"splendidness" poems
*To watch the sun glare,
a rainbow of colors shining this world,
to smell the rain fall
a reprieve from the chaos
splendidness surrounds life
the death of a spider
when the eggs hatch,
the larval caterpillar
wrapped up in a cocoon;
emerges into an elegant butterfly,
the bacterial decay of nature
into flourishing mushrooms,
the ***** of bees
into sweet, sweet honey,
waste and manure
encourage bloom of radiant flowers,
the grace and beauty of youth
becoming the wisdom and dignity of winkled skin,
lessons learned
from hardships experienced*
when in negative light
remember,
there will be another chance to improve
another time to change the next outcome
your view, aspect of the universe
greatly changes the situation
your attitude, your reaction
towards others, towards life
is what monumentally effects the context
so prideful us humans
an ego trip indeed
an argument of the opposites,
a debate of loved ones,
are both sides wrong?
often not,
yet the argument remains
admit your id
profess your apology,
it does not have to
mean that you
are the one at fault,
(though you very well might be)
it does not mean
the other is infinitely correct,
sincere it should be
it simply states,
you are sorry for the distress,
sorry for the difference of opinions,
thoughts, ideas
that could not be controlled,
you are admitting
you value your relationship
much, much more
then your self righteousness,
if you genuinely care
you will listen,
and if you listen
you will be on the road
to understanding
**and only at understanding
can you truly love**
Jul 21, 2012
Jul 21, 2012 at 12:45 PM UTC
think I shall be springtime; such clumsy
scent of the world collapsing not with nets
but hands not upon trellis but bodies –
sleep shall carry us to inches
of terrible speech such somnolent world senses
quietness in the rivers of our blood;
how murmurously veritable moment
leaps forth ripe in the air of such splendidness
when it was not mountains
but your breasts deep within the Earth of me
and I rain cleaving the scent of the world
into two separateness until the
enormously nude moon plunges within;
I shall be a tree
and you, a rose or springtide, or everything
that
blooms, withers,
dances – new beginnings;
Jan 19, 2016
Jan 19, 2016 at 8:39 AM UTC
In a time not so long ago
When I had no hope,
Steam raising from a gleaming stream
In the middle of lavish mountains so serene,
The golden water rolled into a pond
And how it happened I do not know,
There I stood knee deep in the waters of tomorrow
I took slow steps not to disturb
the calm waters there that lie
I laid at the cool waters edge motionless as if dead
The water danced with the wind
I wished that the splendidness would never end
A gray stone in the middle of the pond, alone
Remembrance of the world, beauty all around that no one knows
The sun a redder glow, leaped across the waters low
The majestic trees caught the sun, and long did it seem to hold them
The light could not get away, there it sat and long it stayed
A place where uplifting winds forgot
No sorrow could ever be brought
A shrine to us from god, the kingly trees slowly nod
Birds from the heavens drift down to drink
The water gently ripples about their beaks
Leaves lay at rest upon the earths breast
Still and undisturbed for so long it seems to me
Only angels dance upon ground so soft
Humans find beauty and then get lost
The sun began to sink, and the waters slowly recede
Up a waterfall it traveled
I stood and ran after
but soft leaves had turned to gravel
The moon began to rise, as did the less happy skies
Ran and hid did the trees, now only houses
lay gathererd in front of me
All beauty must sleep, and sleep it did
But how I wish it would come again
In my bed I did lay long, the sounds of the forest in my head a song
And as I faded from reality I caught a glimpse
Of the golden stream of reverence
Jun 2, 2013
Jun 2, 2013 at 2:15 PM UTC
Doring — not much has changed since
you last spoke.
the children are still deep in the mud.
the bellhouse at Poblacion still rings
when it is 5 PM and the ubiquitous bazaar
sit on the cornerstones.
