"timelessness" poems
In the night, those shadows come alive. So little do i know about this heavy doubt.
Cold wind biting the heart. Trying to figure out where I've been.
Dark winter pulls me closer, now theres a place i'm thinking into the air.
A voice calling, "Who knows but that which seems omitted today, waits for tomorrow?"
Nothing is as it seams, just as beauty leans from the earth in a sunset--a harp for the soul to sing.
But You are life and you are the veil.
Beauty is eternity gazing at her self
But you are eternity and you are the mirror.
And if you want to know truth retire of solving riddles.
We wanderers, ever seeking the lonelier way,
begin no day where we have ended another day;
and no sunrise finds us where sunset left us.
Even while the earth sleeps we travel,
back into dreams.
Ay, my bow rests on my chest.
There is the flame spirit among a starry mountainside.
Oh it was but yesterday we met in a dream. You watched as I built a ship towards your shore.
My spirit goes wandering upon the wind, off to the desert sands, deep beneath the ocean's sound.
I am the gypsey and the fortuneteller, liken an honest thief. No I'm the myth builder and dream master.
who laughs with me when I destroy,
the sand castles of my innocence. The
sun warming my back just as the wicked, and drawing my image locked in a shadow.
Here the soul a battlefield, where
reason and passion become one.
they are the sails of my seafaring soul.
There I found the naked body of my dreams, in silent sleep my spriit walked the path.
I am the star-gazer who feels the power of endlessness, Aware of timelessness and
neverending space. The love in me still
present amidst the scattered fires that
burn in black ink.
Just as the caveman draws his fears on lost walls, speaking of misfortune and
treasures gallore. A fantom ghost in Hade's Fate.
Now my ship wanders forever on a pearlous course but never sinking.
Oct 29, 2012
Oct 29, 2012 at 12:47 AM UTC
Dare to live.
Stop insisting on chasing after death.
Stop trying to die.
Quit the grand illusion.
You shall never die.
Grow your wings and fly to the mountaintop
of your world. Breathe stars.
Bravely go alone. Only you can do this.
Regularly in your day--exercise conviction.
Visualize Stars, the Sun.
Golden, fibrous threads
of starlight, of sunlight --
take them in, through the nostrils.
This is nothing less than
soul's power-fuel.
Inhale slowly and experience
the gentle music of love's fire,
as flames would pull up
a chimney stack, up pipes of ovens.
Faith builds with such breath practice.
Greed cooked transformed.
Anger put to rest.
Ignorance surrendering
to ways of knowing.
Prepare that your purpose
shall speak to you.
Breathe starlight.
Are you surprised
that you feel no heat?
Your unique timelessness
awaits your recognition.
Jul 19, 2018
Jul 19, 2018 at 6:32 PM UTC
Why is hellopoetry.com black and white? I've always wondered about this... why my colorful photographs are required to travel back in time. How does this effect the poetry in any way, shape, or form? But I understand the wisdom of this design now. And it sets a great metaphor for all of the people of the pen involved in this truly noble motion, this secret society for people with passion, talent, and troubled minds and souls. Hello Poetry is black and white not because it has to be monochromatic and modern, but because us poets fill these pages with enough inovativeness and color already with our words, ideas, thoughts, songs, senryus, ballads, heartbreaks, insecurities, that adding literal color to this website would be overwhelming. These soft undertones of gray, black, and white may be considered drab and depressing to some, but to us poets it represents timelessness. And this is probably why we are all here. Hourly, daily, weekly, monthly, or even yearly publishing poems. Because we all know we are not going to live forever, and we are so entirely insignificant in the broad scheme of things and of the universe itself, that it is a bit comforting and helpful to have this coping mechanism or soft blankie to calm our fears, that this literature we write, however insignificant it may be, is absolutley permanent. And that maybe someday it will be remembered so a small bit of us may live on. Tom Riddle knew the needs and wants of man kind before anybody else realized it. Maybe he was just trying to cope with the fact that he is insignificant. These poems are all our Horcruxes so viveamus per camenam nostram.
Apr 5, 2014
Apr 5, 2014 at 5:19 PM UTC
On the ferris wheel we steal a kiss,
careless zeal, no bits amiss,
slip into this, mind and timelessness,
twist wrist, spit lip like starshine, crisp.
