"gravels" poems - Hello Poetry

"gravels" poems

Not only sands and gravels Were once more on their travels, But gulping muddy gallons Great boulders off their balance Bumped heads together dully And started down the gully. Whole capes caked off in slices. I felt my standpoint shaken In the universal crisis. But with one step backward taken I saved myself from going. A world torn loose went by me. Then the rain stopped and the blowing, And the sun came out to dry me.

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6.7k

One Step Backward Taken

Not only sands and gravels Were once more on their travels, But gulping muddy gallons Great boulders off their balance Bumped heads together dully And started down the gully. Whole capes caked off in slices. I felt my standpoint shaken In the universal crisis. But with one step backward taken I saved myself from going. A world torn loose went by me. Then the rain stopped and the blowing, And the sun came out to dry me.

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In gravest, gravels of untouched soil, Spearhead of purple, beyond the pale, One statue of siege upon a windy foil, What mires meek airs in all you survey? Like a frost of summers, you are lord, To hold that seed in your spiny face, Depressions of land your promontory, All up with arms, iron clad as a mace, Beneath you, the grown motley fields Are desolate, all flowers bled, blender, Spiders and birds know you unyielding The lost aleatory scent of no surrender.

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Jan 15, 2014

Jan 15, 2014 at 7:16 PM UTC

In gravest, gravels of untouched soil, Spearhead of purple, beyond the pale, One statue of siege upon a windy foil, What mires meek airs in all you survey? Like a frost of summers, you are lord, To hold that seed in your spiny face, Depressions of land your promontory, All up with arms, iron clad as a mace, Beneath you, the grown motley fields Are desolate, all flowers bled, blender, Spiders and birds know you unyielding The lost aleatory scent of no surrender.

Continue reading...

In gravest, gravels of untouched soil, Spearhead of purple, beyond the pale, One statue of siege upon a windy foil, What mires meek airs in all you survey? Like a frost of summers, you are lord, To hold that seed in your spiny face, Depressions of land your promontory, All up with arms, iron clad as a mace, Beneath you, the grown motley fields Are desolate, all flowers bled, blender, Spiders and birds know you unyielding The lost aleatory scent of no surrender.

0

Mar 14, 2015

Mar 14, 2015 at 9:46 PM UTC

In gravest, gravels of untouched soil, Spearhead of purple, beyond the pale, One statue of siege upon a windy foil, What mires meek airs in all you survey? Like a frost of summers, you are lord, To hold that seed in your spiny face, Depressions of land your promontory, All up with arms, iron clad as a mace, Beneath you, the grown motley fields Are desolate, all flowers bled, blender, Spiders and birds know you unyielding The lost aleatory scent of no surrender.

Continue reading...

The path strewn with hurdles and gravels 40 years is a long way to travel Two souls sewn with love and peace Two hearts dipped in bliss Two minds not always in same strength But determined within to walk the length. 40 years of building the nest Patience and endurance put to hard test Before one day the saplings become a tree Heart upon heart two becomes three Through fall and rise and sun downpour Years flew as the three becomes four. It's no easy work to raise a family In all sadness live strong and happily Blocks are thrown doubts are cast Moments of life try to break the trust But we didn't bow continued the thrive A grownup family now, we number five.

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Jul 20, 2024

Jul 20, 2024 at 9:55 PM UTC

pradip-chattopadhyay

The path strewn with hurdles and gravels 40 years is a long way to travel Two souls sewn with love and peace Two hearts dipped in bliss Two minds not always in same strength But determined within to walk the length. 40 years of building the nest Patience and endurance put to hard test Before one day the saplings become a tree Heart upon heart two becomes three Through fall and rise and sun downpour Years flew as the three becomes four. It's no easy work to raise a family In all sadness live strong and happily Blocks are thrown doubts are cast Moments of life try to break the trust But we didn't bow continued the thrive A grownup family now, we number five.

Continue reading...

In gravest, gravels of untouched soil, Spearhead of purple, beyond the pale, One statue of siege upon a windy foil, What mires meek airs in all you survey? Like a frost of summers, you are lord, To hold that seed in your spiny face, Depressions of land your promontory, All up with arms, iron clad as a mace, Beneath you, the grown motley fields Are desolate, all flowers bled, blender, Spiders and birds know you unyielding The lost aleatory scent of no surrender.

