Turn the Tide

children of the new age,
homeward bound;
a deliberate chance to re-
new, to dust ancient lore.
golden age they whisper,
established through the plunge of man – then
spiral to awareness on higher frequencies.

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Claudia over at dVerse invites us to write about Change/Turns… come join us at the bar!

The Age of Aquarius

evolving_soul-1920x1080

bohemian minds;

the source, the fountain of old ~
no longer impelled
to feed on
muddy waters.

dark reign’s destiny
detained
in ancient, golden letters;
a guiding light
through battles
yet to come.

when clarity
becomes palpable;
when angry steel
becomes memory’s wisp,
the world we know
will reveal
a brand-new face.

(hold on)

stride,
with purpose,
towards a new dawn.

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photo credits: wallpaperdj.com

On the Dark Side of the Moon

1338147684_Waxing Crescent 35

on the dark side of the moon
where the sleeping rest their minds,
lies the land of hopes and dreams
there, eternity unwinds.

every soul who travels far,
to the dark side of the moon ~
seeks the council of the Wise,
listens to the ancient tune.

those who stay behind in shame
lost their purpose, lost their will;
on the dark side of the moon
wisdom reigns and time stands still.

when you seek the truth in dreams,
hope to find your answers soon;
go, explore and make a wish
on the dark side of the moon.

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A Quatern, slightly altered (only seven syllables per line and i cheated a bit with the refrain), because I enjoy them so much… And yes, I know it’s a Pink Floyd Album… 😉

Shared with dVerse Poets Pub’s Open Link Night… come join us at the bar!

photo credits: examiner.com

A Painter’s Struggle

sometimes words
shred dreams
faster than we can comprehend.

it takes a long while,
maybe a lifetime,
to repaint
the colorful walls
that once embraced us.

never loosen
your grip
on the brush;
never
stop the paint
from flowing.


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photo credits: en.wikipedia.org

Calling Dylan Thomas

Over at dVerse Poets Pub, Victoria invited us to try the concept of literary allusion (reference to another literary work). I decided to turn to Dylan Thomas and his wonderful poem ‘And Death Shall Have No Dominion’ today.
This is what I came up with. Enjoy, if you will…
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Dylan Thomas: And Death Shall Have No Dominion

Calling Dylan Thomas

years have passed
your lines
stand tall,
unbent ~
while death
is still
hard on our heels,
scatters lives
and presses on

we fight;
oh how we fight…
to stop the fighting,
to honor your words ~
death still
holds the world
in a death grip,
squeezing; its vivid juices
to evaporate beyond

take your words
and paint them
across the horizon
so we will not forget
your vision;
your rays…
your tendrils of hope.


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photo credits: malepicture.blogspot.com

Rocks and Reasons

as we move,
step by step,
up the side of the mountain,
the valley below
seems so distant,
so unreal.

covered in fog,
we no longer see
where we came from…
how it felt
to be
cradled
by earth’s womb.

facing the cold and biting wind,
we force our feet
to keep from freezing solid;
we chase our fate,
our desired
(and sometimes feared)
destiny.

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photo credits: panoramio.com

The Story of High Hopes

make way for the king!
the king of high hopes,
majestic garb
embroidered with
elusive words
and subtle lies.

“how dare you
cross my path,
filthy animal?
did you not hear
the command
to move?”

and while
the humble man
still fumbled for words,
his spirit
got crushed
by high hopes’
heavy undercarriage.

It’s Time

work with me
on the surface of sound,
the brink of humanity’s rose war;
for centuries untouched subject
but unveiled in the presence
of dire need.

grab your spears
to pierce
traditions, dusty and brittle;
hidden in Snow White’s casket
to remind us
of history’s looming index finger –
ever accusing,
ever present.

isn’t it time
to leave time behind?

disassemble
clockwork’s mantra.
unfold your sticky wings
and leave
the familiar, paralyzing cocoon.

isn’t it time
to leave time behind?!

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… posted for dVerse’s Open Link Night… come join us at the Bar!

To Make Peace

anger left,
too sudden for a parting gift.
his scent will not
linger…
not anymore.

gratitude will stay;
the hot-blooded companion
made the sting of wounds
less painful.

i owe you…
much.
i owe you…
my sanity.

i will never forget
how your power
fueled my will
to survive.

now, i may float
and enjoy the peace
of shallower, safer waters.

because of you, my companion…
all
because
of you.

Hope, After All

bound to the grave of
mystery’s debt
glistening tears
of creeping mold
on the freshly stained body;
the sun lingers
to cook up the corpse; lurid
and lift its spirit
to innocent meadows beyond.

Anchor

the smoke clears
to reveal
shuttered hearts and broken minds
long forgotten, floating
in the mists beyond obedience.
how belief’s rope
will tow them ~
i do not know,
but i surely
will keep tying the strings
and wait… to be
an anchor.

Writing in Wild Waters

fear
of drowing
in an angry sea

a word!
one word
a beacon –
hold it tight

another
and another
slowly knot
a string of words

more…
gather strings
to make
a rope
longer

longer still

until
the rope of words
becomes
an escape route ~
leading
back to sanity…

back
to safer shores.

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photo credits: wetcanvas.com