Jump to content




Welcome to Unexplained Mysteries! Please sign in or create an account to start posting and to access a host of extra features.


* * * * * 1 votes

Cassea's Journey


  • Please log in to reply
50 replies to this topic

#1    Cassea

Cassea

    Psychic Spy

  • Member
  • PipPipPipPipPipPipPipPip
  • 1,064 posts
  • Joined:20 Nov 2011
  • Gender:Female

Posted 24 February 2012 - 01:00 AM

Many years ago I used to be a gifted writer.  But due to a TBI (traumatic brain injury) I am not able to write the way I used to.   My OT has suggested that I practice writing poems to be able to retrieve words from memory that might be otherwise lost.  So if you want me to write a poem for you write a phrase.  A word.  An idea.  And let me see what I can do with it.  They are poems for you that you may keep as your own.

Love
Cassea


Each poem I write is written from the moment I see the words.  So as soon as I see them. I will write.

Understanding Traumatic Brain Injury communication issues.   http://www.asha.org/.../#comm_problems

#2    and then

and then

    Abyssus Abyssum Invocat

  • Member
  • 13,965 posts
  • Joined:15 Dec 2011
  • Gender:Male
  • Location:Land's End

  • Because what came before never seems enough...

Posted 24 February 2012 - 02:56 AM

                                                         PATIENCE

  We've cast the world, we've set the stage,
  for what could be, the darkest age...

#3    Cassea

Cassea

    Psychic Spy

  • Member
  • PipPipPipPipPipPipPipPip
  • 1,064 posts
  • Joined:20 Nov 2011
  • Gender:Female

Posted 24 February 2012 - 04:45 AM

OK Patience.


I'll edit with the poem in a moment.



The heavy tapestry falls upon the wounded
like a dark theater
in a  red light district
where the flaming coals
like distant owls
warm the heart with hope
surround the clenched
and collapsed body
like obolus tucked in pockets

This figure isn't dead
just waiting
the war wounds have been left
by the slumbering patriarch
adrift and ashamed
but pulling forward
the arms flex like those of
Charon making his way

Unassembled faces
upturned to the evening sky
settle in upon themselves
like stones falling to the bottom of the river


The tide will never come for the stones
slowly they are turned seaward
slowly they turn from shore
slowly they turn away from the land
that knew them.

And this old man that sits on the shore
keeps his eyes upon the horizon
seeking love that left
eluded
faded
and returned
to slip by him like a twig
upon that same river

Certainty begets humility
Somber somber dignity
like flax upon the loom

Edited by Cassea, 24 February 2012 - 05:03 AM.

Understanding Traumatic Brain Injury communication issues.   http://www.asha.org/.../#comm_problems

#4    Jester Harlot

Jester Harlot

    Remote Viewer

  • Member
  • PipPipPipPip
  • 606 posts
  • Joined:06 Jan 2012
  • Gender:Female
  • Location:USA

  • "The most beautiful thing we can experience is the mysterious. It is the source of all true art and science."
    ALBERT EINSTEIN

Posted 24 February 2012 - 07:50 AM

Whoa, I loved that! Here, do one for me too!

Blood.

"You can be a king or a street sweeper, but everybody dances with the Grim Reaper"
-Robert Alton Harris
.
"They spoil every romance by trying to make it last forever."
- Oscar Wilde.


#5    d e v i c e

d e v i c e

    Ambassador of Fear

  • Member
  • PipPipPipPipPipPipPipPip
  • 1,747 posts
  • Joined:16 Dec 2010
  • Gender:Male

Posted 24 February 2012 - 01:28 PM

Yup, you sure have a gift alright Cassea.

I'd like a poem about an Avenging Angel please.

Thanks.








#6    Cassea

Cassea

    Psychic Spy

  • Member
  • PipPipPipPipPipPipPipPip
  • 1,064 posts
  • Joined:20 Nov 2011
  • Gender:Female

Posted 24 February 2012 - 08:48 PM

View PostMistress of Shadows, on 24 February 2012 - 07:50 AM, said:

Whoa, I loved that! Here, do one for me too!

