"peaked" poems
Perched quietly in the shadows of the night,
Observing completely, using all her might,
Untouched the landscape sat; she breathed a sigh,
She leapt and began to fly
She soared through the trees, dark and murky,
Weaving in and out, the ride a little jerky,
Until she reached the clearing, blooming and sprouting,
Where she landed and began scouting
She spotted a baby, small and alone,
Hungry and confused, wanting to be shown,
Flying over to the area in which it sat,
She pulled some wisdom from her hat
Unmoving and silent, she sat as an example,
Showing her apprentice just a little sample,
Teaching patience and perseverance was first on the list,
She didn’t quit until it got the gist
Next thing she knew, her student was growing,
In no time, it was the one doing all the showing,
She took a step back, gazing proudly at her work,
While the child continued doing all the groundwork
Rays peaked out across the horizon in all hues,
Most of which consisted of reds and blues,
She looked at the child, beckoning it to fly on home,
Although she longed to stay and roam
As the sun rose, slow and bright,
She decided to turn and take off in flight,
Twisting and turning through trees and brush,
She flew on quickly, as if in a rush
She spotted it then, modest and small,
The place she longed to go most of all,
Adventures are fun and she liked to roam,
But there’s definitely no place quite like home.
Jan 11, 2018
Jan 11, 2018 at 10:27 PM UTC
do you recall
the crunch beneath our feet
a gesture small
as we ambled down the street
dirt and gravel
I felt pebbles through my shoe
I unravelled
When I looked at you
Where did you come from
Are you real?
Is this how I’m supposed to feel?
A dreamgirl
In a dreary place
I’ve counted every freckle on your face
Sunlight peaked through maple branches
in such a tranquil way
missed chances to make advances
I always hoped you'd stay
a fork in the road ahead
we went different directions
I used many different methods
to try and snag your attention
Where did you come from
Are you real?
Is this how I’m supposed to feel?
A dreamgirl
In a dreary place
I’ve counted every freckle on your face
you never seemed to notice
you just stared ahead
heart bloomed as if a lotus
while I tugged at a loose thread
sometimes I'd begin to speak
but choked upon my words
so I walked next to you without a peep
and together watched the birds
Where did you come from
Are you real?
Is this how I’m supposed to feel?
A dreamgirl
In a dreary place
I’ve counted every freckle on your face
it's odd and super subtle
the synchronicity
insignificant and pointless
yet means the world to me
quiet walks every afternoon
past the garage and dead leaves
we watched the starlings courtship
do you remember me?
Where did you come from
Are you real?
Is this how I’m supposed to feel?
A dreamgirl
In a dreary place
I’ve counted every freckle on your face
Feb 26, 2018
Feb 26, 2018 at 2:29 AM UTC
I
I feel a darkness in me
that is not worthy of love
and is not capable anyways.
It is selfish and will hurt you.
But there is a bright light as well
and it has also caused you pain.
For the noble light removes me
out of belief it will stop you from hurting.
And when I want to love you
I know that I must not.
It is an inner turmoil that has accomplished nothing.
Your pain and confusion was meant to be spared.
I am a curse.
You have felt pain whether my intentions were pure or not.
II
A piece of my heart flew away
everytime I dissappointed myself.
A piece of my heart melted
everytime someone I trusted walked away.
A piece of my heart passed away
with each loved one lost.
Pieces of my heart have been broken
by the careless hands of others.
I feared there was nothing left
but in unknown, brief moments
I feel a slight spark in my chest
And I am reminded that there is still one person who can make me feel like there is no darkness in the world.
III
I think
I love you.
It seems clearer now
for some reason.
But this abrupt
clarity
is exactly what keeps me from knowing...
Why now?
Why did it take so long?
Just when my frustrations had peaked,
I found your name within my heart again.
IV
How I do love thee
I love thee with what heart I possess
but I'm afraid not much lies within this chest
And I fear you an injustice
If only part of a heart you request
Then I offer it as my best
For I do not know the tests
I may face in this life
nor the next.
