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 Oct 2021
Colm
What you see is what you find
And all that is found stretches out
Before you like a flowing sea
Where water meets the grass so green
And trees overhang like homely eaves

Looking onward, openly
Towers look down like big brothers
Skies above stretch out to beyond
Horizons tall and foregrounds close
Close in on sounds of wandering on

The light it captures leaves so green
It fully expresses natures breath
And longs the father of all to breathe
It grows and flows and sings in trees
It whispers nothing comfortably

With rustling, and questioning,
And gentle flying that's above
Like bees

No humming here yet can be heard
Except those song notes softening
Which cannot be seen

Everything that can be seen is blue
And all that lives above is not

With thoughts more vocal than the leaves
Which whisper psalms between the trees
And cast down children onto cattails
By the meadows pond of widowed ease

There is nothing in this something
There are whispers on this breeze
Neath lilly pads above below
Twix fields of flourishing evergreen

A wish is lost in single breath
A butterfly flys beside this me
And climbs on whispy whims which flow
And lives only to leave

A fallen brown cascades to the ground
And rests on subtle grass limbs green

Outlined by brick and sanding stone
These waters whisper back to me
And creek and scream and visually plead
To be set free
By the crash and falling of a tree

But with no storms in sight
So all of this will continue to be
As clearly as this is today
As visibly as my eyes do see

And this is why I speak in poetry

A breath is not a breath without the breathing in, the hearing out
The loneliness of being alone
And the happiness of being free

From all the complications of the indoors
It is out in which I find myself most being

This outline of the trees look up
The blue line of the skies creep down
And ripples like the ponding pound
A note pressed without a single key

I love the way the sun seeps through
The evergreens and sunken weeds
And finds itself on fallen branches
Tucked beneath the grass so tall
And tidied like the clearest stream

But above all else
The more I think about
This wondering, whispering, wispy, wild, whimsical, breeze

I know that it animates and brings to life all of these trees and all of these leaves and all that I see and I am wonderfully thankful for all of these

Please, would you hear it still?
Help me identify each and every one of these?
I know you've seen, just as I see
Where the clouds like to rest
Just above the peaks of man made trees

And all I can see is these
All I can feel is the breeze
And hear is the song of ease
Which flows from nether trees and natures eaves

Please
These 500 words, originally spoken in exactly 5 minutes, were inspired by a Wednesday afternoon this past week. Sitting by my peaceful pond, I just took out my phone and started speaking this.

Wonderful way to take a break from the normal.
 Sep 2021
Colm
The only voice I wish to hear
Like the padding of the deer
And the misty Falls approach in trees
Which whispers here, and
With wandering footprints, there

Like the only sky I've ever been
Before being rush back within
To an eternal indoors
Full of plastic stars which burn out slow
And the hum of air which,
Once conditioned, streams

It's such a beautiful sound, I see
Such a lovely thought, that now I feel
You, my flooded mind, in ears
Begs this of my most unsubtle me
Let me drown anew
In this memory, please
https://youtu.be/DEcjRr4jv1o

(:

Probably my favorite verse in this most unplanned set. 2/12
 Aug 2021
Colm
hello is not a word
so much as a greeting is a sky
which stretches out above our heads
into the coulded mists and parting looks of waiting eyes
https://youtu.be/a6FV-puLsUw
 Jan 2021
Colm
You'd sooner see the ease of shaking the trees
and demanding that the leaves fall
(prematurely)
rather than rushing to find
She who was not ready to be found
https://youtu.be/2CfOrz-kJxA

We won't talk again
 Dec 2020
Colm
My heart knows no hatred
My loss no existence
There is only snow, and ash, and rain, and waters flow
In this directional way no more
I am contented and lost
Happily there with what I do and do not know
https://youtu.be/U289oHsEe6Q

I really struggle sometimes. To pause the thought, to be in the moment, etc. But this song really gets me for whatever reason.