0

Jan 14, 2015

Jan 14, 2015 at 2:57 PM UTC

In gravest, gravels of untouched soil, Spearhead of purple, beyond the pale, One statue of siege upon a windy foil, What mires meek airs in all you survey? Like a frost of summers, you are lord, To hold that seed in your spiny face, Depressions of land your promontory, All up with arms, iron clad as a mace, Beneath you, the grown motley fields Are desolate, all flowers bled, blender, Spiders and birds know you unyielding The lost aleatory scent of no surrender.

Continue reading...

A bouquet hung in afterhour pantry, A bell to ring the starved noise, Two spirit's gathering extraterrestrial information, A stairway chalked by toys!!! A damp moistness to bleed out ourn Laugh's, No docteretic sources, Just serene gleams of minds alike inbathed!!! Abundance of sizziling swelter, Bogged heavy in due rain heat, A voisterous composition, The crow polishes ourn two's feet!! I tasteth her plum need, She gravels our toes, Fulminations children breed, In translucent clear clothes!!! We wither in feathered juiciness, Where fences are none to find, Wherein camera's we make to shiver, We break back's on massage oil chyme! She reaches over to take mine fears, She maketh me a warmsome bed, Different valley's in singular astronomical view, Both alive, yet so dead!! Ourn peritonium's hunch in closer, As ourn cartilage gets renaissance, Were two alike, a Shakespherian Poe poster, A darkness and light of Dupont!!! Puzzles with missing pieces, Though we ourn selves fill the gaps, Where none can enter between us, For ourn chapters are ammophilously wrapped!!!

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May 27, 2015

May 27, 2015 at 9:33 PM UTC

bouquet enveloppé ( bouquet wrapped) in french...

A bouquet hung in afterhour pantry, A bell to ring the starved noise, Two spirit's gathering extraterrestrial information, A stairway chalked by toys!!! A damp moistness to bleed out ourn Laugh's, No docteretic sources, Just serene gleams of minds alike inbathed!!! Abundance of sizziling swelter, Bogged heavy in due rain heat, A voisterous composition, The crow polishes ourn two's feet!! I tasteth her plum need, She gravels our toes, Fulminations children breed, In translucent clear clothes!!! We wither in feathered juiciness, Where fences are none to find, Wherein camera's we make to shiver, We break back's on massage oil chyme! She reaches over to take mine fears, She maketh me a warmsome bed, Different valley's in singular astronomical view, Both alive, yet so dead!! Ourn peritonium's hunch in closer, As ourn cartilage gets renaissance, Were two alike, a Shakespherian Poe poster, A darkness and light of Dupont!!! Puzzles with missing pieces, Though we ourn selves fill the gaps, Where none can enter between us, For ourn chapters are ammophilously wrapped!!!

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**I exist to resist all your heavy-headed hits. Your words in stone, more absolute than death. The way you glance below your jagged bridge, a grin dried in arrogance. Your footsteps frighten the earth, but cease to shake my defiance. Gravels cave, underfires exposed. But even then I'll swim, in your ocean of shallowness, tigers on my tail, Paradise Mirages mocking my waterless skin, even then, I said, I will swim to the Revolution's Shore. Nevermind your ignorance, seeing blue skies and arguing them RED. Deluded certainty, swearing on a man's soul to prove your point and feed your obsession. I say "yes", you say "of course", but no doubt I'm in the wrong. I say "maybe" you say "perhaps, and so you've proved your wisdom blind. Mastered conspiracies, you've convinced your lies true. In your mind you walk on water, as you strike your soles on mere tar. Governor's Confetti lay dead on Governor's Ground; fool's bravery in act, leading souldiers from behind. This world, The Principal's Playroom: clay towers and cars, play moneys and guards. In the sun, your tin castles smile and glimmer in the shine. But inside, hollowness reigns and you fail to see. Eyes and Eyes fall to your sleep, calamity by the masses as you care not to care. Seconds linger as misted windshields shield the drunk driver, and not even the death he brings can break the glass. Deaf man with hearing ears, the blind one who can see.**

