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I stood like a statue
I couldn't move in time
My world seemed frozen
One decade gone by

My mind couldn't think
slowly I came out, behind the statue

Unfrozen I am
looking at this world
so much has happened

One decade gone by
I'm now moving in time
unfrozen I am

I can now think again
unfrozen I am
Today will be better than yesterday

The future is here
in the now
unfrozen I am

I can now live in this world
unfrozen I am
Unfrozen
Andrew Parker Nov 2018
How Does Happiness Happen Poem
11/25/2018

I once heard that happiness is like watching the sunrise.
That when its golden shining rays meet your eyes, their solar power can bring the darkness its demise, by summoning a radiant, dazzling smile--that's how I thought happiness happens for a while.

Someone else said that happiness just takes some time, while living in the present. That its like you wake up one day and suddenly things seem more pleasant. In other words, it should feel like the cut scene of a Disney movie--but my movie writers must have missed the memo.

I've also been told that happiness is a habit. That you tell yourself kind things in the mirror, and then they'll stick to you like a jacket you wear covered in positive patches made of hearts and unicorns and stuff--although my jacket never seemed to keep me warm enough.

Some say that happiness is letting go of the what if's and why not's, the whose its', what's its, and the what nots.
That it's the power to accept what you cannot change.
They all say that happiness starts within, but what if happiness is not in me? What if my body doesn't know how to make happiness happen?

Because I've been through sleepless nights to watch the sunrise, but its shining rays must have stopped before they hit my heart. Instead of a super smile, all I could muster was a lukewarm shoulder shrug and tired yawn and thought to myself, "Well, I guess that's all," as I watched the sunrise, and felt my hopes fall.

I've tried living in the present. I've patiently waited and wished to wake up one morning and be over this. I know they said that happiness just takes a while, but it's taken so long that now it's the ******* future and I've stopped believing in that fool's rumor.

How many mornings have I spent saying sappy affirmations in the mirror? Telling myself, "You are smart," "You are kind," "You are fine, fresh, and fierce," "You will be happy someday." By now, those words I once wore like a jacket have outgrown me and they no longer fit.

Maybe my soul is like a sapless flower, a ship that sinks, or a staring contest filled with blinks... ****, that stinks.
Maybe my brain chemicals have leaked, or my allotted amount of happiness has already peaked.
Maybe my stress and anxiety disagree with me being happy.
Maybe my happiness frosted, the first time I fell in love and lost it.

Even after all these things I've seen and done, I can't comprehend why my happiness is still long foregone.
My smile's corrosion has continued unspoken -- so I've issued a new one with permanent pen.
But I couldn't concoct a formula for the happiness potion -- one that would raise my happiness quotient.
I haven't unfrozen my heart out of fear that it's broken -- and thawing it out will release the emotions.


But I do know one thing that's true -- it's for certain.
If my happiness is broken, then by the principles of inversion, it can be rewoven.

There is no guarantee that it will come promptly,
but until then, I'll keep my pursuit in motion,
and continue to believe in the notion
that someday happiness will just happen to happen to me.
Lotus Nov 2012
A cup of London Fog warms
My frost bitten fingers
My toes curl tighter in my socks
Cramming together to stay warm
Sitting on the little window sill
A silent corner amidst the  
Voices in conversation
And the shuffling of books and newspapers

My mind is like a messenger dove
Still perched on a branch
Waiting for the note it must deliver
But whose thoughts are already
Lost in what the flight will bring

My eyes stare out of the
Glass divide
The see-through division between
The snowy outside world
And the coffee’s home

Suddenly all freezes
The strolling people outside
With their snow caps and weathered coats
Are statues
Identical
With no emotion of their faces
All those who sit at the tables
Within the café’s warmth
With their books and computers
Dissolve to sand   

I watch the slow extinction
Of society and friends
Movement and speech
My eyes
The only ones left unfrozen
My body
The only one left whole

Did they migrate to another world?
Did they realize their bodies weren’t really who they were?
But instead that they were particles apart of everything else.
Who knows?
Yes
I think
Who knows?
And
With my eyes unfrozen
My body whole
My toes cold
And a cup of London Fog in my hands
I take a sip
And contemplate
summer lays across the valley
as silk lays across her body
shrouding subtle contours as she sleeps
beneath the morning mist her dream keeps

to wait for her eyes to open
is to wait for time to be unfrozen
i whisper to her as she sleeps
so into her dreams my heart seeps

in a hint of azure eyes
from the mist my heart will rise
and go with you from your pillow
into your life my dreams will follow
CRIMSON
Colors explode
As the sumac stands sentinel over the ebbing rays of the sun
Shepherding away *Niibin
to make room for Dagwaagin
Standing, alone, in a sea of green
Sumac heralds the changing season
And like an artistic wild fire
Is the first in what will become a palette of chromatic vibrancy

