Posts Tagged ‘Poetry’

Traveller

Posted: June 30, 2014 in Poetic Paths
Tags: , , , ,

His wine is the distance between each place,

The miles and metres intoxicate.

As he draws closer to where he desires,

He drowns in heightened mind-state.

For time was no barrier as he made his way,

It pleased to see light fall and fade.

Under night, stars and moon, fear lit many fires,

When city lights couldn’t reach his place.

Specks dot the sky and even landscape,

In majestic view too grand to take.

The dark brings with it many liars,

But he need not worry in his silent state.

Destination is destiny each time he reaches

Out beyond static man’s releases.

In a new alley under new cardboard sheets,

Our traveller finds a foreign land to sleep.

The Traveller

The Traveller


I sat in a room that sits in me,
Some call this room Reality.
It spun and twisted to bring me pictures
Of life beyond what my senses insisted
Revolving and dizzying my heart it rendered
Me helpless to decide on which path it ended.

I sat in a room that sits in me,
Some call this room Reality.
A dream turned live with the blink of an eye
Yet forgotten and replaced by a distracting high
With space to grow more than any place before
That I experienced in fullness for a few seconds, no more.

I sat in a room that sits in me,
I call this room Reality.
With journeys begun but never complete
It’s the story you start but never believe
Having you as the main character playing many roles
But you’re played by the roles without knowing your cause.

I sat in a room that sits in me,
I called this room Reality.
I opened its door, and unfortunately
Its label said Potentiality.


The final licks suck out oxygen from the broken air
Flickering a shameful light in a foreboding darkness.
Black watches as brightness fails to conquer its madness
Leaping from one side to another in the hope of finding respite But this night in its shining armour lowers his weapon
To watch his nemesis take his last breaths
As the fatal wound bleeds out in a dancing singular flame.

The road had been long, and the battle had been drawn out
From the towns of Fury to the valleys of Shadows they fought! Opposites clashing in an unwanted marriage of death
Seeking superiority over each other’s trophy of stature.
The raging storms of light and fire against the silent planes of Quiet shrouded entities, heard but never noticed as they never Gave away their presence to sight or sensation.

Had the light stayed in its place there would be no sacrifice In the stead of its followers who had given their last offering To a dazzling king of rage. It was swayed by the illusion
Of total immortality in the face of darkness that tempted it from its home Bringing its deceptions of weakness to play upon the false
Beliefs of the enlightened beings that ate wood and flesh with ease. The Black would be triumphant over the Bright.

Slowly the last flame sucked at oxygen to give it strength
But its form was too shameful to draw any to mount a resistance. The blade of despair had caused brilliance to become fading embers of Former glory and power, the shadows dancing around the final light, Taunting it to live in futility, in fear, and in false hope. The light grew dim. The flame, burnt out.
The shadows drew in. Darkness gave its victorious shout.

But who can hear the joys of the dark,
When within themselves, there is not even a spark?

Over.

Traveller

Posted: March 1, 2012 in Poetic Paths
Tags: , , ,

His wine is the distance between each place,
The miles and metres intoxicate.
As he draws closer to where he desires,
He drowns in heightened mind-state.

For time was no barrier as he made his way,
It pleased to see light fall and fade.
Under night, stars and moon, fear lit many fires,
When city lights couldn’t reach his place.

Specks dot the sky and even landscape,
In majestic view too grand to take.
The dark brings with it many liars,
But he need not worry in his silent state.

Blending into the moments of movement each day,
His steps take strength and grace.
Belief in existence beyond electric wires.
Freedom he knows, is his to take.

Heavy and burdened he seeks out rest,
As wonder loses the sting of its best
Show and splendour overtaken by needs,
His heart full, but his body now weak.

Destination is destiny each time he reaches
Out beyond static man’s releases.
In a new alley under new cardboard sheets,
Our traveller finds a foreign land to sleep in.

Over.


It places itself upon the grass of every dawning day
Becoming a trap to light and an entity of delight
For observers who’s eyes adjust to it criminal performance
That stole the show from the sun.

Each time it seems to dance with rays of refracted energy
Like a diamond carved not cut for the specific purpose
Of travelling from raw materials to finished majesty
Before the eyes of those undone.

The tears of the morning are there every dawning with each day
Weeping over yesterday’s passing on into the memories
Of history and mythology accepting the previous into their
Eternal place of timelessness

The grass is heavy with each drop bearing its own glory
And agony simultaneously jostling for the spotlight of those
Who can observe the dazzling display of creation boasting its ability
To be present and allow its present to digress.

