"navigated" poems
A part of me lives miles and minutes and moments away
in an indefinite, dreamy place where clocks are not my enemy
and I associate the word “distance" with travel, not longing
My heart has sailed across the Atlantic,
moved eagerly through the Indian Ocean,
navigated using an atlas inked with butterflies
and stars that gleam ardently
(just as your rosemary eyes do,
every once in a blue moon,
when you’re able to sew together
the disarrayed thoughts
that dwell in your messy head)
You are so, so far away
However, if I avoid calendars and geography,
it feels like you’re right here beside me
In the afternoon, when the sun shines
through my bedroom window
and paints the world map on my wall with light,
I shut my eyelids and run my thumb along the string
that stretches across the parchment,
connecting me to you
I pretend that when I open my eyes,
you will be here
and that my aching fingers
that are so desperately
grasping the paper
will be intertwined
with yours
Aug 3, 2013
Aug 3, 2013 at 1:35 PM UTC
your stars hung in pairs against the
accustomed singularity of celestial bodies
your stars held the promise of enlightenment
and i sought you the way kings did
hunting you down in the endeavor of navigation
pinned down and ****** until
man left the stars for devices of their own
and when the stars followed humanity
stardust resurrecting in the arrangement of atoms
constellations manifesting in wombs
nebulae shattering for the genesis
the universe destroyed itself for you
oh gemini boy
the cosmos are not kind
to boys who are destined to be halves
on an eternal voyage for missing fragments
in a lover's touch and a child's laugh
the world is not kind
to boys who look into your eyes
and only see their reflection
but you were kind to me
oh gemini boy
this is an apology
to a mortal born from the immortality
of twins whose love bore the gods' mercy
to rest among the stars
not knowing that stars die just as
the children born from them do
just as you
oh gemini boy
maybe i should have known better than
to love a boy always searching for himself
i mistook you for a cosmic collision
meant for the dawn of a new heaven
and maybe i fell in love with your destruction
as i navigated you the way ancients looked
to your stars for salvation
oh gemini boy
my stars hang in the silhouette of the unknown
isolated from the promise of deliverance
man was once told
we are born from different stars
our fates moving in parallel precision
never meeting again after our stardust
once laid prints upon our astral anatomy
and because we are not stars
but the echoes of seraphic wars
meant to traverse desolate lands
in search for completion
oh gemini boy
i forgive you
you just wanted to be whole
Sep 5, 2016
Sep 5, 2016 at 4:19 AM UTC
you navigated your way
into my heart,
where your map said,
"X" marked the spot.
you broke the walls,
that were once built so high,
dug in deep,
to find the treasures within
and when you finally did,
you took a piece of it
and left a mark
as you navigated your way back
to your home unknown,
or to another lover's heart.
Sep 3, 2016
Sep 3, 2016 at 4:17 AM UTC
Author: Kristen Stevens
Sunday, June 21, 2009
Current mood:outside the loop
And yes I know that's a plagiarization (real word??? no matter) of a stupid show...but you shouldn't watch it anyway so there.
ME! Last week, as you may have heard was not of the fun, so this week in comparison rocked! And, yes, I am going to end every sentence with exclamations! (it's for the sarcastic effect don't panic) As such I’m going to let YOU write my entry…you’ll see.
Once upon a time there was a ______ (adj.) girl. She loved her xbox very much. One day an evil ________(noun) descended on the precious object and smote it with the fury of _______(name of a god). The girl ___________(verb) for many minutes staring at the remains of her once beloved box. She promptly went to the other, less amusing, magic box and asked for _______(noun). She____________(adv.) navigated her way through treacherous and distracting destinations. As she approached the official site, a most ___________(adj.) thing occurred. The destination was ________(noun). Much like the construction in her hamlet, it prevented her from registering her distress. Days _______(noun) slowly, with still no relief for ________(pronoun). What’s a girl to do when ________(frustrating situation)? In her profession the customers would not appreciate it if she came after them with___________(weapon of choice from popular video game).
It had been one week, since the demise of _______(object). She no longer was _______(emotion). The days were literally ________(color). Rain fell _______(verb ending in –ing) the streets. There was still no reply from the xbox deity. Thus ends the tale of piteous woe.
This girl has been considering swearing fealty to another more worthy gaming god! There are three systems and I own two of them! Don’t make me get the third! This is a threat! (not you guys, the __________{insert favorite utterance} at Microsoft) goes away quietly muttering to self unkind and unpleasant things that should be done to xbox distributors
By the way, how was that I figure, if you’re going to take the time to read it. I should give you something fun to do at the same time. Who doesn’t like madlibs? Huh?
