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TurtleSlow and steady wins the race
Keeping a simple ambling pace

Taking time to admire a sight
Looking to the left, then to the right

Turble and wurble he hums his song
Step by step he strolls along

Smelling the roses and lilies so sweet
He stops to munch on a tasty treat

As he slips away in his murky pool
I think, "A turtle's life is pretty cool."

Foreign EyesA plane arrives
hauling foreign eyes
whose confusion,
makes them seem unwise.
They aren't.

The different signs,
trick these foreign eyes,
that have never seen letters
drawn with crossing lines.

The new language puzzles the foreign ears
putting the brain in a constant shame.
Making the face look less than sane.

The foreign hands,
don't know how to exchange
a currency that's alien,
hungered mouth still yearning.

A foreign body now in shock,
questions hosts who are but cogs.
Sense of humor all but lost,
fear for safety, all forethought.

Falling for AutumnI haven't seen you in months
but you're still just as beautiful as last time
your long hair flowing gently in the breeze
red, orange, and brown mixed to make a silky curtain of colors

It's been too long since I could sit and relax with you
hot apple cider flowing warmly down my throat
keeping away the slight chill you sometimes bring along

Your delicious earthy smell almost overwhelms my senses
with a calmness no one else can give me
I've missed your soft touch against my cheek
gentle hands pushing back my hair

The sound of your voice is a flurry of air
through leaves that have yet to fall
the crunch under foot while we walk hand

Morning Glory

Lovely harmonic words of rhyme
Dance gracefully to the beat of time
Raindrops patter and the wind chimes
Clouds break with sunbeams of colors sublime

The surface warms, then melts the core
A spectrum of love not seen before
Paints the canvas in rays of light
Thus vision is deep and clear in sight

For here it comes and lest it goes
O'haunting melody of sweet compose
Within the soul these metres ring
Reflect upon it, this voice that sings

Throughout each day and all night long
Honor the whisper of nature's song
Reminiscent of dreams fulfilled
As morning's dewy kiss, lingers still

Through the Window PaneI see my angel in the snow,
running and playing through the wood.
She smiles at me as if to know
that I would follow if I could.

But looking through the pane instead,
I watch her walk into the deep;
the path of footprints I once tread
and in my heart will ever keep.

StoriesOne day, darling, we will be broken and old
Think of all the stories we could have told
Think of all the stories we can tell
We will know we have lived our lives well

For one thing I can already vouch
We will sit together on our couch
Talk against each other with love
We will fit each other like a glove

We will know what the other wants
What our horrid nightmares haunts
Sit against each other, hand in hand
Not everything went as we planned

We will tell our children what we have done
What victories we did and did not won
We will tell that not only the end matters
That a journey can always end in shatters

We will tell what we could have tol

The Tears Of The EarthWhat would you do if the world stopped,
Spinning and swirling to a systematic halt?
Would you climb to a mountain majestically high,
Raise your eyes up to the finite electric universe,
And reflect on the redemption of a death so diverse.

Veins line the black with faults of blood,
And I can hear the crazed howls of horror,
Erupt up from the centre of an empty Earth.
Screams swell to scorch the skies above me,
Where sunlight fades to freeze the faces I see.

What would you do if the world finished,
Falling and frolicking to a fatalistic end?
Would you swim to a sea seductively low,
Embrace your demise in that endless dark space,
An

The Solemn VersesI spend my days awake in the darkness,
Where going forward in life is but a guess.
Alone I muse on the memories I regret,
Images that floods me in cruel embarrassment,
But I fear not the experiences I won't forget.

So you think you know everything about me?
You understand what makes me truly tick,
And how you can cause my conscience to click.
You really believe everything you hear and see,
To a point where my death is all you'll hold dear.

I spend my nights dead to the nightmare,
Too cold to the rhythmic heartbeats that care.
Alone I ponder on the possessions I bide,
Items that curses me in flawed attainment,
But I hate not the

Hollow Memory of a Distant ShoreYou are like a long passed season.
As delicate as the footprints of sparrows in freshly fallen snow.
Intricate, yet so easily disturbed when care is not taken.
Somehow, you have managed to persist after all these years.
Residing in the same quiet place you carved into the woods so long ago..
Only a short ride from the sea.

When you cross my mind, you carry with you the scent of that shoreline.
Harsh and thick, yet somehow placating.
Though the weather was perpetually gray, misty, and cold.
Much like your heart had become..
Just before we painfully, and slowly, parted ways.

I recall with deep longing your fascination with foxes

Of Random Thoughts and ThingsLast night, I thought of my first cat
when I was a child,

a jet black kitten with six toes on each paw,

and the lemon tree that grew
in the rear of my parents' backyard-

I couldn't climb that tree,
full of wicked thorns that tore my flesh.

So why did I think of the cat and the tree
on this particular night?

