"rends" poems
I. Neptune’s Theater
A rock spins through the universal tumbler
and its warm blue pools calcify
as turquoise Neptune in his cloudy blue bath bath
builds a lace castle with his fingertips
Sculpts a submerged eden of crimson and emerald
where painted parrots chat up cardinals
butterfly and angel fry sway with wave pulse
and foliated coral fingers beckon from arched windows.
Neptune’s children are flat and bright, spined and notched
free yet entangled in lace mesh ecosystem
beneath an array of bioluminescent stars
as a gangly pretender watches and blows bubbles.
II. Sapien Siege
The hot acidic hand of death grasps
the mesh rends and tangles
the ecosystem shattered
reef’s loosed children scream beneath planet’s stars.
Butterflies impaled
cyanide-swooning damsels
mesh-tangled angels hauled heavenward
coral to potash, corpses to coal.
The pretender to the throne blinks
rubs blurry lenses,
kicks plastic fins
and moves on to the next show
Unseeing and unaware
of the luminous filament in his wake.
Self-appointed divinity,
deus ex machina.
*******************************************************************************************
Ann says: All of the animal and human characters in this poem (except Neptune and The Pretender) are named after coral reef fish. Coral reefs, one of the most diverse ecosystems, are expected to be largely extinct within one human generation. Deus ex machina is Latin for “God from the machine.”
Copyright 2013 by Ann Marcaida.
Jan 23, 2013
Jan 23, 2013 at 3:43 PM UTC
Sometimes thou seem’st not as thyself alone,
But as the meaning of all things that are;
A breathless wonder, shadowing forth afar
Some heavenly solstice hushed and halcyon;
Whose unstirred lips are music’s visible tone;
Whose eyes the sun-gate of the soul unbar,
Being of its furthest fires oracular;—
The evident heart of all life sown and mown.
Even such Love is; and is not thy name Love?
Yea, by thy hand the Love-god rends apart
All gathering clouds of Night’s ambiguous art;
Flings them far down, and sets thine eyes above;
And simply, as some gage of flower or glove,
Stakes with a smile the world against thy heart.
5.3k
Beauty like hers is genius. Not the call
Of Homer’s or of Dante’s heart sublime,—
Not Michael’s hand furrowing the zones of time,—
Is more with compassed mysteries musical;
Nay, not in Spring’s or Summer’s sweet footfall
More gathered gifts exuberant Life bequeathes
Than doth this sovereign face, whose love-spell breathes
Even from its shadowed contour on the wall.
As many men are poets in their youth,
But for one sweet-strung soul the wires prolong
Even through all change the indomitable song;
So in likewise the envenomed years, whose tooth
Rends shallower grace with ruin void of ruth,
Upon this beauty’s power shall wreak no wrong.
4.6k
The Broken Ties of happier days,
How often do they seem
To come before our mental gaze.
Like a remembered dream;
Around us each dissevered chain,
I n sparkling ruin lies.
And earthly hand can ne'er again
Unite those Broken Ties.
The parents of our infant home,
The kindred that we loved,
Far from our arms perchance may roam.
To distant scenes removed,
Or we have watched their parting breath,
And closed their weary eyes,
And sighed to think how sadly death
Can sever human ties.
The friends, the loved ones of our youth,
They too are gone or changed,
Or worse than all, their love and truth
Are darkened and estranged;
They meet us in the glittering throng
With cold averted eyes,
And wonder that we weep our wrong,
And mourn our Broken Ties.
Oh ! who in such a world as this,
Could bear their lot of pain,
Did not one radiant hope bliss
Unclouded yet remain?
That hope the Sovereign Lord has given,
Who reigns beyond the skies;
That hope unites our souls to Heaven,
By Faith's enduring ties.
Each care, each ill of mortal birth,
Is sent in pitying love,
To lift the lingering heart from earth,
And speed its flight above;
And every pang that rends the breast,
And every joy that dies,
Tell us to seek a safer rest,
And trust to holier ties.
