"unstarted" poems
This problem is all too familiar,
my ignition unstarted and still.
Can you find it and fuel it and startle
foreign gears and uncharted wheels?
Will you put life in this husk?
Will you come as the jilt of a lover,
or perhaps her sincerest embrace?
some extrinsic and chemical other,
catalyzing more confident state?
Will you find life in this husk?
I wonder how those with no questions
seem to draw from somewhere so much fruit.
My answer waits for me to liken
my own source to the fawn's and the root's.
Will I see life in this husk?
Sep 11, 2011
Sep 11, 2011 at 7:04 PM UTC
A blank page
waiting to be filled
with the words of love, hope and glory
life takes hold
changes the direction
with words of hate pain and anger
emotion
what we feel
makes us human
to live is to feel
to feel is to love
to love is to be
to be is to know
that life is a pain
is a a whirlwind
that sweeps you off your feet
depoisitng you in the midst of a life unstarted
a situation beyond control
so live
love
hope
feel
Be all that there is to be
Live all there is to live
take all of what there is to take
give all of yourself
to each moment
to each minute
to each and every second
Live.
Oct 9, 2010
Oct 9, 2010 at 7:31 AM UTC
Steel yourself for the inevitable surprise
New ties knotting round your neck till you choke
Go for broken hearted again
Go for finished unstarted again
Fall in love for the feeling of falling from infinite heights
The rush of death grabbing at your clothes like a desperate lover trying to take you in.
The air wrapping round your limbs
For a moment you are
Suspended
Frozen in a fantasy:
A collage of red eyes and tendrils of smoke, the smell of fresh rain, resonating harmonies, the fretting curl of a tongue around a barbed remark, and now this-
**** shirts and shadows
This feels like remembering a dream when you fall out of sleep
Chasing through fog
Stumbling through memories of feeling like I wasn’t worth your time
That all I could aspire to was sunflower following you
Turning east to west
But feeling rooted to the spot
All tongue and talent lost
In the shadow of your apathy.
This feels less like fate
And more like I’m butterfly-catching
Sticking pins through anything beautiful
Trying to understand what makes it soar unaided for so long
And killing it in the process.
Other times, I am the butterfly,
Catching light until I’m trapped
My affection becomes a museum for you
To bring your children into, someday.
Because nothing can stop my descent
I am not iridescent to all of you
And maybe I know that
Maybe that’s why I choose you
The safety of a glass window to hide behind
And the familiar crunch and snap of bones As I hit the rocks beneath.
Sep 18, 2018
Sep 18, 2018 at 1:36 AM UTC