Plumb the Depths

Plumb The Depths

Reality breaks the depths of wishing
as all innocence waits in ignorance -
beginnings unraveling into unknowns
while tomorrows are snoring, unawares.. .
.
Inside some sacred souls there are answers
waiting upon the proper questions breath;
in those depths of quandaries and suspicions
barely a whisper can be certainty .
.
Upward gazing, while complaining neck pain
We are dual counterpoints of quest ,
drowning in a quagmire of understanding
unsuspecting, and totally out of our depth


unedited tag poem
copy right Dreamsbyday 2008

Shallow Graves

DreamsbyDay: Shallow Graves
DreamsbyDay: .
DreamsbyDay: Barely cold,
DreamsbyDay: we don new skins
DreamsbyDay: and venture into tomorrows
DreamsbyDay: with a vengence meant for death
DreamsbyDay: Yet we forget our days
DreamsbyDay: of breath and raindrops
DreamsbyDay: courting  new eternities
DreamsbyDay: resorting to odd prayers and incantations
DreamsbyDay: Dare we go
DreamsbyDay: where intellect leaves sense
DreamsbyDay: where faith and fantasy
DreamsbyDay: eclipse the stars we wish upon?
DreamsbyDay: Dreams die in shallow graves
DreamsbyDay: aching towards the surface
DreamsbyDay: a heartbeat away from our sighs
DreamsbyDay: a whisper ed play of words
DreamsbyDay: upon the breeze.
DreamsbyDay: These are the wishes
DreamsbyDay: left to roam when dust decays
DreamsbyDay: when apparitions counsel
DreamsbyDay: and sleeplessness  turns to insight
DreamsbyDay: .
DreamsbyDay: .
DreamsbyDay: .
DreamsbyDay: end

 

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Life's Energies

   
    topic by GaerLlwyd 

 

 

  Following a path of sweet redemption
  through the broken gravel, thorns, and rocks
  begging for a bit of God's attention,
  wondering if omnipotence, forgot...
 
  Pushing through the pain of life's misery
  as if tomorrow, were a brand new day
  Strength and sinew  fighting would be weary
  obstinence the key to holding bay..

 

  Ask me if it hurts to be unrested...
  to be forever in the working mode..?
  What is life, if it is not soul tested?
  Is it just a race to growing old?
 .
  Life's energies are best spent in our deeds
  Life's ending without marks, is death, indeed..

 

 

 

 

 ©Dreamsbyday  / Denise~Marie

  Runner Up-Tag poet of the Week, April 06

  

Tags: omnipotence, god, life, death, soul, drudgery, pain, hard work, rewards, energy

Lacey Pink Stockings

Lacey Pink Stockings

All the clotheslines look the same to me.
Line after line billowing in the breeze
striped towels, blue jeans, cotton sheets,
strung in color order. Lights and darks
in perfect tight rows....

Weird that my mind is thinking about clothes...
How often do I sit and examine things as those?
A door bell chimes or a telephone tones ,
I'm suddenly thrown out of pensive mode..
… sorting , ‘sorta lost …

Ahh, but these lingering odd thoughts…
variations of memories wrought

by sunlit garments , wind caught…
Seems my line is no different, than others.

So ordinary.

Stark white flags, Egyptian cotton sheets, tease…
There’s more black here, than most, to catch the breeze..

Flapping to a windswept melody,

The pieces unaware of what they sing

Across the fence.

Why so much black ? Do I lack of color sense?
Perhaps a statement of morose pretense?
Never knew I was quite so dark. None the less...
There’s nothing frill , mostly working duds-
cleaned with simple suds .

A dab of spot remover, a little bleach...
All said and done, what does laundry teach ?

Is something bright so far outside my reach?
Some lively color, might be overdue…
Like lacey pink stockings…

©Denise~Marie aka Dreamsbyday

Tags: lacey, pink, stockings, depression, mundane, dark, colors, laundry, poetry, ordinary, black

Disenchanted Heart

        
      (tag poem, edited)

    The showers capture everything they touch 
    drop by drop they wash away the traces
    of tears wept in memory of  embraces,
    aching, lingering long, erasing trusts...
 
    The lyrics  are dismembered from their  song.
    The scents of roses missing from their blooms.
    The echo of your name pervades the room.. 
    The heartcan only bear it ,for so long...

    Winds wait outside the window wooing  words
    once  trusted to your lips, conveying love
    words preying on what I was dreaming of..
    the sweetest  poem, my heart had never heard...
 
    This disenchanted  heart  now hears no sound
    except these raindrops...falling, on the ground.
 
 
  

Secret

 Secret                                 (tag poem, edited)

  Such sadness in those eyes
  so serious, so solemn
  As if a secret waited
  that would escape as a tear...

  One solitary sigh
  escapes  and breathes, so softly.
  The warmth of an errant word
  you dare not whisper aloud.
  
  Shackled by  that promise
  spoken  hastily  to please;
  swarming in the wrecklessness
  of a well intentioned deed...
 
  Silent words mouthed, barely
  to a pale unhearing sky-
  sweet release, from agony
  of an aching, bursting heart.

  ©DreamsbyDay

Losing My Soul

a workshop poem, where in the last word of the previous line is the first word of the next:

  (tag poem, unedited)

Bellexmas: All chat to IM here's Denise telling of Losing My Soul
Bellexmas: ~~~
Bellexmas: ~~
Bellexmas: ~
DreamsbyDay: .
DreamsbyDay: .
DreamsbyDay: Soul of Insanity, you trip over lies
DreamsbyDay: Lies meant to satisfy, Lies meant to trick.
DreamsbyDay: Trick me today yes, but not tomorrow...
DreamsbyDay: Tomorrow I'll be wiser, than the fool you see...
DreamsbyDay: See though the fog of  mind of confusion.
DreamsbyDay: Confusion is power to someone like you.
DreamsbyDay: You take the joy out of  loving and giving
DreamsbyDay: Giving  myself to you , cost me , my soul.