If we should be but friends
I would embrace you as my best
for you have given me memories
that will forever be cherished
One day at a time it will show
One day we will know
But with you i'd rather grow
Than to have lost it and be unsure.
Made with Love
Jan 31, 2011
Jan 31, 2011 at 12:59 PM UTC
In glorious flight owning daylight
You magistrate freedom across
An ocean with your own box
Of twilight that you share
In a land of fish
A moonlit wish
With wings that
Kiss the
Sky
Throughout your expeditions to ground
Your voice is a dynamic sound
None can ignore your presence
What would Pandora say
When you sing that way?
Higher you fly
Distances
Many
Won't
Instruct us to use our heart compass
Open our eyes to perspective
Show us potential to live
When self-doubt is about
Like a grain of sand
May our cares be
Found without
A need
For
The liberty of our latitude
Is the length of our attitude
The way the wind blows effects
The direction we go
Our choices to be
Curiously
Ebb and flow
Waving
Lo
Behold a new dawn of bright feather
Consider the stormy weather
Notice how cloud and sun
Witness the Mother
Nature at play
Survey to
Coastal
Bay
May we find our way as you have shown
Limitless unbounded and flown
So shallow is the worry
No longer a fury
A calming has come
Soaring above
With truth in
Our hearts
Won
Riding the currents of emotions
Soaring aloft mental oceans
Wings spanned in physical worlds
Discover us great pearls
Of wisdom and poise
Joyful in noise
Good solid
Gifts of
Sage
Cleansing our spirits of past trifles
Being careful not to stifle
New growth with every gust gained
A quill, a crest, a quest
A mountain peaked with
Knowledge like the
Pier we are
Destined
To
A gate to become the best versions
Of our outstanding self-landing
Into the stars we have been
The fringe dust of pinion
Divine with the wind
Beginning free
And renewed
With no
End
© tHE tERRY tREE
Dec 5, 2014
Dec 5, 2014 at 9:15 PM UTC
I write these words from boredom.
Where they lead to I know not.
All I know, is that I write from boredom.
Boredom creeps upon me, like a stealthy foe within the night. My interests can be peaked then can go out like a light. Maybe with a bit of horror my boredom could be solved through some fright. Alas I know that to resolve my boredom I'll have to put up a fight.
To the boredom I say good day and try to be on my merry way. Boredom however has more to say upon this day in such a way that it molds me like wet gooey clay. Shaping and forming my mind for the evening, the boredom kicks in an my spirits start leaving.
Once thriving and passionate, once creative and fair. Now because of my boredom I lack the very will to care. To care about feelings, hopes and dreams. Like most of my cares, they simply fall through the seams.
Seams within my mind that bind me into one whole thing. A thing that has no will to continue with such a boring night. A flightless, hopeless, careless, and boredom filled night.
So sleep tight, because as of now it's all I have to escape my boredom. Once I crawl into bed my mind is at ease, but when I wake up I need something that will please. Anything, anything at all.
Whether it be down or up the stairs, in between some spider hair, along a glowing beam, even along a narrow stream.
A gray dull life is not one I desire, day by day I hope for something to light my fire. Boredom strikes when I least expect, I always wonder when it will hit next. I'm lucky when it leaves and pray that is does not return.
However when it does return I yearn for something to do. I Look for a clue for something to do, just as you likely read this from boredom too. So my dear reader I bid you farewell, from whence I came I shall return to my boring spell.
