"soulfulness" poems
Forest inquires:
How do you decide, choose your design, find its guise,
give it a face, surrender to the poem's own
vanity,
and choose the poem's alignment?
an answer forms:
this alignment idea,
you think it simple,
everybody understands
what your inquiry means
alignment - the appropriate relative position
we live in relative position to each other, our poems too, for they are but written synapses of our close captioned interactions, seemingly random, but assuredly not, as we invest in ourselves, seeking the mysterious appropriate answer
from the Theory of Poetic Relativity
i love your question; hold it to my nostrils,
smell the coffee aroma wake up blast inherent;
kiss its robust childlike cheeks for the simple soulfulness essential arousal;
for you see sir you have found
the appropriate position that relates us, our mindful words;
answer no good, wholly insufficient?
perfect.
as i close this quick cooked to perfection laboratory solution, take note
the earth has moved
our hearts have beaten a measly thousand times
time and space have appropriated our prior
relativity
when you return years hence this poem's shape will perforce have moved. for words are weathered flux constant and yet inherently unchanged except for the part of us that changes with every re-reading
and what was
right before has left and the center has moved again
Mar 12, 2017
Mar 12, 2017 at 9:25 AM UTC
Aye, Vladimir, just before I met thee
I hath been sure I hath loved him-
no matter as queer as it may hath seemed!
Thou knowest not, how much tears I hath shredded
and noticest not, how t'eir vanity made me look dead!
But why-why then didst thou appear-
and wokest within me t'is secret fear-
with understanding in thy eyes,
and with a love t'at is to me so dear.
Why-why t'en thou left me, left me again!
Whenst I got to knowest thou but for a moment,
ah, with not so much of an endearment-
afforded ourselves only t'at streak of lovely,
but still weak of too a bond,
or any pact, of young novelty.
And everything was corrupt
As soon as thou re-released me
into t'ese qualms of insincerity
wherest I am still tossed about, guilty.
And hushed, hushed always,
like a trivial, parallel wind!
As though my dear heart's bathed in sin
and of a soul t'at is so thin
So worthy not of thy soulfulness
and sweet dreams of many happinesses.
Ah, Vladimir! If only thou could knowest
T'is thread of passion thou hath sowed
and how my entirety seekest being loved
By thee, and only by thee, o my rain!
As thou art but king to my sneaky moon
and my very own kingdom of stars
Not him-not him, o t'is I entreat,
albeit his wits hath been but to me so sweet.
Still he be a mistake, ah, a chilly autumn mistake
to me, from whom I didst just turn awake.
Probably thou would hath loved me;
imperishably and blindingly,
until all thy superb charms and wit
t'at wert but tortured and unbending
shalt be left within me lit;
and thus leaving our fiery souls entwined
with winds t'at art even sweeter
yet might be torturously everlasting.
Vladimir, Vladimir, oh my only Vladimir!
Thou altogether belongst with me; here,
so unjustly yet heavenly
And in our hands is cherished
our love, o, so wickedly-but fatefully!
How I longst to be thy lover, dearest-
and be so comely as thy only flower;
which ripens thickly in thy winter
and blooms robustly, in thy summer.
Mar 20, 2013
Mar 20, 2013 at 7:07 AM UTC
She rises and falls like a reposed breath
before an entire world's visage
in her encircled arms.
The incandescent glow of the stage
has an intoxicating quality to it,
the music being
something liquid, viscous.
As notes thrum in tender and soothing caresses,
her legs supple, twirl like petals
cascading under the weight of raindrops,
giving way to a lush surrender
steeped in a language of love and need.
Her very fire
and impassioned soulfulness
lifts her up above the crowd itself,
burning for all to see.
In this moment now
her timelessness enraptures me.
Another part of myself awakens to her grace
and renders me
gratefully whole.
A sense of euphoria slow dances its way
from her being to mine,
consuming every piece of my body
in a fiery bloom—
charging me with
a crackling, electrifying force
unlike my mere own.
