"fathomed" poems
Old man, you surface seldom.
Then you come in with the tide's coming
When seas wash cold, foam-
Capped: white hair, white beard, far-flung,
A dragnet, rising, falling, as waves
Crest and trough. Miles long
Extend the radial sheaves
Of your spread hair, in which wrinkling skeins
Knotted, caught, survives
The old myth of orgins
Unimaginable. You float near
As kneeled ice-mountains
Of the north, to be steered clear
Of, not fathomed. All obscurity
Starts with a danger:
Your dangers are many. I
Cannot look much but your form suffers
Some strange injury
And seems to die: so vapors
Ravel to clearness on the dawn sea.
The muddy rumors
Of your burial move me
To half-believe: your reappearance
Proves rumors shallow,
For the archaic trenched lines
Of your grained face shed time in runnels:
Ages beat like rains
On the unbeaten channels
Of the ocean. Such sage humor and
Durance are whirlpools
To make away with the ground-
Work of the earth and the sky's ridgepole.
Waist down, you may wind
One labyrinthine tangle
To root deep among knuckles, shinbones,
Skulls. Inscrutable,
Below shoulders not once
Seen by any man who kept his head,
You defy questions;
You defy godhood.
I walk dry on your kingdom's border
Exiled to no good.
Your shelled bed I remember.
Father, this thick air is murderous.
I would breathe water.
15.1k
The Queen of Darken Dreams
Poetic Judy Emery
The dark unfathomed tide
That has fathomed my life;
Of an interminable pried
That blacken up my heart
That turned it into ice,
My life is only a mystery
Of many darken dreams;
I can still hear the ravens cry
Day and night
Always by my side
deep into the night where life
is full of fright;
it is a part of my early journey
where lies are always being told
while the creepy stories are
on the making of true hearts breaking,
where old dreams never made
a home of darkness;
where poets written down
what they loved;
where plays are making drama
that made visions come alive;
with wild crazy thoughts
moved the mind and hearts
to a place of the unknown,
where words are written
to a place of forbidden,
Where a place my own mind
made a written scene;
for others to play out in their own minds,
places in the mind is a journey of some kind,
where true imaginations are made,
where the spirit of me
hasn’t seen yet;
but I hold no regrets;
but at times I hold worthiness of my heart,
on dreamy eyes;
I do write what comes to my mind,
What my heart bleeds
For a world of mystery
To open their minds and read all about me
In darken dreams;
Poetic Judy Emery
The Queen of all darken dreams,
I let my inter visions of my spirit
Write out my misty scenes
for all to capture what it is I see or bleed,
My thought come with many plots;
to control the unknown;
where sleeping spell and rose dust
are being cast into a darken past;
yet; hunting down the brighter hopes in life
to come alive in my life;
There will always be the two dodo brides
In my stories;
You will hear many kinds of things
That will come into darken dreams;
Words of a thief to make the heart weep,
Where witches casting spell
Where only true love could take the spell off,
Where knights ride along the lines
Where queens are made in dreams,
In the sight of ancient time;
I care not about the evil enemies
Because they are a part of the story;
But my work of darken dreams
I do cherish because they are about me.
Poetic Judy Emery © 2017
The Queen Of Darken Dreams Poetic Lilly Emery
Mar 23, 2017
Mar 23, 2017 at 4:55 PM UTC
The fundamentals of simplicity is not fathomed
Entangled in the barbed wires of complexities
Simple words sing no more to the yearning ears
Heavy laden words and tedious conversations
Gnawing away at the precious moments of life
Disparity is making the divide in humanity
Thoughts no more in one’s control, all indoctrinated
Confusion and rage seems to be the new found ‘normal’
Wonder why simplicity is consigned to such a fate
Let there be a new dawn of realization, to simply live
Breathe in the fresh era of clarity, with no malice
Simplicity, I pray to thee, turn your gaze towards humanity
Jul 6, 2014
Jul 6, 2014 at 9:42 AM UTC
They called me Pluto from afar, and I,
Nameless and void, embraced the title
With the force of a thousand burning suns,
Each one like the star I loved ever so dearly,
An immense sphere of fire which had me
Helplessly, hopelessly bound by its gravity,
Caught in its orbit from the beginning of time.
