and in the presence of love found
and in my arms, is the person who sees me free.
There is something in me that wants me to scream
nothing of pain and agony, but in joy and profound happiness.
For there is something in my life that whilst it may seem
temporary, is the permanent source of so much joyfulness.
Dec 11, 2012
Dec 11, 2012 at 7:58 AM UTC
#*Multitudes will be liberated by that recognition;
and although multitudes obtain liberation in that manner,
the number of sentient beings being great, evil karma powerful,
obscurations dense, propensities o too long standing,
the Wheel of Ignorance and Illusion becometh neither exhausted nor accelerated*.
The Tibetan Book of the Dead
translation: Lāma Kazi Dawa-Samdup
Free Tibet your sticker tells me…
Yes, I think, perhaps I should –
and the noble thought compels me,
uninformed, half-understood.
Will their freedom help my Karma?
Upgrade my reincarnation?
(Soul who could not dare to harm a
fly… much less a Buddhist nation.)
Not to justify aggression
by the ever-brutal Commies,
let us grant no glib concession
to the Maoists – or their mommies.
Slogans echo in the void,
shining in bardos of the dead;
stopped by the light, I am annoyed
impatient for the change from red.
A bumper crop of human woe
beams forth a mandate to my brain
while red Dakinis circle slow
in Buddhist hells of karmic pain.
The eastern concepts here diverge
and bow before brutality.
They make this driver long to merge
with incorporeality.
Then I glimpse a monkish fellow
swathed in saffron, calmly seated.
His, the cloud-borne sage’s pillow;
mine the traffic; stalled, defeated.
In his gaze of stern displeasure
I perceive the orient stars
calculating man’s mismeasure
trapped, exhausted, among the cars.
Flanked by Spirits wreathed in fire
he extends an accusing hand:
Western slave of base desire:
come and liberate my land !”
I meditate before the stop light:
am I ready for the task ?
Should I just refuse it outright
Can’t it be someone else ? I ask…
Must I free this mountain nation
from the Buddha, demons and Reds?
Shall your sticker’s declaration
shatter the yoke and raise their heads ?
Somebody ought to free Tibet,
and heed this Himalayan cry.
Maybe we should get upset…
The red light changes. Cars pass by,
predestined for benign events
and unconcerned for persecution;
oblivious to dissidents
awaiting execution.
Dec 14, 2015
Dec 14, 2015 at 9:14 PM UTC
Like the faint speckles of light
piercing through fabrics of black silk
upon the fore of flickering flames
from an ensemble of a thousand tealights
The obscure vast extends beyond our perspective
opening our minds, birthing visual imagery
brought upon by this vivid intimacy
between the light and of the dark
Like ornate embroidery, leisurely sewn
as clouds transform while traversing the temporal expanse
revealing our past through portraits
of familiarities once anew
The romantic serenity politely interrupted
by wisps of wind that softly whisper
feeling their breath; as a caress of silk
delicately brushing against our skin
As the warmth of earth upon which our bodies rest
holds us closely as our souls explore
the everlasting and exclusive wonders
under the night sky
Dec 5, 2016
Dec 5, 2016 at 3:30 AM UTC
Birds chirp, the winds blow,
And as the sun sets, we give the day a bow.
Clean Colorado accommodates commoners from Lincoln's Land.
We've ditched the silt and the sand;
Stranded in a glimpse of a possible past, here I stand.
Elated by elevation, tranced by trepidation,
the group's gaze encounters a misty haze,
Followed by copious amounts of precipitation.
Pick up the pace; though we won't win the race
To the dry car and a full case.
Hell is the home of a heathen's heart;
Heaven holds promise a bright new start.
Existence on earth extends only for so long;
For now we're here, soon to be gone.
Early mornings shed light on a promising day;
Late nights cast spells we drunkenly obey
Perched in a chair by a growing fire,
the consuming flames ascend higher and higher.
Ignited embers blown astray,
Trails of smoke follow its prey.
Back on the highway.
Homeward bound, the only sounds
Are the stories and gestures that say
Not what we lost, but what we found.
