"lightings" poems
Mixing tea, let's say lavender with something as simple as milk
Must sound silly and weird at first glance, as both come with their
own tastes and flavors which seem to not match at all.
Even the most unmatching couple can find bliss, harmony and
perfection in their very relationship, however.
Such as for the tea;
The milk manages to soften, embrace, advertise the taste of lavender
while leaving a pleasant aftertaste which is alike a ghost poorly
detectable, but present nonetheless after all.
With some sugar to sweeten this experience, it becomes divine,
something I would never have thought of, of such an odd couple.
The image of the lavender becomes overdrawn by the milk,
Engaging in a pure, creamy, brief white which reflects light just
in a majestic sense.
This is a taste to become lost in whilst reading a book in the best
of lightings, together with someone who causes your heart to race
and just turn ablaze
~ Umi
Feb 6, 2018
Feb 6, 2018 at 2:25 PM UTC
I’ve lived
my entire life
believing that
Home is building
A place where you
get creative with all
your fancy decorations
your fancy candle chandelier lightings
A place where I can cook
all my fancy gourmet meals
While watching my big fancy television
A place with my fancy four car garages
where I can park my fancy toys
Enter , live and lock my fancy twelve foot doors
As I spent all my fancy earnings
Then with a snap of my fingers
one morning I got wised up
I realized I was wrong the entire time
Those fancy things aren’t what
truly makes a home at all
I was wrong
I was broke wrong
Home is the space in between
your heart
Home is wherever I’m with you
Home is wherever love
resides , memories are created
like Instagram photos filling up your heart
And where laughter never ends.
Aug 29, 2018
Aug 29, 2018 at 6:19 PM UTC
**She wasn’t there, in her cubicle, when I arrived.
It was empty, that part of the faculty area apart from the tables, the afternoon light passing through the window and the ravines dividing the place.** Her spot was full of dust, past dated old calendars and dreams of its former occupant who was eaten by the ocean and drowned. Well, at least the rumor claimed.
I don’t know if it’s true, but everyone knows what the former occupant did last summer. It was about two weeks before her wedding when she ran away with her student. Both of them just disappeared from the circulation one day. During the early part of their absence, the staff and classmates assumed that the reason might have been just trivial, like a mere cough or a fever.
But time and weeks dragged on and both of them were gone. Nowhere to be found. No words were left. No notice either. Nothing. They simply disappeared, just like that. Like one day, they have decided not to exist in this conventional world anymore. Like a bubble ceasing to float.
They stayed in an island, it was said. Packed their bags with clothes, flash lights, canned goods – everything they could carry at a dead run. Then they hired a boat which carried them to their destination, but no one found out the existence of the boat. There was no trace. Not even a slight.
The island was remote, detached and unoccupied. People say they built a settlement somewhere in the area, made of woods, twigs, leaves and perhaps, love. But some says they have their tent, and it was where they dreamed their elusive dreams.
But a storm broke in the dead hour of the night, shaking their sleep. All the trees and vegetation swayed to and fro, trying to catch the unfamiliar song of the wind while avoiding the occasional bouts of the lightings.
It must have been beautiful, the entire universe in sheer panic, in the middle of the night, embracing you home.
Before they knew it the tide rose and the world quivered and the waves grew massive and rolled and crashed in that part of the island and that edge.
She wasn’t there, in her cubicle, when I arrived.
Nor did the island in its former spot. It was vacated, that part of the faculty area apart from the afternoon light passing through the window which overlooks the contour of the overlapping mountains.
I placed my bag on the table, took a pen and scribbled a note saying that I’d be back some other time. She must have been in her class but I cannot be sure.
I cannot see the ocean from here.
Aug 24, 2013
Aug 24, 2013 at 1:15 AM UTC
His arms, her arms tangled together
One last time holding one another. Refreshing than petrichor is her smell But would it be enough to hold him back?
One last time kissin’ her lips One last time saving her texture on his finger tips.
So soft, so sweet, so ethereal
Hard to believe if she's real.
Her eyes have the lightings of the whole town Would take forever to decipher if it's black or brown.
Saying ‘Love Yous’ for one last time,
But even his eloquence was useless
His love for her,
Too ineffable to confess.
Putting on a bold facade, he smiled at his love Twinkle in her eyes,
Makin’ the stars burn in jelousy above.
Saying goodbye without a goodbye was hardest;
His mind was wandering and his heart was aching.
To express himself, no language,
no manuscript would be best.
Every single piece of his existence was trembling.
Be it love or limerence All he wanted was to never be vivid rememberance.
He would never be what she deserve he
thought. Little did he know he was all she want.