4.4k
I am a swordsman of the mind. My blade, Language, and logic.
It’s purity glints in the sun. It’s truth, a razor edge.
With a deft flick of my tongue, crimson lines appear, blood beads.
The cut is skilled, rends deep.
This is not trolling. This is sparta.
Jun 5, 2010
Jun 5, 2010 at 2:12 PM UTC
I
The shepherds went their hasty way,
And found the lowly stable-shed
Where the Virgin-Mother lay:
And now they checked their eager tread,
For to the Babe, that at her ***** clung,
A Mother’s song the Virgin-Mother sung.
II
They told her how a glorious light,
Streaming from a heavenly throng.
Around them shone, suspending night!
While sweeter than a mother’s song,
Blest Angels heralded the Savior’s birth,
Glory to God on high! and Peace on Earth.
III
She listened to the tale divine,
And closer still the Babe she pressed:
And while she cried, the Babe is mine!
The milk rushed faster to her breast:
Joy rose within her, like a summer’s morn;
Peace, Peace on Earth! the Prince of Peace is born.
IV
Thou Mother of the Prince of Peace,
Poor, simple, and of low estate!
That strife should vanish, battle cease,
O why should this thy soul elate?
Sweet Music’s loudest note, the Poet’s story,
Didst thou ne’er love to hear of fame and glory?
V
And is not War a youthful king,
A stately Hero clad in mail?
Beneath his footsteps laurels spring;
Him Earth’s majestic monarchs hail
Their friends, their playmate! and his bold bright eye
Compels the maiden’s love-confessing sigh.
VI
Tell this in some more courtly scene,
To maids and youths in robes of state!
I am a woman poor and mean,
And wherefore is my soul elate.
War is a ruffian, all with guilt defiled,
That from the aged father’s tears his child!
VII
A murderous fiend, by fiends adored,
He kills the sire and starves the son;
The husband kills, and from her board
Steals all his widow’s toil had won;
Plunders God’s world of beauty; rends away
All safety from the night, all comfort from the day.
VIII
Then wisely is my soul elate,
That strife should vanish, battle cease:
I’m poor and of low estate,
The Mother of the Prince of Peace.
Joy rises in me, like a summer’s morn:
Peace, Peace on Earth! The Prince of Peace is born!
2.7k
at the end of the pier
no one is fishing
a couple from Jersey
leans out over the
rail looking down into
the brown swill
rolling under the
weathered boards
The wife remarked
“Belmar's water
is much nicer.”
on the Gulf’s edge
unhappy gulls convene,
plaintively gazing
over gray waves
ebbing at their feet
Brown Pelican crews
fly in long
ordered formations
incessantly circling
in widening rounds
seemingly reluctant to
plunge into the
endless depletion
of this aquatic
dead zone
I speak with a
Jefferson Parish employee
working a shovel
to regrade disturbed sand
boasting a consistency
of moist drying cement
“How did the Gulf oil spill
affect this place?” I ask
“It took evarding.” she said
With a slight Cajun accent,
“dig down a foot or two in da sand
you hit earl. It nevar goes away. Nevar.
“I live down bay side
near forty years.
Had’nt been in de water fer
twenty five. The ******
******** took evarding.
They should go back
to Englund”
She went back to
tilling the sand.
Deepwater Horizon
yet festers a short
forty miles out to sea
is now covered by
an advancing storm
swelling in the Gulf
standing at the end
of the long pier
my hands grasp the
sun bleached lumber
straining my eyes
peering into a
dark avalanche
the serenade
of bird songs
have been replaced
by the motorized drone
of tenders servicing
offshore rigs
sounding
a constant refrain
filling my ears
with a disquieting
seaside symphony
the taste of
light sweet crude
dances on my tongue
the pungent sting
of disbursements
climbs into nostrils
rends my face
prickles my eyes
grandeur is a
conditional state
never permanent
forever temporary
Music Selection:
Cajun Music:
Hippy To-Yo
Grand Isle
2/20/17
jbm
Mar 3, 2017
Mar 3, 2017 at 5:52 PM UTC
Through the pregnant universe rumbles life's terrific thunder,
And Earth's bowels quake with terror; strange and terrible storms break,
Lightning-torches flame the heavens, kindling souls of men, thereunder:
Africa! long ages sleeping, O my motherland, awake!
