The stream (all workshops)
My stomach turns
At the memory of loving you
I mistook the pain
For butterflies
To the last sight and the last sigh
I would climb, my one great desire
being growth.
And when I can rise no farther,
when death demands its last breath,
I would disperse my energies
and give gently away.
But my Creator -till the day
that my joy re-enters Yours
give me growth and its hope
And if perchance
I begin to stink
as the stagnant pool
let me not be deceived
but cut me cleanly away
An appetizer, essentially an
out of this world guacamole
quasi Neptune salad,
regarding self taught cook
earning prized counterpart
five Michelin stars,
when the missus artfully, carefully,
cannily, decorously, deftly,
and happily prepared
earlier today June 21st, 2024
for her favorite buzzfeeding nincompoop
The silent self
driven drifter
drastically
dragging his
folded enfeebled
feet . Steadily
staggering stumbling
towards the
tiring turning
tides of time
and its tragically
trampled trail
of troubles .
With a bluntly
emboldened
band eternally
tied across
his abnormal
brow . His
arms outstretched
wistfully wandering
through his
darkened
unmarked world
of open air .
My eyes and ears were burning,
and still I couldn't sleep.
All that I desired to do
was to lie there in a heap.
My motivation crushed again,
but I had to work to eat.
I couldn't get up out of bed
the darkness ran too deep.
The anxiety was so intense
I cried and wept for weeks!
I threw myself up out of bed
and walked out on the street.
And though the darkness still remained
I would not accept defeat!
Physically exhausted
Emotionally detached
Torn from my connection
My sacred communion
To some ethereal muse divine
Where the absence of words
has left me riddled with holes
dark and apathetic voids
aching to be smoothed over
patched and plastered
I replace with art
For words have become elusive
Feelings have not
In the silence of painting
I find respite
In the flowing water
brilliant pigments find life
within the sovereignty of
serenity and acceptance
He said, “let there be light”
and there you were.
You’re prone to penning poetry;
you've sensed the simple symmetry
that's hidden from most mortal eyes
behind a dull, but deft disguise:
The beauty of a leaf or bud,
the silence of a winding wood.
The echo in your deep heart’s core
that bids you love and hate no more.
You’re sensitive, some say a seer!
With prophet’s powers and eyes that peer
into the future, dark and deep,
where some will dance and some will weep.
That you moved on.
I thought we were forever.
Then, I thought we were a few years.
But, no matter how much I tried to squeeze my hope into some type of "something"
It didn't work.
I lost you.
And now I have to see you be happy,without me.
I guess I was the problem.
I am really terrified
Of the thought
That i maybe won't see
Your divane and angelic face
Hear your ethereal voice
Feel your enchanting presence
That though
Makes me feel numb and miserable
And tears won't stop flowing
From the brimming wells
of my mournful eyes
It feels like my shattered heart
Will stop beating any second
So i hope that won't happen
Even in my nightmares
Pages
(c) Neopoet.com. No copyright is claimed by Neopoet to original member content.