They called me Pluto still from further still,
Speaking my name as the orbit of myself
And their water world drove us apart,
And I gladly, worshipfully rejoiced –
I had a name; I was no longer void.
I was distant still, but they called me Pluto,
And I wore my name like regalia,
A crown upon my lifeless skin.
They called me Pluto still as they
Waded further from the cosmic shore
That was their home, sending probes
That touched the regolith of Mars –
There was life, and light, spreading out from Planet Earth,
So I waited, hoping they’d come for me
Sooner rather than later, tomorrow and not two centuries from now.
They called me Pluto even as they stripped me of my name –
I was ‘planet’ no longer,
And I grew colder and bitterer as I spun,
Because I knew things they did not,
Things about the rise and fall of civilizations.
They did not see what I had seen,
They had not been watching
Since the dawn-time.
They called me Pluto,
And they cried my name
As I watched them burn,
The light of the flickering candle in the dark
That had once been humankind
Flaring, more luminous than the sun for one bright, shining moment,
Then fading.
They called me Pluto in the aftermath,
As if I were the God of the underworld,
Guarding their lost souls from my far-off perch,
Shepherding that which could not be led,
But I was not their God, even if I’d once fathomed them as mine.
So here I wait, patient, eternal, void and barren,
For them to leave me lonely when they no longer
Dare to speak my name from the realm
I am the supposed guardian of;
They called me Pluto.
Jun 26, 2016
Jun 26, 2016 at 7:46 AM UTC
1670
In Winter in my Room
I came upon a Worm—
Pink, lank and warm—
But as he was a worm
And worms presume
Not quite with him at home—
Secured him by a string
To something neighboring
And went along.
A Trifle afterward
A thing occurred
I’d not believe it if I heard
But state with creeping blood—
A snake with mottles rare
Surveyed my chamber floor
In feature as the worm before
But ringed with power—
The very string with which
I tied him—too
When he was mean and new
That string was there—
I shrank—”How fair you are”!
Propitiation’s claw—
“Afraid,” he hissed
“Of me”?
“No cordiality”—
He fathomed me—
Then to a Rhythm Slim
Secreted in his Form
As Patterns swim
Projected him.
That time I flew
Both eyes his way
Lest he pursue
Nor ever ceased to run
Till in a distant Town
Towns on from mine
I set me down
This was a dream.
4.8k
Each person i meet , i want to show the true self.
The one who knows about the other planets , with purple hues and golden sunlight..
where emotions are free from the necessity of a "divine paradox".
Each person i meet , i want she.. the midnight panther to growl from my lips so they know not to mess with me.
Each person i meet i want to show them nothing. Be an enigma. Silent spill very little. Control. They call it.
Each person i meet , will have their own opinion, but
i want them to leave with an idea....
an idea they have not yet fathomed.
because what is the point?
If no wisdom moves in our veins,
When does man wake up
to woman's grace?......
I see so many closed root and sacral chakra
sometimes i feel uncomfortable because the energy a man may exude is confused. With lust not respect.
May 31, 2014
May 31, 2014 at 12:02 AM UTC
Things unspeakable,
like a river meandering,
surge in my soul,
calls out to me,
inspires my mind with
intriguing force.
Afflatus of the cosmic
impressed with love
enough to be true
caressed my whole
being with power
to dare to do
the impossible.
This impression of
what is inside
my being cannot
be fathomed.
The beauty of the
spirit engulfed
my soul.
Nurtured by grace
and infinite power,
emboldened by
the influence
of love divine to
heal the afflicted.
And now I possessed
the dynamic incredible
unction to influence
and affect my world.
All these are possible
because of grace.
More grace has
been given to excel.
Be thankful and receive it.
Rejoice and be grateful for
the glorious treasures available.
When grace speaks
qualifications dies.
©2018,Emeka Mokeme. All Rights Reserved.
Oct 4, 2018
Oct 4, 2018 at 4:09 PM UTC
We revel in the artist's gaze.
See us, artist, we say.
Scale us in the geometry of your sight.
Objectify us, break us down
To our vital light,
The zero shade of being,
Our essential black and white.
