Controlled?
Surely not I!
I, human, am supreme
With a mind of power- What's this?
Ooo... pretty colors...
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Controlled?
Surely not I!
I, human, am supreme
With a mind of power- What's this?
Ooo... pretty colors...
colors
line my mind's paths
keeping time with my pace,
fading, then crescendoing as
I paint
I paint
gold on lilies,
I let my salty tears
Fall into the deep and briny
Ocean.
ocean
of all great thoughts
grant me peace to meet fear
and hope to carry my heart through
safely
Safely
In pastures green
By still waters I am
Lead. I shall not fear Death’s Dark
Valley…
Valley
Sheep are fatter,
Says the poet; sweeter
Flesh upon those from the high hills.
No choice.
no choice,
a noose, a cliff ~
Sisyphean battle,
I lay down my sword and allow
love's death
Love's death,
the turning globe
her warmth a drowsy dream,
repeated like a skipping song;
asleep.
your on today, IP. :) "repeated like a skipping song", very cool.
asleep
venture out, but
hold fast the knotted rope
that trails the watchful lifeboat of
conscious
conscious
dream, ensconce my
soul, what lies within is
ephemerally tarnished and
crumples
(hey that didn't turn out as bad as I thought it would.)
crumples
intrepid angst,
a mellow dew past the
plank where the schooner rises,
full tide
full tide,
sea's rhapsody
crescendoes, merciless.
marine orchestra then pulls back,
bowing.
Cold, How it is in my heart ,not only in my heart but everywhere . It cold so cold you feel like a naked molerat . Because it is cold all places in the United states. Tommorrow , We will have winterty mix marching at our door. How is it that Mother Winter can do such a thing?
Wrong form, brokenheartpoet, 2-4-6-8-2 syllables, and start with last line of previous poem ;)
Bowing,
the little man
takes my coat and my hat.
“Master Wong is waiting for you.
Go now.”
go now
and find yourself.
walk humbly with no fear.
seek until you have found your God
in you.
in you
The Muse is in you
be sure it is in you
to get the true inspiration
look at in your heart
your heart
beating with mine,
greater blessing, there's none!
draw me close to your very soul;
hold tight.
Hold tight
The confession
Of your faith without fear—
Counting Him faithful who made you
Promises... :angel:
promise,
this hand I give,
loyal in time of darkness,
be mine will thou? I carry your
sorrow,
sorrow
clings to my soul.
mercilessly, it bites,
but I cannot scream, it tires me.
I weep.
I weep,
For those who die,
Friendless, forsaken, lost—
No hand to hold in that dark hour—
Alone…
Alone
I walk upon
The road; the wild places
Hearken to God, and the stars talk
to stars.
(With apologies to Lermontov)
to stars
my thoughts ascend,
seeking beauty's solace.
they whisper an angelic love
poem.
To stars
Man has always
Looked with wonder and desire.
What lies out there beyond forever?
Awesome…
Poem.
A city falls.
A hero journeys home.
God's plan made manifest to men.
Awesome
Awesome,
Almighty, Worthy
To be Praised, Give Tongue
Nations, Let The Earth Rejoice, Break
Forth Song
Sorry. I could have sworn my poem was where Susan's is yesterday! Hummmm. :)
forth song
sprouts springtime notes
liliting melodies turn
grey storm clouds to blue velvet skies
and sun
And sun
Sinks down in blood
While seas foam, lash and crash
And mountains rock and all the hills
shiver
Shiver
Cold winds breathe
Upon cyanotic
Flesh now stilled in eternal
Slumber
Slumber
sweet enchantment
drift on blossom pillow
luxurious cadences flow,
escape
escape
perchance to flee
for in that flight of fear
what terrors hauntingly appear
to me
to me
and coyotes,
the rash rolling of night
unleashed disastrous pitching stars,
dizzied
Dizzied,
I look around,
Wishing her love I found,
But devils dance around me see,
So peace,
so peace,
missing longer
than my stillborn children
elusively dancing away
from me.
from Me
has come forth all
energy and honor.
through Me are capabilities
unknown.
Unknown
Or, unknowable?
The question must remain:
Is all really so mysterious—
Or God?
Or God
ineffable,
beyond our describing,
speaks not to our minds, but our hearts
in love.
in love,
joy, peace, grace, faith—
He still speaks, yet do we
harken to the sound of that still,
small voice?
:angel:
small voice
for such a boy.
it almost seems as though
he is holding back a flood
of truth.
Of truth,
We shall see death,
In our very last breath,
Will it be a golden dream, *sigh*
Shan't cry.