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Sep 9, 2013

Sep 9, 2013 at 9:04 AM UTC

lindisa-mathabela-1

**I exist to resist all your heavy-headed hits. Your words in stone, more absolute than death. The way you glance below your jagged bridge, a grin dried in arrogance. Your footsteps frighten the earth, but cease to shake my defiance. Gravels cave, underfires exposed. But even then I'll swim, in your ocean of shallowness, tigers on my tail, Paradise Mirages mocking my waterless skin, even then, I said, I will swim to the Revolution's Shore. Nevermind your ignorance, seeing blue skies and arguing them RED. Deluded certainty, swearing on a man's soul to prove your point and feed your obsession. I say "yes", you say "of course", but no doubt I'm in the wrong. I say "maybe" you say "perhaps, and so you've proved your wisdom blind. Mastered conspiracies, you've convinced your lies true. In your mind you walk on water, as you strike your soles on mere tar. Governor's Confetti lay dead on Governor's Ground; fool's bravery in act, leading souldiers from behind. This world, The Principal's Playroom: clay towers and cars, play moneys and guards. In the sun, your tin castles smile and glimmer in the shine. But inside, hollowness reigns and you fail to see. Eyes and Eyes fall to your sleep, calamity by the masses as you care not to care. Seconds linger as misted windshields shield the drunk driver, and not even the death he brings can break the glass. Deaf man with hearing ears, the blind one who can see.**

Continue reading...

In gravest, gravels of untouched soil, Spearhead of purple, beyond the pale, One statue of siege upon a windy foil, What mires meek airs in all you survey? Like a frost of summers, you are lord, To hold that seed in your spiny face, Depressions of land your promontory, All up with arms, iron clad as a mace, Beneath you, the grown motley fields Are desolate, all flowers bled, blender, Spiders and birds know you unyielding The lost aleatory scent of no surrender.

0

Jun 29, 2014

Jun 29, 2014 at 11:19 PM UTC

In gravest, gravels of untouched soil, Spearhead of purple, beyond the pale, One statue of siege upon a windy foil, What mires meek airs in all you survey? Like a frost of summers, you are lord, To hold that seed in your spiny face, Depressions of land your promontory, All up with arms, iron clad as a mace, Beneath you, the grown motley fields Are desolate, all flowers bled, blender, Spiders and birds know you unyielding The lost aleatory scent of no surrender.

Continue reading...

. In gravest, gravels of untouched soil, Spearhead of purple, beyond the pale, One statue of siege upon a windy foil, What mires meek airs in all you survey? Like a frost of summers, you are lord, To hold that seed in your spiny face, Depressions of land your promontory, All up with arms, iron clad as a mace, Beneath you, the grown motley fields Are desolate, all flowers bled, blender, Spiders and birds know you unyielding The lost aleatory scent of no surrender.

0

Jan 22, 2017

Jan 22, 2017 at 10:08 PM UTC

. In gravest, gravels of untouched soil, Spearhead of purple, beyond the pale, One statue of siege upon a windy foil, What mires meek airs in all you survey? Like a frost of summers, you are lord, To hold that seed in your spiny face, Depressions of land your promontory, All up with arms, iron clad as a mace, Beneath you, the grown motley fields Are desolate, all flowers bled, blender, Spiders and birds know you unyielding The lost aleatory scent of no surrender.

Continue reading...

L'heure verte The mountains. The heaps of their bountiful gravels, and earth, and soil, large oversized masses of half-frozen water teetering on the precipice of subzero masculine ******* Francophilic cleavage jetting out of this deserted white pastoral dressing. The inaugural bawl, wanton fixations of putting the imperialist foot on every spot of tree, each and every shrub, until the limbs' cast reaches each dimple that foliage braves, where that blue eagle of patriotism dredges its claws to form every river, rill, estuary, creek, channel, flume, littoral, and waterway where the iron-rich gullies once brimmed in the interamnian basins, rich crimsony waters riffling through fruitful and extravagant aquifers. Beyond that, where an inexplicably feral wind rips vines from their dendritic housings, where barely an eye can see, this place of exsanguination and abysmal phytocide. At the end of this lamentable torture, only a desert of human interest remains. There is no reason to laugh, or smile, or cheer, or put a leg up, to call on a friend, or to have ice cream. There will be no more ice cream. There is only the loathsome incredulousness and avarice in the semblances and familiarity of those with whom we thought we once knew. Little can ever be known, for there is much to gain in the absence of knowledge, and even greater that can be acquired in the alms of wisdom through patient examination and thorough silence. Here on the buttes and cornices, the thwacking gavels of evil power deities throw down their lust for more and soon become adjoined to these grand discrepancies greed mistakenly loses to a lack of awareness and to self-aggrandizement. Power is the weapon of inexperienced wielders. Passion is the immortal frequency that is worn by artisans and artists, poets and painters, it is the business of quietness to learnedly evolve to protect our tomorrows from personal needs, but to instead preserve the integral parts of society. The words of languages, artifacts, and cultures, rather than the skeletons of ****** and the deeds of possession. Each who sleeps knows their bedfellows to equally be at peace. For no wealth can exceed that of comfortable pillows, soft quilts, and sheets. We are all the same while we sleep.

