A poem to all our missed opportunities.

Captivating & thought provoking

tismond

This poem was written to all the missed opportunities, to all the screw ups we’ve ever made, and all the regret pilled up within each of us. Enjoy.

Regret

Silent raindrops fall
in the death of night
lit by a single, dying flame
who weeps.

Her existence is ignored
as the years grind down
hitting cold, cold earth
those failing eyes look around

Through the silent faces
of opportunities long past
across hidden doors
and hallowed paths

Where long chapters of life
weren’t left to decay
and lovers still live
past the grave of old photos.

And so she screams, she rages!
but her cries are unheard,
her torment unnoticed,
sadness unseen.

For in the death of night
the dying flame
still weeps.

A.C.

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Sick

You made it sickening enough, congrats.

Prose, Poetry, and Knick Knacks (formerly One Poem A Day)

stuffy nose, teary eyes

and I can hardly breathe

breathing through my mouth

between gritted teeth

 

I can’t think straight

I’m not feeling right

got to get some rest

and write a good poem, despite

 

my throat hurts

feeling under the weather

some other kind of sickness

is bound to come up altogether

 

have to wrap this up

and get a good rest

hopefully tomorrow,

I’ll be at my best

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River of Life

Welcome back to you glorious past

Soft Left

Poetry, once a part of my daily life and shared closely with my grandmother, has been an unknown pleasure for years now. It emerged unbidden and quite naturally one day, while engaged in an activity as part of a fellowship I attended on Leadership for Social Change ( www.iLEAP.org). We created a poster using a picture of ourselves, to express who we are, what we do, what is important to us, what our challenges are, what keeps us going and what the world that we want looks like. What emerged for me was some art work, and what flowed was a bit of poetry shared below.

RIVER OF LIFE

From invisible sources we spring,

and Leap into the unknown;

Fed by rivulets

of great watersheds,

On and on we flow

along the maps of our lives.

Lamps, like milestones, appear;

Lit by others, by ourselves,

The oil and wicks courtesy the…

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Esoteric

Cagey but yet so telling

Musings and Smatterings

Image 

 

Ripples of anticipation

smothered as bottom lip bit

this blush struggles to be contained-

these fingers yearn to explore,

enticing metamorphosis from sleep.

To seep uncharted crevasses,

listen to the inhale, and exhale in wonder

much like a child- learning its mothers heartbeat

from the inside.

 

 

Finding anew the patterns on your flesh

tattooed in emotion beneath my breath.

Heady, and lost in innocence

I see in you, what was once abundant

within us all.

 

I am intoxicated,

so drunk I can only watch,

the rise and fall

of a dreamers sleep.

 

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