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Shannon Kelly Feb 2014
you are a candle-
you might melt at
a single flame,
but give yourself
time,
air,
you'll harden again.
Tyler Nicholas Apr 2013
The weathervanes
swirl snow into shimmering spirals.
The trees,
in slow rebirth,
retrogress to barren skeletons.
The cold leeches the green
from the emergent grass.

I perch atop wire farm fences
to rest my wings, to mend broken feathers;
the wind moves silence amidst the cold,
for my voice is void of song.

I see a flock flutter in the sky,
their call beckoning my flight to be one with theirs;
our voices to be one as we sing
songs of hopeful blessing
amidst nature's dissonance,
and chimes will resound from porches
and deer will drink from running waters
as if nothing has moved backward at all.

I will have a new song to sing,
as clouds break, revealing the splendor
of divine daylight.
JJ Hutton Oct 2010
Every ounce of grief
was in your head,
not your heart,
I know it was different,
but it didn't mean
we were dead.

"Honor him,"
you said,
implying I needed
to repent,
but I told you
that isn't my bent.

When you don't have rules,
you don't break rules,
no remorse,
no wallowing in regret,
no seek-out of redemption.
It's all a circular charade,
I don't have the time to stomach.

You make the rules
so your life plays like cinema,
so you feel like you are fighting
for something,
knowing at any given moment
you could retrogress.

I don't want to taste retreat,
there's no "honor" in that.
I'm straight. I'm progress.
I'm not digging trenches,
I'm not holy,
I'm not unholy,
I'm areté.
Copyright 25.10.10
Zachory keiser Aug 2014
I've made such efforts to forget,
to forget the sun soaked sheets in the early summer mornings

and of the way our eyes would meet after sweet symphonies of dreams divine.

Attempts To erase the savory smells of morning coffee, shared smiles and skylit kisses in the garden

Or of The warm sounds your feet made when they traversed the oak floors as if saying follow us we'll lead you to the light.

And they did, they led me to the sun, Where it kissed my skin and bones as if gracing me with an endless summer.

And Yet I still retrogress back to memories of the winter rain resting easy as it glistened on the soft pastel rose petals

So much like the way our eyes held passion in the beginning

And still I couldn't forget and cast away such an exquisite chapter filled with beauty passion and love

for those are the memories and experiences in which our true selves are forged. And I'm almost who I'm meant to be.
Terry O'Leary Jan 2019
.              <Once ShallowMan had dared to question>
              <FactoidMan’s sublime suggestion:>
“With a little predigestion
all my Facts compel ingestion
helping shallow decongestion.”

                               “FactoidMan, take no offense,
                               I know your knowledge is immense
                               amidst your store of Facts quite dense,
                               yet still I’m hanging in suspense
                               about your unassumed pretense
                               and if (or not) your Facts make sense.
                               What say you, sage, in your defense?”

“My Facts are self-sustaining views
supported by my mighty muse;
if disbelief is what you choose
just listen to the gull that mews,
eructing fake and faulty news.”

“My Facts are meant for one and all”
              <cried FactoidMan within the stall>
“I plop them out and when they fall
(yes, be they large or be they small)
they leave all witnesses in thrall.”

              <Then FactoidMan informed the crew>
              <(you know the ones, the chosen few,>
              <who try to twist his Facts askew,>
              <subjecting them to peer review>
              <which puts them in the waiting queue>
              <for litter to be hid from view):>
“Well Facts are Facts, yes that is true
so don’t be sad and don’t feel blue
when sitting dazed without a clue;
once more, that’s why I’m here for you.”

“For in my wisdom you may wallow
if you simply seek and follow,
chew my Facts, then gulp and swallow,
stuff your soul, now blank and hollow.”

                               “But FactoidMan, I fail to see
                               the emptiness inside of me”
              <said ShallowMan with modesty>
              <and cert’nly not hyperbole.>
                               “You’ve filled me with a potpourri
                               of concepts bathed in harmony
                               all self-contained and error free
                               (adjudged by you, the referee,
                               with whom no one could disagree
                               and still remain your devotee).”

              <FactoidMan may steal a stride>
              <with Miss Direction at his side>
              <to conquer, baffle or divide;>
              <she sometimes slyly serves to guide>
              <us on a roller coaster ride>
              <through subtle logic simplified>
              <and fuzzy Facts unverified.>

“We’ll make you guys sit back in wonder
stealing all your blood and thunder
when you’ve found you’ve made a blunder,
thrusting you to realms down under
dank defeat, dun dirt and dunder
(pseudo-logic’s would-be plunder,
Miss Direction’s torn asunder).”

