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"unavoidably" poems
My father walked me down the aisle, But my mother held my arm. He went with me, But we went not towards the altar, But towards the door. My father walked me down the aisle, And the ***** rang through the church, Humming through the elaborate crown molding, Carved by my ancestors. He went, Not beside me, But before me, And I watched, As he was illuminated by the bright, Overbearing, Texas sun. My father walked me down the aisle, But I did not wear white. My father walked me in silence, And I shed tears not for a man standing at the altar, But for the one I would never see again. My father walked me down the aisle, And no veil obscured my face. All eyes were upon me, but not for my pristine beauty, Instead for my clenched jaw and furrowed brow, Severe and fierce to distract from my glassy eyes. My father did not leave me at the end of our walk to sit beside my mother. She clung to me for support and sobbed breathlessly, Loudly, Unavoidably, And I carried her with one hand, My sister the other, And walked towards my future. A future family, Not one person more, But one person less. I walked, One final time, With him. My father walked me down the aisle, And I will never forget it. Hundreds of eyes isolating my family from the crowd, Slow and muffled sounds drowning in the deafening beat of my heart, Blurred faces staring, Black heels clacking against the cobbled path from the church, The anguished wails of my mother, The whimpering of my sister, And the wooden box that glided before us, Pulling, A string tied to our patriarch, The pin key of our family, Pulled taut and then snipped with the slam of the hearse doors. My father walked me down the aisle, Before I had a chance to grow up. He walked me, Out of the church, Away from the altar, Never to be walked again.
0
Feb 27, 2018
Feb 27, 2018 at 5:17 PM UTC
emily-miller-1
My Father Walked Me
My father walked me down the aisle, But my mother held my arm. He went with me, But we went not towards the altar, But towards the door. My father walked me down the aisle, And the ***** rang through the church, Humming through the elaborate crown molding, Carved by my ancestors. He went, Not beside me, But before me, And I watched, As he was illuminated by the bright, Overbearing, Texas sun. My father walked me down the aisle, But I did not wear white. My father walked me in silence, And I shed tears not for a man standing at the altar, But for the one I would never see again. My father walked me down the aisle, And no veil obscured my face. All eyes were upon me, but not for my pristine beauty, Instead for my clenched jaw and furrowed brow, Severe and fierce to distract from my glassy eyes. My father did not leave me at the end of our walk to sit beside my mother. She clung to me for support and sobbed breathlessly, Loudly, Unavoidably, And I carried her with one hand, My sister the other, And walked towards my future. A future family, Not one person more, But one person less. I walked, One final time, With him. My father walked me down the aisle, And I will never forget it. Hundreds of eyes isolating my family from the crowd, Slow and muffled sounds drowning in the deafening beat of my heart, Blurred faces staring, Black heels clacking against the cobbled path from the church, The anguished wails of my mother, The whimpering of my sister, And the wooden box that glided before us, Pulling, A string tied to our patriarch, The pin key of our family, Pulled taut and then snipped with the slam of the hearse doors. My father walked me down the aisle, Before I had a chance to grow up. He walked me, Out of the church, Away from the altar, Never to be walked again.
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58
We had come to see him, the aging Tenor sing. He was as good as he had always been. But half way through, a woman appeared, Moving gracefully in bare feet upon the stage. Entering the ring of bright spot light near him. Long blond hair, falling loose around her neck, Held back both sides by Turtle Shell combs, Reflecting the light. Adorned in but a simple, low cut black dress, Her with a face beautiful as a new spring day. Held in her left hand an ebony hued violin, Touched fondly, like a well accustomed old friend. Her right hand holding a bow, ready and waiting. The Tenor’s and her eyes met and conveyed a message Only they understood.  Then starting slow and low, The full Orchestra commenced. The woman in black Brought instrument up to her chin, lovingly resting her face upon it, as if comforted by it's touch to skin. The fetching violinist, like a graceful reed, In summer breeze, began to gently sway, Laid Bow to strings and a transcended beauty, The voice of both her Instrument and from within she, Emerged through her fingers, completely filling the hall. With eyes closed, the slight movements of expression On her face registering the feelings the musical notes made, As if those gestures too, guided the bow's musical cords. Slender precise fingers lovingly caressing the strings. For nearly a minute, she and her violin played alone. Her actions of body, hands and head in concert, To her music, unavoidably hypnotic it could be said. The Tenor started to sing, and yet my eyes stayed Locked on her, as if no one else in the room was there. The blond woman in the black dress owned the stage. I have no idea how long that piece of music lasted, I could not attest to what contribution the Tenor made. Fully my attention and eventually my heart belonged To that lovely, evocative young woman in the backless, Little black dress. It’s true that I may never see or hear her play again, I know not, even her name. And yet, I’m sure that I will never forget those Few minutes mesmerized by her magical spell. Hopelessly caught in her enchanting web. With me sitting, third row, isle seat left, Worshiping as I did, at her so pretty, Slightly ***** naked feet, the striking Blond woman in the black dress.
