#0139 - A Story of Seeking Warmth...

{Written as part of Sextravaganza 2018, hosted by a number of poetic/literary enthusiasts on Tumblr}

The frozen Arctic wastes were cold and white.
That endless nothing streched from near to far—
a vapid vastness reaching past our sight.
...For friends, we only had the nightly stars.

A night spent hiding from the howling wind
gave birth to new ideas for warmth...and fun.
At first just hesitation: winks, a hint.
And then our hands were hunting pleasure und-

-er walls of cloth. And four together found
desire: reckless lust behind a blush.
The night then found salacious sounds, and dark-
-ness hid the scene of flesh exploring flesh.

Thus, miles apart from any sight: we found
new comfort, joy in something warm and white.

#0119 - A Moment Amongst Sunlit Waves

The sun-streaked waves, they roll across
the ocean's tranquil, sapphire blues.
The sun, while watching many ac-
-res, colours skies with splendid hues.

All moments turn to memories;
although they're gone in rapid time,
their lucid shadows never cease
to paint a landscape in your mind.

So take your senses, dive within
the sky, the sea, the sun, the rain—
they won't again, while you still live,
appear the same as on this day.

#0110 - Musings

{NaPoWriMo 2017 ~ Day 29}

I

I wouldn’t say I’m sober now,
But neither am I liquored up.
I guess I’m just preoccupied
With existential thoughts.

And that is why I seem distraught:
While part of me’s awaiting death,
The second part is clinging on
To this simplistic life.

I’m floating by and trudging ‘long,
I’m hoping that a glimmer of
Enlightenment will find its way
To this imprisoned mind.

I wish I were a bird because
I’d have to move through air instead
Of trudging through these expecta-
-tions, sorely overwhelmed.

II

You’d think that air would rightly be a breeze to travel through.
But something ‘bout these sounds and stares keeps holding back my feet:
These horrid expectations that are always finding me
I’d rather have replaced with clubs or knives of crimson hue.

This populace is filled with people that refuse to care:
A massive presentation of this world’s fatuity.
These ersatz feelings pave the way for thoughts that torture me:
That everyone is simply waiting for my mind to tear.

The stares devoid of any thought replace the dreams of past;
Forgetting what they once lived for, these people are now grey—
Their dull indifference seeks to spread its deadly grip to me.
I’m chained and beat by glares and stares, but hold my ground, steadfast.

III

There are a million paths through life, and e-
-very one is forked to form a million more.

At every gateway there’s a second door
To lead you faster to your final end.

It offers you a short respite, an end
To all the gloomy things that may assault

Your mind and propagate your countless faults,
Which never cease to bring torment and doubt.

Thus, Death is there, awaiting your last bout,
Which drives you grimly, quickly ‘cross the edge—

That ever-present scythe with sharpened edge,
That cloak of darkness standing motionless.

Don’t let yourself be drawn by what Death says;
It’s easy to be happy when some nic-

-eties find you, but not so otherwise.
If life were not made up of darker times,

The better times would not be so sublime.

#0103 - Student's Plight

{NaPoWriMo 2017 ~ Day 22}

This massive flood of texts and books, so bland
Cannot prepare a student to go on
Or even just to start to understand

The things in which they wish to play a hand.
With frantic grip they must for life cling on:
This massive flood of texts and books, so bland—

It threatens, makes one wish to quick aban-
-don hope and with their tired wits abscond
Or even just to start to understand.

If we say knowledge, wisdom, are both land
On which we must survive, then is it wrong,
This massive flood of texts and books, so bland?

Or is it for each woman and each man
Required to within this life move on,
Or even just to start to understand

The shifts, changing, always moving sands
That form this life's eternal, abstract song?
This massive flood of texts and books, so bland,
Is nigh-impossible to understand.

#0093 - To Know

{NaPoWriMo 2017 ~ Day 12}

If I could know a hundred million things,
I don't know if this craving would abate;
or even if an end to these stirrings

can truly come... Can I myself satiate
this cursèd cluelessness? Or am I, now
and always, doomed—wisdom's prison's inmate—

to only, always humble, lowly bow
and, seeking, pray to some enlightened mind
and hope that I can grasp some knowledge? How

am I to keep from staying dully blind?
Or am I to be with this void aligned?

#0085 - Rhetoric of Numbers

{NaPoWriMo 2017 ~ Day 4}

These numbers and dry formulæ may be,
By blasted inexplicability,
A better piece of poetry to read
Than any word or phrase written by me.
If words in poems are indeed to veil
A meaning that by pond'ring eyes' assailed,
Then digits can be easily availed
To cause these ardent ponderers to fail:
Replace a thought with π or e or 4
Or any of a frankly endless score
Of varied symbols rarely used yet more
Elucidating than one's lingual lore.
     But, rather than with maths be so enraged,
     I'd like to just read poems off a page.

