The Mirage

The closer I get,
the further away you seem,
My loveliest dream.

– a haiku

My Forever Present; (Prompt: “Something to last forever”)

My days, ever-longer, with less time to spare
I hear naught but her song as it clings to the air
– A mist of Wonder I feel everywhere.

My breathing slows, though my heart still races…
A vacuum- this hold, our home now embraces

As our hands lower, I sew one in place…
The small gentleness of Hers, I trace
As all else settles and I lower my gaze.

In moments as these, my Saving Grace
Smiles wide, as though in parade
-The Hope in her eyes shining brightest this day

This instant enchantment- a blessing I fare,
Trembling a little with primal despair.
Each second that elapses too quick to compose
Encompass this child- my present, my rose.

 

Creative Obsessions (working title)

Curves.

Foundations.

Resisting temptations.

Expressing Heart’s love-sensations.

When I cast my ear toward the canopy
That shimmers with shards of broken glass
I hear, not the cacophony
That stikes the chords in mass,
But rather the harmony
Of what could be and was.

Therein lies the secrets to comprehending
The riddles of the multiverse.
Science, like a dream, is lending
Consciousness a verse
When perspective is ’bout sending
The subconscious’ hidden words.

Or perhaps ’tis not just the subconscious
That gets dominantly addressed
‘Could be the unconscious
Or even consciousness

Either way, no matter the source
Art is a form of expression,
Its purest course:
Obsession.

When Lightning Strikes

Silent as you wish,
I must now seem foolish.
In truth, the fault we share
As well as tendered Care.

When bolts, I noticed,
Struck in Frequency,
I reached desperately to anchor
Confidence ‘nto Reality.

If I had…

Endurance of Legends’ past,
Craters would not have fractured.

If I had…

Patience of my Ancestors,
P’haps Temptation would not have mattered.

Instead, cracks appeared as Age,
With Fear soon to follow suit,
And Compliance as the gauge
Upon which the point is moot.

But Care hinders,
Not the outcome of the play,
But the fallout of the folds
Such abundance yields that day.

In time, should One carry
The burden that hits Home,
When Lightning Strikes
The Field of Dreams –
So Daring
And Unknown?

Once Upon a Couch

When I rest upon my couch
I see the world go by.
I ponder on the little things
that make me want to cry.

Tis not a world for weary minds,
nor a soul that often winds
up carrying
and perrying
the echoes of the blind.

I find myself surrounded
on far too many sides
by springs and knots and bigger holes
that patches no-longer hide.

Tis a wonder how this world turns
when so many little things reside
within the heart where feelings learn
to travel like a slide.

We shield and twist and turn
to avoid offending blows.
But must they come so frequently
that they leave unpatchables?

So I find myself upon the couch
now riddled with dismay
and try my best not to say,
“Ouch,”
then run away!

Too Bad

It’s ironic how when I try to write
midday that I can’t seem to get the words right.
Yet when I feel the muse’s guiding
hand, it’s when I feel most tired.

Too bad that isn’t now.

Comfort’s Hope

Comfort soothes the weary heart
that falters in their story,
pressing almost instantly
the wound that would be gory.

Were it not for solemn tens-
the presence of the meek,
a weathered soul might commend
the pressures that we seek.

But hope does lie about the ground
within arm’s heavy reach.
And in such hope that can be found,
a pardon that we preach.

Seconds to Indifference

Seconds pass
Whispers mass
Abundance becomes indulgence.
Lessons learned before the new
Harvest the old indifference.

Nursery Rhymes – guidance

Listen well and listen hard,
My child, and you will hear…
This is the life you will start.
It’s nothing you need fear.

Leave the past to ashes.
Let It Burn no more.
Learn from your mistakes,
And let your spirit soar!

Let its presence guide you
Through all eternity.
Each step in life you take
Your own true destiny.

Friends are not your enemy.
Foes are not your friends.
Strangers are the Mysteries
That your heart contends.

Just remember this one thing,
My Little Darling,
Whatever so your heart desires,
Set Ablaze your inner fires.

Experiment day 2

The initial idea was to start creating a blog so that I can probably start writing poetry again, or writing period. However I can’t really seem to muster up the creativity or inspiration to write another poem except at night when I’m too tired to actually get up and do anything, or don’t want to risk waking up the baby just so I could type something up. Therefore I’ll just post one of my old poems and see if anyone responds. So here it goes:

Before the world was round, it was flat without contest,
but can such facts also crown just which is more complex;
an ever-volving mass of Earth, Water, and Air
or a cosmic halt of land and that drops unto nowhere?

I wrote that short one some years back and it’s one of my favorites, but I know my poetry as a whole could use some improvement if I were to pursue it in a more official capacity. Oh, and let’s not forget the elephant in the room – that being that I can’t seem to make a commitment to anything including finishing what I started (two novels and a composition of my own poetry).

I guess we’ll just see where this takes me- if I can muster up some creativity or I don’t know.. do something! Maybe write something interesting.. or perhaps I’ll just get a few reviews and leave it at that. No no.. I’m not just going to rely on other people’s opinions to get me by or to inspire creativity – I have enough in my life to inspire creativity if I can just tap into it. Instead, I wouldn’t mind getting a bit of constructive criticism every now and then, or maybe some advice if the situation does arise in any future post that calls for some.

I have been told before, when I was writing my last book (which of course I never did finish), in order to have a chance at completion I just have to write. It doesn’t matter if it’s good or if it’s bad, or if it is grammatically correct, I just have to write. I was told to write whatever comes to mind, then edit later. However, that’s probably my worst fault or one of them anyway. It’s hard for me to continue writing if I see something is misspelled or missing punctuation, or just plain wrong. I guess that’s something else I have to overcome.