0
Nov 6, 2013
Nov 6, 2013 at 4:01 PM UTC
stephen-e-yocum
The Woman In a Black Dress
We had come to see him, the aging Tenor sing. He was as good as he had always been. But half way through, a woman appeared, Moving gracefully in bare feet upon the stage. Entering the ring of bright spot light near him. Long blond hair, falling loose around her neck, Held back both sides by Turtle Shell combs, Reflecting the light. Adorned in but a simple, low cut black dress, Her with a face beautiful as a new spring day. Held in her left hand an ebony hued violin, Touched fondly, like a well accustomed old friend. Her right hand holding a bow, ready and waiting. The Tenor’s and her eyes met and conveyed a message Only they understood.  Then starting slow and low, The full Orchestra commenced. The woman in black Brought instrument up to her chin, lovingly resting her face upon it, as if comforted by it's touch to skin. The fetching violinist, like a graceful reed, In summer breeze, began to gently sway, Laid Bow to strings and a transcended beauty, The voice of both her Instrument and from within she, Emerged through her fingers, completely filling the hall. With eyes closed, the slight movements of expression On her face registering the feelings the musical notes made, As if those gestures too, guided the bow's musical cords. Slender precise fingers lovingly caressing the strings. For nearly a minute, she and her violin played alone. Her actions of body, hands and head in concert, To her music, unavoidably hypnotic it could be said. The Tenor started to sing, and yet my eyes stayed Locked on her, as if no one else in the room was there. The blond woman in the black dress owned the stage. I have no idea how long that piece of music lasted, I could not attest to what contribution the Tenor made. Fully my attention and eventually my heart belonged To that lovely, evocative young woman in the backless, Little black dress. It’s true that I may never see or hear her play again, I know not, even her name. And yet, I’m sure that I will never forget those Few minutes mesmerized by her magical spell. Hopelessly caught in her enchanting web. With me sitting, third row, isle seat left, Worshiping as I did, at her so pretty, Slightly ***** naked feet, the striking Blond woman in the black dress.
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47
*standing on the threshold of change, I await a fresh-line but the universe may be unready if not, I may take to choppy-waters all by myself* 1. if we are all stuck in the jam of time perhaps, if we spread it out real thin some of us could actually lift off and catch a ride.. out free some hostage from the twisting temporal-joints and the wool-gatherers mind their business and footsore beggars dine on exotic-things deep in the heart of the jungle where Nebuchadnezzar parked his dreams of old by saving your surprise for a weekday jaunt we limp on in the vacant-dust of paradox yet get unavoidably detained by the present undo the ribbons and the package may unfold its.. things espy the tick-tock riding the margin of fright common sense of morn lies delightfully unfinished and the wrong side of a bold idea gets squashed the brain-weary ingest their lot and plough on through thickets of tricky-fate while tiptoeing silent on the farthest-blades of brimstone holding subtly aloft.. the frankness of aiding-spectres 2. balloon of green, balloon of blue hold out your hand and pray you get no inequalities of flame easy catch of the sound of science scoffing in the parlour when we try to do something different; take a chance uncivilised-humour will argue the rings off your punctured-lobes any germ of new plan must needs be nurtured let any frenemy go; intolerant-ilk do better by their vacuous selves remarkably convenient there's almost enough water in the well to soak up the ivory-rays and let them fly and there's a breeze lifting the needle off the ancient-groove spinning reels on the bay *no, you will never convince me that the time-keeper holds all keys 'cos I snuck out furtive.. late one night and sawed through.. for a whole decade and well, guess what I have here..* :) S T - 24 Jan 2014
0
Jan 24, 2014
Jan 24, 2014 at 8:24 AM UTC
st64
stuck
*standing on the threshold of change, I await a fresh-line but the universe may be unready if not, I may take to choppy-waters all by myself* 1. if we are all stuck in the jam of time perhaps, if we spread it out real thin some of us could actually lift off and catch a ride.. out free some hostage from the twisting temporal-joints and the wool-gatherers mind their business and footsore beggars dine on exotic-things deep in the heart of the jungle where Nebuchadnezzar parked his dreams of old by saving your surprise for a weekday jaunt we limp on in the vacant-dust of paradox yet get unavoidably detained by the present undo the ribbons and the package may unfold its.. things espy the tick-tock riding the margin of fright common sense of morn lies delightfully unfinished and the wrong side of a bold idea gets squashed the brain-weary ingest their lot and plough on through thickets of tricky-fate while tiptoeing silent on the farthest-blades of brimstone holding subtly aloft.. the frankness of aiding-spectres 2. balloon of green, balloon of blue hold out your hand and pray you get no inequalities of flame easy catch of the sound of science scoffing in the parlour when we try to do something different; take a chance uncivilised-humour will argue the rings off your punctured-lobes any germ of new plan must needs be nurtured let any frenemy go; intolerant-ilk do better by their vacuous selves remarkably convenient there's almost enough water in the well to soak up the ivory-rays and let them fly and there's a breeze lifting the needle off the ancient-groove spinning reels on the bay *no, you will never convince me that the time-keeper holds all keys 'cos I snuck out furtive.. late one night and sawed through.. for a whole decade and well, guess what I have here..* :) S T - 24 Jan 2014
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44
And while she lie awake pondering existence in itself; she realised that it - it and everything else, would be always and unavoidably tied to disappointment. The two are linked- so closely to the point where they are almost homogeneous. Because people were broken. And because she was broken.
0
Feb 25, 2015
Feb 25, 2015 at 8:56 AM UTC
michaela-s
Broken
And while she lie awake pondering existence in itself; she realised that it - it and everything else, would be always and unavoidably tied to disappointment. The two are linked- so closely to the point where they are almost homogeneous. Because people were broken. And because she was broken.