But what if the figure becomes the ground?
Does the artist’s vision ever come to rest?
Does she halt the eye’s restless turning,
Instead hunger to be seen? Fathomed? Expressed
In basic hues, simplified, resolved,
Into the object deconstructed, the mystery solved?
Spotlight and camouflage,
Revelation and disguise:
The chiaroscuro of the artist’s eyes.
Then where does beauty reside?
In our eyes, beholders,
Invited in yet held outside?
Or in the starlight, sunlight,
Lamplight as it plays
On the seer seen in beauty’s gaze?
Jul 24, 2015
Jul 24, 2015 at 10:02 AM UTC
All summer we moved in a villa brimful of echos,
Cool as the pearled interior of a conch.
Bells, hooves, of the high-stipping black goats woke us.
Around our bed the baronial furniture
Foundered through levels of light seagreen and strange.
Not one leaf wrinkled in the clearing air.
We dreamed how we were perfect, and we were.
Against bare, whitewashed walls, the furniture
Anchored itself, griffin-legged and darkly grained.
Two of us in a place meant for ten more-
Our footsteps multiplied in the shadowy chambers,
Our voices fathomed a profounder sound:
The walnut banquet table, the twelve chairs
Mirrored the intricate gestures of two others.
Heavy as a statuary, shapes not ours
Performed a dumbshow in the polished wood,
That cabinet without windows or doors:
He lifts an arm to bring her close, but she
Shies from his touch: his is an iron mood.
Seeing her freeze, he turns his face away.
They poise and grieve as in some old tragedy.
Moon-blanched and implacable, he and she
Would not be eased, released. Our each example
Of temderness dove through their purgatory
Like a planet, a stone, swallowed in a great darkness,
Leaving no sparky track, setting up no ripple.
Nightly we left them in their desert place.
Lights out, they dogged us, sleepless and envious:
We dreamed their arguments, their stricken voices.
We might embrace, but those two never did,
Come, so unlike us, to a stiff impasse,
Burdened in such a way we seemed the lighter-
Ourselves the haunters, and they, flesh and blood;
As if, above love's ruinage, we were
The heaven those two dreamed of, in despair.
3.2k
'Love at first sight' is a term expressed these days we don't often hear
about people when they fall in love thinking of each other very dear.
It's wonderful to recognise an awakened love for one another so very soon
but if the depth of this love is fathomed, does it go beyond the honeymoon?
_________________________________
Jan 11, 2016
Jan 11, 2016 at 4:23 PM UTC
Expectations swagger
And clutter.
Small talk
Loiters dangerously near big talk
As gazes dance between
Lazy freckles.
Questions are asked
That require too complicated
Of answers.
Answers too uncertain
And even once certain,
Limbs putrify and freeze
In the daunting path
That has been figured,
Fathomed, barely
And never traveled.
Habits, self inhibitions,
Self-destructive agendas,
Pull at the walker
As his own mind swivels,
Exhausted,
Tipping into madness.
He’s found the path
But finds self-provoked
Difficulty in walking it.