Blood.


Blood


She traces the wounds around her soul
like a delicate tongue touching upon her lips
she keeps them withdrawn inside
Shadows in a cavern of shadows

She is comfortable there
like a mouse in an attic
filled with wires and old wooden toys
trying to hide

She cannot look back
doing so unleashes a keening
that voice she no longer recognizes as her own
Instead she strives to find the
desert in her sadness

Deserts are safe havens
away from the liquid of pain
that rolls down firmaments
spills into the cracks within the pavement
the ones she avoided as a child

Her raw witnesses follow her
like a trail of blood
she watches her life fall in the distance
like saw-grass pushed back
with the cruelty of the early winds of spring

Can she recall?
She cannot remember any longer
but continues forward
pushing through the willows
the fallen leaves of orchids
scattered in the fields

like so many bloody footprints
in her wake.

Understanding Traumatic Brain Injury communication issues.   http://www.asha.org/.../#comm_problems

#7    Cassea

Cassea

    Psychic Spy

  • Member
  • PipPipPipPipPipPipPipPip
  • 1,064 posts
  • Joined:20 Nov 2011
  • Gender:Female

Posted 24 February 2012 - 08:57 PM

View PostDevice, on 24 February 2012 - 01:28 PM, said:

Yup, you sure have a gift alright Cassea.

I'd like a poem about an Avenging Angel please.

Thanks.

The curve of her back
rises up to the phalanx of wings
that unfold like sarissa
aimed upon the cacaphony
their cries do not dissuade her

She is precise in her dedication
as her spears pierce through
the din


She is engorged with ecstasy
these small drops of pain
slide down the wooden spears
and find their way

Those who doubt her do not know her
she recognizes the perjury of their souls
and forgives them
as she renders through her justice
like a fisherman
sliding his blade
through a gasping fish

Clambering forward
a scorpion upon a rock
armored to the wind
and the flagrant sun
she rises in the ashy storm
and stands arms lifted skyward
amid the devastation

She has no sympathy
for the wicked
For she has known them
and revealed them
flayed raw
beneath the eyes of God.

Edited by Cassea, 24 February 2012 - 09:01 PM.

Understanding Traumatic Brain Injury communication issues.   http://www.asha.org/.../#comm_problems

#8    and then

and then

    Abyssus Abyssum Invocat

  • Member
  • 13,965 posts
  • Joined:15 Dec 2011
  • Gender:Male
  • Location:Land's End

  • Because what came before never seems enough...

Posted 24 February 2012 - 09:13 PM

View PostCassea, on 24 February 2012 - 04:45 AM, said:

OK Patience.


I'll edit with the poem in a moment.



The heavy tapestry falls upon the wounded
like a dark theater
in a  red light district
where the flaming coals
like distant owls
warm the heart with hope
surround the clenched
and collapsed body
like obolus tucked in pockets

This figure isn't dead
just waiting
the war wounds have been left
by the slumbering patriarch
adrift and ashamed
but pulling forward
the arms flex like those of
Charon making his way

Unassembled faces
upturned to the evening sky
settle in upon themselves
like stones falling to the bottom of the river


The tide will never come for the stones
slowly they are turned seaward
slowly they turn from shore
slowly they turn away from the land
that knew them.

And this old man that sits on the shore
keeps his eyes upon the horizon
seeking love that left
eluded
faded
and returned
to slip by him like a twig
upon that same river

Certainty begets humility
Somber somber dignity
like flax upon the loom
Thank you Cassea...it was beautiful and moving.

  We've cast the world, we've set the stage,
  for what could be, the darkest age...

#9    Robbie333

Robbie333

    "Seek and you shall find"

  • Member
  • 2,790 posts
  • Joined:25 Jan 2011
  • Gender:Male
  • Location:USA

  • Do not stand at my grave and weep
    I am not there; I do not sleep.