Sensing the subtle change
Mother deer, her two fawns and yearling
Meandering through the sumac grove
Make haste of the fading green buffet
Mother Bear and her cubs, now a year stronger and wiser
Gorge on honey and berries as they ready for their winter's sleep
Red-Winged Blackbirds, Robins and Sandhill Cranes congregate en masse
Hummingbird drinks the final drops of nectar
In anticipation of their journey south
In advance...of the returning white Biboon blanket

The clock of Mother Earth is precise
And the natural world follows her timely rhythms
As southerly and westerly winds shift to the north
Eagle soars high above...the yet unfrozen river
Vivid foliage slowly falls to the forest floor
Creating an intricate insulating tapestry for those below
In the meadow, swaying in the wind, stands a solitary Daisy
It's single yellow petal defying the departure of longer days

Harvest moon shimmers through bare branches
Dancing, tapping in rhythmic fashion, upon a quiet window
Stirring *Misigami
from her reverie
Outside her window, a lone black figure, a Lobo, like her
Acknowledges her presence, blurring the lines of consciousness
Signifying that dreams do come true
And that through the change of seasons
We grow
We become stronger
Wiser
And are given the true gift...of forever being...

...Hopeful

(c) 2013 Shawn White Eagle
The fourth, and final installment, of my seasonal poems, that I hope U have enjoyed.  Most of what has been written can be seen from the window as I write, while other parts, and imagery, have been personal in nature.  One thing I have kept in mind with these pieces is that as the seasons change, the cycle of life never abates, and that we really are just along for the ride.  Even though we cannot control how Mother Earth operates...one thing is a constant with each season...is that each, in it's own way, always provides that bright ray of hope. :-)

Live 4 Love
Shawn
Hank Helman Dec 2015
It was her father’s fault of course,
He had cared for her too much.

He’d tendered love as a comfort
A cure,
His affection an antidote,
And she believed him and came to  
Depend on its sway.

He, her father, was a generous man with no money.
Well-educated and unwilling,
He refused to convert
And enlist as a worshiper of things.

How can you spend your life alone in a car, he asked.
Days, weeks, months trapped in solitary confinement,
Commute used to mean benefiting from a lesser sentence, he told her,

A judge would give you credit for picking up litter,
Or apologizing to your primary school teachers
For all the terrible things you'd done,
Then a month off your jail time, he explained,
His palms up, his shoulders in a shrug.

Now look at our roads, he said,
Everyone round shouldered and condemned,
In a cage, stones for eyes, barely breathing.

On the tram I meet people, I love the public square,
We are meant to mingle he said,
We need each other to make a life.

And so when her mother died,
Unexpected and sudden, what death isn’t really,
He took on simple work close to home.
He wanted her to know he was near, that’s all.

He understood the comfort young children find in
The literal sense of things and so,
He sat with her through every lunch hour and,
They ate soup and sandwiches together each day.

This saved her mind.
She knew that  now.

He, her father, was a chronic enabler of love.
In the fall they would laze on a park bench,
Yellow birch leaves like fashion stickers all over her rain boots,
And chat quietly as they tossed unfrozen frozen peas on to the pigeons.

On these afternoons he retold her stories about her mother,
His childhood, her grandparents and
The hard times,
When even a nickel could ignite the most outlandish of dreams.
Can you imagine, he would say,
Only five cents and we all thought our luck had finally changed.

He was an explainer and a tolerant,
He told her the sun rose up each day
Only to search for one new idea and that
She had a magnificent brain and
One day it would be her idea the sun would shine bright on.

He told her the purpose of her life,
Everyone’s life,
Was to think pure thoughts,
Small decisions that would help save the world, he said,
Contributions often so small no one might notice,
But each one would make a difference.

He said science called this the butterfly effect,
She loved the name.

He was thoughtful and fair
And so everything he stood for was impossible to duplicate.

He never forgot her birthday,

The dolls came in battered boxes
With crumpled corners and broken plastic windows.
Weathered cardboard coffins,
With magic marker scribbled on the back,
Gruff autographs like ‘return to vendor’ or ‘write-off,’
Words she paid no attention to,
Even when she began to understand what words can mean.