In the East the clouds glow crimson with the new dawn that is breaking,
And its golden glory fills the western skies.
O my brothers and my sisters, wake! arise!
For the new birth rends the old earth and the very dead are waking,
Ghosts are turned flesh, throwing off the grave's disguise,
And the foolish, even children, are made wise;
For the big earth groans in travail for the strong, new world in making--
O my brothers, dreaming for dim centuries,
Wake from sleeping; to the East turn, turn your eyes!
Oh the night is sweet for sleeping, but the shining day's for working;
Sons of the seductive night, for your children's children's sake,
From the deep primeval forests where the crouching leopard's lurking,
Lift your heavy-lidded eyes, Ethiopia! awake!
In the East the clouds glow crimson with the new dawn that is breaking,
And its golden glory fills the western skies.
O my brothers and my sisters, wake! arise!
For the new birth rends the old earth and the very dead are waking,
Ghosts have turned flesh, throwing off the grave's disguise,
And the foolish, even children, are made wise;
For the big earth groans in travail for the strong, new world in making--
O my brothers, dreaming for long centuries,
Wake from sleeping; to the East turn, turn your eyes!
2.3k
Je vis cette faucheuse. Elle était dans son champ.
Elle allait à grands pas moissonnant et fauchant,
Noir squelette laissant passer le crépuscule.
Dans l'ombre où l'on dirait que tout tremble et recule,
L'homme suivait des yeux les lueurs de la faulx.
Et les triomphateurs sous les arcs triomphaux
Tombaient ; elle changeait en désert Babylone,
Le trône en échafaud et l'échafaud en trône,
Les roses en fumier, les enfants en oiseaux,
L'or en cendre, et les yeux des mères en ruisseaux.
Et les femmes criaient : - Rends-nous ce petit être.
Pour le faire mourir, pourquoi l'avoir fait naître ? -
Ce n'était qu'un sanglot sur terre, en haut, en bas ;
Des mains aux doigts osseux sortaient des noirs grabats ;
Un vent froid bruissait dans les linceuls sans nombre ;
Les peuples éperdus semblaient sous la faulx sombre
Un troupeau frissonnant qui dans l'ombre s'enfuit ;
Tout était sous ses pieds deuil, épouvante et nuit.
Derrière elle, le front baigné de douces flammes,
Un ange souriant portait la gerbe d'âmes.
2.2k
There is a passion that rends the skies
dark of pain, to thunder forth
in this suffering world;
Grace that rains and brings forth
an oasis of refuge in this
world weak of flesh;
The spirit rises weighed on the cross
by the suffering inflicted in place
of Barabbases, thousands.
In the dunes of the desert, a call echoes:
husbandsman, tinkerman, everyman,
Never mind the pharisees;
The spirit to the letter is moon
to the mirage.
Weighed down by the burden of life,
you who have been told you deserve
nothing more than the dirt of the earth
you sinner, you sufferer,
A passion calls forth to you. So difficult
indeed is to see the father, aye,
lawmongers, enough for us to see
this humble son of a carpenter here;
O you crushed
under the wagon wheels of time
taste that love by which you are
before Abraham was.
Come, be pillars
in the mansion of your father;
Tiller toiling away in the sweat of life,
you on whose shoulders walk
the sweet-talking liars
who yet enthroned say
you are worth
only more taxation,
You can part waters. You are a miracle.
You drive away ghosts. You can
call the dead to life. Yet you are
love and see no difference
in Mary from Mary,
a secret ocean at the shore of an oasis
to drink of, until we are here
as He is in heaven.
Heaven for us to see and live here
not some unknowable hereafter.