Jul 2, 2011
Jul 2, 2011 at 10:27 PM UTC
I sink, my feet slowly becoming part of the earth softened under the heat of my body and a shy sun rolling evenly on horizon. Lazy sun slowly extends his arms stiff from winter reluctance and expanding them into a hug. I see green meadows, still poor with colors, pale spring messengers and Harlequin's face in the glass reflection. Eyes full of ice slowly melting, just as piles of snow hidden in the spring shadows. I sink deeper into the trap of needs. My hands have become bare spring branches and wait for your smile to bloom touches. Delicate greenish flowers and young leaves will slowly wake up your eyes from the winter gloom, gentle kisses will tickle your throat and nostrils. My hands are empowered, illusive fingers gliding over your breast. I feel the beauty of the Snowdrop and already lured with memories of Violets. You open slowly like a red Tulip. Tulips are too simple for you. I see beauty of Cyclamen bathed in dew of hidden alley and I think only of sweet kisses you give. As I dive in you the Earth is not just a lump of mud in the universe and the water is not just a matter which makes it blue. While tears running down your cheeks you say they have decided themselves to come and not knowing why. Then, I stand little before you. The boy filled with dreams. Then I stand bigger than the Earth before you as you are more than water.
Mar 13, 2013
Mar 13, 2013 at 6:55 PM UTC
I'm paying
for the careless laughs
I cast
at my poor mother in the past
when she would cringe
and turn away
as we sought edges
to enhance our play.
High trees and rooftops
cliffside walks -
whatever would extend the view
beyond the grim grey
granite grip we knew.
The humour lay
in knowing we were safe,
that these short frissons
were a break
between long stretches
of mundane and easy comfort,
free from pain.
Perhaps, we thought,
it does her good to gasp and shudder,
shout and blame -
she knows
that nothing's gained by shouting "Not too close!"
That just extends the game.
And then we're home
and she, once more, is sane.
That un-won wisdom
taunts me now.
The thought that fear was rare, somehow
that each new feat
of daring was a treat
the spice and colour
in a mother's life
which otherwise was dull.
Then, suddenly, my children,
you appear
and now I fear
that everything's
a crumbling clifftop
a wind-bent,
beetle-brittle branch
that you are twisted
in the fickle hands of chance
Your precious whims
your pale, glass-fragile skins
are buffeted by everything.
All ice is thin -
the wolves are real
it was not just the wind.
And even here
upon the edge of morning
misfired wires
inside your precious head
could make a storm-tossed life-raft
of your cozy bed
I stand beside you, out of reach
though long prepared
to meet the reason I am scared.
You curl and shrink
turn glassy eyes towards the wall
while I await the blow
that, thank God, doesn't fall,
this time
my youthful self
has found a cliff to climb
above a rocky beach
and cackles
at his mother's panicked call.
Oct 5, 2017
Oct 5, 2017 at 4:05 PM UTC
the question mark curves that form at the apples of her cheeks could ****
but she speaks in a voice like lilacs and smiles like springtime.
she possesses unparalleled wisdom for one so young,
and has a soul like an old maple tree.
she makes a home of herself for weary hearts to rest,
but knows not to let their burdens become her own;
prudent enough to understand the difficult art of letting go.
the perfect pearls that live behind the velvet of her mouth serve as lanterns
in the darkness every time she parts her lips.
she is a diamond among ashes, a doe among monsters.
she burns with righteous anger upon seeing others treated wrongly.
she breathes like fall a breeze and her presence is is a sea at peace.
she is as gentle as a lamb, but can be bolder than a lion - when she needs to.
if you're being stupid, she'll tell you, but she'll do it with love.
she has watched me make innumerable mistakes,
and learned what not to replicate, and i in turn have learned from her.
she gives me far more grace than i deserve.
she has arms like olive branches and extends them freely.
her spirit is unchanging and uncrushable.
the beat of her heart can be heard from miles away
and it shocks me that there is even room in her chest for it, given its incredible size.
she is a dove among crows, and she is still learning how to fly,
but her wings promise great heights to come.
