"farthest" poems
For my cousin, Chris Goldrick
Lacing my skates
after walking two miles
in girl-strictured delight
Mom's stories of Sonja Henie--
No, not ever
Lacing my skates
with snow-ball pompoms
felt skirt
and nylon tights
Cute little hat with matching scarf
My thighs and fingers
already freezing
icy burn
from miles on foot
to get there
the lake where--
I must get out
I must get OUT!
Knowing what
to expect from my body
the quick-twitch of muscle
Could always sense
specific--
gravity of water
at 22 degrees
Desiring to feel
the motion between ice and steel
Read speed's vibrations through my body
The brain registers relation
to weather's effect
Tell of velocity
possibility of fall
Feel the slash of the blades beneath me
Throw my weight sideways, sudden
to hear that furious hiss
An object in motion tending, dire
to stay in motion
Threatening to stay there
always
in its heights-- of speed
away--
from the crowds of skaters
swirling distant in the lights
Seeking instead
the farthest reaches of Porter Lake
speed and speed and more
to overcome
inertia
of what it is to become
undone
at the outer edges, of humanity
A force
centrifugal unto myself
Avoiding
Pregnant and slow
with years and babes....
The best
must be broken and tamed
of what it takes to stay free
catching the edges with every stride
catching my toe in the quick
180
spray of frost
to the sudden still
Listen to the frigid chill
and the heave of my breath
tumbling into evidence
Gliding
Once
Forever--
on, into darkness
of woods on frozen water
The wildness of it all
So infatuated with flight
so full of grace
I forgot Sonja
The moon rose
from her seat in the treetops
and applauded
Jul 17, 2018
Jul 17, 2018 at 3:54 PM UTC
to my darling who feels she's not:
our separation is mere illusion.
truly, your pain strikes me as i write this;
your sensations of abandonment,
and the decisiveness they have caused,
bleed from my skin into the fibers of my clothes.
i am no longer clean.
i do not feel pure.
to my severed arm and shortened tendons:
destruction is merely another side of life.
out of disappearance comes all things-
without space, there would be nothing to contain us,
nothing to allow and enfold our beings' spirits,
and they would sputter and cease like my love's flame.
i am no longer yours.
i do not feel full.
to the farthest star that my eyes can see:
your light reaches me- i glimpse you!
in the perceived emptiness between us
there is no distance to be found;
around us exists the infinite potential for
further connection and deeper growth in closeness.
i am no longer alone.
i do not feel sorrow.
Mar 6, 2015
Mar 6, 2015 at 12:17 PM UTC
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
*The hotel balcony is the highest
That I could get, just as lying down
On the greener grass in Luneta Park
Is the lowest that I could ever be,
All because she is with me,
All because my hand fits, feels just
Right about her hand, and all because
All the warmest stars kept on
Staring back at us, inspired.
We are the farthest satellite
That they could ever find.*
© 2014 J.S.P.
Nov 6, 2014
Nov 6, 2014 at 6:39 AM UTC
I want you to make me feel naked everywhere
saying things that make necks hot, face hot
don't have to be so ****** don't have to touch
Want to? Do so, though, don't be so mechanical
swim on, flow on, spill on, no pushing
the things said should tear open, pop seams
wonder what's inside, beating
running, ebbing, draining, no inspecting, no prodding
a thorough investigation with eyes, words
make the most difference, words dig the farthest
fill the fastest, reach to ends that previously had
no end
the end
Oct 22, 2012
Oct 22, 2012 at 2:54 PM UTC
Cradle my emotions in the gentlest of whispers
Lace my heart with sultriest of ribbons
Fill full my sail with the worthiest of winds
Engulf my being in the sweetest of notions
Colour me beautiful with the most vibrant of rainbows
Propel my universe into the farthest reaches
Soothe my aches with the most abundant love
Carry my vessel to the sandiest of beaches
Embed my thoughts within the fluffiest clouds
Let soar my dreams on the bravest of kites
Set my destination in the furthest horizons
Present me with life's buffet with the tastiest of bites
Dec 2, 2014
Dec 2, 2014 at 8:47 AM UTC
287
A Clock stopped—
Not the Mantel’s—
Geneva’s farthest skill
Can’t put the puppet bowing—
That just now dangled still—
An awe came on the Trinket!
The Figures hunched, with pain—
Then quivered out of Decimals—
Into Degreeless Noon—
It will not stir for Doctors—
This Pendulum of snow—
This Shopman importunes it—
While cool—concernless No—
Nods from the Gilded pointers—
Nods from the Seconds slim—
Decades of Arrogance between
The Dial life—
And Him—
8.1k
*I feel your heart's heavy
and your mind trailing off to places
I'm not allowed to go...*
- Dajena M
My body...
