"transverses" poems
Peaceful, silent brook
That transverses downward shore
Only to find that
Polluted ocean accepts
All of water’s purity
Apr 7, 2016
Apr 7, 2016 at 12:32 PM UTC
AN OVI/VICTORIA'S POEM
COLLABORATION
What brings an undaunted Warrior down on his knees?"
**It is a Woman,
A woman's tears can pierce into the most rigid of souls.
It is her charms and calls
that falls like splendors on morning leaves.
Her sway and bounce, that sends shivers into the hearts.**
*Such are the nights
she envelopes him in a tailwind,
both of them buoyed
in his regard
of her every thing.
Quenched and drunk
on the essence
of love in action
happen the mornings when he
is the rising sun itself
that draws her
like a mist from the ocean.*
**And as the moon transverses the lone sky, searching for a mystery to peruse the earth with brooding glow,
So she glows her man into a brighter him.
She encloses within her, moments of illumination, that even the darkest of souls cannot quench.
Such are the days of her unending rainfalls, where she wets up the shallowest of earth's depths....
Intertwining between seasons and spheres.
Her heart is like the endlessness of the ocean,
Constantly drawing him with her hips into a wave of boundless journey.**
*And so it is
as it always was
through the ages of transience,
their enigma constant,
unending prevailed
against the steely, storming skies
of angst en masse
that would test loves mettle,
where true warriors, undaunted
rise above, arced
in kaleidoscopic triumph.*
**Ovi Odiete and Victoria©
All right reserved. 10/9/2016**
Oct 9, 2016
Oct 9, 2016 at 6:20 AM UTC
Conjure belief where assurance
is easily tempted from doubt.
The physical world acts on
a point to point basis
of action, reaction.
Where the genesis of relativity
as the golden rule
mediates the knowledge
that is perpetuated by irony
through circumstance
and the accidental
incidental coincidences
that bend time.
Symmetry is a natural motion of
consistency, extending from an apex
or midlines, transverses, logarithmic expressions
all from some single origin.
The palms of our hands
are textual markings
of our need for symbolic understanding
in the variances
we create for scientific observation.
Juxtaposed to the stars we created
circular pieces to a wheel in the sky
we hypochondriacs believe
to superimpose as vaccines,
to our inconsistencies we host
as symbiotes
for inverse proportionality.
From the signal, beat, tone,
and definitive sounds
is the pulse of our momentum,
a return to equilibrium.
Jan 23, 2010
Jan 23, 2010 at 2:28 PM UTC
every word birthed and in format,
crafted by this mans poor
life motoring skills,
is the sole fault of his fault lines,
all taken, this responsibility
but the good that transverses the
arteries and veins of his profferings,
fair credit shared now and then,
for those that listen to these,
his poetic heartbeats,
raise him up to more than he can be...
Oct 27, 2015
Oct 27, 2015 at 8:14 AM UTC
Shadows murmur
across the hills --
voices, faint,
an ancient chorus.
A tired season
slowly enters
sleep's provence.
Sighs linger,
caught ephemeral,
in vapors or
in dreams.
Secrets, older than
centuries,
long to be revealed.
Smoke and dusk
embrace;
old eyes strain --
deaf ears fall
short
of forgotten lore,
the meaning lost.
Silent footfalls
follow vague
whispers.
Fires flicker, fade.
This landscape,
growing dim,
transverses night
and time.
Oct 7, 2010
Oct 7, 2010 at 11:17 AM UTC
Há palavras que não conheço
Falto fluidez,
Quando eu tento falar em português
Eu nasci nos Estados Unidos
O inglês vem mais fluido
E de falar sai a minha personalidade
Conversas com versitilidade
Em Portugal é diferente
Eu sou mais prudente
Se você fala essa língua estrangeira
Você me conhece de diferente maneira
Mas um sorriso é uma linguagem transversal
No mundo, não há outra igual
translation
There are words I do not know
I lack fluency,
When I try to speak in Portuguese
I was born in the United States
English comes fluently
And from speaking my personality comes out
Conversations with versatility
In Portugal it's different
I am more prudent
If you speak that foreign language
You know me differently
But a smile transverses language
In the word there is none alike
Jul 7, 2017
Jul 7, 2017 at 12:19 PM UTC
i don't know where to start
im so far from enlightened
my mind was fright, my energy syphoned
by a energy less than excitement
but my heart is lightened
you were the alarm that woke my subconscious
that was weary from fighting with sub par reality
and took to a nap
your energy like a lightening
it still strikes me
the day broke, shaking my dimensions back to hiding
I wasn't lucid dreaming, this was living
and the heightened sense of reality
something to be rivaled
I wanted to take that night
bottle it up, turn it on to remind me
but it ran to the hearts and souls of everyone around us
this master of positivity energy we manifested
was meant to be shared
I captured a little bit of the positivity to take with me
and share with my reality
now, our energy is daunting
teasing through the waves of internet monotony
exhausting itself to half finished tales of life and reasoning
sleeping only when brought to unity
something about this was meant to be
a love bound by energy
doesn't necessitate a physical bonding
it transverses the planes of reality
coursing through an elated sense of understanding
to reconcile thoughts between the two energies
nothing is left to misunderstanding
when synchronization and harmony and peacefully vibing
I lost my cadence and rhythm
to let go to a flow I don't usually show
because my thoughts are skipping a filter
and finding themselves racing out the gates of my finger tips
change and progress are soon to find us
in a state of mutual harmony
Jul 28, 2015
Jul 28, 2015 at 6:37 PM UTC
The runner knows the most glorious step is the one that transverses the sedentary boundaries of day-to-day perception. Though many miles are spent cognitively – when her consciousness pants with the worries of non-running - there exists a tangible point beyond which the run becomes feral and the runner’s mind entangled in her muscles’ rhythmic exertion. At this point, nothing is considered but the destination and its taunting distance. Nothing is felt but heady sweat and strain. Nothing is heard but labored breaths and practiced, patterned footsteps. The activity has become the runner’s identity. She is a sweating, striving, driven, and essentially mobile being. She is acutely aware that this run is her purpose and her portion. Her legs will always pump defiantly against time and distance. Her lungs will always sift the sharp winds of locomotion. Her hair will ever whip behind her. And the runner will live this way until her legs dissolve, her lungs collapse, her heart implodes – until she dies running, in perfect, primal ecstasy.
Feb 20, 2012
Feb 20, 2012 at 9:22 AM UTC
I have anxiety.
No thought transverses my mind without causing turmoil.
Sometimes I put my feelings into a chest and throw it in to the ocean.
Everyday I dip my toe in the water, pondering.
Can I ever retrieve what I have hidden, without the consequences?
Ultimately, I know I can't. So I watch the waves crash.
Remedies only suppress what is out of my control.
Ebb and flow go hand and hand, as do I and my chest.
Jan 1, 2018
Jan 1, 2018 at 5:45 PM UTC
green feeble breathing leaves,
under a blanket of light and thunder
with every passing tremor
from the abode of divinities,
they bathe unapologetically,
a melody cracks the humongous earth
into the notes of a lost symphony,
the rain is just a clairvoyant dancer,
foreseeing the smiles of all equals,
the petrichor transverses
the past,present and the future
in the spaces between space,
even my cold rusted heart,
breathes like a cancer dying patient,
for the last smoke in this petrichor,
and I am a child again, brisking through mud,
searching something that I do not even remember,
maybe I will find it in sometime,
in a place,where childhood went
Oct 10, 2017
Oct 10, 2017 at 3:18 AM UTC