Aug 17, 2016
Aug 17, 2016 at 10:28 PM UTC
A SOCIETY WRITTEN IN FLAMES; SHROUDED IN DARKNESS
*The tears flows in an endless way
Bemoaning the days of yore
Watching with eyes that sparks red,
Sunken and beaten from the tragedies of yore
Helpless and wishing for a relentless call
As tragedy hits her most sensitive part,
Bemoaning the tides,
All her days of glory,
Now a shadowy story*
*She had been ***** by her very own,
The children she yearned and bled for,
The men she fed and trained,
Where her rain fell full and vast, to soothe their hearts
Where she gave it all, and smiled, hoping that someday, they will realize her sacrifices and sleepless nights,
Her nights of terror and horrors
Where she stood in the midst of the stormy eerie night, shrouded in darkness*
*It was her ******* they ****** and clunged to,
It was her arms that shielded them from the shadows of the dark,
But when they grew and flew,
She waited still
Praying and wishing they would remember the days of yore*
*Then the dark hour rolled away,
And when morning came, it was harrowing.
It was harrowing how she waited abandoned and dejected,
As her sons and daughters peaked at the sky,
Trampling her down,
Relegating and belittling her
Painful it were, as she cried from the agonies of the days of yore,
Where she laid all her virtues down,
Giving it all to see her children smile,*
*It is this dejection that has brought her to tears,
It is this wickedness of a child to a mother, that has made her weep endlessly
It is this tragedy that have swallowed her glory,
As her children keeps flying above huddles, in peace and harmony,
Forgetting her,
It is this callousness, that pushed them to sapping her virtues and enriching themselves with it thereon*
*What is worse than a child abandoning his mother?
It is this penchant, that drives them
It is the love of greed,
It is the seed of corruption,
It is not an inherited trait,
It is a despicable decision
Like a monstrous shadow,
Twirling the back of the night.
It is the fire that burns within their heart,
The fire to **** steal and destroy
To take what she can never give again
To live,
To live big at the expenses of others sorrow and agony
It is this evil that has perused Nigeria and has rendered her a roaming wretch
And now tragedy looms,
It booms and blooms,*
A society written in flames
Who will save MOTHER NIGERIA?
Ovi Odiete© 2016, Oct. 31
All rights reserved
Note
Children here signifies the evil politicians and men that has sapped our country dry with their evil penchant
Oct 31, 2016
Oct 31, 2016 at 7:03 AM UTC
the way i smiled outside
is the opposite of how i cry inside
the pain left me hanging
i couldn’t take it anymore
the pressure they all gave me
the thoughts and misconceptions
the society fed me
kept being toxic
all my efforts
were nothing but trash
i seemed unnoticed
and silently i waited for someone
to hear how much myself peaked at
that metal mask that hides
my identity
i talked about my flaws
at the mirror
shouting how much
sorrow i’ve been through
seeing my bloodshot red eyes
kept me wondering
am i that pitiful?
i am that small thing
in the big perfectionist world
i couldn’t accept myself
so i torn it apart
and left every bits and pieces
of the real me
i kept using all these
makeups skincare pills
just to hide the past
but it wasn’t enough
the expectations were as high as the skies
and i was on earth
i put all my best
but it still wasn’t enough
the oceans in my eyes
shows how much i’ve suffered all throughout
the years of judgement in the pits of hell
i am sorry for being sad
been always sorry
will always be sorry
for being who i am.
Aug 3, 2018
Aug 3, 2018 at 9:34 AM UTC
i melted off of you
like crystal clear water
as the snow changes form
_you were the mountain i depended on_
i had found home in your rubble
justified all of your cracks
when all along i knew
it wasn't me who
was falling
_it was you_
back then i was blind
but i thought i could see
how beautiful you + me could be
when my light peaked through
those broken parts in you
i guess that's what healers do
we attract the broken ones
knowing there is room to fill
but i have got to stop
and remember that no one
can understand my warmth
when they've only ever lived
in the cold corners of
my hopeful heart
when they only
loved me as
i looked
away
but that's
not romantic
it just left me frantic
yet all of that darkness
has made me a
mantic
Jul 21, 2018
Jul 21, 2018 at 8:13 PM UTC
Do you ever write something
So good
That you feel like you've peaked
As a writer?
And everything from then on
Is a question in your head?