For wonder and honour do the petals carry their share of dew
Due to each day and each of nature’s outdoor family,
They must not allow even one drop to fall but only to
Evaporate in the course of the day.

As it is with any tear that is left to itself to live and die
Just like those whose death gave it purpose to exist on the
Cheek of any who have cried in the loss of life close by
And love that has been delayed.

“Who shed these tears?” the tall trees ask as they watch the ground
Underneath and surrounding them, that has been littered with
Dazzling treasures existing through the mere process of time passing…
Yes, Yesterday’s passing.

“Whose eyes released these?” enquired the birds in the branches,
Alive enough to move and be excused from the chore of holding up these
Gems in perfect stillness lest one should fall and be forgotten
By Time itself fleeting.

I looked at the dew of the morning and asked the same as the trees and birds,
Wondering what pain was felt to produce such expensive scenery
For such temporary showing screening before those who were still enough
To care for such a vista.

Is yesterday so alive that it must be mourned by each morning?
Should the tears of Time be found on the petals of beauty and growth?
Such filled my mind for I had my own purpose to impose upon the phenomena
Of nature’s process under the fading stars.

My own could not be shed for I could not be still enough to let them
Fall from my eyes and be carried by the petals of my cheeks to be evaporated
By the release of sadness into the air of continuing life
And opportunity as flexible and grounded as grass.

Every morning due comes with mourning dew,

For my own mourning due did not come to pass.

Over.


I’m a little frustrated with myself! Great opening line to a post! There will be no pictures, only raw letters today. This post is dedicated to everyone, including and especially myself, who let excuses get in the way of their Dream!

It annoys me so much to watch talented people (yes you too) waste their ability because of some fear or whatever. Now, I’m a Christian, and in my circles, the excuses border on amazing! “I’m just being humble” is one good one… Hello? Jesus hit the WHOLE WORLD, and is STILL doing it!! Maybe your definition of ‘humility’ is flawed. It’s not the “ability to blend in and do live invisibly” like we’ve defined it, but it’s the basis upon which we do anything. Being noticed is not a sign of pride… It’s a sign of being noticed! Whether it’s for something great or stupid, people are noticed all the time. If what you want to do will result in some notice, that doesn’t mean you weren’t humble, it means people found it worth noticing. If they talk, well then unless you’re the one telling them what to say, you’re not some diva in the making, you’re worth talking about.

What about this one: “It’s not the right time”. Just great! You’ve just confessed to having in your possession some kind of device that gives you specifics about when you must “become something”, or when to take advantage of an opportunity. I swear if you have something like that in your pocket, I will be jealous! Nobody has the “right time” written into their DNA. All that everybody has, is TIME! As in, right now! As in, today. As in, HELLO! It is ridiculous that we have this thing called a brain, and we decide it needs breaks, as if we were over-using it in the first place (not!). Nothing on this Earth can give you a reason to wait for your Dream to come true. The only things that can take time are the processes towards your Dream happening, but they are part of the Dream! The only time that is truly bad for any kind of attempt, is when you’re dead! When you die, it is guaranteed that you won’t get anything done!

How’s this one: “I’m not ready”. Well whose fault is that??? You’re “not ready” because you’re probably not doing anything to be ready. I used to think I needed to read a bunch of poetry before I could write any. And yes, it does help to expose yourself to as much as you can. However, exposure is not what grants you permission to act on something! I went to one poetry event, heard a few poets, and it was decided! It didn’t take months, it didn’t take years, or many books on style and technique, it took a little kick, and I responded to it!

What is a “little kick”? It’s a moment of inspiration. It’s a place where you feel “I want to do THAT as well”. It could be a dream you had one night, or something you heard, even a movie (ever notice how movies that highlight creativity just make you wanna do what you saw?)… whatever the “little kick”, you have to note that it isn’t a permanent source of inspiration/energy! Basically, it will dissipate, and will no longer inspire you after a while when left alone. If you don’t act on it, you can never be ready. Readiness is for those whose mindsets and actions are aligned with a purpose. It’s not even about knowing everything there is to know, it’s just simply being in the right mental position to respond to opportunity!