I can see now
that this is what she was born to do—
to be on pointe, seeing everything.
Any instances of worldly fear
is left to the dying.
The rhythms of her old pains,
tribulations of past destructions,
are now buried beneath her feet.
And her radiant smile while she dances
still speaks to me gently—
that to be free
is to be wonderfully lost
in her waltz with destiny.
© BT
Nov 19, 2017
Nov 19, 2017 at 8:52 PM UTC
Tightly clenched the fist shakes
Never steady like a nail
Blood curdles through the veins
Self-torturous it won’t fail
Keep still to breathe
Inhale the oxidation of life
Flowing molecularly steady
Before the shattered knife
But why negativity it remains
Lingers closely by the trees
Hovering over the city
Lacking soulfulness to squeeze
One refrains from the nuisance
Though it fights back with a rage
No world is perfect
Keep me locked in this cage
May 8, 2014
May 8, 2014 at 11:29 PM UTC
aromatic coffee awakens senses
midst the gestured warmth of radiant
smiles's 'tween morning brew,
reverently paused to catch
the awe inspiring poignancy
of sunrise's exhilaration,
whilst cozily wrapped in the delightful unfurl
of captivating poetry's skillful delectation
a rising ritual begun many blue moons afore,
tempting consciousness, feeding soulfulness
enlightening sensibilities as it
enriches the day's appreciation
'pon the keen awareness of poets,
tempests from all niches of the world
coming together amid upheavals and serenity,
ceremoniously dubbed fierce confirmations
of words expressly borne, communing the
artfully spirited of resourceful artisans,
procuring special collective bonds that
only poesy can wholly dictate,
they look upon us as enigmas
rather strange breed of puzzling characters,
as this inexplicable endeavor
escapes their stifled perceptions
of conduit's musing reasonable facsimile,
we're merely cognitive passages for
experiences on common ground
in realizations of all-too-human foibles
eccentricities, yearnings and fortitude,
released deliverance of potpourri
serving up inky joy beyond expression,
intention's distinction deciphering
reflections in meditative affirmations,
breadth of unrestrained beholden visions
conjured notions of paramount significance
wherein lies evidence of life's burnt offerings,
beginnings and endings of hearts' indulgences
wept in resolute celebrations of existence
as only a poet could discernibly translate
Jul 9, 2015
Jul 9, 2015 at 8:23 AM UTC
Notes, musical keys, rythmic changes-
A modification of the Word
Which purifies her soulfulness
And expresses clarities in the fog,
The hint of Dickinson in her words,
The scent of reality in her reflection,
The words become a path:
One wet summer I heard your words,
The vibrant sky breaths
And the sun became as embers
Of poetic sacrifice,
Through reading your poem
I became as a double being,
Movement began
A sudden dispersion of birds
Followed by the Humm of water
On stone,
Murmurs of infinite moments
Painting them all like some
Poet Saint,
The words became a lineage
To the unfathomable depths of you,
In the helix of hours
The beat of the sea and the stilled
Shimmers of light on water can be found
In the edification of her poetry;
Master strokes,
Like a naked liberation
Of a diamond body beyond
A turquoise sunset,
A co concubine of words
That form constellated meanings
Among the pnumbra,
Reminiscent of the March of hours
In which the words come
And a fixed glitter in her eyes form,
The form of woman,
A form of dizziness
Like a dance of wind and water,
I read between the words,
Vicki,
Vicki,
I imagine a lamp in the middle
Of the night,
A pen and a womans scorching
Words as God had spoken
The First Word,
Like a moon in heat in midday's
Grasp, she counters every word
Of expression
Like a cell for my tortured soul,
She became my solitary star,
I wander in her hours,
Hungry for more words,
A memory inventing itself,
Masterfully,
She makes the sky walk the land.
