"twinned" poems
A llama mama who is ever so special
A swimmer glides through the water with so much grace
Artistically inclines, genius by birth; slacker by choice
Music.Lit.Bio.Lovely girl whom I very much admire
Strong girl who makes use of every opportunity
Another swimmer with heart and face so lovely
An elephant - the light o' every lil' chat
Candy- words so wise; heart so warm
Another brave girl; lots in common; in every way beautiful
Eloquent speaker And A Violinist
Another swimmer with such a laugh!
Our dear walking dictionary; never fails to put a smile on my face
Runner and fighter ALL THE WAY
Vettypoop aka my spirit animal
Smiling dolphin
Laughing cheerful pop ****
Artyfarty girl with so much poise and grace
Artyfarty and a swimmer? Ooh la la
Cute and sweet and everything else with a tinge of the kpop
Disciplinarian and nice
1Der with a twinned soul
A cutie pie with a such a heart
Strange girl this one is but I love the way she talks and writes.
Strange laughter and even stranger words you say
Motherly touches
My lovely leader, with such a beautiful core
Craycray, stay craycray bubu
Smiler and such a high toned shriek
You my bestie; my listening ear
Ordinary Me
Meangirl99 at first sight, lovelygirl99 at the second
KimChi such a hard-worker
Another hard worker with a positive glow
A dancer on a note of sarcasm
Heart of gold; Mind of snow
Naughty naughty
so this is my class of 36
every girl
a wonderful light
and this 36 beautiful souls
make up the beautiful beautiful class
of
203
With varying teachers and varying situations,
we have stood by each other
With much faith I have in all of you
Let's soar to the skies
Pull each other
to soar
and
soar
and soar
to heights never known
never reached.
I know we are going to make
2013
our year
203's year to
amaze people like never before.
Prove every teacher we are the awesomest class on earth.
Trust me.
We will.
Every strength and weakness binded together;
203 is going to
ROCK THE HOUSE TONIGHT! :)
Sep 9, 2013
Sep 9, 2013 at 10:01 AM UTC
Thats how I will remember her; just as she was. Laying in my bed wearing her rastafarian drug rug that twinned my own, holding my lanyard close and my brother even closer. She laughed as she watched me drink lemonade that I later learned contained laxatives, and she avoided any type of emotional outburst that didn’t reveal that she just might not be okay. As I started to exit my room and said “Goodbye”, she surprised me.
“Don’t say that Bean.”
I looked down at one brown eye and one eye colored fake blue with a contact lens, and I saw sadness in both. So I smiled sadly and said,
“Instagram you later.”
Jan 22, 2016
Jan 22, 2016 at 11:32 AM UTC
where to begin?
let us acknowledge
the responsibility of our actions,
and the titles and duties,
and the unexpected,
thereof.
I was a son, till this year,
still, of sorts, but no longer,
traded it in for
orphan.
are you still a child,
when you have no parents?
are you still a parent,
when a child lost?
I am a father, and grandfather.
this definition of me,
extant, future seeded,
perhaps permanent,
perhaps not.
the product of
actions more than
thirty years ago,
and events yet-to-be thirty years
hence.
titles claimed and granted,
partial, not finite,
not definitive, nor infinite.
partial, but part and parcel,
these titles, of you,
yet
they are not the totality, of you,
but very much part of you,
for you possess precious,
The Imprint - The Gift.
the child lost,
the parent found,
the newest coming,
the oldest gone,
all imprinted on your hands,
just look at them!
there are lines on your palms
you do not know the meaning of,
you do not yet know the ending,
they are in your cells,
as you are and were in theirs.
The Imprint
is The Gift
that is
non returnable,
non refundable,
nor is it
diminished by
any stone marker, measurement
of a day, an uncertain,
certain moment.