Sep 21, 2010
Sep 21, 2010 at 8:23 AM UTC
In the dark night I was prevented from my satisfying slumber,
as I was troubled by my rooms dark corner.
Though my eyes were soon to be sealed,
may my dreamcatcher cure me from this dreadful darkness to be revealed.
Thankfully, the dreamcatcher protected me through this night,
as I was navigated to an existence so bright.
I was floating above the sea as I saw the lights
of thousand beaconing lighthouses from these ongoing heights.
Keenly guided from all insecurities,
I now clearly see the seas of opportunities.
Jan 22, 2017
Jan 22, 2017 at 5:24 PM UTC
Plot a course through downtown doors
then drift along the concrete shores
of asphalt oceans navigated
under stars
imitating
broken curbside glass--
over crunching gravel miles
measured in half-hours
and meted out in heavy, fogging breaths
and squinting, midnight eyes...
Counted out the blocks, counted steps
and concrete squares by metered
three-four thoughts dancing across
reflected skylines, just behind the eyes.
Each step's a held breath,
each footfall a prayer on crumpled paper,
each set of shoulders, a hanger for...
coats are homes
for hands
rolling up in pockets
fishing for some solid anchor,
sinking into years of walks and silent words like these.
*** * ***
Listing hard, adrift for years
water-logged and pocked--
no anchor--
shredded sails and leaning masts
tell stories
of deck fires:
leaping rats,
and charred strakes
Clear deck,
empty hold,
abandoned helm.
this coat's Atlantic fog.
Frayed rigging like cobwebs stretch
down and across
like lines on faces aged by the frost
on midnight walks.
Strike the colors, mate...
Admit you're lost.
Apr 20, 2015
Apr 20, 2015 at 12:41 PM UTC
~for the wild child, daughter, wife, mother~
I am drifting into the tender part of the night, when deceit is pointless, and I argue with conviction within myself that in our lives that it will never be too late, but I know I contradict my prior musing...somewhere between the fact that time is a wasting commodity, precocious and precious, lives this idea within, that there is nothing that cannot be navigated, recompensed, even forgiven...
the argument goes on, the tide of battle switching back and forth, and for now I must be satisfied with the meagerness of I can’t give up, be at ease by acknowledging defeat, not just yet, and the fast arrival of a clean slate is a chance, a draw, a ticket to ride, and,
reaching
is a wonderful idea, full of compromise, out and in, extra effort, and tomorrow I may yet teach one of us, even myself, by reaching inside of what churns within, and then have the perfect words you require, for a desperate need, and a comforting that comes forth easily
Jul 17, 2020
Jul 17, 2020 at 3:17 PM UTC
When his fingers traversed along my freezing and weary arms,
cruised a little further inside the trenches of my spent thighs and
navigated across the tropics of my exhausted back,
I could only close my eyes and think,
"oh, this dream voyage has to be a dream indeed".
Back then,
I knew that my worst nightmare would be his touch steering away from my aching and craving skin.
Jun 1, 2017
Jun 1, 2017 at 11:38 AM UTC
In the days of seafaring yore, in a candied littoral time, my parents shared a love for wingsails; propelling their craft on the surface of gentle waters.
It was here my father navigated me into existence, by taking my mother for a long enchanted boat ride.
And like a hook and eye, they so clasped and rowed into the boundless deep. The tender rhythm of their waves stirring a rivulet that would come to be called me.
Floating in this colostrum bed underneath the heart's thicket, I settled to sleep; dreaming of cradle song and breastmilk.
My unborn hands and feet routinely practiced swimming toward the open shore; until that day when a familial voice called.
And there in the dilation of a growing current, I sprang forth; thirsting for their love from my very first cry.
Feb 24, 2022
Feb 24, 2022 at 7:15 PM UTC
You have no idea, how much I wish that I could take the pain away,
And replace your teary eyed nights,
With peaceful dream filled sleep,
My heart breaks, when I answer the phone to your tired voice,
Which is full of fear that you cannot shake,
I want you to know a few things,
I have told you them all before,
You are stronger than a million warriors charging into battle,
You posses more knowledge than the smartest people on the earth,
You are worth more than what people tell you and make you think,
You have wisdom beyond your years,
You have felt more pain than anyone should ever feel in their lifetime,
But you are a survivor,
Overcoming every hurdle with grace and dignity,
I don’t believe in a God,
But looking at you navigate life with such grace and pushing fear aside,
Makes me believe in you the way some people believe in a higher power,
You serve as my inspiration,
The person who I want to please with my success,
You are everything I want to be,
Because you,
Although scared, and frightened,
Have created, moulded and navigated your way to a place,
Where even though, there are still scared, tear-filled nights,
Is the right path and place for you to be.
