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"lodestone" poems
I am an old soul with an open heart to love like that of a child It is never really hard Anyway We're all but children Trying to sort chaos In these adult forms We're just stuck In the land of not Neverland. 9 to 5 menial jobs Whether in the night or day We take whatever luck That comes in our way Life is a circus We ******* know it Like an elephant in the pedestal They beat us to it Your chest houses a lodestone treasure It strongly attracts The every atom in my body That's the least I can measure We have an affinity This is some sort of attraction You A darling boy and I am Just a girl Let's get out of this world Together let's fly away Be my Peter Pan I'll be your Wendy
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Oct 23, 2015
Oct 23, 2015 at 12:13 PM UTC
*not* Neverland
In the deep of time indigenous tribes surfaced a red earth with protruding plateaus and burnt canyons along the Cimarron River. The ancient Anasazi settled at the core of this mesa. Scattered ponderosa pine. Yet, their sudden demise echoed curiosity. Navajo sensed a struggle of two infinite worlds, a quivering inundation. Circling its haunted ominous shape, a skull with one eye, the apparition of light rose into a blue desert sky. Violent storms crackle hot lightning strikes in a sulfurous summer- an oracular hothouse. Navajo talk of spirits or the gateway to fire. Heaps of iron and lodestone lodged in the cap. Only two brazen, cat totem poles guarding its passage. Standing among the mesa to feel the verve of the earth. A New Mexico sun beats down burning the drowsed terrain. To see the legendary shaman glow in his ephemeral blue nimbus. Bathed in gaudy turquoise. Sensing the dark encroachment of a ghost. Near the bony hills, soared a turbulent black bird in full flight, upward.
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Apr 11, 2013
Apr 11, 2013 at 7:43 PM UTC
Urraca Mesa
i struggle with the tomb. i come from the moon to alight upon an earthen vase to pause upon the lip and swoon. i am no ghost. but through walls, i come. lugging a throne of tears and thimbles of blood... my fire, more dark than the hunter's motive. my life more spark than the sun's design. complete me, and i will endure the wane hours and shun all harm... like the one stroke of lightning in a cup, swollen with angry bees affixed to a white sheet of ice... I'll descend into You, like a lodestone on a chain, to be hoisted up from the fathoms of Loss to drown in our madness, just because - like a noise in a sound.
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Jan 9, 2017
Jan 9, 2017 at 4:17 AM UTC
A Noise In A Sound
There is a cat at my window I am still ragdoll in its flooded mouth arsonist in one sulfur eye night in a silhouette shadow without philosophy syllable of jungle chill be it alms seeker spy or courier or smoke as a pirouette all icicle and satin black iris I see blood beating its binary pulsating lodestone hanging from its ley line like the lamp of an angler when the sun is furthermost and all gods are unbeknown I am still still the cat sits at my window sill
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Dec 15, 2011
Dec 15, 2011 at 4:58 PM UTC
Lucifer Sam
The lost congregate a lodestone of despair draws them together all that could be said to make things better sleek shallow lies dry crumbling mortar howling chaos beckons beyond walls of order at the unhinged door a legion of wolves refusing to be tamed snarling and ripping at what little remains
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Nov 6, 2016
Nov 6, 2016 at 6:54 PM UTC
Unhinged
*Blow, winds, blow He wanders in and out of dream scapes, Seeking refuge from the nameless ache, The burn of a thousand cloudless days. The tumbleweed of his joy blows in the dunes of neglect, Vaguely rooted in the sands of discontent. Blow, winds, blow! Shift the sand beneath his feet, Tumble him to the river of rejoice, Where his seeds can bury deep In the fertile soil of complete.* Walk on, Lonely Pilgrim Would that you would go a spell further, Fight a round harder, walk a mile longer, Perhaps you will see the clear waters, The soaring vistas, the spring flowers. Sandstorms blind your eyes and sting your throat, Your music lost into the wind. Walk on, lonely pilgrim, Walk on, and meet me In the green valley, It's just 'round the bend. I've a song to play for you! Welcome Song for the Weary Traveler With unsure steps, tread the ground, Gaze out with open eyes. Cast away all fear and doubt. Let the music sing your soul! This river will wash your bedrock, Polish the rough stones of your longing, Flow away your worried mind. When this love-seed settles in the soil of your heart, Your rose will bloom, in fertile field, Where nightingale warbles its melodious tune. Lay down your head upon alfalfa pillow, Let the music take you high, Where daffodil dreams and mystic streams Sing you sweetest lullaby. Now close your eyes and feel the pull This song, the lodestone to your heart, Drawing out your own sweet tune. Hear gentle clouds that roll on by, Smell sweet the scented breeze in sky, Feel the love, Let go, Now fly Lonely Pilgrim Dreams The lonely pilgrim fell asleep on his pillow of dreams, As minstrel sung songs that floated on air. He struggled to wake from his trance like state, As he found himself deep in the quagmire of regret, Wondering how he had found himself Wandering in green valleys, How he had been so easily lulled to sleep. He wondered, too, if dreams are ever real, And what he would see at morning's light. Minstrel sang on, into the night, Singing all good things into his heart, Breathing love into his pillow, Playing for light, Playing the tune of her heart strings that night. She was not sure what song she sang anymore, But wanted to sing, And sing some more.