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8
Life is unavoidably ecstatic, at every scale, degree, level, dimension, an oscillation, season to season day to night to day to night cycle by cycle wax by wane feeling by feeling to feeling always moving both ways all ways always crest, trough, cresting- falling, lifting-crashing riding, riding out and in and through and by and by, bursting.. I could explode, I might explode, I did explode, I do explode though I'm contained, boundary by boundary, transcending, including, moving always moving both ways all ways always rainbows weaving spectral waving, rivers raging, bodies growing, organismic, oceanic, orgiastic in-ing, out-ing, coming-going, holding, letting go, flowing, flowing, flows surrendered, building, pursing, pleasing, pangs, paining, ripping, breaking, sorrows to joys to shade to shine, as chasms to substantiation, as abyssal to full, as burn to burning, to smoke etheric, to ashes, to ground, all passions as passions passion pumping, filling, releasing on-ing, off-ing, alive-dying-birthing-living, living as moving always moving, transforming breath by breath by breathing, being this to that, a changeling, changing always moving always moving both ways all ways always
0
Apr 18, 2014
Apr 18, 2014 at 3:09 PM UTC
christopher-wallace
The Unavoidable Ecstasy of Life (always moving, all ways)
Life is unavoidably ecstatic, at every scale, degree, level, dimension, an oscillation, season to season day to night to day to night cycle by cycle wax by wane feeling by feeling to feeling always moving both ways all ways always crest, trough, cresting- falling, lifting-crashing riding, riding out and in and through and by and by, bursting.. I could explode, I might explode, I did explode, I do explode though I'm contained, boundary by boundary, transcending, including, moving always moving both ways all ways always rainbows weaving spectral waving, rivers raging, bodies growing, organismic, oceanic, orgiastic in-ing, out-ing, coming-going, holding, letting go, flowing, flowing, flows surrendered, building, pursing, pleasing, pangs, paining, ripping, breaking, sorrows to joys to shade to shine, as chasms to substantiation, as abyssal to full, as burn to burning, to smoke etheric, to ashes, to ground, all passions as passions passion pumping, filling, releasing on-ing, off-ing, alive-dying-birthing-living, living as moving always moving, transforming breath by breath by breathing, being this to that, a changeling, changing always moving always moving both ways all ways always
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73
Fittingly meticulous, finicky Precisely mitigating routine Tracing excessively Over cornered mezzanine Stray penciled lines Candidly contrived Archaic dossier Balanced centers Unavoidably erase Guiltily lost the way Confused compass oscillates Irregularly unanticipated Perpetually transitory Tender heart insecurity Ego sensitivities in vain glory Sacrificed arrogance dignity On the day of defeat
0
Jul 11, 2012
Jul 11, 2012 at 4:29 AM UTC
christopher-blanck
Muggin'
Fittingly meticulous, finicky Precisely mitigating routine Tracing excessively Over cornered mezzanine Stray penciled lines Candidly contrived Archaic dossier Balanced centers Unavoidably erase Guiltily lost the way Confused compass oscillates Irregularly unanticipated Perpetually transitory Tender heart insecurity Ego sensitivities in vain glory Sacrificed arrogance dignity On the day of defeat
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17
She's a cold one The kind of cold that drives deeply Frigid and lingeringly painful Invisible but tangible scars She's a cold one who never knows just what she does but does it anyway unknowingly cruel With teeth that seek and find the flesh, wounds with depth that never completely heal that have a memory Some wounds know where and how to hurt you again again again never excruciating in the same way but unavoidably agonizing She's a cold one who persists who hopes the coat protects who doesn't see the frostbite who is an unwitting succubus who poisons the soul with frost who makes warmth fade, dwindle, disappear
0
Jan 5, 2014
Jan 5, 2014 at 10:28 PM UTC
surrationality
Frigid
She's a cold one The kind of cold that drives deeply Frigid and lingeringly painful Invisible but tangible scars She's a cold one who never knows just what she does but does it anyway unknowingly cruel With teeth that seek and find the flesh, wounds with depth that never completely heal that have a memory Some wounds know where and how to hurt you again again again never excruciating in the same way but unavoidably agonizing She's a cold one who persists who hopes the coat protects who doesn't see the frostbite who is an unwitting succubus who poisons the soul with frost who makes warmth fade, dwindle, disappear
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28
It is ok to be not what you are still becoming. She said "you're not special." Grinding teeth and sodden rails. My car is exhausted-- downwind, held in the air like branches of birches and pines humming with each blatant engine-stroke which fall onto that bleakening icedock and curl-- culled passengers tossed to sea; unavoidably sharp veer left, beyond surreptitious and frantic spectators and through a once-pearl snowdrift straying into my mind. M C M L V Turtlenecks can't keep us warm and soup can't clear my throat. I choke on sliced rubber, seatbelts cut halfway-- from Spring. pluck us like cattails amongst my marshy solubles. Exposes my larynx she-- ubiquitous sonnet spews forth. What contrite aberration, wears Kalapodi temple dress made of rose petals blown in beneath love's column and presses with her thighs my vision? There is nothing more to say-- meals served raw on Winter holidays. Steaming spoonfuls dried up on her palate-- Special in the way I left you there. Special in being the same as I should have been. And I, no-- I! I can not talk any longer! The clouds I thought to taste won't allow me to rain be-- once dangling from the ceiling, my dripping prevented with a pale, cotton daub. You see the paramedics even as they sheath my torso and hold your head with thorped sieves: The driver steered his vessel wrong an action which robbed his passenger's breath.
0
Sep 25, 2011
Sep 25, 2011 at 9:34 PM UTC
sansara-justinovich
Breathless
It is ok to be not what you are still becoming. She said "you're not special." Grinding teeth and sodden rails. My car is exhausted-- downwind, held in the air like branches of birches and pines humming with each blatant engine-stroke which fall onto that bleakening icedock and curl-- culled passengers tossed to sea; unavoidably sharp veer left, beyond surreptitious and frantic spectators and through a once-pearl snowdrift straying into my mind. M C M L V Turtlenecks can't keep us warm and soup can't clear my throat. I choke on sliced rubber, seatbelts cut halfway-- from Spring. pluck us like cattails amongst my marshy solubles. Exposes my larynx she-- ubiquitous sonnet spews forth. What contrite aberration, wears Kalapodi temple dress made of rose petals blown in beneath love's column and presses with her thighs my vision? There is nothing more to say-- meals served raw on Winter holidays. Steaming spoonfuls dried up on her palate-- Special in the way I left you there. Special in being the same as I should have been. And I, no-- I! I can not talk any longer! The clouds I thought to taste won't allow me to rain be-- once dangling from the ceiling, my dripping prevented with a pale, cotton daub. You see the paramedics even as they sheath my torso and hold your head with thorped sieves: The driver steered his vessel wrong an action which robbed his passenger's breath.
