Tag: Poet

Poetry

The Carpet

The wind was crisp

and the sun sang warm to my skin.

The rest of the world was too fast

to know bliss like that.

The truth is: the truth is too expensive;

a depth of emotion most are unwilling

to pay.

Humanity can’t see through true eyes.

Can’t see the fighting is a small child’s game.

Who are the adults?

Let me know when you meet them.

Wounded and scared;

don’t you know how deeply you once felt the world?

The carpet is there for a reason.

The broom is used by all until the carpet

spills the truth.

The truth, they say,

will set you free, and I am free

to tell you that.

But, then again,

the carpet is good, too.

Photo by Yaroslav Shuraev on Pexels.com

Tags Authentic self, Emotions, Healing, Humanity, Inner child, Poet, Poetry, Poetry writers, Self Actualisation, Truth, Wounded inner child, Writer

Poetry

Wherever I May Go

Life and her currents.

I feel them like tears in my bones.

And all I can do is let the river run,

let the stream carry me

wherever I may go.

Through the high clouds of white.

Through the deep dungeons, dark.

I will be there.

Life,

I will be there

to follow the rainbow, home.

Photo by Monica Turlui on Pexels.com

Tags Creative, Creative Writing, Deep thinkers, Depth, Empath, Humanity, Life, Life Journey, Love, Poem, Poet, Poetry

Poetry

Searching

How deep is the sea that clutches

and drags me to the muddy floor, within?

How many days will I tumble

into the swell of inner life

unspoken, unwanted, unkind?

Shall I stand here, now,

battered and smiling, beside this beautiful life?

Still searching.

Always searching, but for the fleeting days

of clarity,

of home neat and tidy.

The creative knife;

sharp, yet desperately beautiful in shine.

Still searching.

Always, still searching.

Photo by cottonbro on Pexels.com

Tags Creative, Creative People, Dark night of the soul, Deep thinkers, Healing, Poet, Poetry, Poets, Spiritual Awakening, Spiritual growth, Spiritual healing, Spiritual journey

Poetry

Loneliness

There is depth and beauty in loneliness.

It is quiet.

Peaceful.

And though I’ve never known it,

loneliness is the wave that has known me

a lifetime, long.

Its quiet waits for nothing,

it just hangs in the air,

aching,

holding me closer

and closer

until I am quiet, too.

I will try to let it be.

To never ask it to leave,

but instead,

let it fill me

until I have no room left inside.

I will let it be, now,

loneliness.

I will no longer be attached

to wishing it gone.

Photo by Khoa Vu00f5 on Pexels.com

Tags Emotions, Feelings, Friends, Friendship, Isolation, Loneliness, Lonely, Poem, Poet, Poetry, Relationships, Social anxiety

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.

Tags Dreamer, Dreamers, Humanity, Poem, Poems, Poet, Poetry, Poets, Soul, Spirit, Writing, Writing poetry

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.

Tags Creative, Creativity, Dreamer, Healing, Inner Peace, Life, Poem, Poet, Poetry, Spiritual growth, Spiritual journey, Writer

Poetry

How Is A Rose To Grow?

A rose to meet the morning bright,

to grow in cheer,

to gather life.

Yet day to day

the rose does wither,

day to day the rose does wither,

lost

beneath the foggy dreary.

Lost.

Beneath.

How is a rose to gather

honey sweet

from deep blue trees?

How is a rose to grow

in the dark

of uncaring

life?

How is a rose to grow?

Tags Humanity, Poems, Poet, Poetry, Rose, Roses, Sorrow, Soul, Soul Food, Spiritual growth, Writers, Writing

Poetry

At Five

Sometimes

I feel five.

Like the world is big

and I am small.

And there are kids all around

bigger than me,

louder,

scarier,

bolder than this softness

that folds me

like tissue.

(No one else folds like tissue.

Just me.)

The softness of me at five

lingers;

a scent

(like lavender)

on the breeze

of my soul.

The softness of me.

The softness of me.

Tags Anxiety, Empath, Highly sensitive people, Life, Life Journey, Poem, Poet, Poetry, Poetry Writing, Sensitivity, Soul, Uncertainty

Poetry

All That I Am

Today, I begin the school of life again.

I hold my own hand, soft and unsure, as I stand at the gates of the unknown.

I am afraid.

I am also deep within the stillness of unafraid—

the beautiful tendril in the clouds,

the sweet surrender of a long resisted kiss.

I am the quiet that takes each step with me.

I am the longing I leave at the gate.

I am the breath this new life fills me with.

I am

all that I am,

and always will be.

Photo by Snapwire on Pexels.com

Tags Growth, Inspiration, Life, Mindful living, Poet, Poetry, Soul, Spirit, Spiritual, Spiritual journey, Spirituality, Transformation

Poetry

Alleyways

Slinking down alleyways,

thrilled by the rippling dark.

Black

upon white, cold

stone.

Daisies tilt their heads:

smile.

Axes bite into crimson bone,

dwelling in the corners

of the corners.

Pure.

Devilish.

A curious mix.

Grace breathes life

into fire.

Life breathes fire

into grace.

Tags Exploring, Growth, Humanity, Life, Poems, Poet, Poetry, Shadows, Spiritual Awakening, Spiritual growth, Spiritual journey, Wholeness