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Nov 7, 2013
Nov 7, 2013 at 5:11 PM UTC
The Minstrel's Trilogy
*Blow, winds, blow He wanders in and out of dream scapes, Seeking refuge from the nameless ache, The burn of a thousand cloudless days. The tumbleweed of his joy blows in the dunes of neglect, Vaguely rooted in the sands of discontent. Blow, winds, blow! Shift the sand beneath his feet, Tumble him to the river of rejoice, Where his seeds can bury deep In the fertile soil of complete.* Walk on, Lonely Pilgrim Would that you would go a spell further, Fight a round harder, walk a mile longer, Perhaps you will see the clear waters, The soaring vistas, the spring flowers. Sandstorms blind your eyes and sting your throat, Your music lost into the wind. Walk on, lonely pilgrim, Walk on, and meet me In the green valley, It's just 'round the bend. I've a song to play for you! Welcome Song for the Weary Traveler With unsure steps, tread the ground, Gaze out with open eyes. Cast away all fear and doubt. Let the music sing your soul! This river will wash your bedrock, Polish the rough stones of your longing, Flow away your worried mind. When this love-seed settles in the soil of your heart, Your rose will bloom, in fertile field, Where nightingale warbles its melodious tune. Lay down your head upon alfalfa pillow, Let the music take you high, Where daffodil dreams and mystic streams Sing you sweetest lullaby. Now close your eyes and feel the pull This song, the lodestone to your heart, Drawing out your own sweet tune. Hear gentle clouds that roll on by, Smell sweet the scented breeze in sky, Feel the love, Let go, Now fly Lonely Pilgrim Dreams The lonely pilgrim fell asleep on his pillow of dreams, As minstrel sung songs that floated on air. He struggled to wake from his trance like state, As he found himself deep in the quagmire of regret, Wondering how he had found himself Wandering in green valleys, How he had been so easily lulled to sleep. He wondered, too, if dreams are ever real, And what he would see at morning's light. Minstrel sang on, into the night, Singing all good things into his heart, Breathing love into his pillow, Playing for light, Playing the tune of her heart strings that night. She was not sure what song she sang anymore, But wanted to sing, And sing some more.
Continue reading...
66
~for Catherine, the guilty one!~ do not be shocked, 'tis a truth of mine, after all are you not one of my ten thousands muses? our magnetized vulnerability is our lodestone, of what use is a single field without a mutual attraction, a living opposite to attract? your writ ready and reserved you need only ask, some a nouveau Beaujolais, some deep in the cellar aging well, but first, need to know, do you prefer your apple pie poem hot or cold, a la mode? recall my disclaimer: anything you have said herein, can and will be used in a poem, my muses... <•> 10:30am
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Aug 18, 2017
Aug 18, 2017 at 10:27 AM UTC
a poem in reserve for you and you...