Look in the mirror.
see them in you,
as they saw themselves in your
reflection.
ah, reflect.
acknowledge that the
absence is pain,
but look at those hands,
that face, your face,
see the
The Imprint - The Gift
permit yourself an easement,
for it the season of
recollection.
ah, re-collect, recollect.
let the story.
continue, by the retelling.
find that palm line,
find that psalm song,
where the babe lost,
the mother lost
is the babe reborn,
in new faces, forever contained in
The Imprint.
we all ken loss,
we all keen know anguish,
different kinds for different folks.
do we not all have blood?
but are there different types,
and yet,
all still blood related.
prepare yourself
for more sad to come,
and some to never,
woebegone.
but do not forget,
nay, you cannot,
for seared it is,
this imprint,
a two sided copy
of a single document,
you on them,
them on you.
~
an eyelash falls
upon the poem.
a decorative reminder,
a stop sign,
a decorative remainder,
that it is time,
to recall,
to be unafraid.
now, now, right now,
is the time to remember,
that very eyelash,
the cells that are
therein,
the eyes that it has protected,
saw, know, well recall, gave,
gave part of you
and smile,
yes, smile,
for in them,
in the lines around your eyes,
the crisscrossed cell map upon thy hands
is the
The Imprint,
The Gift.
where to end?
This imprint upon your body exterior,
part mark, part stain,
part badge, part medal,
part cain,
part ribbon black pinned.
it is twinned,
for the match, the mate,
of this gift I printed,
is still in your living cells,
and thus knowing
the imprint is yours forever,
they are not lost,
you are not lost,
for Their Imprint
is a gift that
is
never ending
shall eternal be a salve this
happy, sad, melancholy,
holy
morn, day, season.
Dec 24, 2013
Dec 24, 2013 at 8:21 PM UTC
When I don't call for weeks,
remind me of the nights I stayed up
to tell you what love feels like.
Remind me of the way the sun came through the tops of the trees
and hit our twinned-skin as we pedaled through the park.
Remind me of your terrible jokes
(you won't have to).
When I don't want to come home for Christmas,
remind me of all the times you wanted to sit with me
but would never say it.
Of all the things you never understood about me
that I'd never explain (even when you asked)
Like how I cried when we left New York
And why I hated Dad for so long.
Remind me that we're friends.
Remind me that through gritted teeth, clenched fists, and rolling eyes,
I love you
Aug 15, 2014
Aug 15, 2014 at 1:40 PM UTC
Lo! I lament. Fallen is the sixfold Star:
Slain is Asar.
O twinned with me in the womb of Night!
O son of my bowels to the Lord of Light!
O man of mine that hast covered me
From the shame of my virginity!
Where art thou? Is it not Apep thy brother,
The snake in my womb that am thy mother,
That hath slain thee by violence girt with guile,
And scattered thy limbs on the Nile?
Lo! I lament. I have forged a whirling Star:
I seek Asar.
O Nepti, sister! Arise in the dusk
From thy chamber of mystery and musk!
Come with me, though weary the way,
To bring back his life to the rended clay!
See! are not these the hands that wove
Delight, and these the arms that strove
With me? And these the feet, the thighs
That were lovely in mine eyes?
Lo! IO lament. I gather in my car
Thine head, Asar.
And this -is this not the trunk he rended?
But -oh! oh! oh! -the task transcended,
Where is the holy idol that stood
For the god of thy queen's beatitude?
Here is the tent -but where is the pole?
Here is the body -but where is the soul?
Nepti, sister, the work is undone
For lack of the needed One!
Lo! I lament. There is no god so far
As mine Asar!
There is no hope, none, in the corpse, in the tomb.
But these -what are these that war in my womb?
There is vengeance and triumph at last of Maat
In Ra-Hoor-Khut and in Hoor-pa-Kraat!
Twins they shall rise; being twins they are one,
The Lord of the Sword and the Son of the Sun!
Silence, coeval colleague of the Voice,
The plumes of Amoun -rejoice!
Lo! I rejoice. I heal the sanguine scar
Of slain Asar.
I was the Past, Nature the Mother.
He was the Present, Man my brother.
Look to the Future, the Child -oh paean
The Child that is crowned in the Lion-Aeon!
The sea-dawns surge an billow and break
Beneath the scourge of the Star and the Snake.
To my lord I have borne in my womb deep-vaulted
This babe for ever exalted.
2.2k
.