Down below the kids get lit,
ripped,
hair wind flipped out,
broke mouths sip doubt,
shout fire-light, ice pout,
grown out the hometown,
grown loud, a fun crowd,
one's got the know how,
the others got the low down,
one shot the sheriff,
then the others hit the ground.
When he shot the sheriff
he kneeled,
we saw it from the ferris wheel.
Mar 7, 2014
Mar 7, 2014 at 3:33 PM UTC
The world around me keeps
spinning on,
it is
fast
paced,
smells become
indistinguishable.
The air stands still
it tastes stale.
different colours b-l-u-r
to grey
A windowpane of
rainy
patience.
Voices
screech
painfully
noises w~h~i~r~l
to echos
not unlike sanity
fleeing to
a place inside myself.
An eye of the storm
Next destination
cool
solitary,
timelessness-
calm.
s e r e n i t y
Jul 23, 2014
Jul 23, 2014 at 6:41 AM UTC
The smile of the white bloom, in my crown
its fragrance spreads across galaxies of neurons,
none can fully imagine the scene, I haven't seen
it's stellar design baffles humans, resists exploration.
On single file pass days and nights, indefatigable
rainbows are made and unmade, making clouds
blush and hoping for bridges across them,
why, even the universe dances to the tunes we play
Ever at ease, I walk silently past the blue mountains,
of remembrance, mostly love created, a miracle!
At times a poet, a scientist,a cosmologist,or a mystic in solitude
finds the need to "stand and stare"wonder, speaks in metaphors.
Looking st the fireworks sky manages, I hallucinate,
an astronaut I become, who knows nothing about time
one wished to live in timelessness for ever and when,
that dream comes true, loses within and be nothingness.
Oct 2, 2014
Oct 2, 2014 at 4:56 PM UTC
Unchangeable is the love within our souls
Dreaming of soft timelessness
Perceived in fadeless hues of red and gold
Transmuted from molded clay
Imperfect, yet still beheld
As flawless
White shadows of a misted lace attention holds
An honesty in its purest form
Washed in fadeless hues of red and gold
Unchangeable is the love within
Completed souls
As timelessness transforms
Until now, our feet have trod a different path
Yet seeking still the same
Imperfection, with an honest aftermath
Time has taken wing in fadeless hues of red and gold
Imperfection beheld as flawless
Is the element it became
Oct 14, 2010
Oct 14, 2010 at 7:57 PM UTC
Sometimes I feel **** alien, even in the
Most familiar of surroundings.
Instead of spinning, pointing,
Naming everything Home,
I shut myself, and turn inward.
Day after day the first one at a
New school in a foreign country,
As far from a cool kid as the
Overweight teacher's pet with a
Stutter. I don't even know how to
Speak my own name in their
Incomprehensible language.
Nothing here is for me, and
At least E.T. had a home to phone; all
I have is the space i possess as I walk
Through it, eyes firm on borrowed
Footing. No single road leads to my
Rome, and somewhere inside the
Timelessness of my innermost, the
Old, old man watches the young'uns
Talking, dressing, adressing,
Preferring, doing it all the way
Young'uns do, with pale, tired eyes
And simply just
Can't, -tries, but- just doesn't
Understand.
Apr 29, 2014
Apr 29, 2014 at 10:39 AM UTC
Boaz, overcome with weariness, by torchlight
made his pallet on the threshing floor
where all day he had worked, and now he slept
among the bushels of threshed wheat.
The old man owned wheatfields and barley,
and though he was rich, he was still fair-minded.
No filth soured the sweetness of his well.
No hot iron of torture whitened in his forge.
His beard was silver as a brook in April.
He bound sheaves without the strain of hate
or envy. He saw gleaners pass, and said,
Let handfuls of the fat ears fall to them.
The man's mind, clear of untoward feeling,
clothed itself in candor. He wore clean robes.
His heaped granaries spilled over always
toward the poor, no less than public fountains.
Boaz did well by his workers and by kinsmen.
He was generous, and moderate. Women held him
worthier than younger men, for youth is handsome,
but to him in his old age came greatness.
An old man, nearing his first source, may find
the timelessness beyond times of trouble.
And though fire burned in young men's eyes,
to Ruth the eyes of Boaz shone clear light.