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44
and yet I need you a leaf a flower the wind bring me back to you you appear you rise in my mind suddenly inevitably unavoidably and yet the sun has risen and set the flowers have faded and blossomed without our voices could recognize themselves without our eyes could fascinate themselves symbiotically united in another place and yet you were there you are there you'll be there our lines confused and indivisible oblivion hopeless fight against myself it is a perpetual magic transposition of reality and yet I wait I wait for you in our secret garden where only you can go in just you have the key where silently I love you
0
May 5, 2016
May 5, 2016 at 6:48 AM UTC
stefania-rivoltini
and yet
and yet I need you a leaf a flower the wind bring me back to you you appear you rise in my mind suddenly inevitably unavoidably and yet the sun has risen and set the flowers have faded and blossomed without our voices could recognize themselves without our eyes could fascinate themselves symbiotically united in another place and yet you were there you are there you'll be there our lines confused and indivisible oblivion hopeless fight against myself it is a perpetual magic transposition of reality and yet I wait I wait for you in our secret garden where only you can go in just you have the key where silently I love you
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36
Icicles dribble down the tip of my nose as frost fogs the humid corridors of my mind. Tundras yawn before me and sea-foam green ribbons helically orbit one another. Streaks of yellow roll between the spiraling bows in the sky. Stars twinkle slowly, just beyond. An icy howl jars the halcyon serenity as a harbinger of hardships and blizzards. But I am not of this. I carry a hearth in my chest and open my arms to embrace. Ah, and now she steps down from the gathering clouds; her gown rippling as it unfurls. Her aurichalcite eyes echo unsung songs until I can't bare the separation. My unstrung heart beats on, begging for another verse from her slightly parted -- but how much they open! -- lips lying, parabolic, atop her chin. She meets my pleas succinctly: her out-stretched hand offered in tribute to another kindred soul. My mind is fixated, not a thought intrudes on my contemplation of her exotic inebriation. Does she know what she's done? How every movement makes me stutter, slightly, shuddering (unavoidably)? How could she understand this intoxication which I don't even hope to know? I suppose that's all man can hope for: a single day, maybe not more than an hour, where "love" can even be considered.
0
Mar 12, 2013
Mar 12, 2013 at 2:23 AM UTC
d-simpson
Divine Inebriation
Icicles dribble down the tip of my nose as frost fogs the humid corridors of my mind. Tundras yawn before me and sea-foam green ribbons helically orbit one another. Streaks of yellow roll between the spiraling bows in the sky. Stars twinkle slowly, just beyond. An icy howl jars the halcyon serenity as a harbinger of hardships and blizzards. But I am not of this. I carry a hearth in my chest and open my arms to embrace. Ah, and now she steps down from the gathering clouds; her gown rippling as it unfurls. Her aurichalcite eyes echo unsung songs until I can't bare the separation. My unstrung heart beats on, begging for another verse from her slightly parted -- but how much they open! -- lips lying, parabolic, atop her chin. She meets my pleas succinctly: her out-stretched hand offered in tribute to another kindred soul. My mind is fixated, not a thought intrudes on my contemplation of her exotic inebriation. Does she know what she's done? How every movement makes me stutter, slightly, shuddering (unavoidably)? How could she understand this intoxication which I don't even hope to know? I suppose that's all man can hope for: a single day, maybe not more than an hour, where "love" can even be considered.
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39
sugar and spice and nothing at all nice loving and living like a walk on black ice headless necks spilling ****** thought lost limbs and robotic replacements bought hide and seek with skin between sheets little head nods and a lovers retreat brain cysts' toxicity and ****** lips maybe I'll heal the pain with a few nips dessert for thought and a certain arrogance unavoidably admitted-this is indeed romance a viral infection where nothing is fine violet poison absorption; im losing my mind.
0
Mar 25, 2015
Mar 25, 2015 at 11:02 PM UTC
aj-scott
the virus
sugar and spice and nothing at all nice loving and living like a walk on black ice headless necks spilling ****** thought lost limbs and robotic replacements bought hide and seek with skin between sheets little head nods and a lovers retreat brain cysts' toxicity and ****** lips maybe I'll heal the pain with a few nips dessert for thought and a certain arrogance unavoidably admitted-this is indeed romance a viral infection where nothing is fine violet poison absorption; im losing my mind.
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12
At the risk of sounding Chillouty..... er ahh unfocused. I declare this to be unavoidably true We cant cheat Destiny or fate. So eat drink and be merry The next time we come back, we will all be wealthy,wise and great.
0
May 24, 2014
May 24, 2014 at 12:58 PM UTC
geno-cattouse-1
Rotation
At the risk of sounding Chillouty..... er ahh unfocused. I declare this to be unavoidably true We cant cheat Destiny or fate. So eat drink and be merry The next time we come back, we will all be wealthy,wise and great.
