Categories
Poetry

We Are The Poets

We are the poets.

The ones who listen to the bones of the earth.

The ones who feel the wind,

who know the wind,

who are the wind.

The bridge to the aching quiet.

We build it

and we travel its winding path,

searching for more than what we see,

the poets.

We are the poets.

We are the song of aching life.

Categories
Poetry

Unlimited

I feel the way I feel

because I feel the way I feel.

Because I am soft

and gentle,

because I am wild as the rain

and free as the sky.

But I am not free,

not really,

not in this world.

And that is surely

a tragic day

for the aspect of me

who knows she is unlimited.

Categories
Poetry

To Rest

What is this life

that drags me all the ways

through every shard of splintered glass?

I want to scream at the sun to stop!

Just for a moment,

stop.

Stop shining there.

I want only to wish on the moon

for peace,

oh for peace!

For peace,

indeed,

is a dream

to those who seek it

lifetimes long.

To rest a moment

beyond the race

is the blissful day.

To rest a moment.

To rest.

This moment.

Categories
Poetry

The Lonely Soul

The lonely soul

is a beauty.

She is quiet,

so quiet

as she whispers her way

through the noise,

through the dark,

through the rain.

Sing a sweet song to her.

Call to her

and she shall hand you

a soft and thoughtful dream.

Categories
Poetry

Eternally

This silence

is the cloud I fall upon

when I don’t know where to fly.

How beautiful

just to float.

Here.

Now.

Eternally.

Categories
Poetry

Little Light

What colour shall I paint my sky?

Soft-pink and grey:

clouds of spun sugar,

sweet dreams that drift me to life?

Bring me a cool breath of clarity.

Bring me a little light,

and I will shine it, wherever I may go.

Though the roads may crumble

and darken

and fade,

I will have my little light.

I will have my sweet dreamy sky.

Photo by James Wheeler on Pexels.com
Categories
Poetry

She

She wished for peace

and love.

And dance parties.

In the kitchen.

Categories
Poetry

Dreams

Will I always dream of life beyond the creaky bones of now?

The other side of the hill will call again, no doubt, whispering: this is what your life could be.

And though my heart is full, will I always dream of something more?

Of the life beyond the life?

The echo of the here.

The shadow of the now.

Dreams are always somewhere else, aren’t they?In a place that doesn’t exist.

Shall I creep towards that place, knowing there is no destination?

Knowing the birth of a dream will only end it and call forth the birth a new one?

Knowing the dream train will never ever reach the station?

Categories
Poetry

Fly Away

Falling from the sky

she sings,

‘One day I’ll fly away’.

Knowing she’ll always be falling.

Knowing she’ll always be

longing

to fly

away.

Categories
Poetry

Soon

I know you hear them.

The bells that ring for you

sing for you

bring for you

the stepping stones

of destiny.

What if I were to tell you

it’s all much easier

than you think?

What if I were to tell you

the search is over,

and the bells are coming

to you?

You would finally breathe again,

wouldn’t you.

You would finally see

that what you were searching for

was the quiet

you need

to hear the bells

and follow the call.

Soon, you will hear them

loud and clear.

Soon, sweet human.

Soon.