with unsure steps, tread the ground gaze out with open eyes cast away all fear and doubt let the music sing your soul this river will wash your bedrock polish the rough stones of your longing flow away your worried mind when this love-seed settles in the soil of your heart your rose will bloom, in fertile field where nightingale warbles its melodious tune lay down your head upon alfalfa pillow let the music take you high where daffodil dreams and mystic streams sing you sweetest lullaby now close your eyes and feel the pull this song the lodestone to your heart drawing out your own sweet tune hear gentle clouds that roll on by smell sweet the scented breeze in sky feel the love,                                          let go,                                                                   now fly
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Oct 18, 2011
Oct 18, 2011 at 9:03 AM UTC
welcome song for the weary traveler
The Street is pretty empty Just the locals out tonight It's New Year's Eve and chilly Seems this time, that all is right No drunken revelers on the Street All the buildings are shut tight Except the bar and Gianni's place On the Street, that's just alright The Blues Man sits out back right now And he's looking at the moon No fireworks, or crystal ***** Say the New Year's coming soon He coughs a bit, a little harsh Grabs his medcin, and guitar then he gently starts to playing Looking at a single star There's a few folks in Giannis Watching the ball drop on tv The bar is full of locals Where the New Year's shots are free But out back of Gianni's The Blues Man sits in peace Singing gently to the midnight sky Sitting besides the drums of grease This year he found his daughter Memories of years gone by And he sings tales of their meeting To the chilly, midnight sky His daughter is his lodestone She keeps him grounded, always did No matter where he ventured He always loved his missing kid She's drinking at the bar now While The Blues Man sits out back Singing tunes in Winter Darkness He lets us in...but just a crack The door behind Gianni's Is open, just a bit It's open for the Blues Man To go get warm and sit But, for now, he sits here playing As the New Year ventures in He sings songs about redemption And he drinks his medcin An hour in and locals Leave Gianni's and the bar They venture to the alley Where he's playing to that star They join him in silence Hear his prayer for the year new They are swept up in his magic And let him do what he must do He smiles and keeps on singing Fills the night air with his voice For no matter how his life is He only had one choice He's the Blues Man, always will be He's the teller of the tales He sings songs out in the alley He's the wind in the Street's sails He finishes his last song His daughter standing, smiling wide She gives him a kiss upon his forehead And she ushers him aside He'll wake up again tomorrow In the alley, cold but free That's the life of The Street Blues Man And that's the way ...that it should be.
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Jan 1, 2016
Jan 1, 2016 at 6:10 PM UTC
The Blues Man and New Year's Eve
The Street is pretty empty Just the locals out tonight It's New Year's Eve and chilly Seems this time, that all is right No drunken revelers on the Street All the buildings are shut tight Except the bar and Gianni's place On the Street, that's just alright The Blues Man sits out back right now And he's looking at the moon No fireworks, or crystal ***** Say the New Year's coming soon He coughs a bit, a little harsh Grabs his medcin, and guitar then he gently starts to playing Looking at a single star There's a few folks in Giannis Watching the ball drop on tv The bar is full of locals Where the New Year's shots are free But out back of Gianni's The Blues Man sits in peace Singing gently to the midnight sky Sitting besides the drums of grease This year he found his daughter Memories of years gone by And he sings tales of their meeting To the chilly, midnight sky His daughter is his lodestone She keeps him grounded, always did No matter where he ventured He always loved his missing kid She's drinking at the bar now While The Blues Man sits out back Singing tunes in Winter Darkness He lets us in...but just a crack The door behind Gianni's Is open, just a bit It's open for the Blues Man To go get warm and sit But, for now, he sits here playing As the New Year ventures in He sings songs about redemption And he drinks his medcin An hour in and locals Leave Gianni's and the bar They venture to the alley Where he's playing to that star They join him in silence Hear his prayer for the year new They are swept up in his magic And let him do what he must do He smiles and keeps on singing Fills the night air with his voice For no matter how his life is He only had one choice He's the Blues Man, always will be He's the teller of the tales He sings songs out in the alley He's the wind in the Street's sails He finishes his last song His daughter standing, smiling wide She gives him a kiss upon his forehead And she ushers him aside He'll wake up again tomorrow In the alley, cold but free That's the life of The Street Blues Man And that's the way ...that it should be.
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68
this lodestone pulling ever closer a field without vision, or clarity attraction for good or evil to make your own fate travel your own path but this lodestone is forever following, keeping pace even when you seem to have lost it even when you change and speed up this energy will never leave
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Aug 4, 2012
Aug 4, 2012 at 2:47 PM UTC
Magnetism
Tombstone a home for some. A holster gun some ammunition. Rob the bank bring to fruition history more ammunition. Up on boothill down at heel how can you feel so cool? Earp's no fool he'll shoot and hit then spit as death chews on your bones More empty homes in Tombstone. A lodestone a rhinestone everybody's got a bone to pick. Another hick ambles into town gunned down blown away a tombstone day not much I can say about that.
