Words Much Like Poetry

  words beckon to me, nay-demand my attention they purl in paroxysm begging interview is it not true that we are a river destined to run an immutable course? what then is the purpose of purpose? an inclination to be apart from that which moulds us I search the heavens from my star apart and I am lost in the desert sands my arrival to wisdom was opportune for it began with ardor but it lies in squalor, untended and incomplete I hear the name in the echo of hollows a haunting whisper in the forlorn wind a wish from a world without, where like-tributaries splice subjugated in a metropol yonder silence holds my woe, perched on an eminence of privation my chains atug-wishing to board a barge to transverse this atlantean expanse the destination an abode long wished for whereupon dwells my odyssey's fair accolade photo by magnusvk http://www.flickr.com/photos/magnusvk/166233536/sizes/l/

which should I lend credence? the song in my head or the beating of the heart, for the path to choose in quest for answers, the puzzle of life is just a cryptic jumble, with no pieces fitting together I have lost my thread I cannot find my way back the grail I seek, eludes me in this labyrinth I know the words they sing in the head, with stubborn persistence but the tongue is tied to silence will the eye behold heaven, the angel of surreal dreams? will the hand touch silk, the warmth of delayed company? the die is not yet cast the forecast cannot come forth the cup is half full, it leaks equally with every pouring in the stillness of day, an expectation shall brew there will either be a storm, or a rainbow bathed in a gentle hush

This poem was written for my mother, to be read at a graduation for school counselors. It was meant to reiterate the importance of the seminars they had attended, and their purpose towards those who are young and may be lost. today is born a part, of a whole to help fill in the hole, in our humanity a hope to the dusk and darkness of them among us a seed to be planted, among them a seed of hope, to bring to life the reason for being a hand held out, to those in despair a whisper, one of hope so that they may rise with the dawn, shed their despair, and start living again having found that delicate thread they had lost, in the cruel labyrinth, that is life and therefore, we may smile as we know we are: the part the hope the seed and the hand at the dawn of life

dear child this world has too much hate, selfishness and despair people with nothing else but malcontent in their heart that fuels their passions of vanity you must not bear ill will towards anyone it only consumes you from within turning you into those whom you loath so and paints your spirit with never ending malice do not avenge wrong done to you once it starts, the cycle never ends it mutates to boundaries beyond and blinds you from life's ultimate purpose dear mother it is too late - I am already burned my soul is darkened with hate and the sadism of vengeance I no longer deserve the tenderness offered me the passions in life I long for I am unclean of spirit of hell only destined dear friend hate in your heart is only the hate you bear against yourself for all the things you have done to make you feel unworthy of life healing comes from letting go you must forgive yourself it is impossible I know but it is the only way dear lover I cannot offer you myself I am tainted by my m...

I skirt along the edge of something wonderful but I know not what destiny resides at its core I have made my wish, rubbed the lamp of fate will it be granted? I see a host of blessings amidst threads woven at the loom of hope their aura but barely reaches me from within the garden of miracles I almost smell the cool dewy beyond bathe in the promise of a heart's paradise the comforting green upon my feet in the looking glass of diamond drops will my wish be granted? I long for this palpitating flutter to be calmed the storm of mind overcast to be appeased with but a word from the angel of promise

once upon a morning of desperate fervor born of rage and thundering menace oddities ride the shadow of a bloody sunrise anger ignites my soul to blazing brands this world of cruelties and untold woes my ire consumes to righteous ashes avenges the fracture of innocent gems tears down monoliths of pain the fantastic shroud falls from a waking vision of fiery wrath and unreal yearning to be endowed as the powers that be that possess me in the wake of humanity's agonies

Is this my new beginning, that point where old roads close and never drift again into the lane that I've now forged? Is this where the grand pedestal I've placed my independence upon finally stops quaking? I'm braver now than I ever was, though the fears still lurk in the darkened corners of night. I want, I need, I must, I will! I will, because they need me to. Because if I don't then there was no point in taking the risk.

As a girl, I made choices that have affected me as a woman. I lost my innocence to a one I did not love; I drifted on an oar less boat down a fermented and distilled river; I squandered, on demeaning tasks, the intelligence that set me apart, and took part in two miracles that have placed upon my shoulders a burden I was not prepared for. Now, shelved dreams beg to be dusted. But the bed I made, with its rumpled, tousled sheets, seems to stretch on forever. I cannot throw my feet over the edge and stand, my limbs have grown weak from misuse; I've lain on this bed too long, and dusk threatens in the distance—an eternal night, an end to all things, or at least, an end to me. I long for the rose bed, that answer to my prayers, the accomplishment of my goals and the return of my pride; the angels I was bequeathed deserve nothing less—I cannot wrong them as I was wronged. Life's lessons have taught me well, else were for naught and fool that I am, if I do not learn, should stay ...