Jan 10, 2017
Jan 10, 2017 at 3:19 PM UTC
Feelings masked
Under a boulder of
Suppression
Painted with smiles
To hide the frustration that was
Bubbling, bubbling
Inside, never escaping
Because it shouldn’t, right?
Fatality:
The consequence of a mistaken exposure of the
Achilles’ heel,
carefully veiled by
socks or such something,
Shrouded by indifference and a pretence of amnesia.
And yet, yet sometimes, sometimes
At the sight of the clear blue sky
Where two dreams had once soared together;
At the sound of the synced rhythm
Of the bell-like laughter
that still echoed
In the present silence of an absence;
At the memory of numbers,
The date of union,
The date of parting;
At the smell of small things -
Coffees and teas and wet earth and flowers
The preferences of which had been tiffs
Time and again, time and again
In a distant past;
At the taste of tears of another loved one,
That seasoned the bitter sorrow of loss
With tangy flavours
That left not ever the tongue.
Just sometimes, sometimes,
Even at the gentle
Trickling
of
rain
That had once inspired a
Melodious dance of a now-truant soulfulness
Somewhere, something, sometimes
Cracks.
A hint of sheer pressed down sorrow
Visible in the gradually extinguishing eye
Heard in the reluctantly cracking voice
As one breaks
Shard by jagged shard
Falling out of a patched up soul
Like petals of a flower, counting:
Missing him, missing him not…
Missing him.
And a now porous wall
Leaves a gaping peephole to expose
A separate world full of hidden memories,
The reminder of which still always
leads to such an
Unprecedented
Moment of weakness.
Jan 20, 2015
Jan 20, 2015 at 7:42 AM UTC
~
*a secret-possessor, a poetess of riddles,
informs, but my senses don't conform,
claiming that in my possess,
a gift ensconced, a soulfulness harbored,
purportedly outing me as "one gifted soul"
~
this "gift" of cobbled together phrases, on the back of
paper napkins,
words impermanent, undeserving of the firmamen
of cottoned cloth,
they shall not be mourned, when forever lost,
for like my soul, but a fleeting glimpsed visitor,
a 100 year comet, naturally self-destructing,
intended to be witnessed but once in a lifetime
~
wincing at this dear praise, yet it serves me well,
as the sweetest reminder, that we shall all yet meet,
all on that day, all in that place,
from where souls are gifted and returned,
however shopworn
or even disgraced
~
all welcomed upon our inevitable return, no proof of purchase needed,
where, living forever, in such good company is a
certain surety,
knowing this, that we are all certainly possessed with this relief,
easy then, in agreement, every each, born in fluid from the belly of belief,
each of us
"a gifted soul"*
Dec 17, 2016
Dec 17, 2016 at 11:27 AM UTC
I want to write about the debilitating soulfulness with which I love you and your broken heart and gentle hugs.
I can't seem to find the words to describe how soft the blue of your eyes is.
I can't find the right bat of my eyelashes to show you what my mind is wrapped around.
I cannot laugh in the right way to express bubbling joy, swelling memories.
My heart aches itself to the size of a quasar, begging to find a word greater than love.
Aug 6, 2016
Aug 6, 2016 at 1:29 AM UTC
One moment I am high
with the light of soulfulness within.
The next I am down
in the clutch of desire
and enticements.
May 14, 2022
May 14, 2022 at 9:40 AM UTC
When Im feeling like a Neglected Soul
The Presence Of The Most High Becomes Increasingly Mighty and Bold.
The Holy Spirit becomes So Strong that My Flesh is overthrown and it knocks me Out cold.
I'm no longer in Control. The Messiah Overtakes and has a hold.
Upon entering into a Stillness
And Engaging at the Beauty of such realness
I can hear and feel this.....
Pure Silence, Peace and quiet.
Encountering this blissful moment in private.
In this place of dwelling
Here, His grace and mercy is never failing
Here, His Unconditional Love abides
A place where Only God Resides.
A spiritual Realm
where in your loving arms is the Only place I can be found
Where I can leave behind the world and worries and enter into The Great escape.