- m.f.
Nov 22, 2013
Nov 22, 2013 at 12:54 PM UTC
Tra-la-la-la-la-la-laire—nil nisi divinum stabile
est; caetera fumus—the gondola stopped, the old
palace was there, how charming its grey and pink—
goats and monkeys, with such hair too!—so the
countess passed on until she came through the
little park, where Niobe presented her with a
cabinet, and so departed.
Burbank crossed a little bridge
Descending at a small hotel;
Princess Volupine arrived,
They were together, and he fell.
Defunctive music under sea
Passed seaward with the passing bell
Slowly: the God Hercules
Had left him, that had loved him well.
The horses, under the axletree
Beat up the dawn from Istria
With even feet. Her shuttered barge
Burned on the water all the day.
But this or such was Bleistein’s way:
A saggy bending of the knees
And elbows, with the palms turned out,
Chicago Semite Viennese.
A lustreless protrusive eye
Stares from the protozoic slime
At a perspective of Canaletto.
The smoky candle end of time
Declines. On the Rialto once.
The rats are underneath the piles.
The jew is underneath the lot.
Money in furs. The boatman smiles,
Princess Volupine extends
A meagre, blue-nailed, phthisic hand
To climb the waterstair. Lights, lights,
She entertains Sir Ferdinand
Klein. Who clipped the lion’s wings
And flea’d his **** and pared his claws?
Thought Burbank, meditating on
Time’s ruins, and the seven laws.
3.2k
Connection
From the past just a voice memories come strong and fast the school its walls doors and windows dissolved they live still
They were an integral part you can’t interact daily come to know them how ever wide the divide extends over years
They were life then now in shadows they still command your imagination never very far from the heart quietly they thrill
Sometimes alone you deny and go but you can’t leave them they were implanted ingrained in your life always they exist
Difference opposite levels vary the constant going and coming a circle one in front one in back this defines grows character
The rubbing and friction goes beyond outer circumstances it reaches inner reality from this constant exposure an unbreakable bond
This is not mundane life these are core components we cheat and allow failure if we close ourselves off our own worst detractor
You will change yourself forever when stimuli and good will is rebuffed there pulsates defenses more than we know in past friends
A prison we make when we choose isolation brick by brick we wall ourselves in close out the sunlight that shines out of other hearts
Mix words with action and then allow yourself to be moved images possess power they can forcefully carry you to unequaled heights
Those long ago days hold seeds from a harvest that can be birthed again and of all times now is crucial the time is now get ready start
The sun at your back the future ahead speak without faltering you are the guiding light of all that is to be shared and made brand new
How strong the future will be is determined by how willing you are to reach into the past being selective you draw on all that is good
Fellow students your parents their history and victories all are your guideposts unerring unwavering their spirits lead a guiding star
Many battles long has been the fight discouragement drags your smile down enlightened others beat fear now you have understood
Yours and their quality is like timbers tested in great sea storms you have come into your own now masterful owners of life now give
Jan 1, 2012
Jan 1, 2012 at 8:26 PM UTC
My love for you, endures everlasting sleeplessness,
your head to my chest lays the final stick
to my fruitwood nest
your scent will cultivate
a woodland stream
in a single sense of clarity
can comfort this body
this profound beauty you possess,
extends a distinct paralyzing permanence over my fateful transience,
our afternoon of initiation,
impart transcendence over all other days spent,
in a hats off, upper hand revolution, unsurpassed
My highest conceit ranks leagues above
as I give my resolve in contented surrender
Jun 6, 2018
Jun 6, 2018 at 9:27 PM UTC
As a romantic, out of the blue,
Dear Lover, I simply wanted to say…
The history behind each of my words does not define,
The formation of my sentences does not refine –
The number of poems I write does not demonstrate,
The amount of text I compose does not illustrate –
The extent of my love for you,
Which extends well beyond the Milky Way.
Jun 12, 2016
Jun 12, 2016 at 9:00 AM UTC