A form on the water
They no longer know.
It is capable of anything.
They say the flotsam is in the way,
The reflection is distorted,
By a shimmer on the surface.
On the shore they’ll find no purpose,
One must jump in.
Waiting for the image to become still and clear,
Never realizing the image was a reflection of who they were before.
Posted in Rise Above
Tagged clear, expire, flotsam, form, image, poem, poetry, reflection, shimmer, shore, water
A call from wind and windings within
And tangled bellows show,
What was prized above all else
The mirrored echos towed.
All through the mire of the night
And dawn awaiting there,
No stops for me, my love, mustn’t tarry
Beside the roses in still cold air.
The morning sun may catch my back and bathe me in its light,
My face on and forward, forgetting previous nights.
Several days have found me searching,
Wandering through the fog and waters.
Every path is just: ‘one more turn’
Every turn, a dead end I’ve followed.
Until the morning I awake to the bitter taste of real.
And the ocean of oblivion I long to pull you from,
In vain to bargain with echos your memory fading becomes.
I will wake one day no longer, and before that day comes,
It will be as I remember.
Beside the roses in the sun.
Posted in Love
Tagged bellow, echo, fog, found, love, morning, night, oblivion, ocean, path, poetry, roses, search, sun, tangled, tarry, wander, water, wind
I am the
Conqueror And Then some!
They’ll feel my wrath! All lands!
Subjects? Peasants? Servants!
They are but to serve me so!
My water smells too much like water! Change it!
My food dish is a kernel low! Bring more!
Bring to me the silly grass!
What? How dare you tell me no!
Your villages will burn!
You’ll each take my claw as punishment in turn!
But not until I’ve had my nap.
I am the
Conqueror And Then some!
And now I’ll conquer your lap.
Posted in Uncategorized
Tagged cat, Conqueror, food, grass, land, lap, poetry, servant, silly, water, wrath
Water, mountain, stone.
Ship sails among reflections.
Stillness of summer.
Holding onto grief like wilting flowers,
Their beauty is not a gift just for you,
But me; for a passing of the hours.
We all hold our own wilting flowers, true,
So there is no reason to give you mine.
I’ll hold onto these as you do to yours,
One more won’t wilt; I won’t repay in kind.
I’ll keep mine to me, I won’t create more.
All flowers simply wilt before they dry.
This. When the waters they may need are tears,
It is what’s necessary when we cry.
One lets go of this, one lets go of fear.
This. How we heal, how we make flowers bloom.
How we refuse the hearts death and heal soon.
Posted in Life (or something like it), Sonnets
Tagged beauty, bloom, cry, death, dry, fear, flower, heart, necessity, poetry, sonnet, tears, water, wilt
Under water all her breathing
Isn’t impossible as it seems. Rings
Out echos from the sown
Unknown borne of the abyssal below.
Then once more to the darkened spires,
Her climb, her flight, her pain inspired.
Descent is this? To the depths?
Sorting through what memory’s kept.
Constantly trying to change inside:
The past; it’s long been fossilized.
So full of sorrow and full of stone,
She discards strength for gills so,
She hopes not for the surface and here,
At the bottom of the ocean it’s quite clear,
That she will never rise again unless,
She can rise to the surface and above this test.
Posted in From the shadows
Tagged abyss, breath, breathe, drown, forget, gills, hope, memory, ocean, poetry, sorrow, spire, water
The beautiful ones inside him scream,
They wish to escape and to be seen.
Kept deep inside, no longer shown,
We see how sad his soul has grown.
How useless is water in the desert when
Trapped in a bottle that can’t be opened?