Oh wait, you’re “shy”? Is that the problem? Unfortunately, there’s no cure for shyness. Yes I said it! It’s not something that “gets better”, personally I don’t even know how it exists in this world. In fact, I think it’s a device we’ve come up with. Shyness is the ability to look at yourself, and be absolutely blind to what you can do right, for the sake proving some imaginary statistic that you will mess up whatever you put your hands to. Shyness sees $99.95 and says “I’m 5 cents short of $100… I’m broke!” So it doesn’t spend any money! Shyness will ignore your talents, and make you look at failures you haven’t even committed yet.

In short, shyness is the worst form of perfectionism you could ever live with! You should RUN from that description ( just make sure you run with your head up and shoulders straight! Need to see where you’re going.)!

It can’t allow any mistakes, so it makes you do nothing. Huh?? Yes, because of that earlier statement, in an even shorter form: Shyness makes you stupid! Of course I had to hit the nail on the head. I was shy to say that, I wanted to say “makes you do stupid things”. That would’ve been more politically correct, but I realised being polite is the reason people aren’t honest anymore with each other, or themselves. We say “I want to be humble” instead of saying “I’m crap scared of how people will respond”. We say “It’s not the right time” instead of saying “I’m anxious about when to do this, and I really don’t have full security right now”. We say “I’m not ready” instead of saying “I’ve missed opportunities to grow in my ability, and even more, to expose it, and all those times have made me feel less sure of myself”…or even better, “I’ve been lazy with my time”!

The only way to beat all this is to JUST DO IT! Just start working on that Dream, Start that blog, get out that pen and write a poem, talk to someone about painting classes…what the heck just start painting! It’s a business? Ok, before you even talk about money, how about defining what you want to do first? How about talking to people who can encourage you in your journey for clarity on your vision. The money issue, comes AFTER clarity. Don’t worry about things you shouldn’t worry about yet. When it’s time, then it’s time.

The world isn’t actually watching you as closely as you think they are. Nobody pays attention to mediocrity! If you’re scared of criticism, then what you’re really saying s you’re scared of doing anything, because the only way to avoid criticism, is to do nothing!

You will attract attention the moment you do something different. Get over it.

You will be told some negative things in your journey, or even worse, receive some praise (to all you pessimists). Get over it.

You will have times you’re not sure of anything you’re doing. That’s part of life. Get over it.

You might fail…many times. Get over it.

Oh and last thing, when you succeed… GET OVER IT!

There’s too much at stake with your life. Some people will get their “little kick” from watching you do well. Don’t deprive them.

Don’t deprive yourself.

Don’t be shy!

Begin.


This beach is just shells of its former self!

Today I said to myself “I haven’t written a poem for ages, I should do one right now”, only to find myself staring at a blank page for 30 minutes. Then toying with a few words, and deleting them. Then remembering my blog from a little while ago “The Ebb and Flow of Thought”.

In the post I basically said it’s ok for your mind to have times when the “spark” isn’t so “sparkly” (not in those words), and that we shouldn’t always fight to be in a “Flow” frame of mind when we’re in an “Ebb” and vice versa. This is ringing so true right now for me and poetry. There’s a reason I haven’t written poems in a while. I’m just not consciously aware of it yet, and that’s okay. Something’s happening in my mind sub-consciously, and I won’t fight it.

So tonight, I am satisfied to not have a poem ready for posting sometime soon. The “poet” in me is experiencing a definite ebb. A receding of energy. It’s a two-way process however, and the ebb cannot exist without the flow. Plus, it takes a receding of the waters for treasures from the seas to be revealed. I look forward to that!

I’m at peace with that.

Over.


He sat right next to me in class
I can’t believe I forgot him
Maybe the times I spent learning
Caused a temporary blinding.
Break times he never did too much
Unless in my games I was losing
He always seemed to be present at such times
And that presence was always brooding. (more…)


Her face is hard like an ancient palace
With lines that tell tales of the ages.
She barely moves as though she were
A great monument that all have gazed upon
And admired.
She has raised her children,
Her children’s children,
And would dare face another generation.
Signs of her busyness reduced to a quiet shaking of the hands,
A reminder of her present absence in control.
With a body that has fed nations and heroes,
Dried to the point of recession. (more…)

In The Timid Nation!

Posted: September 22, 2011 in Dark Corners, Poetic Paths
Tags: ,

Thoughts blaze a path of fire in the heart
Bringing sense and sensibility to a world contained
In one brain with two eyes and an idea of safety
In the known and the barriers it presents.
Within the walls a familiar relative to peace and tranquil
Imagery that has borne the burden of being called reality.
Synergy in unity of faculties who agree the thought should be deemed
Confidence. (more…)