Takin’ one last look, over the shoulder “Wait for me" he said. Little did she know she’d be waiting forever.
Oct 25, 2018
Oct 25, 2018 at 4:55 AM UTC
It’s there,
Where water meets fire,
Where lightings strikes the ground.
That’s where my heartbeat goes.
My chest feels like it was filled
With tampered strings.
Once so sharp and precise,
Now dull and inconsistent.
Mother always asks where my love is.
I tell her it hasn’t moved in years.
Her dumbfound look
Meets my half smile.
How do I lie to a broken mirror?
Where even my reflection is fake.
How do I mute the cannon fire,
Deep within my chest?
Nov 21, 2017
Nov 21, 2017 at 4:26 PM UTC
Midnight and I'm finally awake in my hospital bed,
There was an accident which almost cost my life
Rushed, rush to the emergency room
A man in white cloak says "Bring another bag, replace all the loss blood in her system. "
Eyes were focused on the lightings above.
Consciousness has left the body in the hands of a stranger.
Limbs were broken but wait, there's more.
I reached for my phone to play its tunes,
Browsed chrome, and spot myself to a familiar page
Nothing fascinating, only a sentiment of a man
I read through the pages as Sam Smith sings "Lay Me Down"
Water in my eyes started to flow while the moonlight glows
Like an empty shell in the ocean, I remain still.
Days ago, I had everyone introduce themselves.
The back side of the brain was hit, but the frontal lobe was damaged badly, a contracoup.
Doctor says this won't be permanent, just a temporary amnesia.
I listened to the ramblings around, I am lost.
Attention deficit disorder makes it hard to focus
My thoughts keep on going back to the man behind those lines
Who are you?
How are we related?
I dig my mem'ries
Deeper I go each ******* day
Blank, nothing but a blank parchment
I lost it in the seven seas.
Let's try and retrieve it.
No, once gone, there's no going back.
No, don't say no.
At least let me do my best.
Such a stubborn woman.
For once, listen to what they say
You're at fault for your misery
I don't give up, I never give up.
This is just a temporary memory lost, nothing that much.
The blood started dripping again,
I stared at the stars and the moon above.
In the realm of dreams, I return.
As an old love song says "Till the day my life is through, this I promise you. "
Nov 28, 2016
Nov 28, 2016 at 3:21 AM UTC
The Stand They Made
The great oak wields great power he sends his roots deep financial social religious he stands at the edge
Of the family’s domain has endured many lightings and thundering outburst under the savage wind
Many have been the groans that were uttered this was not sadness being brought forth to cover the
Ground and then what waste it would produce no this is noble sacrifice all encircling love being
Projected not one blade of grass exists without showing this uncommon glory the house the property
Glows over the faces of the dependent little ones it shines. The Oak has a partner in this great enterprise
Best to describe these capabilities in three timbers of renown the Maple the Elm and the willow from
This convergence and the intertwining of the three into one piece a masterful work of art herein lies the
Lines that flow in unbroken symmetry the oak of might the creation of his delight. When the journey
Demands you climb unbroken hills onward to dry unkind dispositions the maple decidedly smaller and
Has its name derived from sharpness of its pointed leaves and its breathless beauty in four colors in the
Heavenly autumn do you know anything that could make the oak bow more quickly. Oh the Elm has
Stepped to the helm woman hood I speak of you softer kinder the breeze seeks your tendrils for its
Proud moments for gusts and raw display you spellbound all that look your way. The Oak tells his times
Of gladness by your beauty voiceless reminder of why we endure life’s slights and backward turns. One
Long lasting look please willow move touch the core of the Oak that only you know the wisp of your
Branches touched me above my minds ability to comprehend the feelings I feel. The Oak grows in
Terraced courtyards that angels frequent but he is looking beyond the brightness of their Glory to that
Day when you spoke I do no one saw but the mighty oak fell that day under your spell. This is what I saw
When I looked into Donna’s father and mothers face.
Jan 7, 2012
Jan 7, 2012 at 2:01 PM UTC
May thunders and lightings fall upon my bones, I want to become dust,
I yearn to be home,
oh heaven oh heaven
Or hell
Could them be my home?
I feel lost in these streets that I have crossed, i feel like I walked trough fire but I did not get burn,
oh god I feel, I feel and it hurts
But it's not my skin that aches,
not my heart but my soul,
It hurts
Thus thunders and lightings fall upon my bones, I want to become dust,
I want to be home
Or rather I want to be nothing
Just gone.