Mar 19, 2013
Mar 19, 2013 at 2:23 PM UTC
Once, I was gifted the brightest jewel of all the wide worlds wonder
It shone for me with a brilliance, as it had for no other
But in my foolishness I cast this priceless jewel away
And as it fell t’was broken, the light scattered asunder
Now, it will not shine for me
And so, I stand in darkness
The bitter pain of watching its warmth shining upon others
As my own space dimmed, to dark and ugly colours
But it was I who cast the jewel that broke, and made itself anew
Stronger, fairer, brighter than the untouched jewel that I once knew
Still, I cannot bear to see
And so, I stand in darkness
A jewel so bright, many have sought to bask in its fey light
This is no earthen gemstone, nor star that graces the night
Most, too foolish to keep it shining upon them alone
A jewel set in the breast of artwork fairer and brighter beyond sight
Woe, it shines the least on me
And so, I stand in darkness
A darkness I would have flee from unforgiving fire
To burn the earth and all the heavens until I’m alone
To end this world with fell flames is to what I aspire
And watch the gods despair, at the crumbling of their thrones
Yet, I must not turn ugly
And so, I stand in darkness
Anguish will never wear such a resplendent face, as the one that I shall paint it
Despair will be sung truly, in a sweet melodic guise
I shall mould regret into a bolt of ruthless doom, enamored with a purpose
And pen loss in lustrous tales, to gild a readers eyes
All, done with some subtlety
And so, I stand the darkness
To sound a scream which rends the land, leaving a scar behind
To cry deltas flowing back through past deeds, flooding that frame of mind
For it to nourish life, of a beautiful, and evolved kind
Thus emptied, to float up and admire it from above, weightless, and refined
Though, I must tread silently
And so, I walk from darkness
Finally I saw the truth, after I was told a lie
Delivered into the blinding light, I was left wondering why
Why I was cursed with the folly to commit the greatest of life's crimes
Why I must now see sense, and what has passed me by
Still, t’was a choice made by me
And thus, I’ve burned with darkness
Never, never, ever again, to break such fragile, precious things
Nor walk with tactlessness, or tragedy in my stride
I'll shine with luminescence of thoughts and deeds most high
When some facets of that young boy, have finally, truly died
My own jewel shattered, with minds eye open wide
Now I understand, this allegory of dark and light
Sep 16, 2013
Sep 16, 2013 at 6:53 AM UTC
Your door is shut against my tightened face,
And I am sharp as steel with discontent;
But I possess the courage and the grace
To bear my anger proudly and unbent.
The pavement slabs burn loose beneath my feet,
A chafing savage, down the decent street;
And passion rends my vitals as I pass,
Where boldly shines your shuttered door of glass.
Oh, I must search for wisdom every hour,
Deep in my wrathful ***** sore and raw,
And find in it the superhuman power
To hold me to the letter of your law!
Oh, I must keep my heart inviolate
Against the potent poison of your hate.
1.8k
Through thickest glooms look back, immortal shade,
On that confusion which thy death has made:
Or from Olympus’ height look down, and see
A Town involv’d in grief bereft of thee.
Thy Lucy sees thee mingle with the dead,
And rends the graceful tresses from her head,
Wild in her woe, with grief unknown opprest
Sigh follows sigh deep heaving from her breast.
Too quickly fled, ah! whither art thou gone?
Ah! lost for ever to thy wife and son!
The hapless child, thine only hope and heir,
Clings round his mother’s neck, and weeps his sorrows there.
The loss of thee on Tyler’s soul returns,
And Boston for her dear physician mourns.
When sickness call’d for Marshall’s healing hand,
With what compassion did his soul expand?
In him we found the father and the friend:
In life how lov’d! how honour’d in his end!
And must not then our AEsculapius stay
To bring his ling’ring infant into day?
The babe unborn in the dark womb is tost,
And seems in anguish for its father lost.