Jul 11, 2014
Jul 11, 2014 at 12:38 AM UTC
*Their voices echo along the threads of time
I read their works on tattered pages
They say their words did but rhyme
Their's were for inspiration,not wages
They told stories like real witnesses
Of agonizing times and sicknesses
The soldiers of their sweet narrations
They say rode on horses of generations
Triumphant over the trend, glorious
Shooting arrows past lineages,like warriors
They fought against pride and Prejudice
Across boundaries, winged like Pegasus
They flew to bring merit of words and lines
And stood the test of time like wild pines
They used sharp words instead of swords
Only received rejection ,sometimes nods
Walked long distances,endured perspiration
Sleepless ,so to cultivate some inspiration
They were young but with mature souls
Their relentless effort vividly like Moles
Burrowed through even hardened hearts
And with needles of kindness stitched cuts
Finely weaved justice on paper like Mats
And spread it for the world,across all parts
When speech was hated and persecuted
They stood strong and instead recruited
The course of changes threatened to slay
Erosion corroded letters worse than clay
Their beautiful hearts where kindness lay
Were battered and butchered causing hope to decay
A season came when all was but a lost cause
And were tales of how once upon a time it was
Yet again like a phoenix someday they rose
From the ashes of history, how? Nobody knows
They were stronger and mightier than mortals
And travelled through un fathomed portals
They built a very powerful mental kingdom
Above the prestigious tower of wisdom
Where they reigned like the fires on doom at Mordor
Freed so many prisoners of their situations
Across the entire universe and her nations
Gave them keys so they unlock more doors
Stanzas crawled like maggots across all avenues
With mixed feelings the world received the news
Though were skewed to embracing the return
Because for once they saw a flame of peace burn
Their tears were wiped by every piece they read
Poets let them realize war wasn't only in their head
Reason flowed like waters in fountains and streams
Readers believed once again in their dreams
And like poetry and poets they didn't sit back and cry
Every poem they read,sad or not told them to get up and try
And when they finally got victory over their inner strife
Not even once did they forget poems changed their life*
Jun 14, 2015
Jun 14, 2015 at 4:01 PM UTC
Strolling along
By the teeming docks,
I watch the ships put out.
Black ships that heave and lunge
And move like mastodons
Arising from lethargic sleep.
The fathomed harbor
Calls them not nor dares
Them to a strain of action,
But outward, on and outward,
Sounding low-reverberating calls,
Shaggy in the half-lit distance,
They pass the pointed headland,
View the wide, far-lifting wilderness
And leap with cumulative speed
To test the challenge of the sea.
Plunging,
Doggedly onward plunging,
Into salt and mist and foam and sun.
2.4k
as insanity depicts my pride,
I look at you in a way that I can't look at anyone else,
as you are constantly on my mind,
and the droplets fall in a way like never before.
you're heart encases me,
consuming everything I have within its arteries,
each thought becomes more liquefied,
as I try to stop the pain.
"she wouldn't want you doing this"
I tell myself time and time again,
yet still as the capsule slips past my lips,
I find some kind of release in the burning sensation,
that starts to simmer in my throat.
your eyes, I try to picture your eyes...
yet still you are not here for me to see them in flesh,
one look from you and I would stop,
but one look is something you will not give.
relapse...
a pain that cannot be fathomed by a blade,
as you drag it from your elbow to your wrist.
I was a month clean but I can't help it now,
my body is dead.
Pain is a placid thing,
yet somehow it holds a power over me,
but, when I am with you it seems...
... that the hold it has is simply gone.
I can't seem to rendeer the thoughts of my childhood,
as I continue to do the inevitable,
have I slipped back into my old ways...
... Have I gone too far to go back now.
Relapse...
Relapse...
Relapse...
I am sorry I have let you down,
I am sorry that my callous ways are somewhat spiteful,
I may not have much self esteem,
but I know that I am selfish...
was I selfish in my dealings with you?
in the way I handled your gorgeous smile.
not that I recall..
yet I feel as though I have somehow
left, not to be welcomed back,
into you're arms of grace that make me collapse...
drag me out of this pit
save me from this relapse.
Jun 2, 2014
Jun 2, 2014 at 9:44 AM UTC
MY LOVE IS ETERNAL….
I wish you come back to me someday for a while,
tell me your love for me is real,
that ray of hope of keeps me still alive,
you parted professing it was infatuation,
never fathomed my devotion,
you were my inspiration to live,
you were aspiration of my life,
left me in lurch for greener pastures,
leaving me entangled in your love shackles,
questioned the allegiance of my love,
shattering my profound feelings to live,
Years passed away down the lane,
in your thoughts and dreams alone,
in deep agony my heart bleeds ,
in memories of your cuddles and nibbles,
All these years, eyes tired in your quest,
my heart and soul always were at unrest,
Spent days and years persuading hard
my heart to evade from your thought,
it fortified my evasion, firm in its conviction
my heart is no more in my possession,
Spell bound in your compassion,
It is hard, yet have to make a confession
my love for you is beyond my imagination,
no stone left un turned in your pursuit,
no day,no moment passed with out your thought,
you were there always deep in my heart,
captivated me with your kindness
enthralled me with your sweet voice
to love you more was the only choice,
spring has come all the way again
flowers of my love has blossomed again,
though you are far away from me
your love has made me feel you are there with in me,
All these years of my penance for your love,
my goddess has blessed me with her love,
there in my heart and my soul, being the only reason to be alive,
your words soothes my heart and your smile makes it (heart) skip a beat,
you are there in my heart, air I breath, smile on lips,in tears when I weep,
the only ambition I have in my life, to part from this world in your lap,
My love for you is eternal, I would still love you from my coffers…
Aug 26, 2016
Aug 26, 2016 at 1:15 AM UTC
*He is
My Azure Dreambird,
(The Sovereign of Songbirds)
That soars upon
Skies of Resonance.