―
Ellie White
Jun 13, 2014
Jun 13, 2014 at 2:39 AM UTC
My name is stolen like a Spaniard
Inquisition,
My heritage barely a patch of fog,
What is the truth of myself unwritten?
" Your name is....You shall be called"
My father once said,
But I sign this name at the end of no poem,
Are you sure this is my name?
Have you navigated the flows
Of lava in my bloodstreams,
My geographical mind that beckons
A deep bitter valley,
Dark beautiful mountains that have
Reclaimed by nature what my people
Claimed her?
Can you see my subterranean pyramids,
My great moist jungles,
Gutting out advanced mathematical models,
Bleeding precise positions of stars,
I can cry the Winter Solstice,
Oh my proud heart pounds
Through my chest with dreams of then,
When the Coyote was sacred and the
Nature of all things was balanced
Even in the darkest days.
Am I Gonzales from the old Spaniard name?
Does my brown skin and hairless
Arms not cry for the Aztec of my ancient
Fathers?
The root of my root,
The flesh of my flesh,
The veiny branches of a family tree
Where wild flowers grow in
The words of the Aztec bark,
Bleeding its sap through me,
Is this Spaniard to you?
(I know the difference)
Let me ask my blood:
Do you not see the fire in my eyes?
Don't you see the fire raining tears
Of embers onto paper,
Every word a burnt offering?
Maybe one does not know of my
Great grandfather in the valley
Of Mixcoatl, there he lived as the last
Nocturne, his great scar along his back,
The last of a warrior
Where he died among the stars of his fathers,
The scar from a knife, a knife that
Stole his true name!
Has Olin and Ehecatl taken it
With a breath of wind?
I will take the Sun Stone with you Octavio!
Take me home.....
And I can see it!
The noble people forgotten
As time forgets all,
My voice of the Warrior grateful
And speaking like a shiny tip of
Spear piercing the night wolf!
I am no longer a riddle in the water,
But a pure flow of immenseness,
A profound respected beast,
I feel the purity of ancient things,
I dissolve into memory's ink,
My combatant blood boils,
The land flames of my fire,
The people of the Sun!
My ancestral blood with calloused feet,
My ancient jungles,
Tamers of beasts,
Oh the Aztec Dream,
Yes, I am what my blood says I am,
What's in a name?
The identity misidentified.
Feb 23, 2016
Feb 23, 2016 at 11:22 AM UTC
Smells like Gun Powder in the empty room
tainted by the aura of damaged memories
feeling my armor worn out and weary
going down the stairs, the lights are fading
warm blood in my hands like a distant afternoon
I'll ride shotgun with a shotgun like in the old days
and we'll make a right turn on memory lane
just make sure to stop at every corner
so I can blast your remembrance away.
Smells like Gun Powder on my side of the bed
where for the hundred time you ask if I'll be ok
I wish I had some Whisky,
it sure is wishful thinking
in my dreams I am always sober,
somehow never drinking
quite the opposite of the real life I lead
I can always count on my nightmares
to always find you here
in our worn out bed fully clothed
facing the window
and your face clenched in sorrow
is a moving talking picture.
It's pouring down again
in the forgotten ghost city
we take a turn towards oblivion,
where you surprised to see me?
under the leaves of an old tree
contrasting the projects brick buildings
incessant rain flows from our eyes
like a fluent turbulent river
wondering if I should build an ark
or if it would be worth the pain
and take a wild shot in the dark
and save us both from this fast sinking boat
how did we even navigated the sea of love
without lifesavers to keep us afloat?
How did we lost what was so hard find?
Smells like gun powder every second of my life
my emotional ammo gets packed on an old Colt 45
a revolver that turns back the hands of time
I'll measure every word, retracing every step,
without derailing my train of thought
inhaling the gun powder
like the ashes of this love
trying to give my Spotless Mind
Eternal Sunshine at long last
in the basement tied to a chair
I came to find myself...
barely clutching my fate in one hand
and what's left of my conscience on the shelf.