Gone is Apollo from his house of earth,
But leaves the sweet memorials of his worth:
The common parent, whom we all deplore,
From yonder world unseen must come no more,
Yet ’midst our woes immortal hopes attend
The spouse, the sire, the universal friend.
1.8k
Perched on top a sandcastle,
A ghost who rules the night.
In armour pale as soft moonshine,
And brandished sword of might.
From his high keep, he clambers down —
The shore his dark domain.
He stalks the tide’s retreating edge,
For spoils soon to be slain.
The scent of brine and drifting ****
Rides on the midnight air;
Now darting forth to strike his prey,
Swift-footed, keen, aware.
With sharpened blade, he rends the flesh —
His kingdom’s tribute claimed.
And casts aside the rest to rot,
Now that his hunger’s tamed.
Then strikes his armour with his sword —
It rings along the shore,
A haunting drum designed to fright
Subjects still seeking war.
Assured now that his realm is safe,
Sword sheathed with grim command,
He scuttles back to his fortress,
Across the warming sand.
The eastern sky grows light with fire;
The moon begins to fade.
The surf now hums a softer hymn,
The stars slip into shade.
He yields his crown to morning’s glow,
And burrows in his keep,
Where muffled tides and cooling walls
Enfold their king in sleep.
Aug 14, 2025
Aug 14, 2025 at 3:37 PM UTC
What shall be said of this embattled day
And armed occupation of this night
By all thy foes beleaguered,—now when sight
Nor sound denotes the loved one far away?
Of these thy vanquished hours what shalt thou say,—
As every sense to which she dealt delight
Now labours lonely o’er the stark noon-height
To reach the sunset’s desolate disarray?
Stand still, fond fettered wretch! while Memory’s art
Parades the Past before thy face, and lures
Thy spirit to her passionate portraitures:
Till the tempestuous tide-gates flung apart
Flood with wild will the hollows of thy heart,
And thy heart rends thee, and thy body endures.
1.6k
Soft as the voice of an angel
Breathing a lesson unhead
Hope with a gentle persuasion
Whispers her comforting word:
Wait till' the darkness is over
Wait till' the tempest is done
Hope for sunshine tomorrow
After the shower
If, in the dusk of the twilight
Dim be the region afar
Won't be deepening darkness
Brightening the glimmering star?
Then when the night is upon us,
Why should the heart sink away?
When the dark midnight is over
Watch for the breaking of day
Whispering hope, how welcome Thy voice
Making my heart in its sorrow rejoice
Hope, as an anchor so steadfast
Rends the dark veil for the soul
Whiter the Master has entered
Robbing the grave of its goal:
Come then, come, glad fruition
Come to my sad weary heart
Come, O Thou hope of glory
Never, oh, never depart
Jul 20, 2013
Jul 20, 2013 at 10:40 PM UTC
Mending my leather mittens
for the third time this winter,
I sew them with waxed string
made to repair fishing nets,
hoping they’ll last
until the splitting maul rests
against the shrunken woodpile
and the *** and ***** come out of the shed.
I find myself praying.
Blessed be those who have laced together
the splits at the seams of this world,
repair its threads of twisted waters.
Blessed be those who stitch together
the animals and the land,
repair the rends in the fabric
of wolf and forest,
of whale and ocean,
of condor and sky.
Blessed be those who are forever fixing
the tear between people and the rest of life.
May we all have enough thread,
may our needles be sharp,
may our fingers not throb or go numb.
May each of us find an apprentice,
someone who will take the needle from our hands,
continue all the mending that needs to be done.
Sep 19, 2016
Sep 19, 2016 at 7:03 PM UTC
Anesthesia seeps into me and settles
like plaque into my arteries
where it converses with my blood.
I let its ugly yellow fingers swagger through,
waving their malicious banners
proclaiming my surrender.
My lungs breathe chafing dust
that conspires
and leaves me suffocating
under the silent sands of guilt
that build up into graceful dunes.
My mind loves the desert in my lungs
despite the lifeless contours;
it is far away, removed and sees
a sweeping landscape, patterned
by the winds, my rattling breath.