Silver charms on an anklet ******
as her foot stamps down once,
crossed dainty in front of the other,
and her hands start a slow ascent.
From hips up into the air
in the nonchalant action of the flame,
arcing a half circle about her waist
she turns to face the assembled crowd.
A tabla starts a sleepy beat
and the sitar player awakens,
or returns from a meditation,
readying himself for his introduction,
to blend a melody of the Moon
with the woven movements of dance.
The beat increases and four taps
signal a change in the rhythm.
The following note is punctuated
by the tinkling of the charms
and the first strum of the sitar,
sending music to the starry sky.
And her hips sway in gentle waves
as her hands mimic the lotus flower
in cups of dreams above her head,
and the anklets jangle a soothing sound.
The wrists twist and move graceful,
delightfully twinned with the neck of a swan,
and her body sways like a leaf in the wind
to the melody from ages past.
The tabla starts a frantic beat
as the sitar player lets fly,
his new unrestrained chords
dilute the night with ecstasy.
And she dances in her trance,
skin shining with the dew of reflected joy,
her lithe body telling the story
that began before the dawn of time.
A crescendo summons the dance to end
and silence fills the void,
but far into the deep dark night
silver charms on an anklet ******
© Pagan Paul (01/09/17)
Sep 2, 2017
Sep 2, 2017 at 7:04 AM UTC
The water shimmering ripples in the moonlight,
The sky reflecting visions we have seen,
The meadows are concealing our secrets,
And the memories behind the screen,
All the traces have still survived,
On the roads we have ever been.
The misty morning brought us closer,
With your scent still clung to me,
The alarm ring would remind me,
That you were lying next to me,
In the light,the sun would call us to see,
The twinned souls we craved to be.
And everyday, our road would split in two,
Along the distinct patterns and routes we chose,
Miles away we go momentarily,
Yet the petals of the same rose,
Our lives unperturbed by the silence in-between,
And the adios has been our transient dose.
Because i have always believed,
Not much the whispers, nor the feelings enclosed,
But the words in the palinode,
Echoing ,"You are the shadow walking through me,
Traveling with me. Traveling back to me."
Jan 20, 2015
Jan 20, 2015 at 2:24 AM UTC
Selfhood:
Strange burden
to be trapped
in perceptions
All the heavier
When alone.
Expectation wraps
her bony hand
around my heart
And squeezes tighter
With every failure.
Overheard critiques
build bad blood
My battered bravery
turns green
and spoils.
Persistence is as twinned as the judge.
Is it necessary for resolution?
Is it self abuse?
Hope is a shattered plate
Sharply paralyzing bare feet.
Jul 19, 2014
Jul 19, 2014 at 3:27 PM UTC
I remember so much and yet so little of that day,
I remember the woods near our home where I would used to play.
The den I made, smothered by oak and fern,
The dragonflies sailing zephyrs and their power that I yearned.
I remember clearer the presence of my father,
Struggling through gaps he was far to large for,
His smile strangely absent that day.
I remember words he whispered
"come child, today we are away."
Those words mean little now
So much more than they did back then,
When my mind idled with dragonflies
Locked in that wooden den.
I remember seeing the earth
Looking still, if not serene.
Defiant in it's rotation.
As countless ships,
Starward monoliths
Depart with naive expectation.
Some decided to stay,
As some always do.
The rest sail for space in search of silent refuge.
Once more we forgot ourselves
Embracing our own foolish divinity.
Forgetting the folly of our past
As it echoes unto infinity.
I remember once, now gazing at alien constellations,
The lines we drew in shale and sand to mark our different nations.
The pettiness we adored and the diplomacy we abhorred,
We burnt the earth behind us
And fled unto the stars.
The last thing I remember,
That day in late September,
The last solar systems' ember
Was the rusting glow of Mars.
I forgot how much I missed that home
Over the twelve cold years in space alone.
This place is not so bad,
But the trees weep strange,
Leaves drooped and sad.
From my window I see my grandson run
Chasing the shadows of new earth's twinned suns.
Fresh from the forrest
A new found den.
A second chance
Don't
Fail again.