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5
I lay here feeling warm and a bit sickly Bringing myself back to where I belong In front of a piece of digital papyrus and my fingers caressing the keys And creating life in forms of fiction and nonfictional word play Writing of things I’ve seen, things I’ve done People I know people who have touched my life in one way or another Persons who have decided to leave my life Ah let them go to live their own All is well And I have learned that now I say good bye to the one who made me experience love for the first time I say good bye to the one who makes callous remarks to ones he held dear I say goodbye to the one who acted as superior as they wished they were I say goodbye to the new born youth and wish them luck and my the spirit of life carry you I say good bye to the one whose time I wasted and to them I give an apology as deep as my insecurities for I wish I was stronger to confront them when you were around but at least now you know what makes you happy I say hello to the one who is in the pit of despair as I was but only 2 years ago I say hello to the one who is in a moral quandary not unlike mine all those summers ago And I say hello to the one next door whose footsteps remain to be right behind mine, my dear friend I love you and I shall help you, all of you for you would and have done the same for me And I fall to my knees and bow my head onto the gritty ground in praise of the radiant beauty of the soul that has picked me up and taken me to what seems to be the realm of relief Words cannot express the thanks and worship I have for you I say good morning to the one who brings out the human in me I make lunch for the one who feeds my heart with love so pure and true I will take you where ever you want; you want to be with me That’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever heard No wait that is your voice so sweet and honest it’s like the blast from the shiny brass trumpet in a jazz jam Oh, my life has been renewed My life has changed Yet again but it has never stopped Nor shall I I will continue to grow and learn and unavoidably get hurt along the way I had what I thought was the most important thing in the universe taken away and completely and utterly destroyed I lost my faith, faith in it, faith in myself, and faith in others Until I saw that nothing had changed I was just facing the wrong way and not listening to my inner self I am now back on the right track and I will fight to make sure nothing derails me
0
Dec 29, 2013
Dec 29, 2013 at 3:44 PM UTC
tommy-johnson
Dawn of A Hopeful Tomorrow
I lay here feeling warm and a bit sickly Bringing myself back to where I belong In front of a piece of digital papyrus and my fingers caressing the keys And creating life in forms of fiction and nonfictional word play Writing of things I’ve seen, things I’ve done People I know people who have touched my life in one way or another Persons who have decided to leave my life Ah let them go to live their own All is well And I have learned that now I say good bye to the one who made me experience love for the first time I say good bye to the one who makes callous remarks to ones he held dear I say goodbye to the one who acted as superior as they wished they were I say goodbye to the new born youth and wish them luck and my the spirit of life carry you I say good bye to the one whose time I wasted and to them I give an apology as deep as my insecurities for I wish I was stronger to confront them when you were around but at least now you know what makes you happy I say hello to the one who is in the pit of despair as I was but only 2 years ago I say hello to the one who is in a moral quandary not unlike mine all those summers ago And I say hello to the one next door whose footsteps remain to be right behind mine, my dear friend I love you and I shall help you, all of you for you would and have done the same for me And I fall to my knees and bow my head onto the gritty ground in praise of the radiant beauty of the soul that has picked me up and taken me to what seems to be the realm of relief Words cannot express the thanks and worship I have for you I say good morning to the one who brings out the human in me I make lunch for the one who feeds my heart with love so pure and true I will take you where ever you want; you want to be with me That’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever heard No wait that is your voice so sweet and honest it’s like the blast from the shiny brass trumpet in a jazz jam Oh, my life has been renewed My life has changed Yet again but it has never stopped Nor shall I I will continue to grow and learn and unavoidably get hurt along the way I had what I thought was the most important thing in the universe taken away and completely and utterly destroyed I lost my faith, faith in it, faith in myself, and faith in others Until I saw that nothing had changed I was just facing the wrong way and not listening to my inner self I am now back on the right track and I will fight to make sure nothing derails me
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34
It started with an uncomfortable feeling In your stomach and fingertips The flying of butterflies And the surging electric current And here comes the awkwardness and shyness The blushing of apple  and the Folding of Makahiya leaves You promise to catch the moon and give me stars, but how can I give love  when I’m too good in holding back What’s inside this heart? Neither doubts nor fears Can’t cease the severity Of this sweet  wound struck  by cupid’s arrow Yes, indeed it’s a Yes! Storm and Raging Thunder Unavoidably entered Fire slowly liquirified the solid foundation The pierced Hearts now seem to Fall Apart But Feelings don’t last Wounded Heart  Slowly heal And started to beat again ♥                      ©WFTH&IGMS
0
Sep 18, 2017
Sep 18, 2017 at 10:23 PM UTC
WrongfromtheHeart
~~~
It started with an uncomfortable feeling In your stomach and fingertips The flying of butterflies And the surging electric current And here comes the awkwardness and shyness The blushing of apple  and the Folding of Makahiya leaves You promise to catch the moon and give me stars, but how can I give love  when I’m too good in holding back What’s inside this heart? Neither doubts nor fears Can’t cease the severity Of this sweet  wound struck  by cupid’s arrow Yes, indeed it’s a Yes! Storm and Raging Thunder Unavoidably entered Fire slowly liquirified the solid foundation The pierced Hearts now seem to Fall Apart But Feelings don’t last Wounded Heart  Slowly heal And started to beat again ♥                      ©WFTH&IGMS
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23
(STRANGE, BUT TRUE) Love Shifting through dark channels And illuminated signs Sounds Shifting through Cubic's power amplifiers Human walking angles Tactic direction changing rhythmically Variances Transfixed steps Breaking the long loud silence On human tongues Hopes Owing to the existence Of silver enwrapped surrounding hot stars And hot feelings Unavoidably reflected upward Appearing just as a lightning bolt Or like a peculiarly fierce faithfulness Gray clouds Dropping their snow bracer Ringing bells Dropping their sad resonance In death For love.
0
Dec 27, 2010
Dec 27, 2010 at 9:27 AM UTC
marieta-maglas
The city
(STRANGE, BUT TRUE) Love Shifting through dark channels And illuminated signs Sounds Shifting through Cubic's power amplifiers Human walking angles Tactic direction changing rhythmically Variances Transfixed steps Breaking the long loud silence On human tongues Hopes Owing to the existence Of silver enwrapped surrounding hot stars And hot feelings Unavoidably reflected upward Appearing just as a lightning bolt Or like a peculiarly fierce faithfulness Gray clouds Dropping their snow bracer Ringing bells Dropping their sad resonance In death For love.