Dec 26, 2009
Dec 26, 2009 at 3:06 PM UTC
Up , in a long wavy personality .
Waking the morning with my commitment to it's day .
Way too slight to storm the day .
Open the door to a gray cloudy breeze .
Slip out with ease onto the concrete leaf .
A page out of my very own book .
Liking the very way the ink bleed ;
Write off the tip, a pen that would rip right through another's book.
Soft to the touch, you fell cause you might slip right through .
Although the heart felt tipped utensil causes you to breathe .
With all the wind in my atmosphere, a tornado caused .
You to turn and run .
Opens my hidden twists, up with a given gist .
Like an autumn oak tree, letting go isn't so uncommon .
But still a shipped away surprise, .
So many unforgiving goodbyes .
A tear without anyone to give it a cry / /
Such a subtle generosity, so much so .
You might forget all beauty ever existed .
Me and memories go together,
like mine was an aggravated death .
Worth killing to a Saint ,
And none of the happiness was great .
Out of the blue, and only for another shade of green .
Jealous and out of the way,
So they faded navigated away.
Orange and ravenous red .
Foundation for success,
Paved a walk way for a street walker like hiss..
Step away and porcelain eyes .
Pierce once again .
Follow the haze with outa braze .
No touch, glass chimes.
Together once , noise of fine dining .
Couples and territorial squint .
Soothing child , for a partner for life.
Love for the second child in the other .
Like a bad photo shop .
No edit, just chop , black dot .
Sep 11, 2013
Sep 11, 2013 at 12:19 PM UTC
*This miraculous journey we call life,
has many strands braided together,
never forget what is expected from
the travelling monk, walking in front,
who'll break his walk to play with
stray street pups, eat, drink and sup
with men and women, of many temperaments,
who'd invite him to sit with them, even not knowing
who he is, or what mission moves him
through these dusty roads. There is something
that makes everyone not take eyes off him,
they'd say that, when he goes back on his way.
On the waves of emotions, he partake, he moves
like a paper boat navigated, by the speed
it all create, yet unaffected, except the empathy he keeps in his heart.
Hearing stories of this pilgrim in rapt attention
creating worlds fantastic inside,
learning things one never imagined before,
he travels with the wandering monk in sight.
What is more wondrous, once he thought
than seeing one's starry eyed lover's excitement,
showing a jewel she picked
from the riverbed of her short life
in a blessed moment.
She put it adoringly in to his mind,
a gleaming ornament that'd adorn him
though time would change that too.
Every thing experienced in this journey
makes one, the words of the monk prompt to act
and see the aftermath, take in the taste,
be it sweet or bitter or both,
odors and smells, the feel of things
a complex web, the map of inner life.
Never should one fail, to lend ears
to the tales of wandering monk
he is wisdom's child, patience solidified,
every tale has its color, smell and texture,
nature spoke, he experienced,
ages in muted tones speak
to him in the voice of the wandering monk*
Dec 3, 2013
Dec 3, 2013 at 8:57 AM UTC
The moment you traveled back to me,
I couldn't love you the same.
I couldn't pick up, just where you left off,
or even couldn't start it all over again.
There wasn't any beginning or end to it.
I couldn't move, it suffocated me.
I couldn't care less, how she was holding you then.
I couldn't find the same old you.
And you weren't my treasure trove of tenderness anymore.
I felt as if my love was temporary,
maybe it was.
You tell me it's all the same,
the daisies you planted,
the walls we painted,
the smell of my hair,
though its new red color glare.
The night-light I bought,
the candles you got.
The books that you read,
the ones I'd like to keep.
And you still like to smell them in indeed.
The places we navigated,
the ones awaited.
The moments we collected,
the ones enlisted.
you still hate socializing,
and humans aren't my special liking.
You're lactose intolerant,
but love ice-creams.
And for me, ice-creams are eminent.
But lovers lie, don't they?
Nov 3, 2018
Nov 3, 2018 at 10:58 AM UTC
Follow the beat through.
When i learnt tennis , my point to work on was follow through ,
now
i see ..... played out in my life.
The wonderment of a follow through.
Oh what pleasure , to meet the kindred gatekeepers, with raspberry chocolate on a dream beach , with mirage water..... way out , shifting lake light blue to deep oceanic aqua.
Sand made out crystal , old glaciers roamed here , leaving in their wake ice pathway earth carvings that are now lakes.
The shield is up north , pure crystal. Unlike Bali beaches , with miniature coral atoms in the sand mix.