Her birthday cake- always a single slice never a round,
She had never seen her name in icing,
But why would that matter,
When she could wake up early in late November
And see all three of her names in elaborate calligraphy,
Etched into the frost of the front room windows
For every passerby to see

His all saint’s grin,
He told her every day of her life
That he saved the first smile of each day for her,
A smile he hid in his pocket, or under her pillow, behind her ear.

Her kingdom for a year was two card board castles in the living room,
Where, with official pageantry, (her father had a scroll),
She was crowned the Grand Duchess of Washer and Dryer,
Her word was law for the day.

He surrounded her palace,
With brightly coloured bowls and
Casserole dishes filled with water,
A protective moat into which he placed plastic animals,
Whereby he proclaimed in a court room voice,
All would become flying horses and loyal dragons
If danger ever dared to mock and threaten.

So when he died she was ready.
She wasn’t,
But as an adult she told everyone she was.

After the funeral she dressed the same,
She ate, she worked,
She offered her ****** Mary smile generously to small children,
She said please and thank-you in a clear voice,
And gave a dollar to every street person she could find.

She was near him when he passed.
She understood the comfort old men find
In the literal sense of things,
And for weeks she slept shotgun
In the chair by his bed.
She wanted to be near, that's all, and
She fed him soup, no sandwich, every day.

We all die he told her only moments before his turn.
Our only calm is our end, he said in a whisper as weak as
Mormon tea.
Do not regret, he cautioned her,
My life was mad and complete, he promised,
You were my good idea and the sun rewarded me,
He said in a voice so soft
She wanted to lay her head on it and drift away.
Then he smiled his first smile of the day,
Pressed a plastic dragon into her hand,
And withdrew.
The blue dew is raining in
roaring fury!

It's a love cascading violently
from ****** blue mountain,
inviting grit from ocean of
courage, to offload tons of
bashfulness overload.

I reach a dime with hazel gaze
to a blue-eyed goddess in the
love garden, popping ogle
champagne in blind lust to
******* world.

I grin!
I grin in summary epic!

The amorous picnic turn and caress
me in mercurial adjectives, embalm
me in emotional stiffness,  aloof
from the real, unfrozen me into
insatiable insanity.

Not long, the craze evaporated
into eternity!
My greatest fear is
that my mind will become languid
all these nerves that buzz and fill
will someday become a vegetable

somnolent times will set upon me
a spell from which I cannot recover
lazily and languorously I shall dwell
an intellect without vigour

too much comfort too much praise too much ease
shall push me off the cliff of complacency
and I shall fall without cognizance
a mental suicide, awareness in deep freeze

a hardened blank consciousness
that needs to be broken through
excavated from a  grave of self-righteousness
pushed beyond self-set limits
melted until the core is seen

I need to feel the pain and hurt
cry briny tears and experience grief
need to feel unsure undecided
obscure myself in anxiety
make sure the inner ocean stays unfrozen

- Vijayalakshmi Harish
        12.09.2012

Copyright © Vijayalakshmi Harish
From a letter by Franz Kafka to his schoolmate Oskar Pollak, 27 January 1904 (translated by Richard and Clara Winston): 'I think we ought to read only the kind of books that wound and stab us. If the book we're reading doesn't wake us up with a blow on the head, what are we reading it for? So that it will make us happy, as you write? Good Lord, we would be happy precisely if we had no books, and the kind of books that make us happy are the kind we could write ourselves if we had to. But we need the books that affect us like a disaster, that grieve us deeply, like the death of someone we loved more than ourselves, like being banished into forests far from everyone, like a suicide. A book must be the axe for the frozen sea inside us. That is my belief.'
Mysterious Aries Sep 2015
"Stay safe, Stay strong" my old friend giving me some words
"Have Faith" they've said "Give your trust unto the Lord"

"It's easy for you to say" I've said
"You see and hear nothing  that will rock your head"

"You are right, They are wrong" voices of my friend from outer space
Supporting my conviction asking me to shout for them to leave our place

"I'm still here waiting my love" said a lady whose name was Jane
Indeed I remembered her, my heart keep calling her name

"Love her? She was nothing compared to us!" those beautiful nymph again
Showing their naked body seems so real that let me forget something

"No one could ever help you' No one could ever heal" my mother voice to feel
"It's only you my son can cure yourself, can give your wound a heal"

