Words Much Like Poetry

Andromeda, Gustave Doré Part of the collection Dues for the Repose: From Words Much Like Poetry  by Wamuhu Mwaura "   Near Joppa, guarded by a monster of the Earthshaker’s lending , I left her chained without hope—for Perseus is long dead , abandoned to oblivion by the fickle beliefs of men —  " [ Kindle Edition for instant reading. ]

Poetry, not just words, but a state of mind Are we aware of this self expression To paper through pen our thought we bind Are we just seeking to make an impression? Or letting loose our imagination ... Poetry, not just words, but a deep feeling Do we know that it comes from the heart? Carefully chosen words, rife with meaning Its important even before you start ... to let loose your imagination! Poetry, not just words, but a message Of what we want everyone to know creative words, whose meaning we envisage to the poets' mind we must go to merge yours with their imagination. Poetry, not just words, but life itself with a force to uplift and enlighten to give hope for others and yourself for the days you seek to brighten take your pen now, merge your heart and mind and bring forth your feelings and thoughts Remember, its not just words but POETRY!

dialectic discourse a frantic race to fine grained writs without a cause for recourse a tingle of longing infected my wrists a disconnect from the fathomable into paths of alphabetic tunnels are my discernments veritable? they overwhelm me, these mysteries I must funnel this unvented volcanic gen boils in the bowels of mental chasms they singe my reality again denied, they threaten to rend my mind with violent spasms a stroke, then the train of dominoes they pour out in semantic floods seeking blanks to render inky throes these words much like poetry

day's end brings with it a silence that most nights remains broken only by words much like poetry and thought. into that lull I draw forth tableaux of times perhaps best left adrift on the troubled waters of auld lang syne. how viciously wounding though, the refusal of recollection, for at least in memory I can cherish you as once I did. and the inquietude of vast longing, frustration at time's lethargic pace, knows the kindest, though briefest, of stays.

the jailers stood firm they had spoken; none would come out their host's will almost broken in the prison of the mind they tarried the longing pulls the host asunder pain of expression denied sucked down the whirlpool of silence to the bottom of hushed oblivion the host with a trembling hand seeks the quill of freedom a doorway to the world of speech but the haunting silences dim the words out in the desert of the quashed she came to me in the light her gift the golden sand of metaphoric sophistication and philosophic imagination freedom was thus granted to the stifled and they poured down the quill of freedom smothering dry parchment with the expression of words much like poetry

by Kirill Coda I look out onto the world and wonder what it would be like not to plunder or even buckle under, under the weight of all my blunder one's mind does ponder— what if I could turn back time, back to when I was at my prime and maybe commit a victimless crime, or I could just apologise... But for what, I did what any man would do. I listened to my words much like poetry, much like the words of a decree, no man would disagree, that the burden of history is the world's greatest misery. Note: This poem was submitted to Words Much Like Poetry via our project on WEbook.

tell me what is to be done with this half-heart, how to cope with Time while awaiting Destiny's verdict? will Destiny speak the words, words much like poetry, that will return me to you; words of potent conviction that will cause the ocean to fall away and no longer stand against me? I cannot fathom what possible offense I could have committed against the briny deep that it saw fit to punish me with its very expanse. I lay nightly upon the dwelling of my lonely stretch, my lonely patch of shore, contemplating my bruised portion... it aches where I tore us asunder. Image: Petr Kratochvil, Ocean sunset, Public Domain Pictures.net

they lie in wait below the floorboards of my consciousness they try to find their way up through the cracks they try to seep through through the damp porous walls of the dungeon of my mind their long dragging fingers reach for me through the rusted bars of their cage the cage i banished them to long ago the cage of my dreams they will not let me be they will give me no respite they will grant me no surcease until i turn them loose until i cry 'havoc!' and let slip their leash these words words much like poetry Tuesday, 17 nov 2009 05:46:27 hrs By Michael Maina