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Jan 9, 2017

Jan 9, 2017 at 6:52 AM UTC

L'heure verte The mountains. The heaps of their bountiful gravels, and earth, and soil, large oversized masses of half-frozen water teetering on the precipice of subzero masculine ******* Francophilic cleavage jetting out of this deserted white pastoral dressing. The inaugural bawl, wanton fixations of putting the imperialist foot on every spot of tree, each and every shrub, until the limbs' cast reaches each dimple that foliage braves, where that blue eagle of patriotism dredges its claws to form every river, rill, estuary, creek, channel, flume, littoral, and waterway where the iron-rich gullies once brimmed in the interamnian basins, rich crimsony waters riffling through fruitful and extravagant aquifers. Beyond that, where an inexplicably feral wind rips vines from their dendritic housings, where barely an eye can see, this place of exsanguination and abysmal phytocide. At the end of this lamentable torture, only a desert of human interest remains. There is no reason to laugh, or smile, or cheer, or put a leg up, to call on a friend, or to have ice cream. There will be no more ice cream. There is only the loathsome incredulousness and avarice in the semblances and familiarity of those with whom we thought we once knew. Little can ever be known, for there is much to gain in the absence of knowledge, and even greater that can be acquired in the alms of wisdom through patient examination and thorough silence. Here on the buttes and cornices, the thwacking gavels of evil power deities throw down their lust for more and soon become adjoined to these grand discrepancies greed mistakenly loses to a lack of awareness and to self-aggrandizement. Power is the weapon of inexperienced wielders. Passion is the immortal frequency that is worn by artisans and artists, poets and painters, it is the business of quietness to learnedly evolve to protect our tomorrows from personal needs, but to instead preserve the integral parts of society. The words of languages, artifacts, and cultures, rather than the skeletons of ****** and the deeds of possession. Each who sleeps knows their bedfellows to equally be at peace. For no wealth can exceed that of comfortable pillows, soft quilts, and sheets. We are all the same while we sleep.

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Losing sight of the stars, now that I've come so far, overlooking the skies dark, just to make a mark, I look back, and see myself wondering, which road to travel, one with the gravel, or the one with the marvel. I rather chose the one with the gravels (inspired by Robert Frost) just so it would have a better outcome in the end so as to make my body and soul unify that is why I dreamt so high. Well, ten years from now, I'd like to see myself this way.

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Mar 25, 2013

Mar 25, 2013 at 12:36 PM UTC

Losing sight of the stars, now that I've come so far, overlooking the skies dark, just to make a mark, I look back, and see myself wondering, which road to travel, one with the gravel, or the one with the marvel. I rather chose the one with the gravels (inspired by Robert Frost) just so it would have a better outcome in the end so as to make my body and soul unify that is why I dreamt so high. Well, ten years from now, I'd like to see myself this way.

Continue reading...

Show me your wounds The blood at your feet The fear in your eyes The scars cut in deep. Scream your pain at me Tear your lungs in despair Lose your voice in the world Leaving you without at care. Fall to your knees Smash your fist to the ground Gravels digs into your knuckles A familiar taste you have found. Rain pours from the sky Eternal clouds of gray overhead You feel no cleansing in its touch You're simply washing away with the dead. Look to your side Turn your eyes so to see You're not in this alone You will always have me. See the bloodstains on my clothes The scars cut in deep The tears in my eyes The pain that I keep. I'll wash away with you I'll share in your pain I'll carry your burdens I'm here to stay. Share with me your struggles Share with me your suffering I want the cross that you carry I want you, entirely.