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26
I want to be the forest and You to be the fire. I want every part of me to be completely consumed, no matter how large or how small it appears to be. I want to be a medium, through which You can be manifest. I want the combination of my substance and your catalysis to create a beautiful, powerful expression. I want our interaction to be unavoidably apparent to anything that can see, smell, taste, hear, or feel. I want all of my inhibitions to become meaningless in the face of your awesomeness. I want to be unable to become distracted from, or bored of You; because we are one inseparable entity. Even when everything about me that I used to think made me who I was has been reduced to ash, I know that it will only enrich the parts of me which remain. The decomposition of the unnecessary will lead to the fertilization of the valuable. For a time, where a seemingly great forest once stood, there will be nothing but a flat field; but the result will be an amazing collection of new life to take its place. Where the forest seemed to be stagnant and immovable, instead there will be a growing, changing, expanding and thriving ecosystem. I will be what I was meant to be, but the glory of the creation will be yours for you were the inspiration and the force behind the result. This is the kind of love I want to experience. The kind of love I want to be able to show others. Undoubting, fearless, passionate, enduring, complete.
0
Dec 11, 2014
Dec 11, 2014 at 5:39 PM UTC
ronald
Complete Me
I want to be the forest and You to be the fire. I want every part of me to be completely consumed, no matter how large or how small it appears to be. I want to be a medium, through which You can be manifest. I want the combination of my substance and your catalysis to create a beautiful, powerful expression. I want our interaction to be unavoidably apparent to anything that can see, smell, taste, hear, or feel. I want all of my inhibitions to become meaningless in the face of your awesomeness. I want to be unable to become distracted from, or bored of You; because we are one inseparable entity. Even when everything about me that I used to think made me who I was has been reduced to ash, I know that it will only enrich the parts of me which remain. The decomposition of the unnecessary will lead to the fertilization of the valuable. For a time, where a seemingly great forest once stood, there will be nothing but a flat field; but the result will be an amazing collection of new life to take its place. Where the forest seemed to be stagnant and immovable, instead there will be a growing, changing, expanding and thriving ecosystem. I will be what I was meant to be, but the glory of the creation will be yours for you were the inspiration and the force behind the result. This is the kind of love I want to experience. The kind of love I want to be able to show others. Undoubting, fearless, passionate, enduring, complete.
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3
The road of life is long, with few detours. There are very few who will walk it with you until the end. Most of the time you will be alone; Even more of the time you will be lonely. You will not want to walk on. Many days, the first step from your bed will be a battle. Your dreams will almost certainly die. Your hopes will almost certainly not be realized. Your grand plans will be forgotten, left forlornly on the wayside as you plod on. Your heart will close in time. Love will rage through like a wildfire; you'll be caught up in the glow, the sheer energy, but, in time, it will burn out, and for miles, you'll be walking on embers. Everyone you care for will eventually, unavoidably let you down. And many nights you will lie awake sleepless, wondering "Why?" "Why am I here?" "What reason is there to go on?" "Is there an end to this?" And you will answer yourself "YES." You will find that power, that spirit. You will make that first step out of bed. You will dream a better dream. You will hope a brighter hope. One day, you will follow a plan that fulfills you in ways you cannot yet imagine. Your heart will reopen wider. Love will recreate you, and you'll dance in the flames. You will forgive and learn to trust again. And many nights you'll fall into decadent sleep thinking "How" "How did I survive?" "How did I get so lucky?" "How could I ever be sad?" "How could this ever end?" Life is equal part suffering, equal part bliss. The key is to find the joy so clearly hidden in hard times to get you through the pain, And remember the hurt in the good times, to make you ready for the next struggle.
0
Dec 26, 2013
Dec 26, 2013 at 3:11 PM UTC
rob-m
The Road
The road of life is long, with few detours. There are very few who will walk it with you until the end. Most of the time you will be alone; Even more of the time you will be lonely. You will not want to walk on. Many days, the first step from your bed will be a battle. Your dreams will almost certainly die. Your hopes will almost certainly not be realized. Your grand plans will be forgotten, left forlornly on the wayside as you plod on. Your heart will close in time. Love will rage through like a wildfire; you'll be caught up in the glow, the sheer energy, but, in time, it will burn out, and for miles, you'll be walking on embers. Everyone you care for will eventually, unavoidably let you down. And many nights you will lie awake sleepless, wondering "Why?" "Why am I here?" "What reason is there to go on?" "Is there an end to this?" And you will answer yourself "YES." You will find that power, that spirit. You will make that first step out of bed. You will dream a better dream. You will hope a brighter hope. One day, you will follow a plan that fulfills you in ways you cannot yet imagine. Your heart will reopen wider. Love will recreate you, and you'll dance in the flames. You will forgive and learn to trust again. And many nights you'll fall into decadent sleep thinking "How" "How did I survive?" "How did I get so lucky?" "How could I ever be sad?" "How could this ever end?" Life is equal part suffering, equal part bliss. The key is to find the joy so clearly hidden in hard times to get you through the pain, And remember the hurt in the good times, to make you ready for the next struggle.
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51
If you find yourself still bleeding, open your diary and reevaluate the moth-eaten story of your heartbreak. Reconcile where it all went wrong and follow this perfect recipe to cook up a new anxiety: - Flip-flop blame onto you—onto them—back onto you - Stew in all 26 emotions you never had the chance to express - Brainstorm every possible outcome you could’ve conducted - Choose the happiest ending - Let it simmer overnight - Set it in the freezer so it will never get old It must first be thawed before it is dined, but I should warn you that when recooked, the odor is foul, the taste is stale, and you will unavoidably lose your appetite. You can either starve or swallow the pain. The choice is yours.
0
Oct 19, 2016
Oct 19, 2016 at 9:37 AM UTC
taylor-marion8q
Alphabet Soup for the Famished Soul
If you find yourself still bleeding, open your diary and reevaluate the moth-eaten story of your heartbreak. Reconcile where it all went wrong and follow this perfect recipe to cook up a new anxiety: - Flip-flop blame onto you—onto them—back onto you - Stew in all 26 emotions you never had the chance to express - Brainstorm every possible outcome you could’ve conducted - Choose the happiest ending - Let it simmer overnight - Set it in the freezer so it will never get old It must first be thawed before it is dined, but I should warn you that when recooked, the odor is foul, the taste is stale, and you will unavoidably lose your appetite. You can either starve or swallow the pain. The choice is yours.