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A bedspread on which bold, red and blue
esoteric, Tantric, motifs embrace
copulating triangles, the ideogram of cosmos
batik printed in vermilion on it's center
is spread, right there on the play-field of cupid
where the confluence is to happen,
a transmitting point of fecund energies to infinity,
a point on the spring board to transcendence
Beloved, here in the holy fire, receive in ecstasy,
the sacrificial offering I bring from the
incessant Ganga of my lineage,
Shakti and Shiva come in for divine union,
together here on the mark beyond time and space.
right in the center is "THE BINDU" the mystical point
both culmination and beginning of the 'beyond'
passage from here to timelessness of cosmos, we invoke.
Here Shakti is holy fire leaping up for Shiva's offering,
sublimated they fuse, may that be the seed for karmas lumenant.
Jul 27, 2014
Jul 27, 2014 at 6:21 AM UTC
*There is a sense of timelessness in the twilight
Of time standing still and extending into the infinite
Of sadness and hope
Of yearning and satisfaction
Of unrest and peace
Where time has no meaning and
the mundane melts away into the symphony of colours in the sky..
..and your eyes follow the fading light and your soul knows its purpose once again..*
Sep 19, 2015
Sep 19, 2015 at 9:22 AM UTC
Unwillingly Miranda wakes,
Feels the sun with terror,
One unwilling step she takes,
Shuddering to the mirror.
Miranda in Miranda's sight
Is old and gray and *****
Twenty-nine she was last night;
This morning she is thirty.
Shining like the morning star,
Like the twilight shining,
Haunted by a calendar,
Miranda is a-pining.
Silly girl, silver girl,
Draw the mirror toward you;
Time who makes the years to whirl
Adorned as he adored you.
Time is timelessness for you;
Calendars for the human;
What's a year, or thirty, to
Loveliness made woman?
Oh, Night will not see thirty again,
Yet soft her wing, Miranda;
Pick up your glass and tell me, then--
How old is Spring, Miranda?
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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
Many mornings now,
as day opens its sky eyes
to early sunlight,
Silence pervades all that I am,
or might ever want to be.
Speaking is natural, and life goes on,
but for the tug on my heart,
to go deeper, ever deeper
into the ocean of silence.
Ancient lands of my ancestry
are calling me
to come home now
and
be near the sea.
My own sea, salty and blue,
red rocks plunging
into stormy union
with ultramarine.
Be that I was selkie, I was mermaid,
I know these places where I lived and loved,
breathing underwater in perfect, silent freedom.
Perfection, a sidhi,
might be,
to live as a sadhvi selkie.
Knowing timelessness
through ancient, silent wisdom,
feeling, loving, living
and swimming in unboundedness.
Oct 1, 2015
Oct 1, 2015 at 11:54 PM UTC
Seated beside you in a bicycle rickshaw,
eventide of your last New Delhi day
gathering itself all around us.
Silk from my sari encircles my head,
shoulders warmed by a winter shawl.
Your heavy beige mantle and dhoti,
frame a man as tall as a tree, at least to me.
There is no need for words.
I may have been singing a bhajan to you,
just quietly, as shop lights came on
in the deepening blue.
Perfection finds us in the briefest of moments.
Wherever you are now, timelessness
governs friendships formed
in the Land of the Veda.
Apr 17, 2016
Apr 17, 2016 at 2:32 PM UTC
This cold night, prompts us
to creep closer to each other,
warm ember glow of far away galaxies
pierce through the laden darkness effortlessly
find way to be near us, wink happily.
Love keeps our expectant bodies warm
light years stand sentinel to our transactions.
What a strange contradiction, is this!
but realization dawns in a moment that
it's the cosmic truth, absolute:
an open secret of life,
we straddle both, now and timelessness!
Eternity is in our genes, just the same
that glows in stars, millions of light years away,
we are clothed in transience, at this moment.
Sep 8, 2014
Sep 8, 2014 at 2:54 PM UTC
I had not told you of this, not yet,
Until now, when it returns clearly,
Within the timelessness of interior life.
A month to the day and the memory,
Abides in its own identity, being itself.
Into this now familiar unboundedness
Came a new and exquisite presence,
A force field tenderly embracing me -
Just along the edges of my seated form.
