Join the Unexplained Mysteries community today! It's free and setting up an account only takes a moment.
- Sign In or Create Account -
Sign in to follow this  
Followers 5
SpiritWriter

Rambling Poetry Thread

205 posts in this topic

These are the sizes of my circles.

Here, take apart one

and you will have some cusps.

Here are my cups.

They have been cropped.

(Now, I am not full to bursting.)

I have new corners.

I see that they too - are stretching.

Maybe these are my armpits.

Maybe there are wings

attached to my spine.

Maybe I am growing.

Share this post


Link to post
Share on other sites

It's really bugging me, that I used "down" twice in that last line. A little redundant...

I'll leave it as is, for its originality, off the top of my head. But I think if I ever use it, I'll revise it as "ALONG this up and down track?".

you can re-post your 'edits' and 'finals' as well if you want to :)

Share this post


Link to post
Share on other sites

Yea I started to just str8 edit it, but then figured that would take away the beauty of it's rambling-ness, the way it was posted. LOL

Thanks.

Share this post


Link to post
Share on other sites

I feel an edge,

a sheet of ice slicing,

like eyes

that pass me by.

I feel a ridge.

Boundaries and boulders,

they're either in the way

or they've been taken.

Somethings come unexpected.

Some, are welcome and warm.

Some have their eyes closed

and bumble through the storm.

1 person likes this

Share this post


Link to post
Share on other sites

The Victim

No one who names themselves “victim”

has undone the flames that evict him.

Courage is born

when we take fear into itself.

So stop trying to mourn

the tear as it swells.

GJL

1 person likes this

Share this post


Link to post
Share on other sites

Final Merger

When my time comes,

I don’t want to think.

I don’t want the sum

of my thoughts to compete.

I want my mind to succumb

to a bliss so complete,

as I become one

with the world at my feet.

GJL

1 person likes this

Share this post


Link to post
Share on other sites

I have been taken from my land.

I have been separated

from my son and husband.

I am forced to pretend,

to be a servant to a man

and to a household I despise.

I am quiet.

I do not speak my mind,

but when I see my chance

I take it.

I steal off into the night

and let my insides roar

outside of me.

I take off my coat

and do a slithery dance.

I do not come back for money,

nor obligation, nor fear, nor love.

I may be in a trance,

but I have not yet given up.

*

On the third floor, the fifth room to the left and on the left is the nursery. My little pale boy throws a rattle at me, it hits me in the face. He laughs at me. I laugh back and make my cheeks bobble. He begins to cry. I take him out of his crib gently, fowl odor and all. He is limp and twisty.

When he is clean and wrapped securely I give him a ride on my shoulder. We fly around the room like an eagle soaring, high and low, we go round and round. I sing and hop getting ready to feed him. Perhaps this will be the last chance I have in life to be a woman. I determined to enjoy it, to make use of it.

He was the only thing I had. I would have to stare at him and hold him and imitate his weird sounds. What could I teach him now? What could I tell him? Surely there was something. When he was fed and happy I stood and put him on my heart. I thought about beauty and good things. He rested on my chest and I got into his dreams.

The other woman, his so-called mother, came in storming. She upset the boy, making sure she cursed me, making sure he would look at me and cringe, making sure he cried before she cooed to him.

She knew the words to his favorite song, not I. She sang them quietly like a lover, over and over again. The rhythm was as a wave of the sea, carving the shape of the rocks at the shore. How could I object to the peace she gave him, without a raft, without an oar?

I came to him again when he was crying, bawling as from the bottom of the pit. Apparently the sight of me was further cause to howl. I would not quit. This child would not ruin the last of me.

Edited by SpiritWriter

Share this post


Link to post
Share on other sites

Return to Ages Past

Like stepping back in time,

I return to a place from ages past.

Old energies stir inside,

as if welcoming me back.

A piece of my spirit still resides

within my worn tracks,

a trace of what was, will hide

deep inside the cracks

until its chance to combine

with the soul it now lacks.

But I am far beyond

who I was way back then

and I am not bound

to the places I’ve been.

I will soften this sound

before it rings from within.