Lays battered under unforgiving weather
I amble forth with unsure
In search of pastures much greener
My face...
Wears my despair
Mirrors wouldn't recognise
Reflecting back a faceless stare
My eyes...
Stung red with tears
Conveying the murmurs from my soul
Clouded by despondence that never clears
My limbs...
Bent awkward with time
Arms hang lifeless; legs sore from bearing
Load of my past of crime
My mind...
Trails in the wake of fallen dreams
Searching for an oasis
Instead finding only brackish streams
My soul...
Holds the weight of an anvil
Still I trudge to the farthest reaches
Through barren lands where all is still
My heart...
Yet beats with rhythm so true
It keeps me alive
It gifts to me...
you...
Jan 8, 2015
Jan 8, 2015 at 9:59 AM UTC
Belief is never sweeter
than to those who can't believe.
Reconciliation is for
those without relief.
Forgiveness comes in times and places
farthest from our expectations.
But ultimately,
we're the ones
who must forgive
ourselves.
Oct 8, 2012
Oct 8, 2012 at 7:15 PM UTC
Remembrances of you remain
In the farthest reaches of my mind.
But I do not know why I cannot refrain,
The reason that you stay on my mind, I cannot find.
You're even in my subconscious...
At night, you cloud all of my dreams.
And I still find myself singing your songs while I'm conscious,
I am still not over you, it seems.
Somehow all I can hear is your voice,
When I hear a song you like on the radio.
You've taken up a greater part of my life than anyone has, without a choice,
An unbalanced ratio.
I will always love you,
Infinitely until I find one that can replace...
But you are you, and it still stands true,
That in a crowded room, I see no other face.
I hope you, without condition, love me,
As I have hurt you as well.
I hate to see you hurt, especially by the cause of me...
As I have always wished you well.
Apr 24, 2015
Apr 24, 2015 at 9:32 PM UTC
We’d sit on the back porch
On the Fourth of July
Spitting watermelon seeds
Into the tall grass,
Which glimmered in the midday sun.
The competition of who could spit the farthest
Never really with a winner,
It was mostly about the feeling of the sun,
Glimmering on our pudgy cheeks,
And the opportunity to abandon our napkins,
Letting that cool watery juice spill
Down our white shirts, leaving pink stains
And permanent reminders of summer
Of course a tattoo is only as permanent
As the body that wears it:
I outgrew the shirts around the same time
As the world outgrew those little black seeds
This year on the Fourth of July
We sat inside making small talk
Because there weren’t any black seeds
In the watermelon we ate:
Just dehydrated flesh, the color a little
Farther from pink and closer
To the off-white color of those flakey little seeds,
Which were miraculously allowed to remain
Jan 1, 2014
Jan 1, 2014 at 6:07 PM UTC
The ocean through an opened window
Frontier between all that's known
of here
and sleep
riding out the waves as they come
A gull cries in passing
Waves sating themselves
in the womb of the earth
kissing the neck of Bride's Brook
Her seaweed streaming hair
in wind of tides
The moon's pull to release
coaxing spent and tender moans--
the farthest reach of sighs
Sep 29, 2017
Sep 29, 2017 at 4:13 PM UTC
today i achieved the farthest state from meditation
humanly possible
i slammed down the horn when the
wrinkled egg tried to place her stick in front of her.
my cat's hunger is only met by my
own intestinal growls,
and it's my anniversary.
i belong in a tribe of chimpanzees.
i'm too lazy to shower,
too angsty to sit still,
too apathetic to lift even one limb from that
sweet honey mud that clings to me,
that bubble of no-space, and
i have so many ideas.
i want to do everything.
but the pebbles turn to dark walls when
they should be cobblestone,
everyone cares and is trying to help me
i'm alone, alone, alone.
Sep 28, 2012
Sep 28, 2012 at 12:18 AM UTC
I'm all too used to the touch of your absence. Your mother's wrath in that time can be a death sentence so tragic. But when you come back, Demeter returns to her senses expressing light magic. Life springs through the darkness, and flowers race to see who can reach the farthest. Lovers emerge to nurture their gardens, and soak in sun to thaw out the hearts that hardened. Birds sing songs highlighting your arrival. Trees breathe easy seeing what their last set of leaves died for..
Yet when you retreat, mother again takes away her warmth. The high-flyers no longer soar, and some paths feel too bitter to explore. Bone-chill zones, a frozen reality stream. I can't blame anyone for what's a part of me, as we fall into winter's annual dream.
