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| Topic: Ramblings | |
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Beautiful, Red
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Thank you, Torgo. It was some of the things that was on my mind, when I was at the park, sitting on the grass, supposedly reading a book whose page I haven't had the chance to turn for a whole hour or so.
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In our old shipwrecked days there was an hour,
When in the firelight steadily aglow, Joined slackly, we beheld the red chasm grow Among the clicking coals. Our library-bower That eve was lef to us: and hushed we sat As lovers to whom Time is whispering, From sudden-opened doors we heard them sing: The nodding elders mixed good wine with chat. Well knew we the Life's greatest treasure lay With us, and of it was our talk. "Ah, yes! Love dies!" I said: I never thought it less. She yearned to me that sentence to unsay. Then when the fire domed blackening, I found Her cheek was against my kiss, and swift Up the sharp scale of sobs her breast did lift:- Now I am haunted by that taste!that sound! - Dante Gabriel Rossetti |
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Thanks for sharing, Troy.
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this thread made for some very good reading at this late hour, i think i found one i hadn't read previously...
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this thread made for some very good reading at this late hour, i think i found one i hadn't read previously... Thank you for coming back to visit, kc. |
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i was thinking about you the other day and as suddenly i caught myself smiling at the thought of your name, and maybe that’s how we build a faith, or a trust, or a barnyard full of friends; by simply believing the best of those we touch along the day, or dream along in moonlit nights... and there the thought fell dead, leaving future speculation to trace hindsight, as it ambled along and back to that particular taste of yesterday, when the thought of you, and that unexpected smile, also brought a different tang to memory; a different walk along another bay. and all of this now, and suddenly, as i’m sitting still, and scrabbling tiles and letters and words to say, they all came rushing back; those songs i never sang, those words i never let say, those daydreams that never saw the light of day, those emotions my heart, my tongue, had never set free. and i don’t know, how different some lives would be, and mine, and yours, if i’d be now and still be me, and know you then as you smile at me, to tell you then what i want to now… it’s all foregone, foreclosed; that yesterday. it’s just us now; my world, and yours, and what we have, and all we never had, and history, and everything we still can’t say... but i was thinking about you the other day, and oh, i smiled, as i do, right now, knowing i have you still, like i never had; a friend to keep, a soul in need, for company. and even if you were, you are, a thousands miles away, and more, you’re still as near, as dear, as my own thoughts, and yours, can fly you close, and closer still. There is a calmness in your soul, enlightment in your heart and hope in your smile,,,, How awesome is this  |
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Farewell
I have poured affection into a parched bucket, I have struggled for words when, overflowing, the bucket cried to say more, I have bent my truth for someone else’s, when no other lie made sense, I have been silent, all of desire subverted to another need for honesty, even as my fears trickled like tears. I have been lost before, as I am now, to healing, to what else to say, what more to do; but, also, never have I ever cared as now, never have I struggled - to hold on, to let go - for these nebulous instants, ever more precious, as they dwindle with you into the distance. Take consolation, if you must, in the insulation offered by those miles; underline that certainty, stand by that honesty, having never been sullied, not ever having touched... consider that truth is all that does not occur, that the aftertaste of dreams is just the way your mouth feels every morning, after having spoken and truly, the possibility of you, of me, is one that now safely belongs in a parallel universe, and damn regrets, and perhaps time, that it was so. Perhaps there’s a world, a universe, outside of dreaming, where a truth, once acknowledged, opens up two people, all their needs, all their thoughts, to each other, and despite all that’s ever been, said and done inadequately, still there won’t ever rise any other need for someone else. I’m sure, if there is, rainbows must mean differently, sunrises evoke other than hope, sunsets might mean other than leavings and healing tears, and the magic of you would not be, and my words would merely be stark, raving bare. |
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Soar ms lace ..... Soar
I am left with a sense of ponder... and worry Your soul lays so openly ..... bask in the beauty of you  Namaste' Mom |
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Soar ms lace ..... Soar I am left with a sense of ponder... and worry Your soul lays so openly ..... bask in the beauty of you Namaste' Mom Sigh. LAMom, I think poetry is just another form of nakedness, a baring of the soul. What is often not said in any other form, can be clearly perceived in the written verse. To be quite honest, I know no other way of sharing. Thank you again for stopping by this stranger's proverbial stone, where I always thought my soliloquies fall on deaf ears. I admire you because you know how to appreciate content, rather than connections. Namaste. |