GJL

Edited by AwakenAscension

Share this post


Link to post
Share on other sites

I'd like to add, that "Return to Ages Past" was inspired by when I went back to work at a previous job that I had worked at for years and knew everyone there like family. I had left for a few yrs. & disappeared from them, thinking I would never go back there.

I was a very bad person, the time before, when I worked there and I could feel those old energies/feelings in this place that was like a home to me, once. It was a challenge I had to face and overcome, a chapter in my life, full of flashbacks from the two that were previous to it. Everyone was happy to have me back and were surprised by how different I was. It was like stepping back in time and gave me many closures in my life.

Edited by AwakenAscension
1 person likes this

Share this post


Link to post
Share on other sites

What Lies Between

Within the emptiness

that lies between events

dwell the entry-less

doors to unseen moments,

possibilities in the mist

shrouding needed atonements,

surrounding all that exists

within their own components,

and hiding rewarding bliss

behind its prone opponent.

Different ways are contemplating

the paths that remain unseen

as different days are calculating

the math that lies between…..

Figuring up

the way they will go

by the sum

of the things that they show,

then to become

the next tomorrow,

originating from

between what is so.

GJL

1 person likes this

Share this post


Link to post
Share on other sites

The Guest

Lying awake, my mind begins to sink.

But tossing and turning are the progress I’m making.

I try and I try not to think.

The night is becoming day, as I am thinking about not thinking.

This constant verbal thought

will not let me rest.

My mind just talks and talks

becoming my pest.

This internal dialogue,

my permanent guest.

Rehearsing the things I said wrong

until it sounds best.

This will continue all night long

as the moon travels west.

Repeating this endless song,

my brain is its nest.

My eyelids start to hang….

I just want to sleep!

It drives me insane,

the words that I keep.

GJL

1 person likes this

Share this post


Link to post
Share on other sites

Judgement

My idea of you

is just part of me,

as I judge what you do

with my energy.

Becoming part of me,

your deeds that I know,

are growing like a tree

from the seeds that I’ve sown.

So notice the good

and never the bad,

in those you think should

never be sad.

When they’re on a noose

and you judge them a tad,

those traits become you

like a contagious fad.

Careful you don’t lose

the things that you had,

never confuse

your good with their bad.

Believe me as I say

this is all true.

When you judge their dismay,

the judgement’s on you.

GJL

Share this post


Link to post
Share on other sites

The Shrine of My Being

My spirit rests

between the two minds,

operating through flesh,

the house of its shrine.

Eternally blessed

to surpass its confines

after passing the test

of the fears that shall bind

by cleansing my crest

and releasing my crimes.

The shrine keeper,

the first mind, is he.

The experience seeker,

he finds what shall be.

The second mind is deeper,

deep as the sea,

the silent sleeper,

priest of reality.

The spirit is the door

that lies in between,

opening toward the core

then back from the unseen.

The first mind takes the world,

the way that it seems

and passes the word

to the priest with the means.

The second mind lights the fire

that powers the shrine,

emotion that powers the wires

beyond the flesh that binds,

through the door that transpires

between the two minds

toward all that the spirit admires,

influencing what it finds.

GJL

Share this post


Link to post
Share on other sites

The Demon

Negative feelings

stand poised to eject.

My spirit is sealing

what my heart rejects

in a place that’s concealing

what my world reflects,

creating a being

of the trash it protects.

A new spirit body

is beginning to form,

forming somebody

from the pains that were torn

and so the bloody

demon is born.

It feeds on the dark energies

that led to its birth,

the internal enemy

devoid of its worth

drinking obscenities

and eating the dirt.

Its original purpose,

to protect the spirit,

has become a furnace

by which it will seer it.

By repeated exposure,

the demon will grow,

until it knows your

weakened ego.

Centered in the first mind,

the fear is its tool,

creating an opportune time

to merge with the fool.

Rooted in the obsessions

that lead to its food,

it brings on possession,

controlling the mood.

GJL

1 person likes this

Share this post


Link to post
Share on other sites

two of your last subjects I was just thinking about myself.

Share this post


Link to post
Share on other sites

Demons

They are not evil, just unnecessary.

