December 2010
21 posts
2 tags
I’m afraid the pigment may have spread
too far.
Dots on pages that spread out to consume the pretty white,
Dots on pages that become monstrous and whole.
Dots, and lines, and crosses…
That scramble across the page and reveal too much of me.
I took the space from between the letters,
And replaced it with the chaos from my head.
It blanked my mind.
Sheet of...
2 tags
Sea Sprites
I get too close.
And from the waves,
The sea sprites jump
To hug my knees.
A hug that leaves me
Cold, wet, empty
And longing for you.
1 tag
“It’s okay, to cry sometimes.”
He said.
So I knelt in the garden,
And cried all night.
The next morning-
Roses had sprung from every teardrop.
-Poemsofthesoul.tumblr.com
1 tag
Butterflies
It seems you can craft words
Out of butterflies.
Taking care to keep them alive (in so doing)
Immortalising their colours,
In an aura of perpetual poetry.
I marvell. Captive.
As they tumble; doing tricks middair,
You let them swing into spontaneous ballet.
I can’t pull away
(Or ever dare to stop.)
-Poemsofthesoul.tumblr.com
1 tag
Everybody Dreams
Everybody dreams. Obscure and wonderful dreams, sometimes they seem incoherent until much later on, and other times they are epic adventures that take you somewhere surreal and life changing, or somewhere frightening and uncomfortable. I lay awake one night wondering; where do dreams come from? On what grounds are they chosen for us? And my mind answered by taking me to a magnificent, amber...
1 tag
http://www.savethewords.org/ →
http://www.savethewords.org/
What a great place for inspiration :)
1 tag
Lights
The lights are blinding me
I guess it’s awkward that I’m trapped
And can’t look away
Not to save my life, I don’t think I would.
And if I just slightly dip my eyelids,
They fan out like stars and angels.
I’m stuck between the lights
Or in them (not sure which),
So I’ve decided I will half close my eyes,
And be in between.
Far and near - illusion and...
1 tag
Home
From home, there across the valley,
Lie memories and dreams
That have never really left.
The fields all poise in rhyme,
The hills sing, and it’s home again.
I’ve rested my eyes on the horizon,
Too many times to erase the view,
From my aching heart.
Tonight, those houses glisten
And under a setting sun,
The same chimneys reach up…
Like fingers into the sky.
I know every rooftop,
I’ve admired them...
2 tags
Is anybody there?
Hello.
If anybody is listening,
I will tell you the secret.
You may hear but do you listen?
You may know but do you understand?
If anybody-
Listen. You will understand.
-poemsofthesoul
1 tag
Icicles
Here are the icicles above my window that inspired this poem.
Icicles, silver moonlit water
Paused while it began to drip.
And filigree embellished the gutters.
In long strands of frozen water
The gentle moon is captured
And against the ice it flutters.
The pale glass hangs in ornament,
It’s frail, against the wind,
Dripping slow and serene.
And this slow and icy moment,
Is loved and felt for...
4 tags
Dew on the Thorns
O my friend, behold! Dew,
Dew on the thorns, laid there
Gently before happened the sun.
The morning pearls are waiting
For you to see them. Like
Those roses must shiver them plain off!
There is little time.
O my friend, come to see the dew,
Dew on the thorns.
What unsettles you so?
It is
Beautiful
As well as dangerous
My friend.
For the beauty is not
In the sunlight I can...
1 tag
Snow Storm by John Clare 1793-1864
What a night! The wind howls, hisses, and but stops
To howl more loud, while the snow volley keeps
Incessant batter at the window pane,
Making our comfort feel sweet again;
And in the morning, when the tempest drops,
At every cottage door mountainous heaps
Of snow lie drifted, that all entrance stops
Until the beesom and the shovel gain
The bath, and leave a wall on either side.
The...
1 tag
I have changed for the better
The clawing begins and the pillow snatches me down upon it, down onto the curling feathers… white linen… sleep. Sleep comes like a collision of beads, clattering at once as my eyes grow heavy and stitch themselves together. “Hello? Is anybody here? I’m dark red and morphing into something else, and can’t quite work out what it is.” The room echoes back. I twist in the grey dust and see...
The Highwayman by Alfred Noyes →
This poem is inspiring me so much! It’s written to sound like the clattering of horses hooves sounding through the night… this is an amazing example of literature.
The Highwayman Alfred Noyes
1 tag
“What is a poet? An unhappy man who hides deep anguish in his heart, but whose...”
– Søren Kierkegaard (Either - Or)
tumblrbot asked: WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE INANIMATE OBJECT?
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