On Writing

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Volatile, like ethanol,
My thoughts evaporate,
One after another,
Until the mind finds,
Itself drunken on words,
Flowing endlessly from,
The depths of my imagination.

Worlds unknown, borrowed,
From the world we live in,
Encumbered by the limitations,
Of all we see and believe,
Yet still the surreal voices,
Echoing from written verse,
Seem so strange to hear.

Visions of our deepest fears,
Darkness and chaos,
Come together to spread,
Terror in our hearts,
Only to be shattered
By heroes unheard of,
To melt all that makes us afraid.

Like an artist without a brush,
Always painting pictures,
From the depths of the soul,
With colors unknown,
But felt in every stroke,
Of the pen we dearly hold,
As the heart bleeds.

The song of the heart,
Escapes as barely a whisper,
Floating through the air,
Like a fragrant perfume,
Sweet and uplifting,
Touching all but the person,
For whom it was sung.

These feelings in my heart,
Rarely spoken of,
Yet always written about,
Bring into solid form,
My true inner self,
More realistically than,
The words left unspoken.

What am I without my muse;
Without the pen in my hand,
And thoughts wild in my mind;
Without empty words,
Building so much meaning;
Without momentary feelings,
Bringing life permanence?

I would be Nothing,
But the sweet fragrance,
Of wild strawberries,
Floating through the air,
Untouched, unfelt, unheard.
Yet always present,
Silently hidden.

~*~*~

Whirlwind

~*~*~

It was a whirlwind that caught us
And spun us round and round
Before throwing us back to the ground.
We found ourselves scattered
Our lives in complete disarray
And the pieces strewn helter-skelter
Taking us on roads winding and far away.

We always looked for adventure,
But of a peaceful disposition,
Unlike the storm that churned us out
Rampaging all in its path
Till the only solid form left behind
Was the shards of our broken heart,
Our shattered soul, and tired mind.

The pieces fit together like a puzzle,
And we knew we could build up
The house that was torn down
But the willpower was lacking,
And one of us gave up half way
While the other was left to pick up
The pieces, and wander alone.

~*~*~

A Pocketful of Sand

“Greeting the Ocean” by deadpoet88

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I sat alone by the seashore
Waiting for the waves to catch me
And take me out to sea
Yet I felt a strange fear
Of being washed up on alien shores
And finding the emptiness that haunts me.

The sands were soft under my feet

As the sea would come to greet me
With a delightful coolness
And splash me when I least expected>
Leaving the taste of lingering salt on my tongue
And the rough sand clinging to my dress.

I danced a waltz with the ocean

Catching the water in the cup of my hand
As the waves rolled higher, engulfing more sand
And there was no one I wanted but you
To hold my hand as I walked on
Into the ocean to greet the highest wave.

I surrendered to the saline waters

Letting it play tug of war with my body
I watched the pebbles roll out beside me
Too feeble to resist the smoothing waves
And crab peeked through the salty liquid
Before being carried out to sea.

Then I found myself standing

As the waves crashed against me
And took me closer to peace
And I walked away from the salty sea
With an unexpected gift left by the ocean
A pocketful of sand and a smile on my lips.

~*~*~

There is something about the ocean which draws me towards it. I guess most people must feel this way about the ocean, but I somehow believe that I have such a liking for it because I spent much of my childhood living near it. I didn’t visit it that often, but if I had known what a wonderful the sea is at that time, I’m sure I would’ve gone there every chance I had. Some of my earliest memories are about beaches, seashells, and the sound of the waves. Somehow I’m feeling kind of nostalgic about it. There is nothing like sitting in the water as the waves lap over you. I can just sit and listen forever.

Musings on a Rainy Afternoon

Abode by deadpoet88

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The clouds formed a carpet in the sky,
Shedding drops of heaven to the ground,
The wind danced like my fickle mind,
Changing direction with every sound,
And I sat dreamily watching the cold wet tar,
As a flower fallen, was picked up by the wind,
And rolled down the pavement before it stopped,
So enchanting was the moment,
Mesmerized, my eyes lingered to it constantly,
Though I knew the wind had dropped it home.

I sat there listening to the voices of children talking,
As friends who sat beside me talked of news,
Yet I heard nothing, but the sound of silence
Trying hard to be heard, but still quite amused.
The gooseberry flavor lingered on my tongue,
Recently stolen from the garden nearby,
The taste was tangy, my tongue dry,
As I sat there dreamily pondering over life,
Life was sour, life was bitter, and oh so sweet,
And then I thought of you and smiled.

Sadness crept into my heart in faint traces.
As I stared at the poor man’s abode across the street,
It was desolated and empty, with a shiny lock,
Rusting, and so fragile, as if about to fall,
Yet among the riches, stood this poor man’s life,
Possessions meant nothing in these times of strife,
But his world was hidden behind that decaying door,
Through which he must have crawled every night,
To lie awake until the thoughts clouded his mind
And put him in a state of sweet slumber.