Unmistakably you. A quiet certainty.
How could I know? But I knew.
As it dissolved, a light of the palest green,
Took its place, glowing a blessing.
Breathing became the intake of bliss
made into the finest substance, and
I was renewed, visited, complete.
Aug 18, 2015
Aug 18, 2015 at 9:07 PM UTC
Timelessness.
An infinite amount
of ticking
on the clock.
As it does not matter
the numbers passes,
as metaphors
are timeless.
-k.d.
Mar 10, 2014
Mar 10, 2014 at 5:13 PM UTC
Soundless awakening walk ghost like blend disappear wooden poles that reach for the clouds
They display a crown of glory on the forest floor it is told in muffled shade and shadow you
Follow those that make their pilgrimage to temples of sacred stone here in these wooded
Wonders enter as a blunder but quickly you are arrested by silence and you are now dutifully
Reverent you who was formed by divine majesty melt under the power and sway humbly and
Quietly you bow to that which is amassed thick and denseness flairs in its midst is the nobility
Of timelessness you are nothing more than smoke that rises and is coaxed by a mysteries inaudible
Voice it shares the birth of years and the ageless past you feel the great quiet soul that exist here
Like no other place on earth this is not only the great purifier of air by photosynthesis but
Here the otherwise vast spirit is condensed cradled after its new birth Washington, Jefferson and
Lincoln spent solitary hours and days being transformed the scent of these trees were
Concentrated with the base element of colossal power it formed over eons of time to walk
These forest paths is to release ability first firing the great void of the mind then the heart is
Indwelled then the soul ignites into a blaze that rivals a forest fire you came as mere shadow
Stooped in ignorance you leave as an essential light for your time doubts and questions abound
Throughout the land fear not he who has lived among giants comes and all will be made clear
You will turn from the waste and superficial his light will touch you and you will be the army
Of truth and justice that is at the heart of this great land
Mar 13, 2012
Mar 13, 2012 at 1:23 PM UTC
An original creation, that's what you are
in vibrant colors nature carefully assembled,
as you sashayed through your time,till here
now all across the front page one can see you
arousing pleasure that moves me deeply,
done in bold sweeps of a brush immersed in joy
making onlookers stand agape, thrilled
mumbling inanities as none has the grasp
of the quicksilver aesthetics that rules you.
And I, obscure , at the best like a crop circle
done in the secret hours after midnight,
or a cryptic mural on a dull wall, long past it's prime
doodled by an interplanetary traveler gone astray,
a drawing in grey fading slowly in to oblivion,
yet to be deciphered is the benediction,
it carries from light years far away,
it will be gone soon as the light from galaxies far
want to make it their own, little by little each night
Am I not transient and to be forgotten soon?
But you are steadfast and adamant
very rooted in your reasoning
sprung from a center devine, we both
claim together.
"Am I not a woman and lover first?"
Your eyes, gleam, exuding a timelessness that speaks to me.
"I would only dream of lying naked under your
sweet heaving heaviness, to receive the nectar,
the transient ecstasy that gifts me the precious seed
that'd grow to heights immortal,on the bank of the milky way"
Jun 14, 2016
Jun 14, 2016 at 11:37 AM UTC
I challenged him
burly ******* captain
stubbled beard as coarse as sandpaper
standing there in muggy dusk
arms akimbo,
mama san starched uniform stained with swagger and sweat
two silver captain's bars ******* any of my brilliance or bravado
all he had to do was speaketh the words
“need those maps, head out at 2230 hours”
and that was a death sentence
which was commuted to life
if four decades since has been life
there are not words for the black
of moonless jungle
except nothingness and paralytic fear
and through that lightless, lifeless, abyssness
I crawled, crouched and crept along
sometimes as slowly as the minute hand on my watch
the silence, the silence, the silence
became my splintered cross
to carry to my place of crucifixion
at my Calvary Hill behind barbed wire, blue lead barrels and
fearful eyes
silence, silence, silence, black wordlessness
black soundlessness
punctuated by shallow precious breaths
and imagined slant-eyed demons
waiting behind each berm
to turn the timeless night into timelessness
of more black
should I chamber a round?
and follow its solitary sound
into the silent holy night
and shatter my own fragile fright?
would that end this knowing without knowing?
and answer the question,
“is this fear worse than the answer?”
since questions have answers but answers have nothing
the nothing of which I was sure I would become a part
in the silence, the silence, the silence
of the black canopied jungle
in Tay Ninh Province
in 1967
where I was sentenced to death but allowed to live
in silent, black wordlessness
sentenced to live
to wonder, after all these years of shivering fright and flickering light
did the captain become a human?