Maybe you should never
Pick up a pencil again
Because your writing career
Has already been wrapped up
Tightly with a bow
Maybe you planned to be a poet
Get a proper creative writing degree
And forever make a living
Off the rhythm of words
But every idea now
Seems like a steaming pile of ****
Compared to your last masterpiece
So it just sits
Rotting in your brain
Until you stink
With a lack of genuine creativity
Maybe you've written so much
That your rhymes
Begin to sound tired
And overused
But if you don't rhyme
It sounds as if you've gotten lazy
So no matter what you put down
The effort doesn't show
Maybe writing about the ordinary
Seems boring
But writing the extraordinary
Has already been done
And every option in between
Seems like a cheap plagiarism
Maybe your standards got too high
And people expect more from you
So every ounce of energy you have
Is wasted on doubting yourself
Until you're too exhausted
To write at all
Maybe you dreamt too big
Maybe quitting while you're ahead
Sounds better than actually trying
Maybe the emptiness you feel
When you don't write
Is worth not risking failure
Maybe saying goodbye
To your dreams now
Will be easier
Than a downward spiral
From the inability
To write something better than before
Or maybe
You're just overthinking it.
Aug 28, 2017
Aug 28, 2017 at 12:49 PM UTC
Prologue
casual glance at my notifications while driving even though
I’m all ready a bad bad boy, cruising at a sedate,
cruise-controlled 70 mph vs. the bureaucrat bifocals 55,
a remnant regulation of the Eighties,
all the while humming with Gilligan
“a 3 hour tour,
2 passengers set sail that day”
then execute a four lane 180,
gotta get highway sideway grassed ,
cause i’m gassed...
by a Poem Breach
of the poems promised by me,
to write of thee,
you, my best inspiration,
the list grows longer, faster
than the hours provided
pull over fast emergency for my composure breached,
my vision wetted, my eyes hit by an unplanned unexpected,
sudden summer thunderstorm
<•>
The Poem Breach
***once more into the breach thy words breeze through my chest,
like on a flamed stick, night roasting, toasting beach summer marshmallows,
that cut direct to the ineffable sadness that resides resists within,
that sticky, white mess,
a human heart melting
a thank you message that I’ve read before,
many times more than once,
how my unasked poem, a sun unique,
arrived at the
precise time and place,
to lift and even save,
how could I’ve know?
I did not know
but these messages collect on my chest,
unsought words of purple ribbon metal that make a
less burdened cowardly lion,
grown man cry,
do crazy things for it is a possible solution to his
age old quest
Why do I exist, is this my purposed plan, don’t understand, all
but the answer peaked and peaceful accepted in the breach unreasoned,
my port of entry, a gateway to the scales, a bridge it is, over a time-life river styx and unstuck, yet certainly always confused...***
“It is a far, far better thing that I do, than I have ever done; it is a far, far better rest that I go to than I have ever known.”
thank you so insufficient
Jul 21, 2018
Jul 21, 2018 at 11:56 AM UTC
The moth with newspaper wings sat under the arrow lungs of the eyeless
blood dripped falcon, more whole than the super-glued roman sculpture.
Next door a 50’s con held up church with a roulette table in the kitchen,
and boarded up the massage parlor
downstairs.
The eye of the man was a centrifuge of ducks, mallard and hen, spiraling
outward into evaporated roach-ground
asphalt.
Next door, slits in the picket fence displayed perfectly formed **** & broach,
empty shoes made of feet below, blending
fields.
The marble foundation formed from twine lollipops and fuzzy candy tabs,
ice-etched to the frequency of splintered seashell
angels.
Next door through the forest of knives a spaceship bearing gargoyles peaked
bodies through collages of faces in technicolor sepia
mitosis.
The heiress molted into tiled pieces, her own dog and sunhat caught in blizzard
cuneiform, kaliedescoping again to fractalled inchworms cemented in motion.