They came to me in a fog which
should have made me sad. After all-

five years later, I found my cat by the side
of the house in a pile of dried leaves.

I carried her to the back and sat vigil
under the lemon tree until she died.

It made me wonder, is it always this way
with all things, to romanticize years later?

I started t

BeautyBeauty rose out of that silent sea,
Her eyes were tepid with wild thunder,
And then she turned and looked at me.
Me; a meagre man who knew no lady fair,
Nor one of care as she snaps my heart asunder.

Beauty flew up to that sinister sky,
Her lips were dark with mad desire,
And then she turned and started to cry.
Cry; a crude curse who knew no mortal smile,
Nor one so vile as she scars my aura in fire.

Beauty stood up on that scarlet skin,
Her locks were rouge with quiet rain,
And then she turned and walked on sin.
Sin; a sordid spirit who knew no lover true,
Nor one in clue as she saves me from my pain.

NelophobiaHer heart was the same color as nightmares.
She spoke in her sleep, whispering early on
when things were uncertain; then sometime
around midnight, the screaming began.

Her body was the closest thing to bloodless.
She ran her fingers through the night sky
and told it to stand still; then sometime
around sunrise, she was smothered.

Her room's walls were marked with mayhem.
She drew tiny pictures all over her body
so that her thoughts could breathe; then sometime
in the near future, they found her.

Her soul was made of white glass.
She compiled the shards in the shape of roses
because they smell like dishonesty; then sometime
in

A Season's Echo of PassingRows of dried corn stalks bend
with the wind that
thirsts for rain
that will only come when it has died
and the ears of corn cease to rattle.

And the thunder's distant laugh
will chase after the snakes
heading for their mounds on higher ground,
their husks abandoned-
the flash floods may yet pass them by.

Home AloneHome Alone.

Everything becomes so much more dark and sinister whenever you are alone.
You're constantly on guard and overcautious just to answer your mobile phone.
Any slight disturbance or eerie creak and you begin to panic.
Retreating back into your secure settee conjuring up the most dramatic
Scenarios that have virtually no possibility of ever occurring.
But that never seems to stop the cogs from continuously turning.
You fasten all the windows and arm yourself with kitchen based artillery.
And man your position surveying the living room as if you were a member of the military.
Increasing the volume on your television set to dis

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More from ~tickersymbol

The GiftBlessed are we for all our works,
if even only one is heard,

purely, that it might inspire,
the written word of another's fire.

For from the lips words oft taste sweet,
alas, like fragments, left incomplete.

Though the heart they truly warm,
'tis by a new creation born

when love is shared, and love returned,
the infinite flame - the soul - doth burn.

When It RainsRays of glassy light
Pierce these heavy clouds
A slice of heaven coming down
To raise my weary soul
Back to higher ground

Clouds go passing by
You come blowing in
Catching my teardrops in the wind
You teach me how to love
Without fear of sin

I feel joy
I feel pain
For this is love
And I feel yours
When it rains

With each darkened sky
Listen for the sound
This song of love is all around
Like music in the air
Rain comes pouring down

I feel joy
I feel pain
For this is love
And I feel yours
When it rains

I feel joy
I feel pain
For this is love
And I feel yours
When it rains

When it rains...
Oh, when it rains...

Haiku II

sheets of glassy light
pierce the veil of heavy clouds -
a slice of heaven

My Sole ConditionTo what conditions must I comply
when prompted to write
of what dwells inside?

'Tis always my voice I aim to speak
with pen in hand, bleeding ink,
as does my heart, spilling words
upon a page, perhaps unheard
save by me, myself, and I -
imagination amplified!

Eclectic fragments in the mind -
to each his own for these are mine;
thereby forming how they will
in fluid flight with feathered quill,
as freedom flows with expression
of fantasy or pure confession.

Symbolic makings of the soul
take shape as musical rhymes unfold.
Whilst not perfected or contrived,
'tis how this poem became alive;
for thus am I, in each rendition,
still my own poeti

Haiku Irooted in ideals
cultivating harmony -
majestic bonsai

Little Treasures

Paper ships in puddles
drifting on their way
a child's wish stored aboard
to come ashore one day

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Joy of Beauty

by ~tickersymbol, Nov 19, 2012, 10:03:54 AM
Literature / Poetry / Human Nature / Traditional Fixed Forms

Beauty fills a soul
that we might more gently fare,
like a blossom thus unfolds
its fragrance in the air.

And unto the buzzing bee
gives its nectar sweet,
that with the taste of honey
we might more kindly speak.

Even as the sun
gives us warmth and light,
so does a friendly smile,
genuine and bright.

In nature's own we see
a lesson we must learn,
that only by reciprocity
may the greater good be served.

So may we freely share
by the law of give and take,
that for all our endless cares
we might also find our strength.

For in the garden of love,
all great blessings flow,
and if we but receive these gifts,
the joy of beauty grows.