Whether you be a dream or future friend I care not.
Just the thought and hope of you
brings my heart to a new light.
You breathe love to my art.
So stay a fantasy or walk in my life,
My beloved either way
will cause my soul to strive to grow.
This is another little short break time poem. What do you think of it? How do you like the voice of the poem?
Remind me of my strength
when I weep from weakness.
Hold my brave hand
as I tremble with fear.
Call me beautiful
when I am in bed sick.
Support me
until all your support runs out.
I know I will do so for you.
This is a short little break time poem that came to me as I was working. I hope you enjoy it and please let me know what you think.
This feels a bit darker than most of my poetry, but I did just watch a rather dark movie this past weekend. I realized just how beautiful darkness can be. Although, I still do prefer light and happy topics.
Pierce me with your ink fill sword,
force your words to linger
as they twist inside,
because murder is never sweet,
unless it’s in the mind
causing a new reality to live.
So murder my mind
with words of wonder.
Let the sharp bladed images
of your prose or verse
slice out the mundane,
so that I may live among your ink
until the new understandings take hold
and I am reborn with new light.
This could be amazing;
ride upon unicorns
over sparkling rainbows
while bards play magical melodies
and wild nymphs dance on trees
amazing.
Others may spring into light
out of sheer joy.
This could bring delightful dancing doggies
or curiously cute cats,
wonders upon wonders could be brought.
On the other hand
if you flip the tape,
reverse my hopes,
show my fears.
This could be terrible,
rotted death could ooze out its orifices
like black tar filled humiliation
and the sulfur smell of dying dreams
those that were crushed by failure,
which would cause a dank cave
to become a bare home for my soul
with only swollen sadness
to guide my lonely days.
There is a burning flame
a flickering fire inside
that holds to the unicorn
almost seeing the sparkling rainbow
and knows
even if dying dreams are crushed by failure
new one will arise
out of the dream pulp
or ashes of failure.
The phoenix that is my heart
will go on
will create.
First you whisper,
then you walk close.
You talk,
telling me to focus
or maybe it was ‘relax’.
Either way you came
to distract,
although my aim was to ignore
and ignore I did
until the training was brought to its end.
You allowed me to ignore you,
but you were patiently waiting
gathering information for the fight.
You calmly waited
until I was alone.
I was still.
Then you erupted
with a thunderous shout
because I did not move
not how you wanted.
The movement caused you to no longer be ignored
my attention was yours.
As I relaxed you were in the way.
As I lay in bed you preventing sleep.
As I ate breakfast you interrupted.
Thankfully I could dig in my bag
to find earmuffs to your nice
and swallowed them down.
Then heated a towel
to sooth what was left,
eventually freezing you out after.
More ear muffs,
more heat, more cold
and then life was possible.
Let me live among the stars
Allow me to dance a jazz-square
on the moon.
If not teach me
how to trap my dreams in reality.
I will soar high
above my common life
living in the clouds of my desire
then like gravity
you pull be back
to where I sit.
Let me fly.
Let me soar.
Let me live,
even for a moment more.
Instead you pull me
chain me
and remind me of my fears.
Road blocks are made
while obstacles rise
like you forget what’s inside.
My heart will soar
I will fly.
You may be helpful
reminding me of reality
but my dear mind
you know my heart and my soul.
They will win.
I will live among the stars
and dance on the moon,
so please just step aside.
Oh, there’s the reason.
There it lies,
on the floor of my mind.
It was hidden
behind ideas of romance
under longings of intimacy
neither the reason.
They only hide the truth.
This attachment to a stranger
with the idea of romance
longing for discovery of the deep
was caused by a dream of more,
just like reading my mind
told by another life,
this one also touched my soul.
He spoke my heart,
showed the world my hopes,
and told me I could be
the more of my dreams,
without even knowing my existence.
The Window stays open,
but it’s cold outside.
The window stays open,
as I put on a heavy sweat shirt.
The window stays open,
so I pull on warm socks.
The cold air reminds me
of autumn leaves blowing.
The cold air reminds me
of my family gathering.
The cold air reminds me
that I am still alive.
The window stays open.
The cold air reminds me.
In a sea of knowledge
I’m surrounded by boats not fish
technology in the place of nature.
Pushing manual buttons
to answer virtual questions.
Even as I yearn for true life
I watch a mechanical fountain
as it pushes recycled water.
Electricity and lighted monitors
are my visual inputs,
with photo-shopped beauties plastered
all around the two-dimensions of my screen;
All the while knowing nature is so much more
fulfilling, beautiful, and inspiring.
It’s so sad that the shackles
of modern life keeps me coming
to the sea of knowledge
where I push mechanical buttons.
This was a very short poem, but I lengthened it. Let me know what you think and have a wonderful day.
Joy is a choice.
Love is an action.
How can you choose
Joy when you’re drowning?
What loving action can you take
when your soul is fighting to survive?
I escape from a self-inflicted prison,
now able to see
to breath
but still hurt by hits
fired from one who knows
where the wounds will be effective.
Still I will love
and find a way to choose joy.
The hurt will heal.