Jan 15, 2013
Jan 15, 2013 at 9:55 AM UTC
I've been pacing from room to room
Waiting for the world to stimulate
Something other than haunting gloom
Scroll unrolling a new series of emotions
Trends are mountaintops so better follow
The path is winding and this high peaked
Enjoy the view of this digital landscape
As the rest of the world crumbles at your
Feet
Feb 24, 2023
Feb 24, 2023 at 10:53 AM UTC
She wore mountains round her neck
(“No, lower.”)
Peaked with scented minarets
(Softer and sweeter than strawberries,
grander than a psalm.)
In the gulch between words
I offered you a prayer
and you wounded me with a poem.
I watched you move
like a summer night
to disrobe the cover
of your collected works
-a landscape of fire and blood
that beats a wardrum
deep in my hungry river.
Your petals pressed against my lips
to drown , to drown
gladly.
She wore mountains round her neck,
and I wore her ankles with a smile.
Sep 26, 2015
Sep 26, 2015 at 8:45 AM UTC
Dusk broke through the nighttime sky, filling it with fire and bright light as the distant sun peaked over the horizon.
It was a quiet warning, I knew. Although my mind did not want to admit it.
But I took the hint, and slowly the fire of the sky dripped into cold drops and came cascading to the ground over my shattered heart.
Even the sky could not pretend to stand strong as the heart inside my chest continued to crack with every given moment.
The rain ended, and I knew it was over.
Billowing clouds encircled and surrounded me, attempting to form a safety net from the rest of the world.
The clouds parted and the sky cleared into a majestic array of vibrant colors. The broken pieces of my heart, now scattered across the ground, were lifted up and slowly pieced together, although the cracks within remained visible to the eye.
It would be a process, I knew, and maybe I did not want the cracks to completely heal, but I did want to feel whole.
And I will, with Him, and with time.
Oct 16, 2017
Oct 16, 2017 at 1:20 PM UTC
On forgiving former loves-
I understand your worry for uncertainty
It consumed you
Emerged as an ideal that you could not abandon
So you abandoned me instead
And maybe abandonment is a strong word
But I'm a strong man and I finally have a grasp on this
A clenched fist gripping empathy, not animosity
I understand your intentions weren't reckless
But a blinded truck driver can't avoid oncoming traffic too long
And accidents still design destruction
No matter how sorry the driver is after the fact
And sorry is much appreciated but still neglects the fact that
Heart brakes don't stop collisions, they construct them
I understand your past problems peaked into the present
And interrupted our intimate conversations
I had no problem erasing the demons you carried
To carry your baggage to the nearest trash can
To make room for our own difficulties
But I know attacking these issues alone was your preference
And I admire an inspired inspector of treacherous ground
I understand your passion wasn't illuminating
Our relationship's mansion anymore
Your embers resembled smothered ashes on love's battlefield
Your heart- a committed commander to Independence
The sovereign state selected to attack happy couples
But I won the battle and the war this time
Because my troops are resilient for commitment
I understand your calendar didn't coexist with mine
Still I appreciate your treated tenderness
Your existence improved my experience
Your love surrendered waving white flags
Which I greeted at first reluctantly
But over time I've come to recognize
The importance of self-harmony
Nov 11, 2013
Nov 11, 2013 at 7:38 AM UTC
“Disaster Dan” skids into the Center's
Game Room
War Room
Control Room
Fueled by a red T-shirt
proclaiming “Vince the Pizza Prince”
He flips out his cellular...
“IT ISN'T UP TO ME!"
(Where does he get all those broken remotes?)
...flips open his cell
and shouts commands
“TURN THE POWER ON!"
“YA HEARD ME!" (He is totally in control)
“Fsssss Fssssss Fsssssss
THE PIPES ARE ABOUT TO BLOW!”
Drives his cruiser around the pool table
Pulls alongside
Fixes me point-blank and cockeyed
“GET THESE KIDS OUTA THE BUILDING!