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Farewell I have poured affection into a parched bucket, I have struggled for words when, overflowing, the bucket cried to say more, I have bent my truth for someone else’s, when no other lie made sense, I have been silent, all of desire subverted to another need for honesty, even as my fears trickled like tears. I have been lost before, as I am now, to healing, to what else to say, what more to do; but, also, never have I ever cared as now, never have I struggled - to hold on, to let go - for these nebulous instants, ever more precious, as they dwindle with you into the distance. Take consolation, if you must, in the insulation offered by those miles; underline that certainty, stand by that honesty, having never been sullied, not ever having touched... consider that truth is all that does not occur, that the aftertaste of dreams is just the way your mouth feels every morning, after having spoken and truly, the possibility of you, of me, is one that now safely belongs in a parallel universe, and damn regrets, and perhaps time, that it was so. Perhaps there’s a world, a universe, outside of dreaming, where a truth, once acknowledged, opens up two people, all their needs, all their thoughts, to each other, and despite all that’s ever been, said and done inadequately, still there won’t ever rise any other need for someone else. I’m sure, if there is, rainbows must mean differently, sunrises evoke other than hope, sunsets might mean other than leavings and healing tears, and the magic of you would not be, and my words would merely be stark, raving bare. ((((((((((((R)))))))))) Thank you for baring your soul. |
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Wow I must say that Im very impressed by you the eliquent way you use words to bring forth your emotional depth and spirit. I find it relaxing when someone speaks thier mind in such a beautiful and poetic way. Thank you for your words
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((((((((((T)))))))))))
And no, that doesn't equate to nude pictures.  rwlson, welcome to Mingle and thank you for your generous words. I appreciate it, sincerely. Do stop by again.
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When you decide the spaces
between points and poems, between emphasis and the need for air, do you consider the eddies, the ripples of action and reaction, similar, or opposed to your own, in the hearts of others? Have you not ever wondered, when there is so much difference, how you could see so much, how much of you could be equally perceived, in some inconceivable fashion; how another’s longings seem to echo your own wordless screamings, the very same heart-rending, soul-fraying way? I have always wondered how we can see each other’s poetry, seeing as how we often go blind to our own rhythms, often refuse to see the way we race to the different drum has left those who love us behind, and only uncaring critics, indifferent cities, strangers you greatly seem to care about more, holding you back from some insanity only you, and them, can see differently and yet agree on, oh most ardently. When you decide punctuation between bottled messages, do you consider the tides, the sussuration between waves, the particular gravity of air above, the elemental forces with which you, and your messages must overcome, on their way to beaching? When you cry, are you giving up? |
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Its within whats not seen or heard that i feel the comfort of your soul... I cry, Exhale and the strength regains my limbs leaving me cleansed fully aware of all that is silent placing my hand upon your shoulders release the weight and listen... Yes Humbled is my soul, for it has crossed paths with you, my dear friend Namaste' |
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LAMom, thank you again for always taking the time to stop by to share your thoughts. You're the only one. Hahaha! But your kind soul is enough for this grateful person.
((((LAMom)))) Namaste. |
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LAMom, thank you again for always taking the time to stop by to share your thoughts. You're the only one. Hahaha! But your kind soul is enough for this grateful person. ((((LAMom)))) Namaste. gee, thanks! (chopped lived once again) |
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A void is placed upon my heart
your touch is missed may the sun shine upon your soul releasing whats needed to be told hold not your voice, sweet child release what is needed home shall keep you warm. Namaste
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A void is placed upon my heart your touch is missed may the sun shine upon your soul releasing whats needed to be told hold not your voice, sweet child release what is needed home shall keep you warm. Namaste Wow, I am truly speechless, LAMom. You inspire and humble me at the same time. Thank you for taking the time to look for this and resurrect it after all this time. For that, I will soon post for you. KC, haha. My apologies, but liver is good.
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It was just yesterday,
fresh as waking, you were dripping on my mind, leaning on a sliver of sunlight slicing my every thought into two; My senses, denuded, divided between keeping a book waiting, and waiting some more. You have this way of ending our dialogues, or suspending it, like you often have, with a flashing of teeth, a splatter of rainbows, and a throaty laugh into my last breathless note. If I inhaled again, and I must have, I knew, in some sick way, I would have a chance at ending a conversation, on my own terms. But, unmanned, then and now; having you, and then losing you, and waiting too very damn long, or insisting on control a tad too strong, or jumping in too fast – I never could tell. If I forego breathing now, and close my eyes from seeing rainbows again, for a minute, or two, I might yet realize a greater pain. But I’m human enough for air, for another hope at another exchange, down the road, where the perhaps always lurks, when winning and losing don’t mean as much as watching you light life into me again, simply by being. |
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