Jan 27, 2015
Jan 27, 2015 at 12:45 AM UTC
it seems that no matter how hard i try
a perfect day can never be
i get bored
and i get lonely
so i go and take pictures
to make a scene that seems serene
is not like it seems
the lightings never right
so changes i do make
and i come to find
that even the best
can not make the
fake world perfect with ease
Sep 21, 2015
Sep 21, 2015 at 10:21 AM UTC
you know what ...
nobody wants the ugly side
everybody want the sunshine and rainbows
but what about the thunders & lightings
Mar 5, 2024
Mar 5, 2024 at 9:00 AM UTC
i am a muck around from 9 am to 11.50 pm kind of guy
you see there are few things i hate in life
but one thing is falling asleep in the middle of the day
and staying up at night, i hate that, i hate that all so very much
you see i prefer to do my tapestry, even if i look lazy
i still prefer to do my tapestry during the day
because it’s much easier to sleep after midnight
so what if people are laughing at my old mates theory
if you go to bed early you can turn into a pumpkin
mind you i don’t want to be forced, by the force to go to bed
but as long as i get my creativity done, i don’t really care
you see staying up past midnight is so kids stuff
i want my medication to make sure i don’t do that
for me, if i stay up after midnight, i would be a hooligan
and i am not a hooligan, i am a family person
sometimes i sleep on the bed
sometimes i sleep on my chair
but i sleep better after midnight
i had fun being with my mates as a kid
i just want this whole forcing me to sleep, or stay awake to stop
i am a 46 year old man now, i need my beauty sleep
and despite that i like to muck with the young dudes
i am 46, i have spurs in my feet, and fungal affected toes
i want to forget about the bad stuff i did and take it out through creativity
i don’t want to take old lady nanna naps or be an old drunk in the club
i am an artist and a writer and a youtube entertainer
and i want to move on with my life
i still like heavy metal, but i don’t like the trouble that surrounds it
i still like sport, but i ain’t into playing that either
i am hearing my old mates voice trying to get me to stat up all night with him
that is one thing i don’t want to do, in life you need your sleep
i find youtube is better than foxtel, i watch it from 9.00 am to 11.50 pm
then i go to bed, after i do my youtube party show, if it is the weekend
so stop the force telling me to sleep all day and stay up all night
i don’t do that anymore, i am reformed to being a family person
a real christmas man, i love carols nights and christmas tree lightings
i do enough, stop trying to keep me up all night, i am reformed now
never to stray away from family life a gain
Oct 17, 2015
Oct 17, 2015 at 12:55 AM UTC
I write to fight the demons inside of my head,
And I cant complain less,
I try to pour all my emotions into words,
At times I fail, but I still try,
Sometimes the sadness takes over,
makes me cry,
If I were an artist, I would draw what sadness looks like,
But I’m not,
So, I carry a pen with a piece of paper and turn that pain into poetry,
But people won’t hear the voids,
the depth of emotions just reading the words,
And that’s not enough,
My pen can be a sword,
But it’s silent,
It should make the sound of each and every strikes,
I need to be heard,
That’s why I feel like reciting my writings,
My words won’t bring any thunder or lightings,
But it might help myself in building that confidence,
To come out of my little shell,
To believe in self,
And think beyond the thinkable,
Make myself capable, of doing what I’ve been scared for so long,
I could write a thousand songs,
Good, bad, right and wrong,
I make a lot of mistakes,
But my words won’t undo the wrong,
Only thing I can do is learn from it,
All these problems in life,
And I don’t want to run from it.
That’s why I write to fight the demons and voids,
I’m just writing for myself,
Seeking some poetic justice,
May be some day I’ll write for people,
Until then, I am no poet.