Queen of the Underworld, I appreciate your harmony. Thank you for teaching me to see the depths of my own duality. Still, I can't help but wonder how existence would be had you not eaten those pomegranate seeds. In the darkness of winter I want to curse Hades for his greedy need to leach on life through trickery. Though to curse him I'd be cursing myself and ive had it with the blasphemy. Besides I too know what it's like to rely on the dead as your only company. I ride ebbs and flows of loss and hope, but I know your presence promotes healing. So again I'll remain as the seasons change, taking layers and peeling. I've found in light and dark we can succeed in setting our bound spirits free. Communicator of both worlds, I want to Thank and honor you, Persephone~
Jul 27, 2018
Jul 27, 2018 at 10:21 PM UTC
The farthest man made object in space, Voyager 1,
is over 20 billion km away from Earth.
On board is a phonograph record, brilliant gold,
containing sounds and images of what life is like on earth,
A message to whoever is able to listen, a literal shot in the dark.
On it is an inscription that is perhaps the most beautiful sentence
I have ever read
TO THE MAKERS OF MUSIC
ALL TIMES
ALL WORLDS
a time capsule, a gift, from us
To anywhere and everywhere
A hundred years from now or a thousand
Our belief that no matter what time
Or world you belong to, melody and harmony and rhythm, can bring us together, can communicate.
On the cover
Are figures, explaining how to operate this record
Hieroglyphics from what by then
Would be ancient history
Messages in binary, the 1s and 0s
Our position in the universe marked by our distances
from gigantic pulsars, the star map to our home,
the creators of this message
There's beauty in this marriage of math and art
Code and music
As a way to communicate with the universe.
Some of the images on the record are
the most beautifully simple ones,
Of us, humans, drinking and eating, laughing,
of animals, nature, food and architecture.
Then there are images of our scientific observations,
mathematical calculations, our discoveries,
Like a child showing off
Look, look what I can do!
Black and white and in colour,
Pictures, proof that we, indeed have lived and achieved.
The music, classical, our very best from Bach and Mozart
to Blind Willie Johnson's Dark was the Night.
But all of this can only matter, can come to fruition
if someone exists to receive it, and is evolved enough
to comprehend what it means.
But that's the thing, everybody knows,
That's there's a slim chance of this record ever being heard,
and it's much more possible that the Voyager will simply end up as floating debris in the cosmos, but it doesn't matter!
We just want someone to know that there was a species of bipedal, intelligent animals on this blue planet,
no different than finding graffiti in alleys that read I WAS HERE.
WE WERE HERE, WE EXISTED.
And it's all about that hope, the hope that someone will see us,
our pictures, listen to our languages, our greetings, our music, and remember us, even after we're long gone.
Or perhaps we will one day be interstellar space faring people as well, following the path of the Voyager, doing what we do best,
Explore.
Jan 2, 2016
Jan 2, 2016 at 9:32 AM UTC
When I write,
It is like I am on an adventure,
When I am happy I am drifting down a lazy river,
When I am full of anger I am raging down dangerous rapids,
Crashing into the jagged rocks of my anguish and anxiety
Until finally I reach the river bank and I can rest.
It is like I am scaling Mount Everest,
Each level of creativity is another 100 metres into the sky
Until finally my imagination is at the peak
And my freedom is limitless,
stretching across to the farthest reaches of the horizon
It is like skydiving,
A rush of adrenaline as I plummet towards the ground,
Completely weightless and my mind is racing
Like the air that brushes over my skin
Until I pull the cord and release the parachute,
Safely land on my feet
With a new idea.
It is like a drug,
I am on an all time high,
Hallucinations of what could be,
How something that is far from tangible
Becomes existential,
Then during the come down
I make that dream a reality.
When I write, I feel like myself,
There are too many possibilities
That are still left unmarked on the map of written art.
Oct 16, 2013
Oct 16, 2013 at 2:35 PM UTC
DEAR PENPAL PEOPLE, blood is shameless;]
impurity on the ***** red
I pure I shed
hunger I fed
so loose so tight on the lead
so irritating she bled
revolting when it messes with the head
doors closed sounds spread
again unlike the befores I said
polluted on garments I five the two
onto the further of the farthest of lives
I paint I skin
I smudge the thin in the thrill
till it comes to a ****
and a breathe is willed
for nails to blood
and fingers to clot
guilty shame not guilty shameless pleasures on the lots
I care I not
--------ravenfeels
Apr 13, 2021
Apr 13, 2021 at 5:00 PM UTC
Ignorant before the heavens of my life,
I stand and gaze in wonder. Oh the vastness
of the stars. Their rising and descent. How still.
As if I didn't exist. Do I have any
share in this? Have I somehow dispensed with
their pure effect? Does my blood's ebb and flow
change with their changes? Let me put aside
every desire, every relationship
except this one, so that my heart grows used to
its farthest spaces. Better that it live
fully aware, in the terror of its stars, than
as if protected, soothed by what is near.