In your spiritual agape, You My potter, mold me into shape.
This is a place that is hidden
Beyond Earth in another dimision
Even with my eyes Closed He still gives me vision.
A place where I'm drifting thru time and gracefully floating space.
This is our secret Place.
The place where I am safe and secure.
Now realizing All the Things I had to endure was for my personal growth so I could Mature.
Dimishing my mind and heart of the stress
Casting all my cares upon you in Exchange for my Rest.
You took away my brokeness
in exchange for soulfulness and wholesomeness.
Surely I am Blessed.
Happily, I give you Gratitude and Thankfulness!
Yahweh Is The Best.
Oct 1, 2016
Oct 1, 2016 at 5:25 PM UTC
Between intention and action,
That gap is filled with processes.
Mental. Emotional. Unknown.
What penetrates those recesses?
Between intention and action,
What moves across that connection?
Feeling. Need. Pain. Inertia. Fear.
What motivates that direction?
Between intention and action,
There is the indispensable.
Devotion. Love. Strength. Soulfulness.
Are our lives comprehensible?
Between intention and action,
Do we call on our sense of awe?
Pathos. Concentration. Wonder.
That’s where we enter kavanah.
Nov 1, 2018
Nov 1, 2018 at 11:29 AM UTC
A gypsy is born from a woman who is not afraid of herself.
A woman who can pull blossoms from the decay and one who can stand to face her monsters.
It is not easy being a woman, much less a free spirit.
It takes a fearlessness,
a hunger for everything true and beautiful;
even when once discovered what she finds is not what most believe to be true and beautiful.
A gypsy exists far from things like comparison and envy.
She sleeps with creatures full of soulfulness and spirit and
basks in the light of the sun and the moon.
A free spirit understands the life or death need for creativity and orchestrates her life around it.
Jul 9, 2017
Jul 9, 2017 at 10:51 PM UTC
I am unknown
No one hears my voice
My tears are shed in silence
The echo of my cry haunts me
Upon the sacred I’ve taken my pain
Cast into the ocean of endless prayer
When my eyes open I have no will in mind
My soulfulness has been emptied of its voice
I am alone, unknown, emptied out once again
The pains and the joys of an intercessor are left unmet in an undiscovered country
BB2013
Jul 1, 2013
Jul 1, 2013 at 1:05 PM UTC
I lay in bed
My heart as heavy as lead
Breathe , in and out
Tomorrow will come, there is no doubt
Brokenness, soulfulness, woefulness
Today, the sun has risen
Such a contradiction
Darkness surrounding
Leaving the story unwritten
Ferociousness, outspokeness, emotionless
Yesterday, looking for a do over
Constantly looking over ones shoulder
Trying to remember
Beauty is in the eye of the beholder
Apr 22, 2015
Apr 22, 2015 at 11:25 PM UTC
There are places in the world where beauty is abundant, where the creatures of the earth come together with ease and the horizon stretches far beyond your fingertips.
There are places in the world where the sunshine is golden and warm, the rain is light, and the breeze is gentle.
There are places in the world where children laugh and play without fear, where grandmothers and grandfathers sip iced tea and share stories of when they were young.
There are places in the world waterfalls rush over glorious cliffs, and the moon rises above the treetops, just out of reach from outstretched fingers.
∾
There are places in you where the stardust floats through your veins, where the sunlight touches your flesh and lights you up into your core.
There are places in you where your vibrancy shines out, where you are warm and inviting, where the moonlight peaks softly above your head.
There are places in you where your love is abundant, where your soulfulness is spread like wings, and where your empathy glows like a halo above you.
There are places in you where nothing but love is found, where comfort is given freely, and where your beauty is gloriously plentiful.
Jan 11, 2019
Jan 11, 2019 at 1:08 PM UTC
*Wood, leather, strings
And now synthesizers
Can produce sound
of our likings
Words, thoughts produce
Lyrics and songs
It even gives birth to poems
Then what is there from LOVE?
