Poems

[Daretobeconju]

The Good Mother

I press my hand to the breast of the good earth mother and feel the heartbeat of life. Chest expands, air retracts, then warm breath rushes past. Great oaken arms reach upward toward the sky, fingers stretch outward to catch falling sun and rain. I fall into your arms, body into earth, soul released and I fly. The grandest of aeons fail in your eyes. You hold the beauty of life cradled dear to your heart. You, who are of all. Life is life, but only beauty in death. Sorrow and happiness one in the great wheel. I shed all that I've been, all that I am. All that has been, since the beginning of time, drips away. Imagery surrounding loses cohesion and a cloudy remnant of what's real lingers on. I walk through the forest, the trees, the earth now no longer bound to my feet. What once was my hand pushing towards what once was my chest, I feel my heart beating, where once was my heart. And time, now of water, runs cool through my being. Ebbing with contentment, you draw me into your soul. I am engulfed in your presence, for all that is left of us is presence. No body, no mind, no words carry weight in this place. Then you speak. Your words make wholeness of nothingness. Your words create. You take the aether and form sky, the sky and form earth. You take the earth and form life, life and form me. My tears flow at the shear awe of it all. My tears flow and fall. They fall from the sky, falling down, down, down. You reach up from the earth, arms outstretched, fingers spread wide, to catch where I fall. I run down your arms, down your shoulders and back. I run through your hair, over your lips and you drink of me. You take me in completely, leaving nothing except the possiblilty of my being. Then you give birth to me once again in action, thought, and deed. The eternal cycle reveals itself in the words of the good mother, spoken so slowly as to take shape and be. Once we stood together, one being, one soul. One voice eminated from one heart. We loved when love was as light. We then spoke into being all that has been. We speak into being all that will be. Ever reflecting the beauty of being toward one another, we circle the universe in our unconditional love. We once spoke unto each other a name, your words were mine, mine were yours. When I called out to you, you were within me. When you called my name, I was your voice. Our children now look to us, they look up to the sky. I look up to the sky and there you are. I reach out my hands. My fingers spread out awaiting you. I tilt my head back and open my mouth. No words will I speak, only waiting for you to fill me with the words. You come to me, I take in a breath, I take you in. Silence. Silence. Silence. I reach my hand to my side, take yours in mine, and...
LOVE.
***************************************
All in life is well. Light begotten of Truth, Water of Beauty. We reach and fall and fly and give chase to dreams. We love and live and have children. I once knew a man and the most amazing thing happened to him. He had a child. A man, once a man, now a Father. The Good Mother cries. Her loss is her own flesh, passed onto the Earth. Sky amplifies tears, Earth refreshed, Child has grown, Earth Mother dies.
***************************************

[Angel_de_Combate]

Very good, eventually got to read it now(on a bus hurtling to college today). Can I ask how you write these? Do you just write what comes into your head, does it have any editing of sorts?

[Angel_de_Combate]

Touched by an Angel

We, unaccustomed to courage
exiles from delight
live coiled in shells of loneliness
until love leaves its high holy temple
and comes into our sight
to liberate us into life.

Love arrives
and in its train come ecstasies
old memories of pleasure
ancient histories of pain.
Yet if we are bold,
love strikes away the chains of fear
from our souls.

We are weaned from our timidity
In the flush of love's light
we dare be brave
And suddenly we see
that love costs all we are
and will ever be.
Yet it is only love
which sets us free.

Maya Angelou

[Angel_de_Combate]

Song Of The Rain VII

I am dotted silver threads dropped from heaven
By the gods. Nature then takes me, to adorn
Her fields and valleys.


I am beautiful pearls, plucked from the
Crown of Ishtar by the daughter of Dawn
To embellish the gardens.


When I cry the hills laugh;
When I humble myself the flowers rejoice;
When I bow, all things are elated.


The field and the cloud are lovers
And between them I am a messenger of mercy.
I quench the thirst of one;
I cure the ailment of the other.


The voice of thunder declares my arrival;
The rainbow announces my departure.
I am like earthly life, which begins at
The feet of the mad elements and ends
Under the upraised wings of death.


I emerge from the heard of the sea
Soar with the breeze. When I see a field in
Need, I descend and embrace the flowers and
The trees in a million little ways.


I touch gently at the windows with my
Soft fingers, and my announcement is a
Welcome song. All can hear, but only
The sensitive can understand.


The heat in the air gives birth to me,
But in turn I kill it,
As woman overcomes man with
The strength she takes from him.


I am the sigh of the sea;
The laughter of the field;
The tears of heaven.


So with love -
Sighs from the deep sea of affection;
Laughter from the colorful field of the spirit;
Tears from the endless heaven of memories.