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Apr 19, 2013
Apr 19, 2013 at 4:08 AM UTC
I was fast 'til I was dead
I'm a lodestone for misadventure. These soles are worn thin by the miles. This soul is wearing thin from the guiles. These porcelain faces and mannequin smiles. A game of taunting and jeering. Who's to say, winner, loser? Who's to tell you how far you have come? Maybe not better than all, but better than some. Grey areas, gray matter, I'm not dumb. This is a story, it has just begun. I've got it figured out, but I don't. Contemplation, thoughts. Nostalgia and doubts. I've got it all figured out, but I don't.
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Mar 21, 2012
Mar 21, 2012 at 2:54 AM UTC
All Figured Out
...There is no element, in existence, equal, to me, with the force, and polarity, of you. Take me...take me, further in. I will not, I could not...ever, resist you. My will, is hammered carbon; yet, this contract, of the soul... it is ironclad. Draw me, into the tensity, of your unbroken field. Does your ghost, hover like magnetite, at the northernmost point, of its own compass needle? Does your shadow, dwell in its arrowhead shape? Does your heart, steel, its directional pull? I cannot pass you by, but to be drawn, into the divine gravity, of your embrace. Sweet...so sweetly, do you hold fast, to me. My lips, shudder, tremulous, with an irrepressible urge to glue themselves to the nectarine sweetness, of sunbaked flesh. Take me...take me, further in. Leech me, of resistance. Break me, of my defenses. Shatter this separation, that pulses fiercely, between us, and pin me, to the core, of you. Keep me, always... yours, alone; yours forever... and worlds, may end, castles, may rubble. Entire civilizations, may fall, to ancient ash, Before these lips, could ever dream, of leaving, you.
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Sep 2, 2025
Sep 2, 2025 at 3:35 PM UTC
Lodestone
**I have found what was lost in times past and beyond this present earthly mantle, But with chagrin was too late, gesture two fingers at fate pray God, I find love once again,    Once clandestine, I gave my heart knowing it was yours from conception, From the dawning of time, it belonged to you part of a plan in Gods Master Creation, For the attraction I feel, as a lodestone to steel am one planet revolving the Sun.** ...   ...   ...
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Jul 9, 2011
Jul 9, 2011 at 5:09 AM UTC
... Totally Eclipsed ...
Above us is the Celestial Lodestone, the universal point of spiritual reference. As a stalwart of magnetic attraction, He constantly draws men unto Himself. Dynamic in nature and unchanging in purpose, His principles are adaptable for all situations. The foundation of His Word is solid; His Truth is filled with plenty of promise. Raise your eyes! Look up! He is always ready to be found; allow His brightness to pierce the darkness and emptiness of our earthly souls. Jehovah desires to provide us with direction, so that… We may reach His ultimate standard of perfection. Author Note: Learn more about me and my poetry at: http://www.squidoo.com/book-isbn-1419650513/ By Joseph J. Breunig 3rd, © 2010, All rights reserved.
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Feb 7, 2013
Feb 7, 2013 at 6:20 AM UTC
Poem: Celestial Lodestone
a day flies by and whiles away drawing lies and smiles alike like filings to the lodestone babies' cries flay the sky sunlight bright in my right eye shining in dulcimer tone in this park no broken tiles just mild breezes, soft sighs, and ample time to delight in Spring coming into its own a wild-eyed man asks why we try and rightly plies for answers nigh and questions what we think is known and waits impatient as we fry in blind stupor as our minds belie that we might in fact be all alone
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Mar 26, 2013
Mar 26, 2013 at 12:58 PM UTC
stroll
Perfect as you are. Your love radiates from afar. No matter the distance, you'll be my subsistence. I'll take you exactly as you are. That smile on your face. To how you always win your race. To see life from your eyes, I'd be in for a surprise. How you always manage to empathize, leaves me so warm inside. A love so whole, it'll fill your soul. I'll take you exactly as you are. Perfection in imperfection. The recipient of my affection. You drive me wild, just the way you are. To a future unknown. We could build a home. Or be in a state of perpetual free roam. We'll never be alone. Like a lighthouse at sea, calling to me. For we are each others lodestone.