Posted 24 February 2012 - 09:33 PM

View PostCassea, on 24 February 2012 - 01:00 AM, said:

Many years ago I used to be a gifted writer.  But due to a TBI (traumatic brain injury) I am not able to write the way I used to.   My OT has suggested that I practice writing poems to be able to retrieve words from memory that might be otherwise lost.  So if you want me to write a poem for you write a phrase.  A word.  An idea.  And let me see what I can do with it.  They are poems for you that you may keep as your own.

Love
Cassea


Each poem I write is written from the moment I see the words.  So as soon as I see them. I will write.

          The Horizon

Robbie James

#10    Cassea

Cassea

    Psychic Spy

  • Member
  • PipPipPipPipPipPipPipPip
  • 1,064 posts
  • Joined:20 Nov 2011
  • Gender:Female

Posted 24 February 2012 - 09:36 PM

Hmmm  The Horizon


I've been using horizons a lot already.  Let's see if I can take it in a different direction.



edited with the poem in a moment




He is trussed up and wired
He lays upon the gurney in the ward
like so many others
who have come back from the
unfolding legacy

His anguish crawls across his back
like a sodden gibbon
it's wet hairy arms stretched out
to touch his face
it sits hunched
with its mouth hanging open
as if inhaling a caul
sucking in the terrors that come to him at night

Medication drips into his arm
slides long the clear plastic tubes
He watches each drop traveling the journey
to his veins

He must focus there now
and leave behind the cries of the men
the weeping among the bent ferns
crushed bamboo shoots
the muddy graves
the silt covered shells
the dropped tokens of life
that came before

He is there now
looking at the sky
unable to crawl
waiting as he watches the horizon
for the coming of angels
perhaps they may save him in time

He watches the horizon
and prays for the grey machines
with blades tearing through the sky
throwing off the smoke
and rising fumes of death

He would like to reach out to touch
the grass
but his arms are locked by his side
like a child still in the womb.


But here now,
in the sterilized apology
the attempt to save those who
walked blindly into the nova of confusion
and were devoured

they take good care of you now
Pillows plumped
food trays brought promptly
and the sweet nectar that oozes like
so much poison
into the assailed flesh
that has been stripped of recognition
stoked in the fires of Napalm

Through the window he sees the clean horizon
the normalcy frightens him
he tries to turn away
but cannot move

As so he waits again for the angels
to rise up in the distance
come forward to save this poor soul
this wretched paper mache man
who will slip quietly
between the starched white sheets
until the  kind sprite nurses pull them
across his face.

Edited by Cassea, 24 February 2012 - 09:54 PM.

Understanding Traumatic Brain Injury communication issues.   http://www.asha.org/.../#comm_problems

#11    Robbie333

Robbie333

    "Seek and you shall find"

  • Member
  • 2,790 posts
  • Joined:25 Jan 2011
  • Gender:Male
  • Location:USA

  • Do not stand at my grave and weep
    I am not there; I do not sleep.

Posted 24 February 2012 - 09:49 PM

View PostCassea, on 24 February 2012 - 09:36 PM, said:

Hmmm  The Horizon


I've been using horizons a lot already.  Let's see if I can take it in a different direction.



edited with the poem in a moment

           Whatever you want to do. How about " The Search"?

Robbie James

#12    Cassea

Cassea

    Psychic Spy

  • Member
  • PipPipPipPipPipPipPipPip
  • 1,064 posts
  • Joined:20 Nov 2011
  • Gender:Female

Posted 24 February 2012 - 10:00 PM

The Search

Let's try something less sad this time.  Hmmm




Bright eyed naifs
stand in the entryway
their legs cocked out
in odd poses

down the halls
the echoes of stern misstreses
are punctuated
by the slamming of
locker doors
and the shifting of books
and stuffed in papers

Such young boys
to be smug about their devious natures
they are certain no evidence
will come forth

They amuse themselves
watching the squat and pull
of bending matriarchs
that are intent on revealing
their dastardly ways

But the search will not prove
fruitful
The back pocket of one boy
bulges with incrimination
not understood
by those caught up in
diligence and expedience

Instead they amuse themselves
with a sly side eye
a tugged corner of a smile
hair slicked back
and thumbs hooked casually in their belt loops
waiting for the
search in vain to end.