"We've won again we've won!" all of them again cheering
While looking at the shadows of my old friend, my love and my mom leaving

"Sir here's my handkerchief" a voice from a nurse unfrozen myself freezing
To then I've realized that my eyes turned into a dark cloud
and now it's really raining...


written: August 27, 2014 @ 8:35 PH standard time

Mysterious Aries
My Schizophrenia Poem #14
Ma Cherie Jan 2017
Up ahead past frozen trees,
lies a timeless crystal valley,
while some still stand unfrozen here,
in rows of wooden alley,

I step in past behemoth guards,
who protect a prism palace,
as cleanest waters pure and clear,
rush down on earthly ballast,
a chance to sip of sacred wine,
inside a holy chalice,

Roots run deepest in this spot,
away from light,
below,
while tallest branches touch the sky,
all blanketed insnow,
as orchestra's of crystal chimes,
prepare another show,

When one should gaze upon it,
this ancient wooded sight,
as steam is rising steadily,
as daylight moves to night,
night draws down it's curtain,
as stars now shine a lovely light,

Your breath is taken with it,
& frozen there in time,
as daylight changes scenery,
angelic voices chime,
when telling of the beauty here,
I'd say this place sublime,

A wooded lucent heaven,
it's hard to put in words,
I close my eyes to dream again,
and listen to the birds,
and for every other lovely sound,
I hope my ears have heard,

My breath & I,
just cannot linger,
in beauty's frozen place,
where every branch is laden white,
on gaurded trees of ancient grace,
where all adorned with icicles,
& brilliant snowy patterned lace,

The atmosphere is full of vapor,
as the dew point has been hit,
condensing incandescent tears,
low flying clouds now sit,
so near the ground in steamy fog,
translucently still lit,

It captivates my every sense,
as frozen gates unlock,
I do my best to look away,
though all I do is gawk,
I peer inside to check the time,
...if any on the clock,

Sadly here,
not time for me,
inside this sleepy glen,
where birds & death,
they wait assured,
a thorny crown,
in safest den,
boreal a chickadee,
the livest a tiny wren,

Perhaps to come another day,
I stay inside past frozen gates,
I cannot know the how and when,
my thread of life is cut by Fates,
the three Keres I see in there,
it seems I can't manipulate,

I do not know the way to here,
amidst the wafting fog,
when all again will seem anew,
in Spring & newborn frog,
where lovely woodland creatures,
come out from mossy log,

I so wish I could stay here too,
where now the only sound,
is one of snowflakes softly falling,
upon this hallowed ground,
I do not know where I am going,
or where I'm finally bound,

Though I will try again in Spring,
to see my way back here,
I came here with a fear of death,
but left inside that fear,
as little Winter fairies whisper,
of hope into my ear,

I am grateful for today,
with new hope for tomorrow,
I'm walking out of here tonight,
relieved of all my earthly sorrow,
I walk ahead,
now unconcerned,
if no more time...
at all to borrow.