THERE'S A BOMB ABOUT TA GO OFF!”
An eight-year-old spins iz finger round iz ear
and points a giggle
Dan--
the kind of guy whose life peaked
at Mount Saint Helen
Does a warlock for Halloween
Carries a portable showcase of horror
prized possessions in a dishpan
He explains his treasures
“That is NOT
a plastic scorpion!”
Offended by my ignorance
shoves it in my eyes
“THIS IS A PREDATOR ALIEN, STUPID!"
“CALIFORNIA WILL NOT COME BACK!"
Dan sorta likes me
We talk horror flicks
He forbids the serious of me
"CALIFORNIA WILL FALL OFF INTO THE OCEAN!”
he hisses in a spray of spit
Walks way, laughing, delighted!
Shaking iz head
Then back in my face again (for emphasis)
“DO YOU UNDERSTAND?!"
(He is dead serious)
"THE GUY THAT CAUSED THAT HURRICANE
WAS PAUL MCCARTNEY!"
His counselor fills in my blank
“Dan likes the Beatles
That's the only thing he likes
that isn't heinous”
Oct 31, 2016
Oct 31, 2016 at 7:41 PM UTC
Two boys huddled on a playground:
One Said:
'I've seen one.
This time when I was a kid,
My cousin was changing in our guest room
I peaked in through a crack in the door
And it was right there reflected in the mirror'
Said the other:
'Well, in the attic at my
grandfather's house
There is this old black and white photo
Of this big party with lots of people
In the background, and off to the side
The photographer caught one,
But you can only half see it
Peaking behind this woman's dress.'
Mar 27, 2011
Mar 27, 2011 at 8:01 PM UTC
I'll never forget the way you looked
As you stood with your back to me
No defenses - no walls
Painting with such care
And so much love
as I peaked through the French doors.
You didn't hear me
as I opened the door
Because you have chosen to exit the world
Slowly
First by losing interest in hearing
And then in forgetting short term nonsense,
Preferring to live in the glorious past..
You were painting for me,
My once most picture perfect Mother.
Now with hat and shorts and torn shirt,
and not giving a care in the world
For how you appear
And I could see, in that moment,
Your immense love for me
And I knew it was there from the very beginning,
And that despite scars of our
mythical mother daughter battles,
it would never be lost
Or ever forgotten
And my heart broke
For the millionth time
Into millions of Pieces
For I understood then
That love between mother and daughter
is greater than
Time and life Itself.
Feb 5, 2015
Feb 5, 2015 at 1:53 AM UTC
Hazed by the dire rope of death
A subtle incandescence flickered
A white light glimmered like ****
Whilst hushed peaked a snicker
Her smile an adequate sedative
Terminating vivid estuaries
A moment equally competitive
In other eyes deemed honorary
Mi corazón happened upon felicity
Blessed be this origin of jubilee
Freeze we shall in fair amenity
Beneath this fine cherry tree
Feb 15, 2012
Feb 15, 2012 at 7:32 PM UTC
It has been four years
and I have not written a better poem
than the best poem I have ever written,
stuck in a repetitive loop
of not good enough,
never exceeding
what I was once able to do
my fingers ache for another masterpiece
but my brain refuses to provide
any sort of solace that would come with
writing a good poem,
a great poem,
something that would make me proud again
Jun 29, 2021
Jun 29, 2021 at 6:12 PM UTC
Narcotized by her ****** nocturne
Electric my desires elevated
Her body a red velvet luxury
Crippled our bodies fell elated
Upon our skins moonlight peaked
Quite a golden ****** to devour
Profound dissolving within sin
Passion sensually shaping the hour
Time may be fickle,
Refrained the night remains young
Though I can taste the minutes
Descendant from the sweltering sun
In sync may our bodies move
To human nature's mystic groove
Jan 21, 2012
Jan 21, 2012 at 9:11 PM UTC
I came to the Relazation,
*I don't give a ****
Only when I'm
high as **** off some
Man made ether- Now, etherized
it's easier to comprehend the demensions that led to my mental demise.