Edited by Cassea, 24 February 2012 - 10:07 PM.

Understanding Traumatic Brain Injury communication issues.   http://www.asha.org/.../#comm_problems

#13    Robbie333

Robbie333

    "Seek and you shall find"

  • Member
  • 2,790 posts
  • Joined:25 Jan 2011
  • Gender:Male
  • Location:USA

  • Do not stand at my grave and weep
    I am not there; I do not sleep.

Posted 24 February 2012 - 10:01 PM

View PostCassea, on 24 February 2012 - 10:00 PM, said:

The Search

Let's try something less sad this time.  Hmmm

          Hmmmm, The Light Seeks Me

Robbie James

#14    Robbie333

Robbie333

    "Seek and you shall find"

  • Member
  • 2,790 posts
  • Joined:25 Jan 2011
  • Gender:Male
  • Location:USA

  • Do not stand at my grave and weep
    I am not there; I do not sleep.

Posted 24 February 2012 - 10:15 PM

View PostCassea, on 24 February 2012 - 10:00 PM, said:

The Search

Let's try something less sad this time.  Hmmm




Bright eyed naifs
stand in the entryway
their legs cocked out
in odd poses

down the halls
the echoes of stern misstreses
are punctuated
by the slamming of
locker doors
and the shifting of books
and stuffed in papers

Such young boys
to be smug about their devious natures
they are certain no evidence
will come forth

They amuse themselves
watching the squat and pull
of bending matriarchs
that are intent on revealing
their dastardly ways

But the search will not prove
fruitful
The back pocket of one boy
bulges with incrimination
not understood
by those caught up in
diligence and expedience

Instead they amuse themselves
with a sly side eye
a tugged corner of a smile
hair slicked back
and thumbs hooked casually in their belt loops
waiting for the
search in vain to end.

         You have a wonderful talent child. Thank you so much. It is wonderful. Smiles at you.

Robbie James

#15    Cassea

Cassea

    Psychic Spy

  • Member
  • PipPipPipPipPipPipPipPip
  • 1,064 posts
  • Joined:20 Nov 2011
  • Gender:Female

Posted 24 February 2012 - 10:20 PM

Oh man Robbie you are driving me crazy. LOL!!!!    :innocent:


The Light Seeks Me



I am there under the rubble
I can hear them searching
lights out dogs sniffing
the crumbling of nearby rocks
the calling out with hope


But now my witnesses are
sinews of light
sneaking through the
collapse of it all


In years to come
scholars will speak didactic tones
students will whimper
and shift awkwardly in polished seats
Pages will turn
pens will scratch across the tablets
men will lament

But I still lie there waiting for
the light that seeks me
Victory has written its own tome
Voices will sing my requiem
All heralding the truth
as is what they know it to be

But I still lie there waiting for
the light that seeks me
in a dark holding cell
within the bowels of a shuddering ship
that leaps to meet the waves
that hold back from destination

I am there in the barracks
with cheap planks of wood
slapped up to keep us in
to keep away the cries of recognition
when cruel death
unfurls it's sinister wings


I am there along the beaten path
where machetes landed in crevices of blood
howls reached the clouds
and were beat back down
by angels helpless in the face misery

I am there now in the consternation
I live in the confusion
like men passing buckets down trenches
trying to find some salvation
some answer

Many men will say they have come to know me
But I still lie there waiting for
the light that seeks me

Understanding Traumatic Brain Injury communication issues.   http://www.asha.org/.../#comm_problems




0 user(s) are reading this topic

0 members, 0 guests, 0 anonymous users