Every LOVE begins
Will surely end
Is that not?
NO
Is there an beginning
And ending for our SOUL?
What will evolve from LOVE?
What will come next?
LOVE at the end of its journey
Transforms into
Soulfulness to spirits
Ecstasy to eternity
LOVE transforms
Two bodies, two minds, two hearts
two EGOS into one soul
There is no beginning or end to LOVE
LOVE exists in SOUL*
Aug 6, 2015
Aug 6, 2015 at 12:15 AM UTC
close your heart
and feel the mirth...
a life of sigh
a prisoner of birth...
with you always
in my mind...
where is that feeling
forgetting your kind...
'm not begging you
to love me...
'm not really asking
for this to be...
but to cherish that hope
isn't it alright...
the hope in my heart
blazing so bright...
living a life
just in dreams...
flawless love
filled with screams...
dreaming about
just holding your hand...
with you all the time
wherever you stand...
the feeling of impugn
that will for sure hurt me...
but the truth in my eyes
that you'll always see...
try keeping my eyes
from shining when they see you...
those glittering waters
when my feelings are true...
and I promise, not to smile special
when you say hello...
but will kneel to you
with all soulfulness below...
but please don't ever ask me
not to love you...
for you are just so perfect
and 'm so incomplete without you...
@manauwer
May 31, 2014
May 31, 2014 at 12:33 PM UTC
Tethered by each breath
Can feel you move an inch
Lost in togetherness
Cold water to the moment
It stops the gears from turning
Your touch is longing
Is that the dawn coming ?
In my heart of hearts
I feel you, I am succumbing
To loves gentle touch
One of tenderness
Of compassion
And gracefulness
It is you, my only love
The one I give my breath
My heart and soulfulness
Pretty girl you are
The most amazing gift
I will treasure and protect
Each part of us in foreverness
Jan 13, 2019
Jan 13, 2019 at 3:52 PM UTC
I vow to never condemn myself to the prison of a vigilant life.
I will not allow myself to be restrained by my own fears.
Despite my heart; racing hard as the feeling of danger overcomes me,
I will not let the dismay restrain me.
I will give in to the adrenalin - allow it to stampede it's way through my being.
My foreboding will not stop me - nothing will.
For I am free.
I will race with the wind, with no sense of my destination.
I will voyage with the trains - to where? It doesn't matter.
I will recount my journeys to strangers - anyone who cares to listen.
I will listen to strangers too.
Wise strangers; strengers who will help me learn, expand.
I am free.
And I will immerse myself in the soulfulness of this world.
Even if it means ignoring precaution.
Sep 19, 2015
Sep 19, 2015 at 7:34 AM UTC
She whispered with a silent symphony as in solitude.
The piece indecently rhymed to prove a point unknown -
Of belonging, and beatitude, and an untamed soulfulness.
My innocent spirit struck ablaze with a thoughtfully eternal flame.
Her doll eyes, pale with a seemingly clear whiteness -
Of beauty, and of purity, and of heathen health,
Bribed my ignorant heart with a big sum of worthless treasure
To prescript my dreams, and also my wet dreams.
I succumbed with a lot of faith
And let her in,
Then out,
But left me inside-out
With a banquet,
But of thorns!
Nov 22, 2019
Nov 22, 2019 at 1:59 PM UTC
Aging like a fine wine (if I liked wine)
Narcissistically loving, proudly broken
Daughter of the Pryors, Moe and Vickie, soulmates
Lover of calm breezes on my face
As I run the first of 10 miles on a Sunday morning made for me
Who feels invincible in that moment
And defeated, small, and petty the next
Who fears for her children making their place in a brutal world
Who would like to see America from a motorhome,
or Spain on foot
Resident of the heart,
living in the soulfulness of early ink-black mornings
Stampeding and triumphant
Jan 30, 2019
Jan 30, 2019 at 9:55 PM UTC