His sapphire wings
Weightless by valor,
Hallowed every doubt
That
Cursed my shadow
Until credence reigned.
He is
The Musicality of my Soul,
That I climbed as
A stairway
Into
Gates of Aether
Upon
Porcelain keys
Of an impearled
Grand Piano.
His sound emittance
Ascended in frequency until
Pitch became subliminal
For height
ceased to be
Height,
And depth,
Ceased to be
Depth,
It was
Ineffable harmony
And resolution became effortless
With
The touch of his hand.
He is
The Wings of the Dawn,
A Sweeping Rapture
That raised
Me
Beyond the stratosphere
Until graced by
Untarnished embrace
Of the Baptistery of the Sun.
I burst
From Light’s Intemerate Womb,
Renewed and
Gazed upon Terraqueous Gaia
Then for once,
(Yes, for all eternity)
Succumbed to
Faith in the Transcendence
Of his tender affections.
Woe was existence
Before His lightwaves radiated
Within my heart,
For when I purged my pulse
Of that quaking rhythm
And
Hollow cries
Upon his ears,
He stood moved
And remained
Doughty in his devotion
To me.
In that moment
I fathomed his soul
Glistened
O, for he had not forsook me.
I bear a pilgrimage.
One sought to be
Heard,
Seen,
Felt,
Breathed,
And
Divined
By my
Once
Somnolent spirit
Been
Roused
By the incendiary thew of
His ardor.
My revenant soul
Hath emerged from
The Chrysalis of Time as
The Apotheosis of Astral Flame
(A Reverberation of the Cosmo-Plexus of Love)
That since
The Days of Time Immemorial
Guided by the
Whisper of the stars,
I now cleave
To that celestial susurrus:
To the solace buried beneath
The Soil of Afflicition
(For anguish was all I knew)
In repose
Yet yearning to be
Resurrected
In The Dream of Acquisition,
To for eternity behold
The timeless fervor
That doth layeth
In His heart*
Aug 14, 2016
Aug 14, 2016 at 11:52 AM UTC
I've been feeling kinda good about myself lately
I don't know who you are
But
Hopefully sometime soon I'll find you standing around in that parking lot again
Striking up conversations with each other as we done before
Your heart was not sad nor cold; it was warm and pleasant
Your personality was beautiful
Thus your entire being is beautiful
I am done being alone and afraid to ask you out
I have fathomed holding this girl in my arms
Watching her smile at dinner
Going out and having an abundance of fun
I want to discover you
I want to explore you
Staying up until the dark hours of the night
Just talking
But
Don't be afraid
I would never take advantage of you
This is me taking a leap
This is me asking for a night with you
But
Don't be afraid to say "No"
For I will not pursue you
I will not fear rejection
I would just like to ask you for one thing
My heart is bruised
It’s not my scars I want you to cover
Nor my cuts for you to bandage
It's my heart for you to cherish
Jan 6, 2014
Jan 6, 2014 at 2:45 AM UTC
I had this dream yesterday...
it was as if the world was one huge building with only hall ways,
no rooms...
and everyone was racing through these hallways in a stampede
going nowhere...
complete and utter chaos, no one had morals
adults trampled over children to get ahead
and nothing
made any sense
a piece of candy could do crazy things
and anything you imagined was real
and the world's existence itself
was fathomed up by my subconscious mind
which leads me to believe that the actual world
was the dream itself
this dream is definitely a metaphor that my sleeping brain wrote
a poem called a dream
using a pen dipped
in my perception of reality
Apr 23, 2011
Apr 23, 2011 at 10:35 AM UTC
Passed a young soul going north on the river
Crossed up his path southward bound was I headed.