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10
a moment a thrill a flutter it was you inside me revelation of unknown love unmatched and unconditional I was afraid ailing and exhausted a shake and I felt empty without your weight on top of me it was you teared off from me from your protected limbo you tiny and perfect your scent the first kiss your hand close to mine utmost and eternal union an ancestral need satisfied your smiles your first unsteady steps the word mom entrusted to the wind a light  arrow which pierced my soul the first of the precious gifts you give me every day staring at you discover shades of  life being reborn through your eyes feeling the sensation walking barefoot on the fresh sand in the dawn the pain of suffering the inadequacy the insecurity you fell and you always raised the stubbornness in your eyes vigor that marks you a wild, pure and sensitive heart proud also of your weakness and your mistakes a great love effused around you to the people you love simply and shameless you are a warrior never stop fighting listen to your heart follow your dreams willpower is the answer you can get on the highest peaks the world is your you just have to believe and to want you were little and helpless you are a man imperious and fearless I will observe and follow you from my corner behind you willing to let you fall with a heavy heart with an outstretched hand ready to lift up you again if you will want it and always my arms open unavoidably ready to welcome you and give you all my love
0
Aug 8, 2016
Aug 8, 2016 at 8:48 AM UTC
stefania-rivoltini
the man you are
a moment a thrill a flutter it was you inside me revelation of unknown love unmatched and unconditional I was afraid ailing and exhausted a shake and I felt empty without your weight on top of me it was you teared off from me from your protected limbo you tiny and perfect your scent the first kiss your hand close to mine utmost and eternal union an ancestral need satisfied your smiles your first unsteady steps the word mom entrusted to the wind a light  arrow which pierced my soul the first of the precious gifts you give me every day staring at you discover shades of  life being reborn through your eyes feeling the sensation walking barefoot on the fresh sand in the dawn the pain of suffering the inadequacy the insecurity you fell and you always raised the stubbornness in your eyes vigor that marks you a wild, pure and sensitive heart proud also of your weakness and your mistakes a great love effused around you to the people you love simply and shameless you are a warrior never stop fighting listen to your heart follow your dreams willpower is the answer you can get on the highest peaks the world is your you just have to believe and to want you were little and helpless you are a man imperious and fearless I will observe and follow you from my corner behind you willing to let you fall with a heavy heart with an outstretched hand ready to lift up you again if you will want it and always my arms open unavoidably ready to welcome you and give you all my love
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84
And the journey begins From the land of 10,000 10,000 mile high clouds Drenching jungles and shores of ancient coral gardens Long since harvested from the sea Where they plant the love of their country in foreigners row by row by row Where bananas resemble mashed potatoes and are served with onions Where people can name the entire Yankees roster and have never kicked a soccerball And yes my feet are tired Because flip flops, like the government, offer little support And who knows when I'll get the last grain of sand out of my hair Or when the ringing in my ears from trumpet blasts will finally fade Or the taste of unavoidably ingested bug spray will finally stop burning the back of my throat my speedo tan lines will likely be the first to go But all the myriad lessons internalized (read: only spray yourself with bugspray out doors) All the friends friended with zero electronic interference (like the turtle hatchling I held or the man who volunteers years of his life protecting them for results that likely won't be seen in his lifetime) Will live inside me forever For, ever will my journey continue Until we meet And I can share them all with you We can feast on them together And they can maybe one day help you grow like a mangrove tree and harbor ideas of love in your roots like baby fish And maybe if you're lucky, even taste the bug spray for yourself
0
Aug 26, 2014
Aug 26, 2014 at 12:20 AM UTC
tvleasco
endless journey
And the journey begins From the land of 10,000 10,000 mile high clouds Drenching jungles and shores of ancient coral gardens Long since harvested from the sea Where they plant the love of their country in foreigners row by row by row Where bananas resemble mashed potatoes and are served with onions Where people can name the entire Yankees roster and have never kicked a soccerball And yes my feet are tired Because flip flops, like the government, offer little support And who knows when I'll get the last grain of sand out of my hair Or when the ringing in my ears from trumpet blasts will finally fade Or the taste of unavoidably ingested bug spray will finally stop burning the back of my throat my speedo tan lines will likely be the first to go But all the myriad lessons internalized (read: only spray yourself with bugspray out doors) All the friends friended with zero electronic interference (like the turtle hatchling I held or the man who volunteers years of his life protecting them for results that likely won't be seen in his lifetime) Will live inside me forever For, ever will my journey continue Until we meet And I can share them all with you We can feast on them together And they can maybe one day help you grow like a mangrove tree and harbor ideas of love in your roots like baby fish And maybe if you're lucky, even taste the bug spray for yourself
Continue reading...
24
The strangest stories have no sense of direction, No  respect  of  Truth, No  pinnacle  insurrection. Alas, the tensity causes the button to pop. Eyes  lowered, As the other foot drops. Once seemingly meaningless grains Suddenly aggregate into disabling pains. Perspectives contest to be absolute But  not  one  is; They're unavoidably destitute. Decisions are very seldom sound Since every interpretation Has flaws to be found. Emotionalities  arise, Rationality  divides And A choice invites a new inception; One that defines a  point of inflection.
0
Jul 10, 2016
Jul 10, 2016 at 12:36 PM UTC
TKO
Point of Inflection
The strangest stories have no sense of direction, No  respect  of  Truth, No  pinnacle  insurrection. Alas, the tensity causes the button to pop. Eyes  lowered, As the other foot drops. Once seemingly meaningless grains Suddenly aggregate into disabling pains. Perspectives contest to be absolute But  not  one  is; They're unavoidably destitute. Decisions are very seldom sound Since every interpretation Has flaws to be found. Emotionalities  arise, Rationality  divides And A choice invites a new inception; One that defines a  point of inflection.