Khalil Gibran

[Daretobeconju]

Great choices in poets!

I actually have very little conformity between how I write different pieces. I do some stream of conscious, yet some, as in The Whisper and The Lie, take a lot of research, editing, and rewriting. Some are written for spoken word and some as written poetry. The Whisper and The Lie actually came out of an excercise I created for myself because I was having trouble writing the second verse to a song. I later wrote a whole book based on that poem.
I love the patterns contained in some poetry, and the abstract beauty of prose as well. This may explain why I mastered no one form, only dabble in several.
I woke up this morning with an idea in my head - acronyms, or, more specifically, notorikons. There are no notorikons in what I wrote, but it was the inspiration. So I played around and came up with this:

P.O.E.M.S.T.O.R.Y.M.Y.T.H.
By The Fact Itself (I.P.S.O.F.A.C.T.O.)

Peer Onto Every Mountain
Pines Offer Endless Mossaic
Peeking Over Early Mists
Piercing Obscurity, Ever Magestic

Stories Told Of Rustic Yeoman
Stoic Tales Of Rough-sawn Youth
Solid Timber Often Rises Yearning,
Striving To Overcome Retrorse Years

May Yon Tomorrows Have
Many Yearlings Tempered Harshly
Mighty Yggdrasil Tasted Hardship
Mayhap You'll Touch Heaven

In Poem, Story, Or Fable, As Creation Traipses Onward


Similar to Haiku, the limitations of structure only allow for certain possibilities to take shape, and only a small portion of those to truly shine. I tend toward writing in this manner, which means I toss a large portion of my ideas due to the fact that I cannot contain a coherent message throughout. As with haiku and notorikons, there are only certain possibilities that are viable.
That's why I appreciate Immune's Haiku(s) so much.

[makarios68]

Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening, by Robert Frost:

Whose woods these are I think I know.
His house is in the village, though;
He will not see me stopping here
To watch his woods fill up with snow.

My little horse must think it queer
To stop without a farmhouse near
Between the woods and frozen lake
The darkest evening of the year.

He gives his harness bells a shake
To ask if there is some mistake.
The only other sound's the sweep
Of easy wind and downy flake.

The woods are lovely, dark, and deep,
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep

[Angel_de_Combate]

@daretobeconj Thank you for posting your work here, you've inspired me to get creative again. I've pretty much finished my college course so I'll have some free time to write. My poetry usually comes from a dream I've had or a thought I had.

@wudy I was going to post a Robert Frost poem this morning!

A Late Walk

When I go up through the mowing field,
The headless aftermath,
Smooth-laid like thatch with the heavy dew,
Half closes the garden path.

And when I come to the garden ground,
The whir of sober birds
Up from the tangle of withered weeds
Is sadder than any words

A tree beside the wall stands bare,
But a leaf that lingered brown,
Disturbed, I doubt not, by my thought,
Comes softly rattling down.

I end not far from my going forth
By picking the faded blue
Of the last remaining aster flower
To carry again to you.

Robert Frost

[Daretobeconju]

My favorite Frost piece:

I have been one acquainted with the night.
I have walked out in rain -- and back in rain.
I have outwalked the furthest city light.

I have looked down the saddest city lane.
I have passed by the watchman on his beat
And dropped my eyes, unwilling to explain.

I have stood still and stopped the sound of feet
When far away an interrupted cry
Came over houses from another street,

But not to call me back or say good-bye;
And further still at an unearthly height,
O luminary clock against the sky

Proclaimed the time was neither wrong nor right.
I have been one acquainted with the night.

Robert Frost

[Angel_de_Combate]

Originally Posted by Daretobeconju

My favorite Frost piece:

I have been one acquainted with the night.
I have walked out in rain -- and back in rain.
I have outwalked the furthest city light.

I have looked down the saddest city lane.
I have passed by the watchman on his beat
And dropped my eyes, unwilling to explain.

I have stood still and stopped the sound of feet
When far away an interrupted cry
Came over houses from another street,

But not to call me back or say good-bye;
And further still at an unearthly height,
O luminary clock against the sky

Proclaimed the time was neither wrong nor right.
I have been one acquainted with the night.

Robert Frost

Yea I was torn between the one I posted and this one. I like how descriptive he is.

Here's one of mine, short and sweet.

A gentle hush sways the corn
My heart slows down to a drum beat
Burning star warms my skin
I taste the air.

[Daretobeconju]

Originally Posted by Angel_de_Combate

Yea I was torn between the one I posted and this one. I like how descriptive he is.

Here's one of mine, short and sweet.

A gentle hush sways the corn
My heart slows down to a drum beat
Burning star warms my skin
I taste the air.

Love it!!!