We sit and laugh , a hollyhawk , Rainbow deer , Earth tree mountain lion and I a Sky Albatross , humming the sound of ancient code into Dr Who time dreams.
Where we flow and merger - align each other - heal , give , beckon to ourselves to come forth , higher self crystalize!!
We all touch differently,
arriving at situations step ,
dance -reaction to the current atmosphere, we've all jumped. We've all landed. We've all felt
the other side of being human.
Careful not to time travel too much , then we get stuck in the loop of always moving to nowhere.... Land AHOY!
We , i can feel , are all in the throws of a well navigated land - the Hawk's message from 2 and a half weeks ago -
Received.
The corners are no longer so sharp , the waves no longer as fearful , we fellow beings stand at the entrances end showing the way through to eternity.
Transitions still in progress, nearing completion. 22nd of April - a date to watch. 1 year traveling. Time to reap those seeds!
Yippiee!
Apr 11, 2014
Apr 11, 2014 at 11:15 PM UTC
Once,
gentle winds navigated our craft
safely through
the turbulent waters of life.
Then you set sail
to voyage a separate course.
And my heart
capsized
in the wake
of your passing love.
Sep 24, 2015
Sep 24, 2015 at 3:47 PM UTC
John and Eric
had gone to New Orleans
to get drunk,
so when they saw the girl
hanging over the railing
of the balcony
pulling her shirt
up and down
up and down,
they hurled beads at her
aiming for the top of her head
so that they'd
circle the drain of her neck
in a circling, shimmering starlet
down
her shoulders.
"Come down here," John yelled.
The girl pulled down her halter-top
one more time,
exposing two
globes of bouncing flesh.
Thinking he had said,
"Pull them down."
It was so loud and everyone was whistling
and there wasn't just a single color of light;
the aura from the club
was a nebula of parti-colored flashing.
later that night
she did come down.
She bumped in between John and Eric
as they navigated her through the crowd
trying their hardest to keep her
from falling over and puking,
while trying to do the same
for themselves.
She hung to them like they were long singular beams of steel.
When she rolled her head around at them
she remembered that they looked
hard and unknown.
And while holding her
in the crooks of their arms,
they maneuvered the flesh in their jeans
with their free hands,
trying to subdue the worlds
rising out of their pants
like volcanoes.
They got her back to the hotel.
A small room
with a tiny old bed, with flower-print
comforters and
an antique dresser with swirling
sculptured wood at its corners.
John slipped off his black leather jacket
and shook his mop of
curly black hair.
Eric plopped onto the bed,
pulling her with him.
She felt him pull,
she felt the gravity of him;
the warp as she bumped against
the bed.
"You guys should come back next year."
"Maybe," Eric said.
She didn't know if she was here or not.
If she'd been here the whole night
or if she was dreaming.
But she felt something physical
on her body.
Eric sat in the corner--
beside the humming a/c
as it vacuumed out the room--
watching with lifeless eyes.
It moved across her stomach.
Slow and continuous.
It moved down to her
pelvis,
slow and continuous.
It reached inside of her
slow and continuous,
and she felt the vacuum of space.
John and Eric
tag-teamed her.
Eric
taking her mouth
and working it around his *****
saying
"Come on baby,
****
John pushing against her
his glowing body
making a slapping noise
as he struggled
with his hands under her stomach
making hard dimples of flesh
on her mid-section
as he tried to hold up
her limp body.
"She's out cold,"
he said.
Dec 6, 2011
Dec 6, 2011 at 10:50 AM UTC
Hello, old friend. How much has changed in the past six years? A lot. Yet here I am again. Heartbroken. If you’ll allow me, I’d like to spill my heart back out to you.
To the question as to if I moved on: yes. With the help of family and friends, I got through those dark days. There are losses that are far more heartbreaking than that of losing a lover. In two years, feeling as though I could not go on, I did. I learned resilience.
I learned to love me. I set new goals for myself. I stepped away from the things that weren’t building me up. I learned to push through every set back, every heartache, every disappointment. I focused on work and raising the kids the best way I know. I made new friends. I learned to enjoy being alone. And then eventually, I learned to love again. It was not easy. The walls around my heart were made of titanium after all. There were struggles and nights of self resentment for being so difficult to love. But it happened.
This time though, it was different. You see I am older now, my expectations have grown with me and this love, this new, exciting love was growing with me too. He was there while I was juggling work and motherhood, and I with him while reaching his dreams. We grew together. He was patient while we navigated a somewhat LDR relationship. He was in every sense of the word my partner.