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19
Hmm August 15, 2012 How does one co-exist? With peers or like-minded individuals? These relationships can be examined and statements regarding be made. However, co-existing with one's own entity is another story. Even in a stable environment, emotions will unavoidably be unstable. So, how do you pull yourself, and your goals, apart from the seemingly trivial? Those limited instances, which many claim comprise you, also may not define you, or perhaps not properly, or entirely... giving off to others, the wrong interpretation of who you are; a second, potentially fake version of you The emotional side, which only appears in limited instances, due to certain events. So, in an all-encompassing scope, which piece of your puzzle are your emotions? Are they interchangeable, do they cause other pieces to be created, or do they stem from an original root? Your true identity deep down inside is amendable, due to this other you - the emotional side. Now tell me, how do you co-exist with yourself?
0
Dec 25, 2013
Dec 25, 2013 at 7:15 PM UTC
PseudoPoet
Hmm
Hmm August 15, 2012 How does one co-exist? With peers or like-minded individuals? These relationships can be examined and statements regarding be made. However, co-existing with one's own entity is another story. Even in a stable environment, emotions will unavoidably be unstable. So, how do you pull yourself, and your goals, apart from the seemingly trivial? Those limited instances, which many claim comprise you, also may not define you, or perhaps not properly, or entirely... giving off to others, the wrong interpretation of who you are; a second, potentially fake version of you The emotional side, which only appears in limited instances, due to certain events. So, in an all-encompassing scope, which piece of your puzzle are your emotions? Are they interchangeable, do they cause other pieces to be created, or do they stem from an original root? Your true identity deep down inside is amendable, due to this other you - the emotional side. Now tell me, how do you co-exist with yourself?
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16
*your words are like soft pattering rain falling upon multiple consciences on the day after nasty weather and the predicted heat wave your words drip from invisible funnels and sweeten the air that we breathe verily  verily you're the voice of doom lulling our beings into a deep slumber there will be pangs and passions galore in this world of moneyed automatons who smack their pale but avaricious lips that spew stale drivel from dead hearts lo and behold the bell tolls indeed and we stagger forth in compliant unison and wait for the confessions of the age words about how we slid into turmoil swallowed in an abyss of sticky froth in bubbles and a cacophony of dismal largo choruses that say it's time for another thorough round-up as the skies darken and the rain comes down in sheets forever a curse and a blessing unavoidably certain so friend and brother from another place and another time let's do this thing together and crush this flea that won't flee generous givers are beckoning frantically from the horizon*
0
Mar 31, 2016
Mar 31, 2016 at 4:32 PM UTC
david-mungoshi
words like pattering rain
*your words are like soft pattering rain falling upon multiple consciences on the day after nasty weather and the predicted heat wave your words drip from invisible funnels and sweeten the air that we breathe verily  verily you're the voice of doom lulling our beings into a deep slumber there will be pangs and passions galore in this world of moneyed automatons who smack their pale but avaricious lips that spew stale drivel from dead hearts lo and behold the bell tolls indeed and we stagger forth in compliant unison and wait for the confessions of the age words about how we slid into turmoil swallowed in an abyss of sticky froth in bubbles and a cacophony of dismal largo choruses that say it's time for another thorough round-up as the skies darken and the rain comes down in sheets forever a curse and a blessing unavoidably certain so friend and brother from another place and another time let's do this thing together and crush this flea that won't flee generous givers are beckoning frantically from the horizon*
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24
Every insignificant choice leading me down another long and winding road. From the shaking of my hands and nervous tremble of my voice to the long over due release of a heavy load. From when my hands were tied to when my touch met yours. One thing stays the same no matter the path I choose. When I was intensely sad or unavoidably alone. You were always around reminding me of the good I never had.
0
Nov 9, 2013
Nov 9, 2013 at 11:29 PM UTC
hannah-rutherford
You were always around
Every insignificant choice leading me down another long and winding road. From the shaking of my hands and nervous tremble of my voice to the long over due release of a heavy load. From when my hands were tied to when my touch met yours. One thing stays the same no matter the path I choose. When I was intensely sad or unavoidably alone. You were always around reminding me of the good I never had.
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12
I dream of falling without fear Off the cliff of safety Into the clouds of possibilities That cover the bottom of this Mysterious darkness And on the way I learn to dare and at last hear True sound of my voice Certain as never before I'm alive indeed To scream of that which Never left the prison Of my mind Embracing those who hear With open power Gift to those who stayed behind Not calculate my steps Not count my words To be squarely in the middle Of that which I cannot feel Do not belive I recognize The voice of truth When tears hurt my eyes When urgency to run or grasp Overwhelms me out of my frozen casket Not like anyone else I breathe and see and feel Presence of those Who make my soul vibrate With deepest notes Worth all the darkness All sadness I ever knew To feel so deeply No reason can comprehend But unavoidably I recognize My destiny on the way to the bottom When my body Will breathe no more But in the last second of my flight I knew I lived And loved as hard as I had strength to give Of myself, inside out
0
Aug 27, 2016
Aug 27, 2016 at 10:32 PM UTC
l-seagull
On the way off the cliff
I dream of falling without fear Off the cliff of safety Into the clouds of possibilities That cover the bottom of this Mysterious darkness And on the way I learn to dare and at last hear True sound of my voice Certain as never before I'm alive indeed To scream of that which Never left the prison Of my mind Embracing those who hear With open power Gift to those who stayed behind Not calculate my steps Not count my words To be squarely in the middle Of that which I cannot feel Do not belive I recognize The voice of truth When tears hurt my eyes When urgency to run or grasp Overwhelms me out of my frozen casket Not like anyone else I breathe and see and feel Presence of those Who make my soul vibrate With deepest notes Worth all the darkness All sadness I ever knew To feel so deeply No reason can comprehend But unavoidably I recognize My destiny on the way to the bottom When my body Will breathe no more But in the last second of my flight I knew I lived And loved as hard as I had strength to give Of myself, inside out
Continue reading...
44