Young man could you tell me where you travel from.
From the land of the misty he spake by and by.
From the land of the smitten and and the eye for an eye.
******* says I. There be no such place as the eye for an eye.
Then passed a fair maiden our eyes never met
She toiled and she labored against furious tide.
What therefore awaits thee I asked with great dread
A dull blade in yon castle now beckons my head.
Twas now dark in the distance . Now hollow and dank
So I made for the landing not sure of the tide.
Now the wind rose around me now blew me to deep
It was then It came to me, surely I sleep.
Tis no dream I assure thee . No digestive woe.
It is written you go down, and down you shall go
******* says I tis naught but a dream.
Now the waters grew angry
The wind whipped about.
It was then that I fathomed the fix I was in.
I had earned my full wages let the payment begin.
Oct 3, 2012
Oct 3, 2012 at 1:53 AM UTC
A process in the weather of the heart
Turns damp to dry; the golden shot
Storms in the freezing tomb.
A weather in the quarter of the veins
Turns night to day; blood in their suns
Lights up the living worm.
A process in the eye forwarns
The bones of blindness; and the womb
Drives in a death as life leaks out.
A darkness in the weather of the eye
Is half its light; the fathomed sea
Breaks on unangled land.
The seed that makes a forest of the ****
Forks half its fruit; and half drops down,
Slow in a sleeping wind.
A weather in the flesh and bone
Is damp and dry; the quick and dead
Move like two ghosts before the eye.
A process in the weather of the world
Turns ghost to ghost; each mothered child
Sits in their double shade.
A process blows the moon into the sun,
Pulls down the shabby curtains of the skin;
And the heart gives up its dead.
2k
Everything (physically) erased, nothing ever forgotten. Every word spoken or written is engrained in my brain, I will never be the same. Unlike no other you came you conquered you (changed). Seven existential hours that would change my DNA and internal making, making, making what I knew up until then surprisingly malleable. Your words your actions your face your voice filled up every millimeter of me that everything else inside was pushed to the brim and seeped out of my pores. Everything I once was became everything you ever were, ever are. There is a chair in the back of my mind that is reserved for you to sit there and continue to hotwire (my mind) and thoughts into something much better than I ever could have fathomed. Your puppet strings control what and who I am and it is impossible to think there is any other living organism that could possess that undeniable ability. There is a keyhole somewhere inside myself. There is a key inside of you. Keyholes the size of pinholes as vast as Sirius. Small, believable, existing. Keys the shape of orchids and birch as natural as the metamorphosis of roots (into) trees. I never knew what (my) purpose was until you. Or maybe I always knew what I was before you and you opened the windows to the (soul) otherwise known as brown eyes so timid to everyone besides you. The smallest organs became so (full of) nothing but visions of you. There is a special place in my slowly beating heart perfectly executed to fit all of you. A twin bed that only holds one girl has an infinite amount of room for whatever (love) you could continue to bring into my life. The impossibility to (for)get and erase has left me with an endless amount of hope to see you again. The possibility of knowing that you are still somewhere out there and I am still somewhere down here, although unsure where. I cannot ascertain whether or not feelings are reciprocated but I know I know they are. I know you know where you are. I know you know I do not know where I am but you could figure it all out for me. You had it all figured out for me. Plans stretched farther than the 3000 miles separating my red string from yours. Our strings are still connected. There is nothing in the world that can cut them no matter the distance no matter the people no matter the time no matter the place. I know and somehow you know fate will bring our two oceans together. One calm ocean full of creatures so logical and tides so serene they make a beautifully flawed human being known as yourself. One ocean plagued by waves and uncertainty as to what is below the surface that makes up a human being, me. Both oceans surround land full of love. Our continents will merge. Our love will emerge. (You, only you.)
