The stream (all workshops)
It's a good thing
that there exist
so many people who Do things
Not just sit and talk about
the how and where and worth of deeds
not just record the dull facts
or reckon their costs
Yet there are also
dreamers
who tell what Could be
Should be
in a memorable manner
called poetry
Beauty is not an endeavor for you,
Because you were created in nature;
A natural beauty of a garden for two,
Breath blown into you by the Creator.
Woman-
It was you…
So there I dreamed in all my seclusion,
As I anticipated the day of us meeting;
A prayer was answered against destitution,
A rib extracted while I was still sleeping.
Woman-
It was you…
As I ensconce amongst the rubble
Matured leaves scattered about me
The appeasing roar of passing cars brings solace
I sense a chill, but this is nothing new
Paralysed ice inhabits my chest, weighing me down
Aching as though to personify pain
The glacier has already turned the liquid substance rushing through my veins from red to blue
The youthful warmth; erased
So let the wind blow from East, West
For this is nothing new, nothing new to my chest
Reflection
The sprites fled the goblins stayed
Was this the winter of my days?
Or just the thought that had gone astray
To haunt me now in these later ways
Did I do all things that were true?
Could I have hurt one such as you?
I feel that in my journey through
there was something better I could do
There I hope that in all my days
That all the bad things in my ways
Would not be shown to other beings
But kept deep inside with other feelings
Tell me why, daddy
why do you hit mommy in front of me?
what wrong has she done to you?
don't you love her anymore?
I can't sleep
you are always shouting
mummy is always crying
none of us is happy anymore
when both of you quarrel
you turn my life upside down
i am scared
but its like you forget to care
I miss the hugs and kisses
that both of you used to give at night
the bedtime stories before I sleep
the safe feeling I had when you are there
heavenly pixels
lay your slender screen
alive with diffused vulgarity
softened like a breath upon
the magic mirror
like soot from the coal fires
of an ancient era
when piston driven wheels
spoke night shifts
and wayfreights
hatboxes and trunks
on laden carts
arise sweet forgetfulness
wakened from the slumber
of the dead
like narcotic flowers
perfumed from seedmonies
She woefully knelt
to garner her tears;
words of pain fell
to tell her fears-
but betrayed,
only silence
peaked
to speak.
The emptiness
of my loss
is reducing me
to nothing,
I am sliding
into the arms
of the chasm,
my days
grow shadows,
as the mind
ever weakens
the light of sight
is slowly
being devoured.
Coldness
has gripped
at the center of me,
the fire fails
to warm
the sun refuses
to shine,
flames that once
lit my soul
are now gathered
in the corners
consumed to ash
my moments of clarity
are fading...
l had a familiar shadow
surprise me with such a grace,
that I beamed out-loud in silence with a grin;
I owned that fragile moment
that Time cannot erase,
and was dealt a sort of comfort from within.
'Twas good to see your smile again,
'twas good to hear your laugh,
l deemed it so, and said so after all;
then, l calmed my racing thoughts
(and cut confusion down to half),
eliminating my propensity to fall.
Liar!
I call you a liar!
You claim to love yourself
hoping to live a long life
but you hold in your hand
a lighted cigarette
poisoning your body,
polluting the air that you breathe
contradicting your own words
as you surrender to addiction
Pages
(c) Neopoet.com. No copyright is claimed by Neopoet to original member content.