Apr 8, 2012
Apr 8, 2012 at 6:11 PM UTC
Once we lived in a steam-punk wedding cake
the walls tasted like crème cheese icing
everywhere dripped chocolate rust
wheels and gears- pumping out bliss
the house would tick us to sleep
a quiet tock that snuck into our hearts
we beat together-our 3 tiered home and us
and we hung pictures of mixed historical value
the first time someone held our hands
the names of flowers we invented
and the towers twinned together- breathing in city air
Once we lived in a steam-punk wedding cake
The universe kissed our toes
In our rose petal beds
As we nibbled our marshmallow pillows
And greeted the cooler side with the grip of tiny fingers
We wore silly hats
And talked in accents no one could identify
We made our own curse words
That sounded more magical then rude
And we hung pictures of mixed historical meaning
Cartoons from before nickelodeon was bullocks
Our middle names in Braille
And the Kennedys on their wedding day
Once we lived in a steam-punk wedding cake
The home of chocolate fortitude
Where some days we wouldn’t turn on a light switch
And let the candles guide our imaginations
Down dark tunnels and secret gardens
There was never any hunger
Tears only came from happiness
We made capes out of our bed sheets
Chased each other under beds and hid in closets
Peeking out because being caught was our goal
And we hung pictures of mixed understanding
The 8 dirtiest jokes found in ancient art
That day when the sun felt like it would never stop playing with the moon
The day we stood still long enough to know the color of our eyes and the outline of our toes on wet grass
Jun 25, 2011
Jun 25, 2011 at 3:34 PM UTC
I realized to my despair
that I am a terrible liar,
notorious fibber,
and compulsive embellisher.
I deceive
without my knowledge
For my empathy is so pervasive,
so consuming
that when another is experiencing
grief and suffering
and vexation
of the spirit
That, like the tissue I offer for their tears
I soak up every gnawing sorrow
and suddenly
I become in sync,
In belief.
Twinned disturbance
leads to expression
of experience
And soon I'm telling
others of what has just happened to me
when nothing has actually happened at all.
Could someone please relieve me of this torturous empathy?
Its turning me into a fallacy
Jul 29, 2013
Jul 29, 2013 at 2:48 PM UTC
Narcissus was hunted,
His life abated through reflection
‘Till all that was left was his beauty
Stained on the water’s surface,
And his tale as a flare in the night
For every proud soul.
Thenceforth we shamed ourselves,
For every fleeting glimpse at the face
Which contains the twinned thoughts of our own.
The mirror, now a symbol
Of despicable self-assurance,
Man’s vain invention.
It is the microphone
However; the tool that listens,
Clamours attention to every word
And breaks in vicious soundwaves,
That’s the true measure of vanity,
A catapulted voice.
The mirror, used more so
As a reflection of our self-doubt
And all of the fear people can see.
My self-effacing curses,
My knowledge of singularity,
And total lack of greed.
Sep 29, 2013
Sep 29, 2013 at 4:02 PM UTC
A Problem And A Blessing
It’s a problem and a blessing;
I never do the same thing twice.
My omelets, cookies, ice cream –
Never twinned and absolutely never thrice.
My husband says, “That dish was consummate,
The best I ever ate…you must, must imitate it!
Why not write it down”.
And there’s my limit.
Always acting in the moment,
Home ingredients at hand,
Forced to recreate a dish
That will not taste of sand,
That may or may not turn out grand;
A failure or success – there’s no predicting,
But who cares!
My brain enjoys the dare,
For dare it is,
And there it is,
The blessing.
The problem?
Codes of norm, jazz (my profession), daily dressing;
Not recalled, created by improvisational necessity
Anew;
New strains, all things thought through
As if they’d never been.
What do you do?
And how?
A Problem And A Blessing 5.12.2017
Pure Nakedness;
Arlene Corwin
A cutie.
May 12, 2017
May 12, 2017 at 3:39 PM UTC
kiss me like the wind,
because i know you won’t dwell.
but i will wait for the leaves to spin again
and fall under your spell.
For we are Twinned.
