The Li(f)e (for JC)

the faded doormat declares ‘home’
at the foot of this haunted house
where we close our eyes, salute tradition
(and endure, only to wither)
as time grows long and parched;
where our shells dwell and hearts take flight
to the tunes of a ruinous, stagnant past
nailed to the doors; totems of yore
sealed with bloody kisses, entombed
to bury prospects forever.

here we vegetate; naked eye and callused feet
ancestor’s footsteps well-stocked with glowing embers
where the blatant chains weigh us down
we hold the torch till days turn to dust.
how shall we roam free
if trapped by shame,
if held by a name –
if our graves are dug before we live?
claim tomorrow, repel the bonds
and find your Own, far beyond the ruins.

__________________________________________________________________
… my part of I Have Longed To Fight This Li(f)e.
JC, you are right. It is definitely interesting to have a look at both pieces separately. Totally different when each stands alone. Mr. Thomas’ work can be found here. Thanks for the nudge!

I Have Longed To…Fight This Li(f)e

I have longed to move away
the faded doormat declares ‘home’
From the hissing of the spent lie
at the foot of this haunted house
And the old terrors’ continual cry
where we close our eyes, salute tradition
Growing more terrible as the day
(and endure, only to wither)
Goes over the hill into the deep sea;
as time grows long and parched;
I have longed to move away
where our shells dwell and hearts take flight
From the repetition of salutes,
to the tunes of a ruinous, stagnant past
For there are ghosts in the air
nailed to the doors; totems of yore
And ghostly echoes on paper,
sealed with bloody kisses, entombed
And the thunder of calls and notes.
to bury prospects forever.

I have longed to move away but am afraid;
here we vegetate; naked eye and callused feet
Some life, yet unspent, might explode
ancestor’s footsteps well-stocked with glowing embers
Out of the old lie burning on the ground,
where the blatant chains weigh us down
And, crackling into the air, leave me half-blind.
we hold the torch till days turn to dust.
Neither by night’s ancient fear,
how shall we roam free
The parting of hat from hair,
if trapped by shame,
Pursed lips at the receiver,
if held by a name –
Shall I fall to death’s feather.
if our graves are dug before we live?
By these I would not care to die,
claim tomorrow, repel the bonds
Half convention and half lie.
and find your Own, far beyond the ruins.

__________________________________________________________________
I tackled a marvellous piece written by my favorite poet… Mr. Dylan Thomas’I Have Longed To Move Away“. May he forgive me.

Worlds Apart

a bump
in this cobblestone road
turns determination
to despair

you
run for the hills,
evaporate in turbulence,
no longer allow yourself
to cast a shadow;

while i
stretch and yawn ~
and expect
the usual pace/face
with the morning paper.

A Moment

a moment

a breath

and you.

You
shrug off
the guilt-stained shroud,
patched with fraying morals

to dance
to the silver-coated hymn

to dance
among the fearless and the free

to dance
for the spark in you

and turn it to flame.

Lead the Way into the Wild

lead the way into the wild ~
etch flowing paths into my feeble heart;
teach me the chords to nature’s truthful sound;
to keep still, when silenced; bound to life.
untie my legs and draw me out to walk,
to find courage within, through gentlest touch.

miraculous; simple touch
revives parched dreams; finds stray hope, running wild.
rivulets of souls mingle as we walk,
to swell; with rawness, engulf weakened heart
and flood; waves’ tongues returning fragile life
to be cradled, gingerly; safe and sound

with these brittle bones, un-sound,
from solid stone to stone we hop; we touch
freedom’s sweetness, to coalesce with life.
find the fountain; youthful, deep pool of wild-
ness; cleanses, with ease, recovering heart
and mends weary bones, now destined to walk

nature’s call, perceived while walk-
ing; earth’s untamed presence, captured in sound ~
bittersweet song, unleashed to pierce the heart,
rises, in delicate tunes; tempting touch ~
the zenith; music, alive in veins, wild;
joyous ~ a glimpse at the meaning of life

strong, steady hand unfolds life;
now, at its fullest, and proudly i walk,
find serenity in this wayward wild.
whole now; the gift of my own voice, my sound
resonates, rewards me; i reach and touch
my soul; translucent, sister to my heart.

and through pulses of the heart,
the one, universal language of life,
we are united; led by spirit’s touch.
from valley deep to highest peak we walk,
among legends; set out, seeking the sound
the haunting rhythm, the call of the wild.

heart’s steady beat guides, wherever we walk;
through life, encouraged by ancestral sound;
by purposeful touch, reborn… in the Wild.

__________________________________________________________________
… a Sestina (hard work, argh!), inspired by the Iron Poets and linked to dVerse Poets Pub for OpenLinkNight. Doors open at 3pm EST… bring a poem and 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.

__________________________
photo credits: wallpaperdj.com

(Un)Sung

through the haze of smoke and tears
dawn erupts, blows vivid sheen ~
poisoned fumes upon the guilty,
windy eyes, that never seen

empty stares of empty vessels,
empty hearts beat empty minds ~
shallow vultures come to listen,
how the bleariness unwinds

seek the virtue, seek the silence,
seek the truth within the deep ~
find the courage, tear the image,
gather tongues and take a leap.

_____________________
photo credits: flickr.com

Modern Fences

everyone fends
for himself.
society’s favorite proverb.

fence constructed (check)
in place (check);
now go, seize the day!
(in your neatly erected prison)

to show
weakness
means getting crushed
to pulp; the brink of extinction
under
bureaucrats’ shiny boots.

pay them well…
blood money;
it looks like
Tom Sawyer’s new Gang
missed a few spots –
there were
not enough funds;
there were
gaping holes
in the contract.

to each his own
mankind
consists of
black, white;
shades of gray…
and, if we’re lucky,
there’s still color
on the edges.

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Brian is tending the bar over at dVerse – today, we are to write poems inspired by Sue Ann‘s lovely artwork. Come join us!

photo credits: Sue Ann

Dear Past,

you have haunted me for quite a while now.

this morning, i woke up feeling something… extraordinary.

the anger was gone.
just gone.
poof.

i have no idea how long it has been.
it feels like a lifetime.
i always figured i would feel somewhat naked without it, but i don’t. it just feels… lighter somehow. i like it.
so, after receiving such a great gift, i stepped up and took the newfound opportunity.
i wrote something.
to someone.
i got rid of the last few scraps of hurt still floating around in my mind. it felt… good. those words out there, no longer sharpened and shaped by anger… i have to admit i was a bit proud of myself.
i said what i wanted to say. what needed to be said.
i paved the road for someone… and what that someone makes of it… no longer up to me.
i removed a burden not meant for me to carry. sweet relief.

my dear past, i want to thank you.

thank you for finally letting me slip out of your grasp… for letting me see, that there is something else waiting for me. something different from painful memories. it is such a good feeling to start blinking again.

thank you for letting me wake up today… feeling like this.
thank you for letting go of me.

forever grateful,
the former fist of anger

Aspect

stripped bare
under neon lights;
cower in the shade
of oblivion.
pupils dilate,
people deflate –
and it all
comes down to
courage…
or lack thereof.

Bad Dreams

bright, colored spots
cloud my vision;
knife, twisting in my jaw –
a shadow of the chainsaw
wrecking my brain at night.
neck, stiff and sore;
ibuprofen, my best friend
today.
although you sneak up on me
and stab me in the back,
i will not let you
claw your way back in.