But my heart lives next door
to that forsaken terrain.
It feels the pain of the parched *****
gone unacknowledged by my mind.
It feels the lecherous caress
of the ugly yellow fingers
that violate my blood,
stroking, disgustingly, inside my veins.
Still my mind remains
Doorless
Windowless
Refusing to see.
Serenely smooth, impenetrable Reason.
My heart has no hands
to hold a hammer or a sword.
Yet Your tongue is a sword,
Your words a hammer of consciousness,
Your expression the oil to reignite
shimmering embers buried under ashes.
My mind’s shield becomes an eggshell—
it shatters, flinging shards away,
letting the newly lit inferno roar
through every capillary, burning away
the ugly yellow fingers.
Winds from within gust through my lungs,
force the desert from my chest.
The sand rends my throat and lips
in its storm of escape,
and the blissful tears that rain from my eyes
quench my arid lungs.
The fire recedes into my heart, where it burns
white-hot and pure—
My eternal sun that gleams within,
to You, I surrender.
Oct 26, 2012
Oct 26, 2012 at 12:19 AM UTC
It’s gripping, its hold on me growing tighter
I can’t keep it out much longer, it’s flowing
This fog is creeping through my mind
One of a kind, it’s there to remind me
To hurt me, heal me, shield me
Pure insanity sends me reeling, am I healing?
It rends me in two, leaves me checking on you
I don’t know what to do with you,
Two of a kind, birds of a feather
A daughter and a mother, struggling to recover
Struggling together, together will they stay?
Though this hurts, my heart barely beats
I’ll be there to dry your tears and kiss your cheeks
As I feel the insanity setting in
Don’t worry about me, it’s you that’s worsening.
Apr 28, 2015
Apr 28, 2015 at 1:21 PM UTC
his leather palms grip the line
as the tuna fights for life.
it sings in psalms,
stinging strong,
shining in his eyes.
what use have you for words, o' fish?
o' tyrant of the sea?
your royal hues
of palace blues
defy all eulogy.
that string of silver, slicing fast
across his arching back
rends slivers til
the swells go still
or coils run out of slack.
and when that sun, that burning eye
sinks beneath the waves,
your wild run
of songs unsung
sets memories ablaze.
at last you rest, o' king of kings,
and glide toward the sky.
your final test
at his behest;
he's weeping as you die.
Jun 20, 2021
Jun 20, 2021 at 7:45 AM UTC
Just like a maelstrom heading to the sea
Living my life both quiet and alone
My life, my times, in her head should not be
Still she comforts as if for years she’s known
How can she understand my bittersweet
Laments, residing deep within my soul
Comfort and hope I see when our eyes meet
She pulls me out of my deeply dug hole
Refuting my love in rejection kind
Instead insisting that she loves us all
The kind hearted heart to whom my mind pined
The foreknown knowledge caused my hope to pall
Despite whatever it is that she rends
The damage is never what she intends
Jan 7, 2015
Jan 7, 2015 at 12:50 PM UTC
"qui es tu?"