So? So I gift it to you. Have cigar. Even if you don't smoke. The taste of life is what really matters.
 Aug 2020
Colm
Does the sunlight worry about its moonlight reflection?
When it cannot see stars either you or me?
No!
Because even in darkness it just sits back,
And with ice on its arm,
Breathes.
https://youtu.be/V8MpPKE9QOQ

Just breathe my friend. Don't worry about what you're supposed to be. You were created to live, be it only for a set number of days. Does the sun worry about exhausting itself, or the stars worry about crashing down? The answer is no, and also no you shouldn't. Trust me, we're all burning out in our own beautiful way. Embrace it and be light.

That and take care!
 Aug 2020
Colm
Your heart a grey sky scenic quaint
My brushes too cold unable to touch
Your fragrant sky now dark as storms
With stars like broken glass finely crushed

And I, and I, a dusty grain
In of a field of sandy wishes warm
Found nothing but a sharp memory pain
In the heel of my mind there sticks your thorn

Like tress unborn of acorn hopes
And buried wishes beneath dead stones
There rise and fall in the mind of see
Having since seen my dawning home

Peaking above the wavering trees
There our path beneath ever separates
And in turning hearts now etched in grey
Sketched out an open talk

Just to say that this is one of the many places
Though we once traversed, we will not walk
Two lovers unknown to each other, except really in the realm of self.

https://youtu.be/HwgzNYCSivk
 Aug 2020
Colm
You are not just the hero within the pages of your own story. You are the vessel of intuition. The growing understanding of self-undiscovered, be it in the conscious or unconscious arena. Competing with all under the sun. You live not to forget or yourself become the great shining deeds by which you may never achieve relics. But to bear witness to the self and its finite attempts to grow steadily alongside the tree of life. And in standing therein, rooted, smile at your own death. Knowing a more practical end awaits you moving.
Though not everyone is aware of it, or even capable of such contemplation. We are all so very different. With our many vice-passions and obsessions.

Enjoy.
 Jun 2020
Colm
Is a horizon ever uneven, I ask?
Is a perfect wood floor free to fall?
Is a hope, a dream, a wish
The same old night sky different
Just viewed differently by all?

I ask the stars, I asked the moon
I'd ask the sun but it just beams
And smiles knowingly in stubbornness
Having viewed all such horizontal scenes
As completed unique

No sunset was ever meant to be, it just was
And Horizons
 Apr 2020
Colm
Ruminate through me as the ache of trees
The quiet joyful tears of rain
Which ripple and shake
The ground beneath

These stars, this shimmering gleaming shine
Never tasted half so sweet in mind
As when I am with you
And underneath
 Mar 2020
Colm
Like a train track whine
become embodies both peaks and beams
The very best of
(kind)
If their ruminations on record can bounce
from flowing cloud to star and back again
Without falling an inch but
blooming into down an atmospheric
(ear)
With peaking echoes so gently drawn
that it can stir the cattails fur
and create rainless ripples across the worlds of
(water)

That is when good harping is best
As a sound so fragile that it’s almost human
in its death at last
Regardless of digital
(wax)

I love this sounding verse to pass
(me)
Harmonica sings my soul song
https://youtu.be/WuY7asmc0Sc
 Feb 2020
Colm
I cannot satisfy myself with flowers
Out of fear of never seeing the trees
Swim in puddles
When I know that I ought to dance in the ocean
Selfishly, I'm not sorry now
Though I may once have been
If you are niether as tall or as deep as these
But I want no wattage less than sunshine
No new life born of less than me
You will learn this quickly, perhaps
That I am a proud and patient sort of being
Maybe she was right to give me that nickname... Welp. OK.
 Feb 2020
Colm
The beauty of here
Is not me
Or that you can see
With the exactitude of what is
No, the beauty of here is you
And that you're willing to look at all
At this reflective, moonlit, sea
Thanks readers. (:

(for HePo)
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