                               “Do Miss Direction’s humble graces
                               pivot progress towards new places
                               into which loose logic races
                               (hinged on fundamental bases
                               counter argument outpaces)?
                               And what about the other cases
                               tied with loose ends time unlaces?
                               Just *******, reason soon erases
                               leaving lumps or tiny traces
                               in the gaps and other spaces?”

“Yes, Miss Direction will confirm
my wisdom hides no wily worm,
though simpletons will surely squirm
with Facts they fail to disaffirm
within the short or longer term.”

“She can lecture, you can learn
about the twists at every at every turn
in arguments that you should spurn
when served an ace but can’t return
without disgrace and ego burn
that leaves your ashes in an urn.
(In case you listen, you’ll discern
that winning spins are my concern.)”

              <Well ShallowMan was full of stunts,>
              <posed one more question which confronts:>
                               “Although your data sometimes blunts
                               the points of other’s arguments
                               your reasoning quite oft affronts
                               when based on claims  that logic shunts.
                               Well, won’t this break your covenants?”
              <Then Miss Direction screamed at once>
              <that “ShallowMan’s a silly munce”.>

“But that is neither here nor there”
              <said FactoidMan with scant a care>
“for ShallowMan may often err:
without my Facts, he’s not a prayer,
so should believe and be aware
that truth is mine and never dare
to think new thoughts (and so despair).”

              <Then FactoidMan revealed a frown>
              <in which a pompous smirk could drown:>
“Yes, ShallowMan’s a depthless clown
who must look up for seeing down;
he lives his life in Flatland Town,
his thinking cap’s a dunce’s crown.”

              <But ShallowMan took no offence>
              <though things were getting kind of tense>
              <(with some regrets for being dense)>
               <and answered in his own defense:>
                               “At times credulity replaces
                               rationality in cases
                               where belief in faith’s the basis
                               (filling holes with empty spaces)
                               voiding proofs that logic traces.”

“Does logic really play a role?
It’s certainly not the aim or goal!
Instead, to wheedle or cajole,
while using Facts which I control,
is somewhat simpler on the whole.”

                              “Oh FactoidMan, it’s now so clear
                               the reason why we need you here,
                               protecting from the puppeteer
                               who pulls our strings to interfere
                               with Facts of yours we should revere,
                               and paves our path with morbid fear
                               our straight and narrow bent may veer
                               from certainty you hold so dear,
                               rejecting theories which cohere,
                                ensconced in science, so sincere;
                               and all be ****** should doubts appear.”

“ShallowMan, if you’ve conflictions
owing to your mind’s addictions
to subconscious maledictions,
due to doubt in old convictions;
tell me now of your afflictions.”

                               “FactoidMan, I must confess
                               I understand you more or less
                               though subtleties provoke distress,
                               and even more your fine finesse
                               inclines to make my mind compress.
                               Forgive me now my cheekiness
                               in asking you for some redress;
                               although you’ve certainly gained success
                               convincing others, nonetheless
                               my valuations retrogress
                               to untold depths of shallowness
                               the more your reasons (which impress
                               onlookers with your cleverness
                               at citing Facts, most referenceless)
                               dissolve like dragons in Loch Ness.”

              <Well FactoidMan must simply smile>
              <(and sometimes chuckles for a while)>
              <when ShallowMan acts infantile>
              <and won’t attempt to reconcile>
              <those Facts that rhyme like truth and guile.>

                               “I know that all you say’s legit
                               though oft your Facts sound counterfeit
                               and leave my dawning mind unlit
                               (just feeling like a retrofit).
                               But, on the whole, I must admit,
                               a mental fog’s a benefit;
                               when eyes are closed and hairs are split
                               expressions vague, I might submit
                               although the Facts don’t seem to fit!
                               Please help me once to cope with it.”

“Oh ShallowMan you’re so amusing
when my Facts you find confusing;
you’ve no profit when refusing
simple truths of my own choosing;
bathe in wisdom I’m suffusing
when awake or else while snoozing.”

                               “Oh FactoidMan, ’twould be a sin
                               to mourn for thoughts that might-have-been
                               if you had had more time to spin
                               some arguments to underpin
                               conclusions bringing much chagrin
                               to those who try to do yours in.
                               For yes, it seems your notion’s thin
                               (though acrid, sweetened up within
                               a grain of salt called saccharin).”