however, when the white angels began
latticing you to contraptions,
the furling scent of your homely perfume
has gone dithering. grandpa Mario's
revolver is somewhere hidden wreathed
under a wrestle of things we do not
use anymore — lottery tickets ( 4 AM, grandpa would fall asleep reeking of
ale as the lady announces frail luck
over the somnolence. kitchenware longs
for the ****** of your tremulous hands. the Lazy Susan is attended by only a bundle of rotten bananas, Mario's old
nauticals: whiskey bottles, scotch, goblets, unrest of glasses. we still
buy pandesal near Beng's piano maestro.)
nothing much has changed since you
last spoke. mother held your hands longer than imagined trill of Maya outside tightwire. it didn't flood in the swelter of
the cataclysm — years ago it was deathly silent when you were sitting on the rocking chair waiting for the flood to subside, your grandchildren laying cold on the aged floorboard, rescued by
zigzag of newspapers. it was the lightest
of darknesses. nothing much has changed
since you last spoke and in your
silence we heard the most immense of
voices. the streets remain pockmarked.
ocher pots festooned by wily flowers,
stems of hope. your hands tryingly gripping whatever
was brought to their splendidness
looked like forever smiles.
Doring — the nights are fuller,
my sweet old etcetera of chores.
we all lay quietly in the mud for now.
Nov 9, 2015
Nov 9, 2015 at 10:38 PM UTC
Unfinished journeys plague me still
Reminding me of who I was
But also who I could not be
There was a path to that me once
Discovered among the bramble
And beautiful flowers throughout
Lying in wait among the thorns
Lions with brightly-petaled manes
So I dared to venture inward
Drawn further by their splendidness
Head swimming with lovey music
Yet the chimera soon faded
The once vibrant colors dulling
Speckles of crimson strewn about
For the barbs had pierced all the while
Laid waste by the driving desire
Retreating with my gaze still fixed
Or more so forced away at once
With scars baring glorious pain
Never to trust my heart or mind
Nor return to what once was me
Apr 19, 2021
Apr 19, 2021 at 11:37 PM UTC
I know your name
And that is all I have
Of you
But in some strange way
You and I are the same
We are nobodies
In a world of somebodies
Lacking in social graces, we are
Obscured by oblivion
Sans the thrill of appeal, we are
Confined to the solitude
Of our loneliness
No true love will touch us
Even though we tried
And tried our very best
Our beauties are unattended
Because no one sees
What's inside of us
But I see you as a delicate flower
Your aura surrounds
Me with splendidness
What's in you is truly good
Though no one understands
And no one ever could
You and I,
The tears we shed are one
Though in this lifetime
We will never be popular
There is another world
That exists far beyond us
And there we shall stay
Without judgment
In men's eyes
Nor jest on women's lips
Friends we are and
Friends we'll remain
Until the sun tires of rising
And the night frowns its gloom
On all our doubts and
All our fears....
Come away with me.....
Apr 4, 2015
Apr 4, 2015 at 2:21 AM UTC
I have an average face with average features and he is unaware of my immense passion for writing
I have pale skin with too many freckles and he doesn't know how much I love the creation and beauty of art
I am strangely quiet and awkwardly coy when I'm around new people but he doesn't know how brazenly blissful I am when I sing
I have small feet and I'm a little bit too short and he doesn't know how enthralled I become as I amble through the brilliance of nature
My hands are too small for my chubby fingers and he doesn't know how elegantly I play the guitar, piano or flute
My head is oddly shaped and my hairs too frizzy but he doesn't know how much I enjoy the splendidness of reading a good book
I am clumsy and often trip over my own two feet but he doesn't know I love to move my body freely with dance
I bite the inside of my lip and fidget incessantly when I'm nervous but he doesn't see the intensity of kindness and understanding inside me
I enjoy being alone entirely too much but he doesn't see that I am alone
He sees me
But he doesn't see me
Apr 25, 2017
Apr 25, 2017 at 7:02 PM UTC
Silence
Silent the crowd
Followed by a round of applause
After the announce
Splendid.....
Greatest performance
Performed the audience
Reformed innocence
In my inner sense
Resurrection of my consciousness....
I remembered
The splendidness that made you a splendor was splendid
Feb 13, 2020
Feb 13, 2020 at 6:48 AM UTC