Workshop Poems

(workshop poem)

Sweven

Twisted in the blankets of a night mare
   Crying without sound for fear of waking sanity
      The path of my visions wriggles through tensed veins
         stopping at a heart in parataxis...


 If dreams are wishes  of the soul
     and wishes  uttered have no chance  to live
          How do I hold my urge to scream
              when in hold of such a vicious  dream?

Billowy pillows become my bolstered strength
    sweven saved by the buffer of soft embrace
          I'll keep my hopes inside and hold my tongue
                 to give those dreams the chances to become. 

 

 

 

Gentle Feelings

How the wind can softly lift the petals
without causing damage to the flower
makes the mind reel when in the midst of storms
hungry gusts eat all they can devour
Your eyes speak of sweet promises and yet
there lurks behind their glimmer something fierce
Perhaps it's passion simmering inside,
unless it's something painful left unpeirced.
Some sin unspoken , some illicit mood
simmering there just underneath your calm,
excitement not with love but something else...
a pulsing that at once alarms, and charms..
A gentle heart with gentle feelings waits
where you instead push forward steadily
Will this be love in bloom or devestation?
Are you in passion 's throes...or love with me...?

Dreamsbyday 9.19.04

 

~~~~The Last Rought Draft~~~


Darwinisms aside...
I can't abide stoicism...
change is good...
change is progress
Cliches abound
take the helm...
bull by the horns...
brand new day...
Sighs escape
as examination
of a life of frustration
aggravates and depresses.
Realization reveals
I have evolved,
I understand perfection
is unattainable.

...but I think I am doing so much better
than my first rough draft.

Dreamsbyday 1/o8/o4



~~~~Flame of Love~~~~

Not starry eyed, these glassy eyes are weary.
No rose colored specks, no romantic teary veils.
No grandstand statements or grandiose lines;
No affectations meant to define,
a feeling not quite felt.
When fires burn within a settled heart,
dispelling myths that seem a part of "true" love,
flickers may flutter and sparks indeed may fly,
but nothing fantastic or visible to the eye will show.
There comes a quiet acceptance , from
the comfort of a smile ,or a gentle touch
or a tender kiss that warms you through...
and stokes the flames not to burst, but last a lifetime,
burning ever new.

Dreamsbyday 1.07.04





~~~A Planned Fall~~~

Hear the clicking of my brain
metered mayhem , measuring madness,
tick- tock , biological clock,
Swinging pendulum ,too close , too close!
Eyes mark , watch the motion
like a friendly ghost, going ,going...
gone into a new dimension,
under an unknown ,too scared to mention.
Undertones of an underworld...
lower ,lower, like a sickening limbo;
how low can you go?...
See the arch of a soul crack
watch that clock suddenly turned back
Harkening to yesterdays chimes...
precarious perilous, pitiful times!
Catch me please, if you have the hands!
None of this, none of it , was the planned
fall of one otherwise competant brain that stopped...
tick ...tock ...
drop.

Dreamsbyday 9.25.04

 

Awesome topic by :EtherealEventide:

~~~ "Delineation of A Bartered Soul" ~~~

True hell is a condition
without detail of destination .
We arrive in a place we never meant to stray
and wither away, from the inside ,out.
Self doubt and sanctity collide
we endure where only the strong survive,& trevail
forgetting the details,the truths
that once stained our innocence and youths.
Recompense for deeds of misery
take us down that path ,and history proves
the stains on your soul, can not be removed.
So a bartered soul drifts towards the gate,
wondering why the wait is e n d l e s s
forgetting that heaven was lost...before they left.

DreamsbyDay 11.16.03

Awesome topic by XEnigmalivesX

~~ Posthumously Yours~~

Dust knows no color no religion, no sex,
covering lies,or obscuring truth...It protects.
In blinding storms it ravishes, and chokes.
it gives us life, then, ruthlessly revokes.
We sweep it out as if to hide our screams.
It's face's form the shattering of dreams.
Dust settles, changing muddy the rain,
salting wounds, blighting truth ,ignoring pain.


Words of my days are scattered in the breeze.
whispered in the winds,on the sighs of the bereaved.
Settling on the sills of souls windows closed
shuttered by the stubborness you chose.
Now the words are otherworldly...
Now the feelings seem your own..
Now the shadows veil your blame, your shame...
Now you hear my pleading soul's refrains?

Ignored before ,why do you heed me now ?
Did you think I'd break your trust ,or disavow
some sad responibility I bore, when
I'd never done an ill to you before ?
Did you need to know I'd be without deceit?
Did you need to know your secrecy complete?
Did you need assurance I'd be without gain?
Did you simply hold me in that much disdain??

Here now,as dust, my raspy voice enthralls
You clearly hear, the words don't rise and fall.
Death equalizes words once held inside
Uttering what my living breath denied.
You listen now, my ghostly voice sounds clear
I don't provoke attack, invoke your fear.
Words come now from some ethereal plain...
Curious- that my words are just the same.

Dreamsbyday 8.17.03