Cherie Nolan © 2016
Hey everyone I've been away but I'm doing alright...sorry not here so much,
I'll check in when I can today, and catch up as much as possible. I think being grateful is so important...to live from a place of gratitude. This is full of metaphors for life and death, acceptance of our time, breathing in the beauty it was a mystical spiritual walk as I pondered the fear of death. I carefully thought with this...it felt inspired idk... while at the most beautiful, breathtaking place here I know to go in Winter.... sigh...
Influences of Greek mythology (the fates) and some of my other beliefs. Many thanks poets for always kind words and love - hugs VERMONT ❤ ❤❤
Chiara M Jun 2013
I stared at my open palm –
              purple speckles of a fossil unfrozen by the mere
              heat of my touch.
I stared at my hands –
              cold and dry come wintertime, layers of  
                          reptilian scales making my little
                          dinosaur claws rigid, unforgiving.
I imagine myself a warrior woman of sorts – eyes fossilised into icy hardness.
I stared at the sword in my hand and with a great swing,
              I slice the stone of youth down the middle, separating
              the old from the new, specks exploding:
                      red, blue, yellow,
       thrown across my hair.
Under layers created by millennia of pressure and grime –
      the mineral of understanding.
It gleams so that my cheeks flush red with blood from within,
                        And my neck             reaches to the sun,
             my          eyes          widen, beginning to melt and drip.
I close them.
I stared at the insides of my eyes, and
a speckled horizon stared back.
AmberLynne Jul 2014
One kiss, and an explosion occurred.
Neither expecting this, yet nothing different
     would we prefer.
I didn't fall for you gracefully,
but the siren's call of your soul to mine
     was a blitzkrieg attack.
And honestly, I'm looking forward
     to never going back.
For you, sir, have filled me wholly,
     completely my voids,
     and sealed shut every wound.
Every heart beat boomed in my head,
     drowning the sounds of all else
     the moment I knew for sure
     I had found it, found you.
Without trying, I came unfrozen
     as your voice caressed me.
My breath arresting, hitching,
I knew then, I know now-
     I want you to be
     my always and forever,
     my happily ever after.
4.2.14
Taylor Sep 2012
I don't know how it started--
the warmth slowly sinking into my hands again
the shock from cold to warm
was the difference in the creases of your smile
I knew, that if it stayed too long
I could possibly freeze to death
I knew that if it stayed too long
Your smile would freeze and find it's way into my brain
and never leave
---
I don't know how it all ended--
I don't know where you left me,
why you left me
all I know
is that the warmth has made it's way into my hands again
your smile has melted from my brain
just as my hands are now unfrozen
my entire body
has
never
felt
so
whole.
Edmund black May 2018
Haiti you are a beautiful soul in nature. Frozen in time it’s like I’ve never left you three decades ago. Under all the destruction I still see your beautiful soul. Sadly with tears in my eyes I am speechless of how they’ve left you frozen without cause without reasons without merits. How shameful the civilized western can be to leave you naked, frozen without clothes. With tears in my eyes I am saddened to see you like this, With tears in my eyes I am still proud to be your son.

Perhaps one day I dream of seeing a Better you , a stronger you, and a Well dress you for the whole western world to see you unfrozen.

You are down but you are not out, you are drowning but you are not finished.
As painful as it may be for me , I know the pain for your people is much greater than mine , for I get to leave you as I please to a better place.

The hypocrisy from the western world, give me freedom or give me death , I assume it was only meant for the Caucasian world. Because together the people of Haiti have accomplished just that , for the freedom of your people , for that very reason they’ve been rebellious against your people for wanting to be free, for wanting to raised your young under a flag we all can be proud and called your our own.

Sadly they’ve brainwashed our brothers and sisters around the western world, make them believe you are barbaric, you are a race of barbarism, how sad to see in this modern world you have been left frozen in time. Still I am proud to call you my own.

If I can help it , the fight is not yet over. Shameful of myself for not realizing you were in need of my attention sooner than I’ve realized. Words cannot describes the pain I feel for you , words cannot describes the pain I feel for the people of Haiti. Today I wrote in stone I will indeed seek for a better You and I will not rest. Until then I beg you to keep fighting and
                          STAND STRONG FROZEN.
Please brothers and sisters let’s stand strong together eith the people of Haiti. We can support the people of Haiti by vacationing in Haiti to help them grow their economy! Let’s show some love., let’s give them hope .
Curt A Rivard Sr May 2012
It’s High noon in a tumble **** town
And everyone’s running for cover,
Shops are turning their open signs around
The saloons piano player is now frozen with fright
All is quiet like a cold winter’s night.
Back to back ten paces forward
Counting in your head the jingles in the others spurs
Turn and draw
Be quick or be dead
Shots ring out like thunder
One grazed the other not so lucky
Town’s people wrap you up like a caterpillar in its cocoon
Slumped is your body over the back of the horse
Now is trotting you to your resting place.
The piano man is now unfrozen.

(CARSr.5-1-12)
Lenore Lux Jan 2015
Unfrozen, surviving in miles of silent wasteland
Somehow risen from cold to my feet, but not breathing
Am I flawless that I drift so lightly with a Western wind?
Or so flawed that I don't admit I'm desperate for coming home
The final night with my elbows on the throne
Laughing over longing after end to the infinite.
Beheld well with the highest intention to flatter you
Maybe I'll die in laughter when you realize I invite you to bitterness,
brittleness to the shattering for which I'll want you close
Because with another's bloodstains I can live alone
Using what I've siphoned to make my ill-advised scratches on tablets on tabletops.
John Mahoney Jun 2012
i.
the lake has opened
several places where the ice
has come unfrozen
two idiots drove their
pickup into a hole
last night

ii.
the emergency vehicles
woke me with sirens
racing to drag these
drunks off the
ice before they froze

