Submissions by Fiftysevenhours
POEMS AND SHORT STORIES
Poet Introduction
I'm growing..
The falling of life's leaves
It is,
A walk through the glacial strength of the deepest greys,
And the scattered breath of pure sunlight.
The endless touch of rain,
Falling ceaseless and on fire.
The circled rise and fall,
The plaintive,
Buzzards,
Call.
It is what is left upon breeze
And what remains,
From the falling of life's leaves.
It is,
What is,
And something common amongst the breath,
Of those,
Remaining.
A passing right to life and it's living.
Those days,
Are but days amongst the many
If we're lucky.
Singular...
A walk through the glacial strength of the deepest greys,
And the scattered breath of pure sunlight.
The endless touch of rain,
Falling ceaseless and on fire.
The circled rise and fall,
The plaintive,
Buzzards,
Call.
It is what is left upon breeze
And what remains,
From the falling of life's leaves.
It is,
What is,
And something common amongst the breath,
Of those,
Remaining.
A passing right to life and it's living.
Those days,
Are but days amongst the many
If we're lucky.
Singular...
#death
#memories
#LifeCycle
52 reads
5 Comments
This is your life
When such days begin as this,
The mind flits to the night I slept and wonders,
What did I miss?
Alas,
Dreaming is where such stirring starts,
And waking,
Is the chance to act.
That life holds such splendor,
Such wonder,
As when the sun does rise.
It wakes,
As does the thought which stirs us on,
To travel deeper.
Into this endless song.
Look on in wonder,
At how far you've climbed,
At how far you've come,
And take heart,
That living life is art.
And life,
Life is a canvas you can't live over. ...
The mind flits to the night I slept and wonders,
What did I miss?
Alas,
Dreaming is where such stirring starts,
And waking,
Is the chance to act.
That life holds such splendor,
Such wonder,
As when the sun does rise.
It wakes,
As does the thought which stirs us on,
To travel deeper.
Into this endless song.
Look on in wonder,
At how far you've climbed,
At how far you've come,
And take heart,
That living life is art.
And life,
Life is a canvas you can't live over. ...
#courage
#identity
#inspirational
#nature
#travel
85 reads
10 Comments
Aside
There is a side,
To life.
A side from which, I tend to shy.
I love the dark,
So meaning doesn't fit.
From the dark,
I find light.
Find,
A way to fight.
But that side,
That side,
That's held in sorrow and in pain.
Has few words,
And fewer yet,
To say.
To life.
A side from which, I tend to shy.
I love the dark,
So meaning doesn't fit.
From the dark,
I find light.
Find,
A way to fight.
But that side,
That side,
That's held in sorrow and in pain.
Has few words,
And fewer yet,
To say.
#sadness
#grief
#hurt
75 reads
4 Comments
Alone
Alone,
All I find is the tree.
It's bowl, it's branch,
It's,
regeneration.
The energy at its root,
Rising in a steady flow of fire.
Amassing in vast,
Liberating endurance.
And then,
And then,
Awoken,
So fully,
So truly.
It stands, recalled,
It stands replete.
This lone tree,
Is, the forest spanning past,
Set, in present site.
This lone tree,
stands here complete.
All one,
With careful meaning and action,
Found.
The ground,
Touched with gentle elation,
Whispers, ...
All I find is the tree.
It's bowl, it's branch,
It's,
regeneration.
The energy at its root,
Rising in a steady flow of fire.
Amassing in vast,
Liberating endurance.
And then,
And then,
Awoken,
So fully,
So truly.
It stands, recalled,
It stands replete.
This lone tree,
Is, the forest spanning past,
Set, in present site.
This lone tree,
stands here complete.
All one,
With careful meaning and action,
Found.
The ground,
Touched with gentle elation,
Whispers, ...
#nature
#SelfReflection
60 reads
4 Comments
Of love.
I have walked and walked and walked,
Re-walked, retraced and endlessly paced.
Your place, your hold,
Your touch.
Watching, looking and observing you..