“Yes, ShallowMan, you must have known,
I’d find your mindset set-in-stone
when claiming notions underblown
(especially those I call my own)
ignoring all the Facts I’ve shown,
a lapse to which you’re plainly prone.”

                               “No, FactoidMan, I’m not disbanding
                               your contentions so outstanding
                               (even though they need expanding
                               for a thorough understanding);
                               with some polish or else sanding
                               (you know, somewhat less demanding)
                               they might make a model landing,
                               lack of catwalk notwithstanding.”

“To answer you I’ll write a ditty
getting to the nitty-gritty,
oh so lofty, oh so witty,
where the Facts shine, oh so pretty;
if you’re lost, then more’s the pity,
tell it to my subcommittee,
‘Miss Direction’s Detour City’.
Now it’s time to feed the kitty.”

              <Well FactoidMan’s concluding quip>
              <to give advice and hold his grip>
              <(by letting words of wisdom drip)>
              <displayed adroit one-upmanship:>
“Hubba hubba, ching ching ching,
now I’ve taught you everything
without a hook, without  a string;
you needn’t clutch, you needn’t cling,
just bow instead and kiss my ring.”
Sade LK Jan 2014
Let's retrogress-
Feel the heat of your cheap breath on my neck.
I'll confess the regret,
But don't bet I'll be better yet-
Baby steps.
Thrilled by the chill of  ill-mannered rebellion.
Repressed representative for the  out-of-line question.
Guess it wasn't really about much-
Wasn't ever about anything.
I take the time to rewind,
I guess that's my crime;
Remind me to take
A minute- space it-
It don't matter.
Realized my eyes dazed with disaster.
But go faster.
The passion persuays the desire.
I lit this fire just to get higher,
To burn this broken world beneath me;
Teach these lessons which beseech me.
I didn't learn a ******* thing.
At least I could've been my best-
Maybe.

All of these things will leave me  some day.
And all of time will find it's been wasted away.
Everybody's body will decay-
And I know I won't care about anything.

And you don't know anything.
I still don't know anything.
No you can't know anything.
I still don't know.
Written January 4th, 2011
Lillian May Jul 2018
new
unknown
change
it makes me retract
retrogress
pull away
quickly, urgently, full of fear
like a burnt hand from a flame
my daddy always said
"The burnt hand teaches best"
words I live by too
but my momma tells me not to be afraid
tells me not to let fear rule me
caution will always be the enemy of life
life with meaning anyway
but I don't know how to change my mind
because it went from eager, quixotic thoughts
to fear and what we'd almost call disgust
in a moment my brain derailed my train of thought
changed it's course
and I keep asking the conductor what's wrong, what happened
why my feelings changed, fleeted so fast
he just shrugs apathetically
we're all confused here
my heart is so pathetically delicate I think
so easily frightened
reminiscent of a fawn I imagine in my mind
and it frustrates me
mostly because I didn't used to be like this
and I don't know how to change it back
and it's my own? so why I can't seem to figure out my own inner workings is perplexing
and disgruntling
I guess the best way to describe my mind right now
would be
a confusing, fiery train wreck
just like this poem
*conductor shrugs and so do I*
Austine May 2014
With the days that pass by
Along with the moments we hope to leave behind
Come the lingering feeling
Of what should have clearly been

As the contingency gets scanty
And the feelings, grievous and empty
Even with desperate cries for help
Why do I stay incurably unheard?

I extend my arms and try
Try as I might to fly
For when they say follow your heart
It’s with you I want to start

Yet my hearing must be impaired
'Cause it hears your voice that says we'll not end
Tell me how could I not hold on to these words
When in my heart they broke through, heard

As we dare and lose a zillion times
As our laughs retrogress to cries
As the hugs turn into meters apart
Does the end really need to be that we depart?

Then here I hope that all the pain leads us farther
That the past was nothing but a mere poseur
'Cause when we again find one another
It’s up to the flame we cannot smother
One day, I'll find my way to you once again. One day, I'll never let go ever again.
its struck
negligent tower
with terrible
lie in
a broken
yogic and
while here
she flung
her trapezoid
in the
wat she's
always held
near the
uneven bars
and could
retrogress such
a telltale
static voices through the speaker
our monitors are beacons
guiding us through schooldays to each and every weekend
hack smoke
crack jokes
art room artifice & insubordination
I'll retrogress
Written in November of 2018

— The End —