iii.
the beach sand has been
    uncovered
by the blowing wind
which has driven the snow
into a drift over the dock which we
have stored by the
     treeline

iv.
walking the sandy shore
i stooped to pick up
a piece of green, bottle
     glass

v.
the glass is weighty in my hand, and rounded
     smooth
its edges shaped and polished
by the working of sand, water and time
         like an olive,
         like a cherry,
         like a memory,
              of you
Grateful acknowledgement to the Rose & Thorn Journal  for first publishing this poem in their Spring 2012 issue.
hannah way Mar 2014
Sometimes I wish your
Heart stopped every time
I touched you and that
The only way for you to
Restart was to fold
Your eyelashes around mine
Like origami birds
Fluttering in the wind
And softly dig your fingernails
Into my waist like a shovel
Much overdue for the aching earth
Because then I could at least
Pretend that I am the
Only thing in this world
You need to stay unfrozen.
h.w.
One by one they stand like statues,
As they get tagged,
In the feild were they play.

As the game goes on,
More and more stand like statues,
Waiting to be unfrozen,
By a person who will never come.

Due to the war between two,
That has everyone paralyzed with fear,
In this cold climate,
That they call normal.
winter is fast approaching
and the morning frost has
already come

but my heart is like the spring
and new life is blossoming
in my unfrozen heart
PK Wakefield Jun 2011
a perhaps summer wilt with hands maybe
like cups or bowls o' laughter running over
what drizzles o'er the numerous human
stuff by a pondsome quick pretty water
glittering succulently its most cool grasp

o'er her body from it gallops the crescents
of her lush formidable query i tousle
with my tongue like last winter i was
walking in a garden when the frost
stung my nose real hard and i was
just almost inside when i noticed how
absolutely demure the snow was
clutching the soil it like a lover it from
whom it nay would release except for
that same afternoon it rained and
all was unfrozen and loved no more
the snow the soil like this terrific

droplet of her skinny strength stabbed
with youth and running out her wounds
the ablest *** dances rushing on sturdy
limbs to snare over the cuirass of flickering
electronic flesh (my chest) and drape
supreme fair fairy dust inside each
nostril and straight to my dithering acute
brain and tingles abruptly her
belated fingers unday brushing the eaves
of cobalt with purple frilling the
edges and we repose in the cracked
bucket leather seats of my drab yellow
volvo and

                 and
                         and
Andreas Simic Jun 2022
Laying in my cozy bed,
I oft wonder
why?

why am I here when others not?
those that make a simple mistake
and perish, yet I am here

a friend telling me
“you have more lives than cats”
not a consolation to my deliriums

The plethora of experiences too plentiful
to parlay into one poem
sixteen at last count

multiple careening crashes, a gas tank explosion,
illness, being hit by a car while standing at an ATM
the litany long and varied but one stands out

playing on a recently unfrozen pond
raft fighting as it were
young hearts being foolish

falling in backwards, a non-swimmer
it is so cold, frost bite pins & needles cold
I am going deeper and deeper

it is getting colder and colder
darker and darker
until it is totally dark

no lingering thoughts, it is over
then a pinprick of light
drawing closer

it grows and grows
until I am in the light
it is oh so warm here

the lack of sound creating
an incredulous peacefulness
for a fear filled life

can I stay forever, please
except that is not my destiny
not that day or those others

rescued by a neighbor’s father
delivered unconscious to a mother
still questioning the why

Andreas Simic©
Helseivich May 2014
Time frozen, eternity's remnant
A kiss unbroken by the threads of fate
A bond unshattered by the weaves of destiny
A moment untouched by the strings of life ethereal

Time frozen, eternity's remnant
Their lips caressing one another so graciously
Their hands interlocked together so uniformly
Their beings resonating as one so perfectly

Time frozen, eternity's remnant
Uncertain future created afterwards through unknown factors
Uncertain future sustained during the unclear present
Uncertain future diminished before they truly became one

Time resumed, eternity's progression
Reality sabotaged by instance of luck
Reality abolished by happening of chance
Reality undone by development of coincidence

Time resumed, eternity's progression
Moved on from childish thoughts
Became more than desired
Left behind as nothing more than a still frame

Time unfrozen, eternity's remnant
Initial beginnings—eager love which knows no bounds

Time resumed, eternity's progression
Followed events—realizations of the truth and awareness of reality

Time collapsed, eternity's absence
Final ending—comprehension that a pause in history cannot define its entirety
Time will never cease. Neither should we.