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Nov 22, 2015

Nov 22, 2015 at 11:08 PM UTC

Show me your wounds The blood at your feet The fear in your eyes The scars cut in deep. Scream your pain at me Tear your lungs in despair Lose your voice in the world Leaving you without at care. Fall to your knees Smash your fist to the ground Gravels digs into your knuckles A familiar taste you have found. Rain pours from the sky Eternal clouds of gray overhead You feel no cleansing in its touch You're simply washing away with the dead. Look to your side Turn your eyes so to see You're not in this alone You will always have me. See the bloodstains on my clothes The scars cut in deep The tears in my eyes The pain that I keep. I'll wash away with you I'll share in your pain I'll carry your burdens I'm here to stay. Share with me your struggles Share with me your suffering I want the cross that you carry I want you, entirely.

Continue reading...

In gravest, gravels of untouched soil, Spearhead of purple, beyond the pale, One statue of siege upon a windy foil, What mires meek airs in all you survey? Like a frost of summers, you are lord, To hold that seed in your spiny face, Depressions of land your promontory, All up with arms, iron clad as a mace, Beneath you, the grown motley fields Are desolate, all flowers bled, blender, Spiders and birds know you unyielding The lost aleatory scent of no surrender.

0

Nov 2, 2015

Nov 2, 2015 at 9:37 PM UTC

In gravest, gravels of untouched soil, Spearhead of purple, beyond the pale, One statue of siege upon a windy foil, What mires meek airs in all you survey? Like a frost of summers, you are lord, To hold that seed in your spiny face, Depressions of land your promontory, All up with arms, iron clad as a mace, Beneath you, the grown motley fields Are desolate, all flowers bled, blender, Spiders and birds know you unyielding The lost aleatory scent of no surrender.

Continue reading...

We are us Who are we? We are the waters that create the seas No need for modernisation Civilisation oversees United on the same path Individually rare roads Through bushes and gravels We are the history that begins We are the heard of new ideas, That showers from forebears To conquer now nature declares Born with flares All of us,all of us all of us we are one Stumbling in failures Triumphs directly delivers We soon to stand like creepers, Brothers and sisters Learners to teachers and doctors We are us Or morning from dawn Bravery at spawn Flexible tongues to questions Scary responses for answers Who knows who are we We are us, we are us We are the Youths Written by Kabelo Mthembu

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Nov 9, 2015

Nov 9, 2015 at 9:18 AM UTC

We are us Who are we? We are the waters that create the seas No need for modernisation Civilisation oversees United on the same path Individually rare roads Through bushes and gravels We are the history that begins We are the heard of new ideas, That showers from forebears To conquer now nature declares Born with flares All of us,all of us all of us we are one Stumbling in failures Triumphs directly delivers We soon to stand like creepers, Brothers and sisters Learners to teachers and doctors We are us Or morning from dawn Bravery at spawn Flexible tongues to questions Scary responses for answers Who knows who are we We are us, we are us We are the Youths Written by Kabelo Mthembu

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lost ardor, long hidden beneath these initial wastes pinpointing the mines and matters, estimations and worth your excavation operating on the surface of my bereavement without any evaluation of its dolorous costs or the extent of these ductile veins, rivers through our subterranean natures your shadow requirements, eroded and befouled now, neither my eyes nor I much love your dark epicardial secrets, projecting deposits of debris, the chloride fragrance of our secrets, hidden fires underground; your love, all and away digging, mining proposed new lovers out of us both; gravels and pain and gas; ferrous exploration; uranium reclamation anew via caustic layers of ore and deposits of once-flowing love alloys of dead flowers and waste form my rocks seething into scabrous life like bantling cacti after a lover has risen such risks always require a proportion of love be livid, recoverable; threads of passion dissolved in the complexities of the body grains of unconsolidated minerals evoking love and potash yes, secret metallurgists like you pose acidic dangers to my soft endocardial things