May 23, 2013
May 23, 2013 at 12:42 PM UTC
The summation of incredible moments of unsubstantiated ecstasy we both once shared
Are only to be realized on the aftermath
Of cold, solid reality that it is ceased on the resounding note of tragedy
Wells of tears unseen, piles of letters unsent, composition of melodies unfinished,
Unspoken desires to be fathomed silently on the backs of a lonely romantic, idealistic mind
Who dances solemnly on these fragile footsteps of a love,
That is forever lost, non-refundable, and unattainable.
Jul 3, 2015
Jul 3, 2015 at 11:13 AM UTC
We've been this way for a very long time, we've been together for more time than you can imagine. Little weary chains link our minds, looping in and out and up and down. We're this tangled mess of synced thoughts and synced dreams, and sinking syllables.
Every sigh that you let slip from your tired lips is an indication of my exhaustion, because you and I, we lie in comfortable tessellation.
You and I, we've been through magical realism, and the romantics, and the surrealists, the grammar nazis and the pretenders.
You and I, we've etched each other in shifting sands, in clumsy waves.
You and I, we know each other's movements across a blank sheet of paper.
You waltz onto empty pages with constellations for punctuation. Screens may read verbose sacrifices to the patron saint of inspiration, but you, you don't stop or pause to check for abbreviation.
You take half hearted syllables and turn them into poetic nations, you build monuments to love but you neglect infatuation.
You try to touch every single figment of my overactive imagination but then you shuffle away so as not to cause complete annihilation.
You speak lucid languages in times of complete inebriation and you continue this slurred speech against all drunk invitations.
You try to write me down in moments of utter desperation but the grip of your words falter as I run to my wild desolation.
You and I, we've run across clouds, left our footprints in the wake of comets.
You and I, we've sailed all the seas of consciousness, those that can be fathomed, and otherwise.
Slowly, your step exceeded mine, and your stride was longer, so I struggled to keep time. Slowly, I felt our tangles unwind. Slowly, our roots straightened out in a single line and you crossed it.
You crossed it.
Un Saut dans le vide, a leap into the dark, and you were up, up and away. I wanted to trap you in cunning similes, but you were running as fast as the wind.
Little weary chains that linked our minds now struggle at the seams, tiny links begin to
unlink,
unlink,
unlink.
one
by
one
by
one.
Sep 26, 2016
Sep 26, 2016 at 1:13 PM UTC
The Queen of Darken Dreams
Poetic Judy Emery
The dark unfathomed tide
That has fathomed my life;
Of an interminable pried
That blacken up my heart
That turned it into ice,
My life is only a mystery
Of many darken dreams;
I can still hear the ravens cry
Day and night
Always by my side
deep into the night where life
is full of fright;
it is a part of my early journey
where lies are always being told
while the creepy stories are
on the making of true hearts breaking,
where old dreams never made
a home of darkness;
where poets written down
what they loved;
where plays are making drama
that made visions come alive;
with wild crazy thoughts
moved the mind and hearts
to a place of the unknown,
where words are written
to a place of forbidden,
Where a place my own mind
made a written scene;
for others to play out in their own minds,
places in the mind is a journey of some kind,
where true imaginations are made,
where the spirit of me
hasn’t seen yet;
but I hold no regrets;
but at times I hold worthiness of my heart,
on dreamy eyes;
I do write what comes to my mind,
What my heart bleeds
For a world of mystery
To open their minds and read all about me
In darken dreams;
Poetic Judy Emery
The Queen of all darken dreams,
I let my inter visions of my spirit
Write out my misty scenes
for all to capture what it is I see or bleed,
My thought come with many plots;
to control the unknown;
where sleeping spell and rose dust
are being cast into a darken past;
yet; hunting down the brighter hopes in life
to come alive in my life;
There will always be the two dodo brides
In my stories;
You will hear many kinds of things
That will come into darken dreams;
Words of a thief to make the heart weep,
Where witches casting spell
Where only true love could take the spell off,
Where knights ride along the lines
Where queens are made in dreams,
In the sight of ancient time;
I care not about the evil enemies
Because they are a part of the story;
But my work of darken dreams
I do cherish because they are about me.
Poetic Judy Emery © 2017
The Queen Of Darken Dreams Poetic Lilly Emery
Mar 23, 2017
Mar 23, 2017 at 4:45 PM UTC