June 2012.
Rae Apr 2017
i used to have this skill
of writing beautiful words
it developed through my misery
it resounded in my nerves

i had rhymes in my head
and i put them together
i made people feel things
with an assortment of letters

but now my mind is too full,
too scattered, too broken
and all those words have slipped;
my thoughts have come unwoven

absolutely unraveled,
solidly unfrozen,
fantastically shattered,
an organized explosion.

those beautiful words
lost in the blast
i used to wish my mind would die
and it happened at last.
habiba May 2018
Whence come ye, so wild and so fleet,
For sandals of lightning are on your feet,
And your wings are soft and swift as thought,
And your eyes are as love which is veiled not.

We come from the mind,
Of humankind,
Which was late, so dusk and obscene and blind.
Now, 'tis an ocean,
Of clear emotion
A heaven of serene and mighty emotion

From the dim recesses,
Of woven caresses,
Where lovers catch ye by your loose tresses,
From azure isles,
Where sweet wisdom smiles,
Delaying your ships with their siren smiles.

We waded and flew
And the islets were few
Where the bud-blighted flowers of happiness grew,

Our spoil is won
Our task is done,
We are free to dive, or soar, or run,
Beyond and around,
Or within the bound,
Which clips the world with darkness around

The joy, the triumph, the delight, the madness,
The boundless, overflowing, bursting gladness,
The vaporous exultation not to be confined,
Ha! Ha! the animation of delight.
Which wraps me like an atmosphere of light
And bears me as a cloud is borne by its own wind

As the dissolving warmth of dawn may fold,
A half-unfrozen dew-globe, green and gold
And crystalline, till it becomes a winged mist,
And wanders up the vault of the blue day,
Outlives the noon, and on the sun's last ray,
Hangs over the sea, a fleece of fire and amethyst
Rachel Nov 2013
Into the concrete cracking heart
His favorite skulpture scowles
At everyone he loved.  
He goes out on the deck
Every dark nite and waits
For the fog to lift away like
A drape exposing the fear
Of leaving a balcony
And falling into the hands
Of pebbles bound to break
The effort of falling
More then a hundread
Pounds of history would
Allow until another dark
Day awakens the troubled
Animal like its a ware wolf
Unfrozen from the curse waiting
To leave a balcony.
Barkley Layne Apr 2015
It is here,
The snow is staring to thaw;
The birds sing and cheer.
The vines are growing the honey is raw,
Everything becomes unfrozen; the river, the lake.
Animals of all sizes come peeking out,
The squirrel, the bird, the snake.
Finally it has ended this freezing cold drought.
The winter was hard, cold, and ugly
Fevers and chills will disperse,
Now it is time for a new season to hold the key,
Mother Nature has opened her purse.
No rain, no clouds, only sun;
Sweet smells of flowers in bloom,
Now winter is done,
It slips away till next year inside of its cold tomb.
Happy spring :)
Mike Louisseize Jun 2016
Way back, way back
Rewind time like a VHS
Way back, way back
Yesterday was feeling stressed
Today I am feeling changed
Things don't have to be the same
Way back, way back
I feel just like a kid again
Walk around the world with wonder in my eyes
From the darkness I emerged, you would love it if you tried
You've got to accentuate the positive
We're all gods and goddesses
Never falling off, 'cause we're on top of it
Watched the topic shift quick from an obelisk
To talkin' shhh, I don't really get why people follow it
'cause last night - I had an epiphany
The ambrosia full of life we can grab, no hostility
Way back, way back, see I was really free
But as the days past, gained masks like I was shielding me
Now there is no fear in me, I'm way back revering Lee
I don't **** a beat - I pick it up, it's healing me
Now I only deal in peace, surrendered to my dying wish
To just be climbing higher, Mike - remember how you livened it
Likened to the older you, both in the past and what's to pass
And what's to pass? It wasn't bad, I know this 'cause I'm coming back
Hard to be the chosen when you're lost in awfully deep emotion
Prophecies unspoken, walking tokens, ought to see awoken
Qualities unfrozen, brought to motion harmonies and woven
All this in a piece, no apologies for being open
Calling pleas, you know him as a quiet kid, who tried to spit
Might have tripped a couple times, but that's alright, I write to live
Mic is gripped tight in my fist, I've got my own back
Own path, own goals, no wrath, all soul
clearly there is damage
in the mechanics
of our interlaced hearts.