How wonderful it was to be with someone who enjoyed all the same things. We shared dreams, goals, and aspirations. We encouraged, supported, and worked with each other to reach them. How different it was to be building a life with someone. And I said to myself: this is what I went through all that pain for; this is why good things fell apart. This was the better that came for it… UNTIL IT WASN'T.
It is amazing what the human heart and mind can handle isn’t it? How after three years of talking to someone every minute of everyday you can just stop. How someone who you shared a life with, all the goals and plans and dreams can just stop.
So here we are again. Six years later. The same, but different. I am trying to relearn resilience.
Dec 8, 2024
Dec 8, 2024 at 6:48 AM UTC
I've always been one for the dimly-lit halls,
The mysterious passages and the potential falls.
I'm not about the risk, though; it's not about the danger.
It's the hope that in the depths I might come upon a stranger.
A stranger with an eye that's seen something I have not;
A stranger with a hand that holds something I haven't got;
A stranger with a rope that will show a new knot.
It's about finding a stranger who can teach me a lot.
I've always been one to seek the lesser known,
To look within the shadows where no light has shown.
I'm not about the darkness; I'm not hoping to get lost,
I'm just hoping for a stranger who will be worth the cost.
A stranger with a pair of lips that tell me unknown tales;
A stranger who's succeeded where many others failed;
A stranger who has navigated all the unknown trails.
It's about finding a stranger who puts the wind in my sails.
My tendencies have earned me a great deal of concern.
I'm told that, should I stray too far, it's unlikely I'll return.
They tell me that my obsession is a danger in disguise--
that seeking out the unknown can lead to one's demise--
But they can't see something new with their old-fashioned eyes,
So while they look down at their feet I'll keep my gaze upon the skies.
What they do not understand and what drives me to my doom,
Is that one should never find themselves the smartest in a room.
One cannot learn all there is; a life can be bettered or it will worsen.
So getting lost isn't so bad if you get lost with the right person.
Aug 25, 2015
Aug 25, 2015 at 2:25 AM UTC
I took a far peek at your seek
and glanced into your eyes
Eyes wide shut.
You sunk me in and inaugurated me
I peep in slightly to be magnified
Star gazing at life's mystery ,
Your Sky is ever so gracefully true of mendacity
Taken away by your master mind
sailed away majestically ,
Accompanied my heart of blue
I look up, the twinkles run my mind and anchored ,
Settled to disappointment too.
I wondered why so down while life waves aimed up hi
I conceived a facade love story that just began in my mind ,
will this nightmare end in horror or in sweet serenade.?
A question that ignited our flame
searching and fouling out with words of shame
Attending to this nautical phase, unquestioned !
Redirected attention and navigated back to my heart.
I sail away back to the start and peep in your telescope once more,
There i realized
Distracted with sparks and accumulated the mind with blind truth.
I fooled myself in falling in love with a fool .
Jun 23, 2014
Jun 23, 2014 at 11:32 AM UTC
will I put lipstick on you
when you lay still and silent
as the last morning
or will you pull the sheet
over my face gently
with a surprised sense of relief
when my final breath
marries the gray air
will it be in the room
where we slept
under the watchful eye
of children and grandchildren
their timeless images nailed to the walls
ever present but mute
while they navigated worlds
with horizons we would never see
or would it be in the
hallowed house of hospice
where palliative words like
“we will miss you”
“not long now,”
“you can go, it’s OK,”
float above the beds
like birds stalled in flight
riding unseen currents, but
soon to swoop down
to perch on mystic memories,
briefly,
before flying into
the karmic night
Oct 2, 2013
Oct 2, 2013 at 7:56 PM UTC
on night's ebony ocean
on night's ebony ocean
the ghost ship did sail
the ghost ship did sail
night's ghost ship did sail
on the ebony ocean
twas an illusion of a boat
twas an illusion of a boat
floating across a darkened sky
floating across a darkened sky
an illusion of a boat
twas floating across a sky darkened
silvery light emanated from the vessel
silvery light emanated from the vessel
as it navigated those vast seas
as it navigated those vast seas
the silvery vessel navigated those seas
as from it vast light emanated
twas an illusion of a boat
silvery light emanated from the vessel
floating across a darkened sky
the ghost ship did sail
as it navigated those vast seas
on night's ebony ocean
Jan 9, 2017
Jan 9, 2017 at 11:37 PM UTC