And was I really allowed to live?
Oct 2, 2012
Oct 2, 2012 at 9:58 AM UTC
The first smooch kiss
A spring night
Moonlit pastoral lake
Dancing elm, oak, and pear
Mild breeze
Courting song of crickets and katydid
Secrecy and silence
Standing close, smiling, and stirring
Our necks tilted on the right
One hand behind and one front
Thumbs caressing the face
And fingers
releasing the locks of your hair
Our hands massaging behind and front
The adorable landscape of love
Bump and *******
Belly and waist
Crossed legs
Delirious smell of the skin
Taste of your rosy lips and sweet saliva
The taste of one another
Outer eyes closed, inner open
My upper lip between your lips
Your lower lip between mine
Rubbing, pressing, ******* kissing
Small and big, short and long
Goose bumps and blushing
Breathtaking, timelessness, breathless
Uncaptured, indefinable moment!
Jan 1, 2015
Jan 1, 2015 at 12:42 PM UTC
Your love is one that does not age
Like the lilac wine that blossoms Into a beauty over time
Time and timelessness will bind
The vines of this enchantment
A dichotomy so intertwined
Like the asphalt in the ocean
As we float above the waters
In ceaseless beating motion
Our dispositions secure
We live in spates of wake
In homes built with our hearts
We bend but do not break
In a distant possibility
Perhaps an ending looms
Though ours is no exception
We love what we can take
Of smiles and half-creased wrinkles
Of tears and jumping lakes
These ribs protect intrusion
But lungs are built to fail
Yet though the heart is naked
Fragilities prevail
I love you with the ticking
Of clocks that won't rewind
For the first time you left me
Our cross became a line
Sep 26, 2014
Sep 26, 2014 at 8:14 AM UTC
Edgeless days are the hardest
to let pass you by
as you stare at all the pretty things
Just out of sight.
There sits, heavy in atmosphere,
On these days of no ends,
A timelessness
in the most tragic way.
All your toiling
begins to feel useless,
and errors make a mess of this.
Your anger - Instantly boiling
Futile barking.
Damning non-existent gods,,
And then a mocking laughing-
Since you are alone.
Because, of course,
You are alone,
Chained to the room
They're paying you to
|
When the crushing
Endlessness to your day
Could be so easily been remedied
with conversation or, some play
And now those gods
are laughing.
And you wish to be alone
From yourself.
Oct 16, 2011
Oct 16, 2011 at 7:57 PM UTC
Why. Am. I. Breathing?
Why. Is my heart, beating?
I'm staring at the question
staring back at me.
(Why am I breathing?)
I fog my daze
with smokes and ****
(Why is my heart beating?)
Why do I have eyes?
All for me to realize.
Tell me once
I'll lose it twice.
(Why do I have eyes?)
My crystal dance -
my only vice.
(For me to realize.)
Why am I moving?
Timelessness is soothing.
Existing as one
time is a maze.
(Why am I still moving?)
I pray I can stay
inside my crystal daze.
(Timelessness is soothing.)
Why is my chest burning?
What is my heart yearning?
Twisted lessons
elysian lies.
(Why is my chest burning?)
Distracted sight
and rooted ties.
(What is my heart yearning?)
Why do my feet itch?
How was my neck bit?
Kisses from the ocean
to the sky above.
(Why do my feet itch?)
Tasted trails of
tasteful love.
(How was my neck bit?)
Embark my empty canvas.
I pray upon the numinous.
New winds need face
for new minds embrace.
(Embark my empty canvas.)
Tuck in my shoelace
for love, I trace.
(And pray upon the numinous.)
Look at me breathing!
Feel my heart beating ?!
I'm staring at the heavens
staring back at me.
(Look at us breathing.)
I clear my gaze
with love and ease.
(Of knowing my heart is beating.)
XxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxX
Dec 27, 2013
Dec 27, 2013 at 9:05 AM UTC