I will not cage my caring or my calling.
Joy is a choice I am choosing.
Love is an action I will do.
My heart desires to write a love song
so deep, so true;
one that brings tears
or makes you say, “oh my dear.”
Desire fills me to write words
that could move mountains
or the hardest soul
so darling please urge yourself to weep.
As my romantic heart breaks
because the only love I’ve known
seems to have been a mistake.
It was far away,
long ago and healed with time.
I was not even the same heart.
The love I knew feels
like a faded dream,
a distant mystery;
one with less hope
nearly hidden
in the darkened valleys of the changed girl.
Yes, I loved once
but it was not deep, not true,
so how can I tell you of love?
What romance can I give,
except second-hand?
Let me know what you think of this poem. I really enjoyed writing it and it is exactly what I wanted to say. I am proud to call this one my own at this moment, so would love all the feedback that can be given.
Will my eyes fall
before my mind fades?
Will poetic words escape,
running faster than sleep?
They are there,
right behind my pen,
pushing and struggling to be freed.
Too many push
Too many are jammed into the passage way.
The ink cannot be spread fast enough,
they are clogged and stuck.
My eyes are falling
as my mind fades.
My poetry lost the race;
sleep won.
Speckled with colors
and pink dyed hands,
I came to write
about what I saw in this land.
Words escaped me
my mind drew blank
as I push a story aside
to focus on how to create.
Yet, here I sit
speckled with colors
and pink dyed hands
only thinking lost thoughts
waiting for words to write.
Show me your pattern,
undo your meaning,
let me into your world,
and make me dance.
Make me bounce in my seat.
I know that’s what you want;
your beat makes me dance;
your words move me to writ;
and your rhythm is the pace I write.
Yeah it’s like you know
what I need,
What is in my heart,
where my mind wants to go.
So, Show me your pattern,
undo your meaning,
let me into your world
and make me dance.
Make me bounce in my seat.
You know you do.
Let me think.
I need to ponder,
If I choose wrong
I may meet an ogre.
What would she do?
Where should they go?
There are many enemies around
and my rolls have been low.
My spells are running out.
There is no rest in sight.
I think ogres are getting closer.
I’m sure they want to fight.
A party member is running off.
I guess we all should follow.
If we run into a dragon.
I’ll give it that party member to swallow.
Hey DM do I get inspiration?
I hope you guys liked this poem. Let me know what you think.
Can art go on art;
Laying on it like a lover?
One inspiring the other,
romantically entangled,
but no romance to handle?
Would the art be part of the other art;
like one piece of the whole is the heart?
It would supply life,
living as section,
being whole by being only a part.
This is just a fast little poem, but I hope you enjoy it. Let me know what you think.
Please give me,
a dark den,
with a cool current flowing through.
Let the ground be a bed,
not dirt or grass.
Really I just want a dark den
to lay my bed.
For you see
I simply don’t want to be me.
Not that I do not like being me,
simply put I don’t want to be.
Just for a time,
just for a night.
All I want to be
is in a dark den,
one that is cool,
with my beautiful bed
to curl up comfy in.
Who do I do this for?
Who will win from my hard work?
Who will smile as I undress,
displaying my wonderfully curvy body?
Me, the answer is me.
I will win,
I will smile
and I am doing this for me.
I do not strive,
I do not fight,
I do not struggle
not for anyone,
except me and God.
If I do not do this for me,
then it is for God.
If I do not win,
then it is for God.
If I do not smile,
then I lost sight of God.
Who is all this for?
It is for me,
but if not me than for God.
I do not want to live this life.
I want to dance with the pixies,
laugh with the werewolves
and maybe meet a fairy or two.
I do not want to live this life.
I want to see my thoughts
in air bubbles that are
taken away by the evening’s breeze.
I do not want to live this life.
I yearn to be free.
Free of things tied to reality,
where there is magic.
I do not want to live this life.
Yet, I know I have to.
I guess I will just depend on love
to be my magic
and honestly the is enough for me.
I longed for a strong hero,
a beauty to lean on,
a beast to help me on my way,
so exploration was started.
Who could complete me?
Where was he?
Inner findings
led to inner peace
and I found my strong hero,
she was there
inside of me.
Yes, I find my beauty
the more I find my beast.
Both inside,
both me,
and I am complete.
I may not know how
to capture one’s heart,
but I can capture their arms
and that’s alright with me.
I know I always seem on guard,
unless you are in my guard,
then I am my hero,
and I remember
I already know my way
and I am the only version of me.
The road may get dark
as it often does.
The terrain will be rough
and the path may narrow.
I may need a hand,
I will need a lift.
Life is not meant to live on alone.
That is why I have friends supporting me,
Family loving me
and that is why I trust in God.
Yes, I find my beauty
the more I find my beast.
Both inside,
both me
and I am complete.
This poem came to me when I was changing after BJJ class. Jiu-Jitsu really does help me find my confidence, strength and I always feel great about myself afterwards. Now apparently it is helping me with my writing to.
I hope you enjoyed this and let me know what you think.
For The Joy Of Tiff 