Oct 11, 2016
Oct 11, 2016 at 7:48 AM UTC
I UPSET MY DAD SO MUCH IN NOVEMBER 2013, AND HE DIED THE FOLLOWING MARCH
AND WE HAD THIS STUPID LITTLE FIGHT, ABOUT ME SPENDING ALL MY MONEY
BECAUSE I GET THE IMPRESSION, THAT MUM AND DAD, BELIEVE IN REFORM AND
REFORM ALIKE, I DON'T WANT PEOPLE TO SAY BE LIKE US, ALL THE TIME, I LIKE
PEOPLE, I LIKE THE COMPUTER AGED NEW AGE PEOPLE, THEY ARE REALLY COOL
AND WHAT I AM SAYING, WHEN DAD DIED, DOING SOMETHING HE HAS NEVER SUFFERED FROM BEFORE, I TRIED TO KEEP DAD ON A LEASH, WELL
IT'S BECAUSE I AM CRONUS, AND I WANT TO GIVE HIM AN AWARD FOR NOT BRINGING HIS OLD FOGIE
AT MY DINNER TABLE, THOUGH HE TRIED, AND JUST THE OTHER DAY, I
PUT DADS PICTURE WITH BUDDHA ALONG WITH HIS NEXT LIFE, ELIZABETH CAMPBELL, SO I CAN LET DAD GO FROM MY LEASH, AND GIVE ME THE PICTURE
OF HIS WHOLE NEXT REINCARNATION, TWINNED UP WITH ROBIN WILLIAMS
BUT I LOOK AT THIS PHOTO, WHEN I MISS MY FATHER DEARLY, I WANT TO LET
DAD FLY OVER AND WORK ON GIVING HIS NEXT LIFE ELIZABETH CAMPBELL
A CHANCE TO IMPROVE THE LIFE CYCLE, I JUST MISS MY FATHER HE WAS A GOOD BLOKE, DESPITE OUR ARGUMENTS, I WRITE THIS, CAUSE I WANT TO BE REFORMED
FROM FIGHTING THE ADULTS
A VOICE IN MY HEAD SAID, WE DON'T WANT YA TO BE REFORMED, I SAID
WHY NOT, IS IT BECAUSE I LIKE FISH AND CHIPS, CAUSE I DO
I LIKE POETRY SLAMS CAUSE I DO
I LIKE FOOTY AND ALL SPORTS CAUSE I DO
I LOOK AT LIFE AS BEING ONE BIG ADVENTURE, CAUSE I DO
WHAT IS WRONG WITH ME TRYING TO BE A LIKEABLE FIGURE
CAUSE I AM, I DON'T WANT TO WORRY ABOUT WHAT MY VOICES ARE SAYING
I HATE BEING TREATED LIKE A LITTLE COOL KID TO A TEASE
AND BEING YEAH MATED AT, JUST BECAUSE, I LIKE COMPUTERS
I LIKE COMPUTERS FOR THE INTERNET, I DON'T KNOW HOW TO FIX A COMPUTER
BUT I KNOW HOW TO UPLOAD, CAUSE I DO
I HATE BEING TREATED LIKE A TRYING TO BE LIKE OTHER PEOPLE KIND OF PERSON
IT MAKES ME FEEL WEIRD
Jan 20, 2015
Jan 20, 2015 at 6:03 AM UTC
Some weeping in the silt of river grass,
A speckled black amphibian intoned
And lured blueberry girl with yearning groan,
She understood the plea as clear as glass.
Beneath the living mud she scooped him out,
The burping toad was cradled in her palm
And sank within a meditative calm
As she observed him rapt as one devout.
He humbly sat with wide-eyed child in blues
Who held him close and thought she knew his core
Unfolding from the water to the shore
Enclosing all the world in murky hues.
Her mother called her name from hollow home
But still she peered beneath his witch's eyes
And, twinned, the souls did glimpse each others' guise.
She sympathized, so buried him in loam
And ran, a spot of blue on open heath
To where her parents cooked a windswept feast;
Though she might grow, she'd not forget the beast
Who lived above the water, and beneath.