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Jun 23, 2019

Jun 23, 2019 at 12:59 PM UTC

my soft endocardial things

lost ardor, long hidden beneath these initial wastes pinpointing the mines and matters, estimations and worth your excavation operating on the surface of my bereavement without any evaluation of its dolorous costs or the extent of these ductile veins, rivers through our subterranean natures your shadow requirements, eroded and befouled now, neither my eyes nor I much love your dark epicardial secrets, projecting deposits of debris, the chloride fragrance of our secrets, hidden fires underground; your love, all and away digging, mining proposed new lovers out of us both; gravels and pain and gas; ferrous exploration; uranium reclamation anew via caustic layers of ore and deposits of once-flowing love alloys of dead flowers and waste form my rocks seething into scabrous life like bantling cacti after a lover has risen such risks always require a proportion of love be livid, recoverable; threads of passion dissolved in the complexities of the body grains of unconsolidated minerals evoking love and potash yes, secret metallurgists like you pose acidic dangers to my soft endocardial things

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He asked me why I liked him I've never been asked that question before I thought I just stared out the window quickly reflected but my words never rejected ♫♫♫♫♫ I wanted to tell you I loved your persistence you never made me feel the distance I wanted to tell you I loved your taste of music in the morning I never thought you were boring I wanted to tell you I loved how you'd get excited to see new gravels I wanted to go with you on all your travels I should have told you I loved the way you kissed me upon that rock I never felt more free Then I thought why does he even like me? ♫♫♫♫ © Brittney Hibbert 2016

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Apr 28, 2016

Apr 28, 2016 at 9:04 PM UTC

brittneyforeverr

I could have asked you the same thing

He asked me why I liked him I've never been asked that question before I thought I just stared out the window quickly reflected but my words never rejected ♫♫♫♫♫ I wanted to tell you I loved your persistence you never made me feel the distance I wanted to tell you I loved your taste of music in the morning I never thought you were boring I wanted to tell you I loved how you'd get excited to see new gravels I wanted to go with you on all your travels I should have told you I loved the way you kissed me upon that rock I never felt more free Then I thought why does he even like me? ♫♫♫♫ © Brittney Hibbert 2016

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If I fall from seven stories, would you touch my mangled body? Would you always be the last one every day to touch my cheek? If I drown and I am floating, will you pull me out and hold me --Wet and cold me-- Though my blood has stopped, my neck is limp and weak? And should a fire consume me, would you watch the smoke blow off me? Once I'm dragged out on our lawn and I'm nestled in wet grass Would it be too much a trouble that you give my hand a last kiss To look into where my eyes were--would that be too much to ask? And if I rolled out of a car door, would you drive the roads to find me? Would you pick the tiny gravels from my freshly-tender skin Could you press your still-warm lips to mine and whisper you still love me Claim my body Be the one who tells my friends and all my kin? And if somehow I exploded, would you think how to collect me? Would you look for all my pieces just to put them back in one? And if ailment were to strike me, could you watch my figure crumple? Will you stay as I get thinly and my hairs fall one by one? I love you every moment and would do all of this for you I won't want to have to do it, but if someone, here I am So, darling, as I'm weeping, will you press myself into you Ever-New you Say you love me and will love me as I am

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Jan 23, 2017

Jan 23, 2017 at 11:56 PM UTC

as you are and as i am

If I fall from seven stories, would you touch my mangled body? Would you always be the last one every day to touch my cheek? If I drown and I am floating, will you pull me out and hold me --Wet and cold me-- Though my blood has stopped, my neck is limp and weak? And should a fire consume me, would you watch the smoke blow off me? Once I'm dragged out on our lawn and I'm nestled in wet grass Would it be too much a trouble that you give my hand a last kiss To look into where my eyes were--would that be too much to ask? And if I rolled out of a car door, would you drive the roads to find me? Would you pick the tiny gravels from my freshly-tender skin Could you press your still-warm lips to mine and whisper you still love me Claim my body Be the one who tells my friends and all my kin? And if somehow I exploded, would you think how to collect me? Would you look for all my pieces just to put them back in one? And if ailment were to strike me, could you watch my figure crumple? Will you stay as I get thinly and my hairs fall one by one? I love you every moment and would do all of this for you I won't want to have to do it, but if someone, here I am So, darling, as I'm weeping, will you press myself into you Ever-New you Say you love me and will love me as I am