Oct 24, 2019
Oct 24, 2019 at 2:35 AM UTC
I wish my looks were worthy of envy
And my voice could turn heads
I wish my thoughts weren't so scary
But that's just who I am
I'm only sort of pretty
When you glance the right way
When the lightings off and my mask is on
Which doesn't happen everyday
My singing, can't you hear it
You start to cry at the sound
Not because it's unbelievable
But because it's terrible and loud
My mind, I'm not sure I could fix it
It's been this way since I was nine
Lost on my own in a world of shadows and hate
Forced to lie and say I'm fine
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Your looks are worthy of envy
Because I do it everyday
Your voice does turn heads
Because it's strong and knows what to say
So what if your thoughts are scary
That's okay with me
Because you're still the greatest person
Someone could ever meet
And you're not just only pretty
You're beautiful to me too
And you don't have to only look the right way
To see that it's true
When you sing I don't cry at the sound
It's not terrible, it's unbelievable
And just being honest here it is sort of loud
But you're my sister so don't even frown
And so what if your mind is different
It's been that way since you were nine
And no one has asked you to change it
So don't even try
Feb 17, 2014
Feb 17, 2014 at 12:08 PM UTC
Walking on a street's path
A distance as far as I've been back
Lessons and retrospects carried in an heavy backpack
Streets lights off standing tall under the sky'
s dark
Dark as panther in a zoo or a park
O' peace of sight
Rare are you in my days
Endangered sanity at night's plight
The glory of day uplifted and dropped in an emigrant's flight
Walk on keep
A voice passes me by
In dark knowledge of my start
Not even enfants it has been
But grown exceedingly pass my reach
Still walking yet destination awaits me
Legs crumbling head unarmed
Growing older yet they passed me
Ha' you famous of sight haven't you grown
Said as they were inferior now superior
I am as they were before
Lights inplaced at my backpack
Never knew I these lights is a collection mindless to my knowing
The lights of conquest and triumph which beam is essential
Lightings of value and dignity exuding inevitable shine
Lights of blunder rays so repeat them not
All these lights never knew I
The inscrutability invades my mind
Evoked my soul to it's captivity
O' spirit of exigency,deceit, corruption and unpatriotism
Can't thy be exhumed
Control my mind ignore the lights pack
Walking through out the darkness you caused
Growing older moving backwards
Retrospects of who I was
Doctor now patient
Teacher now student
Long gone host now parasite
Too late to back
Extremely damaged to front
Can't just find a way through this darkness
Old lady of Africa
Treasured by history
Record as a routine I've broken
Adrift till I've broken my self
About to none
That's for the others impeccably
Imperiled by a spirit in mind
Collecting the strings yet I play not any
Evinced impetuosity mischief set in motion
Can't desorb in this modern solvent
Peter natural to be seen as such
I should be the star that parties with the moon
The zephyr that coaxes the tree leaves in mobility
Being not the sun that chases the moon away the sky
Nor the fire that burns the trees
This darkness drives away my delight
Impute backwardness
Lest I think those lights I ignored years long
This journey seems impervious
This dire adventure is far from the abyss of remedy
Dec 22, 2020
Dec 22, 2020 at 10:23 AM UTC
Things I deemed irreplaceable,
choices, acts, unexplainable,
words and sightings,
breath taking lightings
on a statue under cloth.
My sloth got the best
of me, my eyes the rest.
I took you in and let you touch me
get me, see me, you were holding
every string, pulling ever so slightly,
making me dance, making me sing.
I forgot how we were equally the same
I removed the drapes much too late,
the statue had gotten into a rotten state,
decayed, nothing stayed except its frame.
Pedestals, forged without a sound,
rose and carried you up towards the stars,
where you belonged, where all could see.
Yet as you went, I frowned,
my dreams fought wars
with the harsh reality.
And I begged of you to show your face,
return to the ground or leave no trace
behind, my mind devoured beauty
as if it was breakfast, as if it was his duty
to make things up and mourn the loss
of any unimagined creature to come across
this lonesome land.
With a rope in hand
we seek perfection,
instead of growing,
fill the void with thought
to end up throwing
art in bins, for nought.
When we get caught
for all our sins
that's when actual love begins.
Jan 20, 2017
Jan 20, 2017 at 8:31 PM UTC
Let there be lightings, thunders, and fire when we meet
So that we can see our faces clearly
So I can see your every scar, and you can see mine
So that we are used to each other's voices
and fire
and heat
Let the grounds be wet with the pouring rain of tears that follows
so that the soil would be damp enough for the flowers to grow upon,
and fertile enough,
for the seeds and our communion, fruits of thoughts
Thereupon, let me choose to stay, or sail away
But with the thought that we know we can weather future storms,
or for the clear skies that follows,
or any other weathers we couldn't fathom.
Dec 24, 2018
Dec 24, 2018 at 1:05 PM UTC
She’s the girl
That kept on fighting
Despite of the odds
And dimmer lightings
The one who has grown,
Hidden sadness
Behind the smiles
She is burdened.
She’s the girl who’s true
Hiding in plain sight
Shedding new light
When things are never right.
I know the temporary
And I don’t know what’s ahead
For I know I am an absorbing man
Then, off to bed.
I will never get tired
Of our looped talking.
Until you’ve bloomed into a flower
Then you will leave me hanging
Mar 1, 2019
Mar 1, 2019 at 10:20 PM UTC
Lost in our sweet memories
When we gave each other companies
talking about our future families
While having bread with mayonnaise
Those stupid little baby fightings
And cute midnight dinner lightings
The whole of our crazy datings
Has now become meaningful paintings
Apr 30, 2018
Apr 30, 2018 at 1:49 PM UTC