Aug 22, 2013
Aug 22, 2013 at 6:19 PM UTC
The embers have died
the fire is lost and gone,
all night she sat and cried,
for her, he spent his life to fawn.
She is the girl of any guy's dreams,
tall, pale, and long ebony hairs.
She belongs in the movie reams,
in love with the hero who really cares.
Alone she would hide away,
a ghost girl to the town and all,
at least it seemed that way,
until her life truly did fall.
He would give his life
just for one single kiss.
She would be the greatest wife
of all, she deserved eternal bliss.
So on this bleak, winter night
with strong, howling wind
snow covering the land in white,
each emotionless plant, twinned.
Out he ventured in fright,
filled with hopes to see
his love before she was out of sight,
or deprived of gay and glee.
Something over took
him, when he saw a soaring
raven, on the edge of the brook.
It jumped in the water that was roaring.
Intrigued and enticed,
he followed without will.
On the side was a body iced,
however heart beating still.
The body was his love,
the kind madden of his heart,
whom had been taken above,
despite his pain of her depart.
"Raven, oh Raven,
save him from his pain
and the love he's been cravin'
turn the snow to pouring rain."
This her soul cried
with everything it had;
completely unaware, she had died,
and why he was so sad.
How could he know
she would be alright and fine,
if his love he could not show,
nor could he say, "She's mine."
Don't expect a smile
from one who can only cry.
This pain will be more than a while,
cause now he decided he too must die.
Nov 10, 2014
Nov 10, 2014 at 9:52 PM UTC
I was delusioned
When I thought
Hate and Love
Were two different emotions.
I have you to thank
For setting me straight.
Your actions have confirmed
That these once opposites
Are now one and the same.
Your actions conjured in me first,
This smouldering Love, and now
A burning Hate.
Why couldn't I have been enough for you?
Why couldn't you tell me the truth?
Why couldn't you love me for me?
Why couldn't I let you go?
Why did I go through what I did for you?
Because I will always love you.
Nov 18, 2010
Nov 18, 2010 at 9:33 PM UTC
When the Earth was new,
And darkness was still twinned with the deeps,
I knew you.
Time passed,
And so many years later,
We met in the flesh.
And I felt the same newness, the same dark waters-
I knew you were mine.
I knew, like the ever returning tide;
And the phases of the moon;
And the presence of all my guiding stars.
It is with such fierce certainty,
I knew you loved me.
At night,
I would hold your face between my hands,
And kiss you on the lips gently, smiling.
You would press your nose between my collar bone and the brown column neck.
I was always thankful
For your choice to press back against me.
Even then,
I knew like water
My hands could never really hold you.
Nov 30, 2012
Nov 30, 2012 at 5:49 PM UTC
*ever wake -
ever listen to sparrows
in the night?*
those owls of suburbia,
twinned with fox laughter
where once man made treading
alone into laughter,
now resorting to laughter among
numbers and the lessened joke:
less ****** exhausting
and more witty... oh what a
session in the gym;
pretty lady by a candlelight supper
in the 22nd century and no recited
poetry... what will the 22nd century
make of us: brutes? cowards?
decipherers? tentacles of politicians?
however it might be,
keep the threshold at 100 years:
50 years via 1950
and 50 years through to 2050...
otherwise you might lose your mind.
Apr 2, 2016
Apr 2, 2016 at 11:32 PM UTC
In halls of academia, where time drifts slow,
I wandered, a reluctant pilgrim, through paths I did not choose,
Amongst the throngs of souls, a mundane flow,
Bereft of spirit, in a sea of dull hues.
Yet in this grey, a beacon brightly gleamed,
A girl of grace, with tilak on her brow,
Her face adorned in patravali’s gleam,
She stood apart, inspiring here and now.
Her eyes, a window to a soul so deep,
Where ancient wisdom softly made its nest,
In conversations, time did sweetly sleep,
Each moment shared felt wondrously blessed.
With pedagogy subjects twinned with mine,
We walked the same scholastic path with ease,
But her spirit soared where other’s did confine,
Her presence turned the mundane into breeze.