qui es tu? Je ne sais plus. Avant tu étais l'amour, l'âme soeur, l'ami , l'amant, le tout. Mais maintenant qui es tu? Une blessure, une vilaine cicatrice , une épidémie, une nuit blanche, un malaise constant, une pensé qui honte mon esprit, un passé douloureux, un présent douloureux? une éternité? Je ne sais pas exactement comment te qualifier. Je sens que bientôt tu va devenir un souvenir lointain, un soupire désolé, une remontrance. Mais va tu un jour allez jusqu’à en être un regrée? Qui es tu? Un lit chaud pendant la nuit, glacial au matin.Qui es tu? Un étranger, une âme perdu, un esprit fou. Qui es tu? La colère, la jalousie, l'envy, le mal, la souffrance. Qui es tu? Le plaisir, le bonheur, la vie. Qui es tu? Un espoir ou désespoir? Joix ou tristesse? Qui es tu? Une leçon? Une plaisanterie? Qui es tu? Le mensonge ou la vérité? Qui es tu? Une envie ou un besoin? Qui es tu? Un départ ou une arrivée? Qui es tu? Gloire ou perte? Qui es tu? Le début ou la fin? Qui es tu? Un chapitre ou toute l'histoire? Qui es tu? Un sourire ou une larme? Qui es tu? Franchise ou hypocrisie? Qui es tu? La folie ou la raison? Qui es tu? Le bien ou le mal? Qui es tu? Qui es tu? Qui es tu? Non ne me lance pas ce sourire narquois! Non ne me dis pas que tu n'es juste pas comme les autres! Cela ne me suffit pas! Arrête! Ne t'en va pas, reste avec moi, aime moi, protège moi, prends moi dans tes bras et dis moi des mots doux comme tu le fessait avant. J’abandonne, je me rends, je suis a toi, fais ce que tu veux mais ne me brise pas ..pas pour la énième fois! Efface ce regard victorieux de tes yeux , je sais que se cache en eux de la bonté. Tu sais la bonté et le pardon ne sont pas des faiblesses, au contraire c'est de la force. L'amour non plus n'est pas une faiblesse mais une bénédiction . N'aie pas peur de me faire confiance. Pourquoi cette hésitation dans ton regard? Je t'aime! Comprends le. Je ne te ferait pas mal promis. je sais que demain tu partira encore une fois, que tu n'es pas encore prêt et que tu dois vivre libre de tout ça, libre de moi, mais embrasse moi quand même, laisse moi le souvenir de tes lèvres pour me garder saine. Peut être que c'est ce que tu es a la fin, un baiser passionné qui laisse nos lèvres rêvasser d'une prochaine collision entre eux, ce désir fou qui fait battre nos cœurs, se plaisir qui laisse nos corps tremblant après une nuit torride.. Tu es le ******
Jul 20, 2014
Jul 20, 2014 at 6:20 PM UTC
There's something wrong, hanging in the air
Tastes sweet, and fetid, we feel it on the wind
In the dying heat, seeping through the screen
And it catches your attention
You don't seem to notice that I follow you outside
Watch you worm your way past the trees
I hesitate, for a second, something in my throat
you start to run, as you gain distance, my chest feels tight
You disappear inside. Through the open door
A trail of residue, marking your every step
I feel it on each rung, in my apprehension
I'm overcome with dread
And in that sordid loft, I find you in the shade
I feel my throat convulse and I collapse
Mind scattered, sickness takes its way, I'm trying to hold
Myself together, I can't think straight
Appalled beyond remnants of my faith
Intrinsic repulsion, at every sickened sound you make
Pity rends at my soul, as I watch as you rise
Against the shadow, I can see your eyes
As you start to see me, in a different light
So finding myself alone, i clung to your affidavit
I guess you got me in your own way, in a misguided attempt at reconciliation
You locked me out of my own heart, out of my mind
And swore up and down that you'd done nothing of the sort
I can no longer find the will of better self
A promise that I could relate the truths I found
Mar 5, 2019
Mar 5, 2019 at 2:54 AM UTC
Through a torn visage, I see the flame
One torch, by day, reflects ages hence
That spark, they say, can't be to blame
But many, still, keeps shoulders tense.
Man, sincerely, calls for homeland
But flame to mirror rends reflection bent
When man, in jest, sets sparks to woodland
The forest, torn, its visage now rent.
Oct 8, 2018
Oct 8, 2018 at 7:11 PM UTC
Awareness
Mind being branded by societal norms,
The heart gradually conforms.
It’s the free spirit that transcends these bars
And savors the freedom of the unknown path.
As I stand today bound in body, mind and heart,
While unbounded in my spirit and thoughts
Till “awareness” rends asunder
These gossamer bonds
Indu
10/06/2008
Nov 23, 2012
Nov 23, 2012 at 9:30 PM UTC