#0077 - On Undue Extravagance

I feel as if it isn't hard to write
A poem that can tempt the genius mind.
Weave stories of a turtle with a kite,
And soon in such a mind you'll likely find:
The turtle is a slovenly reject
And, as such, lumbers like an ugly slug
Presenting sloth as something to reject
Else one's life passes like that of a bug.
The kite is brilliant opportunity
Forsaken by a lazy, useless beast
That though we easily can view and see
Flies off into the vastly empty east.
     Though, truthfully, I only wanted to
     Write something for a child in preschool.

#0052 - "My mind is often thinking of an end"

My mind is often thinking of an end
To all I hate and, more so, all I love.
I think of how I could somehow append
More time to life: I fear both goat and dove.
Yet flowers never wish they could live on
Once seeds of theirs have spread across the land:
As soon as offspring are assured 'pon yon-
-der hills, they quick succumb to time's bleak hand.
Old canines, felines, insects and the Jay,
Once coming near their end, they simply lie:
They do not dramatize their deaths, and they
Don't mope 'pon knowing that their time is nigh.
     It's strange to know that death I always fear
     When everything its end must one day near.

#0049 - "Don't trick yourself with tinted looking glass"

Don't trick yourself with tinted looking glass.
Experience the passing time with ardour,
For even sun and moon will one day pass.

Though one can't see the Earth in all its mass,
Nor pinpoint each and every linen pucker,
Don't trick yourself with tinted looking glass.

Do not think never-ending growing grass,
Do not think never-ending florid verdure,
For even sun and moon will one day pass.

The world can falsely pretty be. Alas,
Perceiving what it truly is is harder:
Don't trick yourself with tinted looking glass.

Be wary of assumptions quick and crass:
Your moments, gifts, are ephemeral succour,
For even sun and moon will one day pass.

Don't give yourself to thoughtless, dull impasse:
Live in the moment with an innate fervour.
Don't trick yourself with tinted looking glass,
For even sun and moon will one day pass.

#0043 - "Green is not the only hue of nature"

Water flowing through the wooded acres,
Carving paths through Daisy-littered grasslands:
Visions I consider ever sacred.

Feel the grassy carpet with your hands and
Do not fear the clouds that fill the distance;
Knowledge, beauty: both are framed by bookends.

Find your place within this precious silence,
Fearing not the storm that's soon arriving;
Rain is part of nature's peaceful parlance.

Drizzle, rain, for now you're steady falling.
Fill this lush verdure and florid pasture,
Fill this landscape with your silent roaring.

Green is not the only hue of nature.

#0027 - "Mine pen hath fell from hand to wooden floor"

Mine pen hath fell from hand to wooden floor;
A cacophonous noise: calamity.
Its piercing clattering turns mine ears sore;
A failure vast of mine dexterity.
A wetness in mine eyes I feel hath stirr'd -
'Tis quickly seen that I am thus contrite,
For saltine tears have been with speed incurr'd;
They redden eyes and blur mine once-keen sight.
They make my failure to the world be known -
'Tis thus to others quickly realiz'd.
My failure resonates through flesh and bone:
A wronging worse than could have been surmis'd.
     A mourning time, but I myself console:
     A fallen pen should not my life control.

#0026 - "Costs are naught when time is set aside"

With time, the nightly hours spent alone
Gave eager way to conscious, lawless trysts.
Returning nightly to my dreams' abode,
Following moonlit hug, embrace and kiss.
Dust gathers, slowly coats leather-bound books
Sitting neglected on my wooden shelves -
For them my thoughts no longer long or ache,
But rather seek to with my other dwell.
Strings pegged on a guitar, strung tight as coils,
Are tense, but not as are my longing whims.
Like snapping strings my mind fast bursts with joy
When they I near, and hold as close as gems.
     But costs are naught when time is set aside
     For those who dearly in your heart reside.

#0024 - "I try to find my place upon the Earth"

I try to find my place upon the Earth;
To find a path or road on which I'm set;
But hard it is to find what I am worth.

My past endeavors I sometimes regret -
If what I've done is right I'm not quite sure.
My growing past is not pristine, and yet

What I fear most is my unknown future;
I wish it would its unknown plan let leak,
Provide me knowledge to serve as succor.

I'm lost and do not know what I should seek.

#0016 - "I saw a lady weeping in my dream"

I saw a lady weeping in my dream.
Though crowned, was not a monarch nor a queen.
Things right and wrong her ancient vision'd seen.
From what she said it seemed that she should be

The housewife of a diverse family -
A melting pot of personality;
One child counted distances in li,
Another'd crossed the trying eastern sea.

I asked her what made tears fall from her eyes.
She looked to me and gave a weary sigh.
She said she'd taught her children not to lie,
To never without reason scream or cry.

But now they screamed and cried throughout the night,
Throughout the day with one another fight.
She sought to show them back into the light,
But differences had blocked their childish sight.