Her roots in dharma, firm and deeply grown,
A conduit of the sacred texts she speaks,
In her young years, so much wisdom shown,
A luminous guide for all who seek.
Through states she traveled, stories she did weave,
Of Bhagwat Gita, timeless and profound,
In every word, a world one could believe,
Her voice a balm, where peace and truth are found.
On YouTube's stage, her light shines far and wide,
A modern sage in digital array,
She bridges worlds, where ancient truths abide,
And brings the past into the bright today.
In her, I found a reason to endure,
This vanvaas of the B.Ed's endless grind,
Her spirit pure, her purpose strong and sure,
Inspiring dreams within my restless mind.
Seasons this tale of admiration’s song,
In her presence, I find a sacred space,
Where soul and heart in harmony belong.
BY :- KANISHK
Aug 22, 2024
Aug 22, 2024 at 7:38 AM UTC
By the ramp of the dearly departed
Still lay his faded fingerprints
While yet another
Was thrown in the morbid bed
Still reeking
like death
The hall deserted
His breathing slow
Hope fading
The morale low
Thoughts crept
Like death
And another after another
Was thrown into the list
Ever growing
Breaths slowing
Ever reeking
Like death
Lying in a corner
Groaning beneath the mask
A soul once alive
Moaning over the past
Waiting for a cure
Like death
And one last breath
Felt in the night
He wished to be his last
He couldn't hold on
To this madness, so
Like death
There was this glimmer
A ray of light
The suffering might end
Things could go right
Maybe slowly
Like death
The world was healing
Not all hope was dead
The once confined bodies
Will rise out of bed
Defeating tragedies
Like death
With a combined might
And hope alight
Strength in prayer
And hearts twinned
The world rose up
From death.
Jun 12, 2020
Jun 12, 2020 at 10:13 AM UTC
Have you forgotten me? Oldest and best friend,
We used to dance around the summer fields as children, chasing our cares into the wind.
The world outside ours did not bother us and gladly we left it to others, our thoughts, our very souls entwined,
Like two coals born from the same fire, parted and then returned,
as if linked and then bound to rejoin after distant travels.
The average human mind could not comprehend, but we did, for we were as one, and to cut one would pain the other as if they themselves were cut,
We thought that precious existence would last forever, and it did for us, but for a short time.
Where did it go to my eternal love? What happened to shatter that blissful, blessed existence,
It seems so far away now like a faded picture on a dusty hearth, help me understand, was it all real? or just a cruel twist of fate that appeared in a dream like a flickering lantern in the darkness.
I will not and shall not give up seeking answers, for moments as we have shared our rare in this and any universe,
For I once made a promise to a wild eyed beauty long ago, as innocent and sweet as a child which I intend to keep.
I know that we will meet again, people who have been as close as us shall always meet again,
I will find you again my love, no matter how many lives or worlds I have to travel through.
When our aching twinned souls are finally returned as one,
Then we shall play again as children in the fields and the time spent searching will be as if a blink of an eye.
Jul 18, 2017
Jul 18, 2017 at 5:09 PM UTC
*the world is too big for me to lie,
and if you think i lie,
then i'm sure le petit prince
met you on one of the planets journeyed to.*
or poetry on the internet, are we all neither
mammals nor lizards or birds to be force-fed
this **** i hate turkeys with stomachs
stitched up for bulimia-ready
augmentation...
here's a guitar... twang twang twang
three string base rhythm...
here's my voice... now my voice
i'll keep personal to be in kinship
with an acorn fall...
and i too might taste the devolved
loved-up tongue which
once would speak... abbreviating
the excess, as neither necessary or expected,
but still loved-up, instilled in loving...
but for now... not so much...
more for the gallery of superficiality of
sticks and called bulbing limbs of beauty:
where once the fashion designer
now a dietitian... once colour and cut
now the calorie intake and burn-off...
as one limbo headed lamb of the catwalk
sat on my knee and inquired a normal talk
while i joked she was always to be a welcome elf
of our twinned lost appetite,
should the hungry child keep asking for toys
rather than a bacon bun.
Feb 4, 2016
Feb 4, 2016 at 7:03 PM UTC