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Life is a lot like a river The tides either help raise you up Or lower tides can drag you under. One false move as you swim these emotionally sensitive energy currents.... Constantly keep the emotions in a balancing science.. Which helps the waters from turning "tsunami" into wonder.. "How to Keep your head above the waters" and "away from the gravels below?" Strength and strict compliance to this ritual are always a skill.. A ritual.. A battle which always must be won.. Moods and unchecked thoughts are similar to a loaded six shooter. You twirl the bullet wheel and point the barrel to the head Providing an answer on to the scene to where this "play" shall take you or the rough waters shall take you through. Memories of the past turning to obsessive weight Kicking the stress of life's load to weigh one metric ton. You must become like an Olympic swimmer and Albert Einstein rolled up into one character. Smarts help you figure out a better equation instead of "Russian roulette" and becoming a strong and skilled athlete can help one wrestle their control over the tides wishing to overthrow "this alpha male." You become the victor through all of it. Becoming a controller instead of being "controlled" Energies kept in check. Don't give in. For one moment of allowing one's self to be overwhelmed or give in to the energy effect of exhaustion Can make your reactor Powering your life's force Blow as the Chernobyl Reactor blasted into lifelessness You do not have to revisit history to know what and who such energy took down with it So stay with the times and never neglect yourself, Never throw up your hands, and act out the phrase "forget it!" The future is a brighter light than in the past. Chose the right role in your life and you shall win your Oscar Thanks are due to the character in which you are bright to life and as a director you are a true actor. in which you cast.

0

Jun 13, 2019

Jun 13, 2019 at 4:47 AM UTC

kevin-michael-kappler

Battling the Rising Tides

Life is a lot like a river The tides either help raise you up Or lower tides can drag you under. One false move as you swim these emotionally sensitive energy currents.... Constantly keep the emotions in a balancing science.. Which helps the waters from turning "tsunami" into wonder.. "How to Keep your head above the waters" and "away from the gravels below?" Strength and strict compliance to this ritual are always a skill.. A ritual.. A battle which always must be won.. Moods and unchecked thoughts are similar to a loaded six shooter. You twirl the bullet wheel and point the barrel to the head Providing an answer on to the scene to where this "play" shall take you or the rough waters shall take you through. Memories of the past turning to obsessive weight Kicking the stress of life's load to weigh one metric ton. You must become like an Olympic swimmer and Albert Einstein rolled up into one character. Smarts help you figure out a better equation instead of "Russian roulette" and becoming a strong and skilled athlete can help one wrestle their control over the tides wishing to overthrow "this alpha male." You become the victor through all of it. Becoming a controller instead of being "controlled" Energies kept in check. Don't give in. For one moment of allowing one's self to be overwhelmed or give in to the energy effect of exhaustion Can make your reactor Powering your life's force Blow as the Chernobyl Reactor blasted into lifelessness You do not have to revisit history to know what and who such energy took down with it So stay with the times and never neglect yourself, Never throw up your hands, and act out the phrase "forget it!" The future is a brighter light than in the past. Chose the right role in your life and you shall win your Oscar Thanks are due to the character in which you are bright to life and as a director you are a true actor. in which you cast.

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I’m setting sail out to sea An oceanic storm of fractured pavement and unleaded gasoline Because when you’re trying to break free Of unwavering routines You take the high road to a new life And the road feels timeless With its own mind In an instant Your world can change from calm to madness Like being under water Can’t break through the surface reaching upward Which one are you drinking: The water or the wave? And you think -what brought you here? Trapped below the surface Because although you can’t get out The water is still clear The gravels hardness And the oceans fluidity Out here you are alone No friends no family And you fear your ship is sinking What would you do? You guessed: Surrender to the sea? Because there were never any life vests The salt in the ocean the salt in these cuts Unwavering pressure Of this heart pumping blood I’m lost out in the infinite sea And yet it’s softly rocking me to sleep

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Aug 13, 2014

Aug 13, 2014 at 11:50 PM UTC

imaginariumemporium

I’m setting sail out to sea An oceanic storm of fractured pavement and unleaded gasoline Because when you’re trying to break free Of unwavering routines You take the high road to a new life And the road feels timeless With its own mind In an instant Your world can change from calm to madness Like being under water Can’t break through the surface reaching upward Which one are you drinking: The water or the wave? And you think -what brought you here? Trapped below the surface Because although you can’t get out The water is still clear The gravels hardness And the oceans fluidity Out here you are alone No friends no family And you fear your ship is sinking What would you do? You guessed: Surrender to the sea? Because there were never any life vests The salt in the ocean the salt in these cuts Unwavering pressure Of this heart pumping blood I’m lost out in the infinite sea And yet it’s softly rocking me to sleep

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Somewhere along the narrow path, I dream of what I cannot have. Lushes and blooms fill the gravels whisking away at scared ankles. Skies scream of consistent mellows, drowing about my broken trebles. The winds of change play their harps, but I am singing past their darks.