The wind blew, and took my mind for a ride,
To unknown faces, and far off places,
And a beautiful sadness took over my soul,
Threatening to steal away my feelings so cold.
The voices from the distance came to life,
As if awakening me from a dream,
But my heart was light, my thoughts dreamy,
As we walked back to our box of reality,
The fallen flowers floating in puddles,
Kept me from forgetting that sad, beautiful emotion.

~*~*~

Crane

Crane by deadpoet88

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With the Crane came happiness,
And sunlight dissolved the darkness
That had permeated deep into the soul.
The warmth crept up slowly,
Taking away the numbness inside,
And with it the melancholic echoes.
The silence it brought lingered on,
Like peace after a great storm,
And no chaos was left anymore.
This Great Crane, this wondrous bird,
Flew into my heart without a word,
And with it, came the essence of life.

~*~*~

Shadows

Darkness lifts

~*~*~

Shimmering, shimmering in the wind,
Like tassels hanging from the boughs of trees.
The drunken air, heavy with a mist of innocence,
Brushing away softly with a gentle breeze,
The sadness lingering in the heart of shadows.

Long ago did the darkness lift,
Taking with it the essence of living.

Beckoning, beckoning the memories from long ago,
The scarlet drops of pain glistening in the sun,
Lovingly merging the present and the past,
In an embrace fabricated for perpetual silence,
As the world quivered with a single silent sigh.

Long ago did the darkness lift,
All the Just chose to follow.

Sinking, sinking nonchalantly into the bowels of the earth,
The pungent fragrance permeating into the atmosphere
Songs of burden lie at the beak of song birds,
Lethargically lulling all life to sleep,
With the cacophony of dullness heavy in the air.

Long ago did the darkness lift,
The earthen beauty fell into an unbreakable sleep.

Forgetting, forgetting the future yet to come,
Was it an abandoned wish, or a memory lost?
The sands of space and time in disarray,
And chaos did let loose a white offering of peace,
Wrecking havoc in the form of tranquility.

Long ago did the darkness lift,
With it went all songs of Harmony.

Shivering, shivering in the rivers of belligerent strife,
The shadows mourn naked in the light,
Stripped of all but the shame they hold.
Without darkness, how can one know light?
Such is the tale the shadows believe.

Long ago did the darkness lift,
But the shadows stayed behind.

Longing, longing for necessity,
Screaming quietly for the triumph of truth,
But what is truth without lies to confirm them?
Where does one hide from a fiery sun?
What is good without a breath of evil?

Long ago did the darkness lift,
But with it so did the light…

~*~*~

 

The Happy Days

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I still remember the day these photographs were taken. It seems like another life or a dream too good to be true. It was a dream too good to be true. Those were the happy days, that are no more.

~*~*~

Muse

‘Twas a soft song in the air,
That whispered dreams into mine ears.
Butterflies stroked the summer rays,
With the beat of their gentle wings.
These dreams did fill mine heart,
With little joys meant to disappear.
The warmth of the wildflowers,
Did touch this lost soul from within.

The softness of thy voice,
Struck a chord in mine heart.
Thou lovingly tuned the strings of my soul,
And made me thy muse much loved.
The sky blushed from adoring innocence,
As the music of mine heart hung heavy in the air.
The sweetness of thy song,
Filled my world with everlasting hope.

Honeybees suckled in pools of nectar,
Flowers grew brighter at every passing day.
Dewdrops on the grass glistened in the morning,
Dancing to the melody that filled the sweet air.
Thou played thy muse so lovingly,
In tune with the song of thy heart.
Ne’er hadst the world heard such love,
Sung from the common core of two souls come together.

Thou wast an artist, in love with thy instrument,
Caressing her strings gently, lest they break.
All were in awe of thy heart’s warming music,
Most of all thy own muse who sang.
Thou ne’er let another touch her,
She sang only the will of thine heart.
A queen she was, in the palace of thy verse,
Thou inspired reverence in her eyes.

With use, the best of things, wear out,
As didst the muse of thine heart, thy love.
An instrument old, is meant to be forsaken,
Yet thou didst not wish to give up thy love.
Artiste thou wast, thou art, thou shalt always be,
Thine heart wast ne’er mine, but of thy talent.
If only, mine heart could be an instrument more skilled,
Might thou ne’er hast left me.

Sadly, ’twas a time long ago,
Now the strings of mine heart lie broken,
The once magical muse abandoned.
An instrument unskilled for the artist,
Has no fate but everlasting silence,
As the virtuoso finds himself a muse better suited.
Alas, this muse forsaken, heartbroken, forgotten,
Lays down to sleep, forever, under the misty sky.

~*~*~