savor me
roll my words around in your mouth
like marbles
and dream of the taste of my skin
and the bite of winter
on the tip of my nose and lips.

do not break apart my words
like ice
still, staring, fragmented in anger;
do not tear me
from afar, with your words
assumed unheard, but screamed
to the ends of the earth.
do not assume i am unfrozen
fluid and unattached
to the sound of your voice.

remember me
in lace and wonder and December
in beauty and imperfection;
or forget
that i am far, far away
in pain, from missing and being unmissed.
or that i exist, altogether.

clearly there is damage
in the mechanics
of our infinity
wrinkled and unraveled before us.
dean evans Jan 2015
It seems I am restricted, in sedentary pose
Unable to incite physiques agreement to disclose
My physical impairment has done little to my mind
But lost to me is the memory of how and why I find.
My heart still beats, and I can feel it pounding in my chest
The only movement left to me, the remainder is oppressed
It seems that I am locked away, somewhere in my mind
Although the world is passing by, I abide confined

My vision now is crystal clear and I can see it all
But somehow recollection of what happened not recalled
Some sort of accident perhaps, has left me thus afflicted
My intellect undamaged, though my body torn and twisted
There are those who look at me, and I see that they’re unsure
Though I attempt communication, my eyes remain demure
I wonder if they wonder, is my mind yet undiminished
No thought I have can contact them, they leave when they are finished

Nighttime is the worst for me, when evening takes the day
Dreams are chosen well each night from horrors dossier
I scream my thoughts although in silence, no one there to hear
It leaves my heart the only sound, although my mind austere
If only one of those who pass me by without a glance
Could see I’m sound inside my mind, It may give me a chance
To again communicate with those who are unfrozen
And learn the reasons for my sudden physical implosion

I hold no memory of the past, my future now uncertain
Recovery unknown to me, the present undetermined
I only wish to see the sun, and know the world exists
The window sits behind me, so thoughts of death persist
But I am not the kind that will give in to circumstance
I still recall a girl, with faded memories of romance
Was she once my only love to know my true devotion
Is she one that passes by?...it seems a pleasing notion

To think that there may be someone who loves me as I am
Who sees the light that's left in me, to know that I’m a man
And not to leave here alone, in silence and heartbroken
Who knows I feel love that for her however, never spoken
At times I sense her love for me, however tears are rare
I dream I stand and walk to her, and she is waiting there
To realize I am intact, though physically afflicted
Who knows I love inside my mind,
so tragically restricted...

I just want someone to know
I am here....

Dean Evans
5-09-14
Escalus Nov 2012
Thoughts clawing at the seems.
Begging, crying to get out.
I wish to speak my mind to you.
These feelings slowly scratching their way, leaving me ready to shout.
When you are around it feels as if my heart was unfrozen.
Ready to speak it all though afraid I will only sound like scratched record on replay.
I don't know how to act, what to say or what to do.
I have these civil wars in my brain of what and what not to say.
I never figured that these feelings would have grown so immense.
I know that I have no chance.
Everything is jumbled when you are not around, though when you are; everything makes sense.
Right when I look into your eyes, even if it is only a glance.
At times I wonder if i'm not catching hints, do I take the right vibe?
I never ask my questions, so there in my mind they linger; answers unknown.
Sometimes I wonder if you are hiding something inside.
Unknowing of how you feel, I watch my tone.
I have no reason to give up, for none of us know what our future deems.
I cannot rid these feelings, I know I have tried. If you read this, I know I shouldn't talk about the non-existent us. I lost my chance, I look back now and see that I may have had one. I'm glad you're happy... I am.
Sonkei Ichimaru Oct 2014
Sometimes it feels like I could freeze the world and be the only one unfrozen, take a deep breath, get some rest and the unfreeze it.
rafsan Nov 2017
In between time, have I wondered through dimensions of sacredness.

Between the spaces of unfrozen relic of us.

It was both pure and holy,
Untampered by the cold seas of dark night.

One day, might I lose to the wilderness of nature, to the untamed creatures of worldly beings, will you recognise me?

Every now and then, have my thoughts keep tangling themselves, from nothing to everything, from making sense to nonsensical.
From flowery visuals, vividly in shapes.

It was both pleasure and pain,
Unnamed by the strong winds of feelings.

And one day, might I fall out from these untimely moments, will you be there to save me?

This is the epitome of hopelessness, hoping for mere dreams to become a reality.

— The End —