They are evil no more, for you have taken away their power.

Because they are no longer useful they have retreated to their place.

*

Joy was my indwelling.

Anger had a strange God

and it was I

who made him submit.

(he bowed out gracefully)

*

Do not be afraid, They are not evil.

You have disarmed their power

by standing firm, you have taken it away.

They have retreated to their place.

They cannot bare to be Under

(any power),

so they return to the back of the line.

One is behind the other, hiding

waiting for the sun

not to be so blinding.

An accesable disguise

with shielded eyes

is their only way to escape.

*

Is your temple built strong?

Is your house on a hill

with the lamp post on?

Have you prepared

an extra meal?

Carve into the valley an easy route

for the tempter chases up children.

*

Relief comes not for their ills.

They will not take hold of the coal

which scorches the soul.

They would rather be sick and grim.

There is a grave yard

for the destitute children

and they will take their swim.

*

Understand the essence of the Spirit

and not the Letter of the Law.

It is better to be illiterate and know the Lord,

but if you can read - why not study,

and if you can write - why not

transform your body into a river?

*

Yes the Lord has a harsh chord.

But he has never thrown you in

unless you can swim.

*

Edited by SpiritWriter

Share this post


Link to post
Share on other sites

Addiction

My addiction returns

as it changes forms.

To lightning that burns

emerging from storms,

consuming my concerns

from the place it was born.

The effort to stop

only engages my thought

to pursue the top

of the satisfaction I've sought.

I can only replace

this urge that compounds,

seeking its place,

and becoming unbound.

During inactivity

it becomes my obsession

and in blind stupidity,

I relinquish possession.

When it gets old

I must find something new.

Something that's bold

that I must pursue.

GJL

1 person likes this

Share this post


Link to post
Share on other sites

Addiction is for poets and other sensitive creatures....

Share this post


Link to post
Share on other sites

breaking free is like roaring from your heart

positive passions are the very fruits of life

1 person likes this

Share this post


Link to post
Share on other sites

Rambling Poetry Thread

It's time to find rest

and join Spirit Writer's thread

where you can express

the ramblings in your head

and forget who's the "best"

at whatever you just said,

for this is the nest

where your ramblings bed,

where all of the rest

of your unsoundings are read.

GJL

1 person likes this

Share this post


Link to post
Share on other sites

Addiction is for poets and other sensitive creatures....

SENSITIVE LOL You might be surprised what I can deal with. :)

Share this post


Link to post
Share on other sites

Kingdom

Enter my kingdom,

this is my home,

my inner sanctum,

the seat of my throne.

My ways are my robes,

my looks are my crown,

as I rule the empire I compose

of my lost I refound.

My decision makers act as one,

following the only direction,

my singular, inner kingdom

that steers my dynasty without question.

GJL

Share this post


Link to post
Share on other sites

Yes, we plea

that ye join we

as we clap

above our heads

:clap: :clap: :clap:

come on

all you rambling poets

and put your words

upon the thread!!!

:tsu:

Rambling Poetry Thread

It's time to find rest

and join Spirit Writer's thread

where you can express

the ramblings in your head

and forget who's the "best"

at whatever you just said,

for this is the nest

where your ramblings bed,

where all of the rest

of your unsoundings are read.

GJL

2 people like this

Share this post


Link to post
Share on other sites

Let my eyes be the mirage of you.

Whisper lullabies of truth.

Let my lungs contain your circular wreath.

Rise and fall in me.

Explode like one of your firey mountains.

I will be your dragon.

Add flame and draw smoke from my breath.

*

*

let my belly ride the breeze

you sneeze upon

Edited by SpiritWriter
2 people like this

Share this post


Link to post
Share on other sites

fiery*

SENSITIVE LOL You might be surprised what I can deal with. :)

Does that mean your NOT sensitive?

Share this post


Link to post
Share on other sites

Create an account or sign in to comment

You need to be a member in order to leave a comment

Create an account

Sign up for a new account in our community. It's easy!


Register a new account

Sign in

Already have an account? Sign in here.


Sign In Now
Sign in to follow this  
Followers 5

  • Recently Browsing   0 members

    No registered users viewing this page.