4.6k
Life is an adventure
Brand new every day
If you take with you that attitude
As you are on your way
You never know the comes and goes
As you step foot outside
Life is an adventure
Relish the surprise
Life is and adventure
You take at every turn
Where you find around the corner there hides
Lessons to be learned
In every situation
In every give and take
Life is an adventure
You make along the way
Life is an adventure
Pull the curtain to the side
Let the darkness escape or get out of the way
Either or, let in the light
From all that you see to the farthest of reach
You need to make up your mind
Life is an adventure
Let you adventure shine
Sep 23, 2017
Sep 23, 2017 at 8:41 AM UTC
Behold her, single in the field,
Yon solitary Highland Lass!
Reaping and singing by herself;
Stop here, or gently pass!
Alone she cuts and binds the grain,
And sings a melancholy strain;
O listen! for the Vale profound
Is overflowing with the sound.
No Nightingale did ever chaunt
More welcome notes to weary bands
Of travellers in some shady haunt,
Among Arabian sands:
A voice so thrilling ne’er was heard
In spring-time from the Cuckoo-bird,
Breaking the silence of the seas
Among the farthest Hebrides.
Will no one tell me what she sings?—
Perhaps the plaintive numbers flow
For old, unhappy, far-off things,
And battles long ago:
Or is it some more humble lay,
Familiar matter of to-day?
Some natural sorrow, loss, or pain,
That has been, and may be again?
Whate’er the theme, the Maiden sang
As if her song could have no ending;
I saw her singing at her work,
And o’er the sickle bending;—
I listened, motionless and still;
And, as I mounted up the hill,
The music in my heart I bore,
Long after it was heard no more.
4.5k
*standing on the threshold of change, I await a fresh-line
but the universe may be unready
if not, I may take to choppy-waters
all by myself*
1.
if we are all stuck in the jam of time
perhaps, if we spread it out real thin
some of us could actually lift off
and catch a ride.. out
free some hostage from the twisting temporal-joints
and the wool-gatherers mind their business
and footsore beggars dine on exotic-things
deep in the heart of the jungle
where Nebuchadnezzar parked his dreams of old
by saving your surprise for a weekday jaunt
we limp on in the vacant-dust of paradox
yet get unavoidably detained by the present
undo the ribbons and the package may unfold its.. things
espy the tick-tock riding the margin of fright
common sense of morn lies delightfully unfinished
and the wrong side of a bold idea gets squashed
the brain-weary ingest their lot and plough on through thickets of tricky-fate
while tiptoeing silent on the farthest-blades of brimstone
holding subtly aloft.. the frankness of aiding-spectres
2.
balloon of green, balloon of blue
hold out your hand and pray you get no inequalities of flame
easy catch of the sound of science scoffing in the parlour
when we try to do something different; take a chance
uncivilised-humour will argue the rings off your punctured-lobes
any germ of new plan must needs be nurtured
let any frenemy go; intolerant-ilk do better by their vacuous selves
remarkably convenient
there's almost enough water in the well
to soak up the ivory-rays and let them fly
and there's a breeze lifting the needle off the ancient-groove
spinning reels on the bay
*no, you will never convince me
that the time-keeper holds all keys
'cos I snuck out furtive.. late one night
and sawed through.. for a whole decade
and well, guess what I have here..*
:)
S T - 24 Jan 2014
Jan 24, 2014
Jan 24, 2014 at 8:24 AM UTC
instead of being intertwined we’re the farthest we’ve ever been
i chose to look within
you always chose the life of sin
i stopped trying to be perfect and had to partake
i too wanna eat and have my cake
what was once golden has turned to rust
i understand why they say nothing lasts forever
cause everything is so mother ******* fallible
i had no choice but to pick up the pieces all by my lonesome and gained confidence with each step and each breath
what once felt heavy is now being forgotten
oh how lovely life can be when you forget
thank you for breaking my heart because i would’ve never had the strength to let you go
each event which you performed against me pushed me further and further away
from the love i kept in my heart for you
it seems to have disappeared and i can’t find it these days
i still believe in love
i still feel the warmth and always hope for the best
life is just a test
it’s sifting and then we’re blessed
this will be the last poem i ever write about you
i might’ve misconstrued the motion
i promise to write about a new love from here on out
just disregard this notion
Nov 7, 2021
Nov 7, 2021 at 7:52 PM UTC
I look out to the sea
Which reminds me of you
My thoughts reach out
But you get carried further away
To the depths of despair
To the farthest corner
You leave me behind
But my boat still stays
Mar 8, 2015
Mar 8, 2015 at 6:40 AM UTC