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Jun 30, 2018
Jun 30, 2018 at 12:19 AM UTC
My girl.
The icicles dance in my glass the sun’s as low as the eyelash in your gaze - almost set - and I feel that stare in my bones from my temple to my tibia You’d like to take a peak behind this aura and see if the body it houses is one you’d hold dear Open these walls, what appears? Because I’m hoping you find a kindred spirit I’m hoping you see I'm down to earth, reach beneath my surface, pick up a lodestone and find yourself magnetized pick up a grin, borrow it on days that you need one. But most of all I’m hoping you pick me up like a habit And I promise I can take you places envied by your dreams.
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Sep 16, 2018
Sep 16, 2018 at 9:00 PM UTC
Unveiled
I am a girl, A top model girl. The kind you should see in movies, the kind that coax your smile with their hearts. Strong hips guide my strut, swaying [there is power here] into drifting eyes. Large feet stamp my impression in the ground, saying [I am here. Look at me.] My hands were not built for the piano; rather I was formed to hold the sun in my palms. A nose too shapely to be a Greek statue stands proud, a lodestone that breathes in [you are your own]. Eyes carved but not taught to sit still turn me from a pretty picture to an adventure. The hair on my body doesn’t grow over my scars but they form their own art of doggedness. And when I smile my knife of a smile that can break or make with a single glance, my skin shines bright in the sun that I’ve caught in my grasp, and I am so beautiful, I am everything I ever wanted to be: my own hero, something every top model girl, every girl in the world, should be.
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Dec 22, 2017
Dec 22, 2017 at 3:05 AM UTC
This Girl is the World
To a New Odinsman I can tell who you are You radiate Burning desire, confusion So much like my own Seeking one who defies being found, Walking the long road. It will stay that way, you know The desire, the yearning Will never end. But this should not keep you from walking. Sometimes you'll be in the company of others, But mostly you'll know What loneliness means. Along the way, somewhere You will meet pain And learn to make it your companion. When the road closes in on you, Leaving no leeway, When it loses itself in the wild And you ***** through the thicket, Close your eyes Your love is your lodestone. You will always feel Him Just out of your reach. Because He is nowhere He is everywhere, His absence his presence. Don't ask me for directions I, too, am a wanderer Lost someplace else. I cannot tell you When or if the road will end But I can also tell you That you already Have arrived.
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Apr 7, 2014
Apr 7, 2014 at 3:22 PM UTC
To a New Odinsman
Before sleep, I hear their ghosts Across the dark, as the air blues Into the cold hour Up there beneath Orion They trace a glint of water Locked to the lodestone of their fragile skulls Their winter mother calling them home Crying Mersey, Mersey
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Feb 19, 2017
Feb 19, 2017 at 6:23 AM UTC
NIGHT GEESE
you are made of many girls, all longing to be lighter, softer, sweeter, less hurt, less intense, not a burden to bear. your kiss scalds with the promise of forevers. you swore your allegiance to boys who were unsure of you, left them dizzied & breathless, yearning for the empty space you once filled, the missing lodestone, left them lost. you struggled ceaselessly through the fire, rubbed salt in your own wounds. i can still trace the story of your suffering in scar tissue sewn across wrists. but you need never apologize. the wildfires burning in your wake may have scorched & singed your skin, but you are not yet scattered ashes. do not say ‘I’m sorry’ for survival. your brain is a battleground, marred with years of misuse, but you need never apologize for what you are. when they ask about your flaws, tell them what it took to get from then to now. tell them you are lionhearted. remember, you are a cosmic body. your bones are made of starstuff & when you breathe in, welcome the universe filling your lungs.
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Mar 13, 2014
Mar 13, 2014 at 11:51 AM UTC
oh, sister
Lodestone, lovesouls, the boundaries of my blue blooded lover Gentle mother with a fresh razor cut, do you know how much you hurt me? Chocolate and candy on the table of the mental ward, mental ************ Figuring out what works, our ways, our quarks, or muons and gluons Milk chocolate dissolving on your tongue, not bitten, forbidden, bitte fraulein Gloria, gloria, shalom, assalamu alaikum, hands out, shake 'em Pull the sword from the stone, water matters, patterns carved in bone Love is lone, dove, rain from above, mud, life is not crud, maybe
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Sep 13, 2017
Sep 13, 2017 at 8:02 PM UTC
Border Blue