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Jul 23, 2018

Jul 23, 2018 at 12:21 AM UTC

Meadow’s Melody

Somewhere along the narrow path, I dream of what I cannot have. Lushes and blooms fill the gravels whisking away at scared ankles. Skies scream of consistent mellows, drowing about my broken trebles. The winds of change play their harps, but I am singing past their darks.

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I stopped by the children playing, The enjoyed their game so much, It was nine halls on the earth, Each filled with three gravels except two, The two lied on the diagonal, and were named bank, Turn taking in play was perfect , Every time before moving any gravel, The counted halls , They showed delight when they won They were disgraceful when they lost. This brought me a lot of thoughts , Life is like a game, Sometimes we win, At times we loose , But since the children never stopped to play, We do not have to stop living , We have to steer the wheel and keep going. Life needs savings , So the children's game had a bank, It needs strategy and skills, That is why the children had to count the holes before they play, All these and more made my day, I kept it for life, And I will use the gravel to educate. The children were my teachers

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Mar 7, 2017

Mar 7, 2017 at 9:17 AM UTC

I stopped by the children playing, The enjoyed their game so much, It was nine halls on the earth, Each filled with three gravels except two, The two lied on the diagonal, and were named bank, Turn taking in play was perfect , Every time before moving any gravel, The counted halls , They showed delight when they won They were disgraceful when they lost. This brought me a lot of thoughts , Life is like a game, Sometimes we win, At times we loose , But since the children never stopped to play, We do not have to stop living , We have to steer the wheel and keep going. Life needs savings , So the children's game had a bank, It needs strategy and skills, That is why the children had to count the holes before they play, All these and more made my day, I kept it for life, And I will use the gravel to educate. The children were my teachers

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Your hair is short, And, You've beautiful eyes. I am a lonely street, Listening to the evening wind. But, The wind would come to spoil the moon, And, I would fit in this noisy truth. A natural flower being too dead, to mock the sleeping sequence of- a buzzing hope. The scraggy anger would get absorbed, like salty waters among the gravels, deep below, and all down below, The foam of disguise. But I would rise again, to make it sure, like- The Eclipsed Moon, to eat your Rose, And I would toil my Greeky hands, All hunger, but an image fails. And, I would capture an orange light- For, I would burn my fear with an asymmetrical fright. And, I would intoxicate the absence of all links, upon the suspended mechanics of all- suspicious inklings.

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Dec 7, 2017

Dec 7, 2017 at 8:38 AM UTC

Angshuman_Chakravarty

The Travelogue.

Your hair is short, And, You've beautiful eyes. I am a lonely street, Listening to the evening wind. But, The wind would come to spoil the moon, And, I would fit in this noisy truth. A natural flower being too dead, to mock the sleeping sequence of- a buzzing hope. The scraggy anger would get absorbed, like salty waters among the gravels, deep below, and all down below, The foam of disguise. But I would rise again, to make it sure, like- The Eclipsed Moon, to eat your Rose, And I would toil my Greeky hands, All hunger, but an image fails. And, I would capture an orange light- For, I would burn my fear with an asymmetrical fright. And, I would intoxicate the absence of all links, upon the suspended mechanics of all- suspicious inklings.

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The time was orange and blue And gravels captured black in motion Parting ways not late nor too soon And missing you became an emotion

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Mar 28, 2018

Mar 28, 2018 at 3:53 AM UTC

The time was orange and blue And gravels captured black in motion Parting ways not late nor too soon And missing you became an emotion

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We are no saints why expecting others to be angels, This is no perfect world, no heaven on the gravels. We will get hurt by others for sure, We just got to find the ones worth suffering for!

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Apr 7, 2016

Apr 7, 2016 at 3:14 AM UTC

We are no saints why expecting others to be angels, This is no perfect world, no heaven on the gravels. We will get hurt by others for sure, We just got to find the ones worth suffering for!

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