Yet and still.
*I don't give a ****
Numb.
No need for the clenching of hearts or
worry some eyes-
This is a different "Numb".
Confusing your senses to where you
Hear color,
Taste sound
See beauty in all belonging to God
An feel only with your heart-
I'm riding on cloud 9 -
Yea, high...
Surfacing on a pen that's barely scratching
The surface of my potency.
My being is being caressed by night fall,
Stillness finds space to
fit and slip down shoulders
once burdened with all
but a dream.
Reality never touched me here
So it's easy to imitate a crescent
for my lips main wear.
Corners peaked
Gracing cheekbones once hidden
Now amplified by rose colored bliss.
I wish I could stay here -
Live within my imagination
Because in this realm-
Creativity added to a heart of gold
Not affiliated with currency
Is riches.
Unfortunately,
I can't stay trapped in this... dream-
Because like that 14 year old school boy
My imagination too,
has a curfew.
Only is at 8 a.m.
When the alarm sounds for me to mask my desires
In a blue collar-
To work the "grave yard shift"-
For a dreamer.
Hmm...
I guess my stress will greet your relief again at 5.
Or if I can't wait to embrace that comforted race-
I may have to show face on my next lunch break.
- Danielle . A. Watson
✌
Sep 4, 2013
Sep 4, 2013 at 10:47 PM UTC
It cannot put pen to paper
But all a flower has to do
Is open up its delicate petals
Unfolding like a noble lady's fan
Broadening to blossom into a lovely jewel
Poetry without any word
A spider weaves its web
Like an author spins tales
It's intentions upon its survival, but
Its intricate home of threads and strings
Like a gossamer harp
Is enchanting to perceive
A make and design of fragile strength
The oceans and seas
Mighty and commanding
They roar and display their majesty
With crashing waves and splashy bravado
They spare few prisoners
And graveyards of sunken ships
Whisper of stories untold
Birds chirp and warble
With songs that humans long to know
For they travel through the air
In simplistic freedom
Their chorus of communication
Is a poetic symphony just as entertaining
As any band of musicians or artists
The winds blow and whistle
Though they have no mouths
If you listen close enough
You can hear their secrets
Their breath of life in the
Ever flowing
Breezes that enfold us
You'd swear the mountains
Were painted that way
Brawny and broad, peaked high above
Against the grand canvas we call the sky
Yes, paintings are poems, too
For a picture speaks a thousand words
But no mere man can make a mountain
You see
We are merely students
Taught by God's natural, creative genius
We are merely imitators
Of what nature displays
We are not originals
For we are not the first poets
Nor the first storytellers
Jan 12, 2014
Jan 12, 2014 at 1:31 AM UTC
Social Climbing
How many asks what is the way forward?
The lack of thought impregnates our air.
By thoughts and acts we pursue social achievements,
Exhibiting selfishness, chaos and insecurity.
We promote ourselves through groups and individuals,
Paving the way to social fame and glory.
All while our country rivers crest with blood,
Peaked by the sacrifices of those socially conscious.
Their protests to gain our freedoms unrecognized,
By those of us tied up in the hunt for fame.
Is it this the dream, we strive to gain?
Shamed am I that we have not addressed their demise.
Dec 16, 2015
Dec 16, 2015 at 1:51 PM UTC
You think that I'm weak
and don't see what you seek.
Wise eyes can see through trees,
but can't stop a deer from stepping into the street.
An arrogant doe not yet peaked,
stares into the headlights,
whose dangers she can't see.
What matters is that they shine on you,
negligent to the fact that they blind you too.
Bathed in light a deer will never move,
lost in their bright Narcissistic pools.
Flying above, I can swoop and save,
but first you must be willed to look away.
Jul 5, 2013
Jul 5, 2013 at 10:54 PM UTC