That you,
In all your scores can be,
Beautiful.
Yet painly painfully present,
As grief,
Remaining and remains.
And yet,
For all each year returns,
Each season,
Each,
Cycle.
I see you in all,
In every imaginable way.
The affirming movement of the stars,
The swift,
Flitting passage of clouds
The rebirth of leaves,
The shift of grass...
Re-walked, retraced and endlessly paced.
Your place, your hold,
Your touch.
Watching, looking and observing you..
That you,
In all your scores can be,
Beautiful.
Yet painly painfully present,
As grief,
Remaining and remains.
And yet,
For all each year returns,
Each season,
Each,
Cycle.
I see you in all,
In every imaginable way.
The affirming movement of the stars,
The swift,
Flitting passage of clouds
The rebirth of leaves,
The shift of grass...
#love
194 reads
12 Comments
It's always worth it.
How easy would it have been,
To remain embracing weak.
To turn away and embody meek,
To simply stay and say;
"Tomorrow is another day."
Would I have then,
Seen this nights scenes,
The moonlight sheen shiver on the rivers back,
Or have touched the gentled rain?
Would I have then,
Seen the stars emerge between the dealth of clouds,
Or the flitting moonbow arc upon the night behind?
Would I have then,
Found rest as I now do?
Back in warmth with the touch of night still fresh,
Back in warmth,
With the touch of night, ...
To remain embracing weak.
To turn away and embody meek,
To simply stay and say;
"Tomorrow is another day."
Would I have then,
Seen this nights scenes,
The moonlight sheen shiver on the rivers back,
Or have touched the gentled rain?
Would I have then,
Seen the stars emerge between the dealth of clouds,
Or the flitting moonbow arc upon the night behind?
Would I have then,
Found rest as I now do?
Back in warmth with the touch of night still fresh,
Back in warmth,
With the touch of night, ...
#nature
95 reads
8 Comments
Peer pressure (?)
I hear the wind call through the cracks and the chinks it knows so well.
Feel the tear as it lunges and pulls,
Tugging on the shelter of this motionless dwelling.
Yelling and banging and stirring,
Disturbing my resistance of weariness and resting.
The wind's call is rebelling
And it's pressure,
(Could it really be perceived as a peer?)
With or without me it's there,
And I am hear, hearing,
Its incessant geer.
And the worst I can give,
Falls on deaf ears.
If I weren't,
If I wasn't,
If,
Is the only excuse I can...
Feel the tear as it lunges and pulls,
Tugging on the shelter of this motionless dwelling.
Yelling and banging and stirring,
Disturbing my resistance of weariness and resting.
The wind's call is rebelling
And it's pressure,
(Could it really be perceived as a peer?)
With or without me it's there,
And I am hear, hearing,
Its incessant geer.
And the worst I can give,
Falls on deaf ears.
If I weren't,
If I wasn't,
If,
Is the only excuse I can...
#ignorance
70 reads
8 Comments
107 reads
8 Comments
Seedling
It's beautiful to watch.
The embryonic leaves of thought,
Trying to cotton on.
To witness their first movements,
Baying beneath the sun.
Those, first sprouting greens of thought,
Clinging to what they've got,
From what,
Brought them forth and front.
To raise their gentle strength of tender brow,
Up above the parapet and on.
From the first free radical,
Anchored in the fertile earth of thought.
To them and their presence,
In this wildness seen,
I know, I'm still, green.
And so, for what will be,
I watch and...
The embryonic leaves of thought,
Trying to cotton on.
To witness their first movements,
Baying beneath the sun.
Those, first sprouting greens of thought,
Clinging to what they've got,
From what,
Brought them forth and front.
To raise their gentle strength of tender brow,
Up above the parapet and on.
From the first free radical,
Anchored in the fertile earth of thought.
To them and their presence,
In this wildness seen,
I know, I'm still, green.
And so, for what will be,
I watch and...
#SelfReflection
83 reads
6 Comments
This
As the scenes of snow unfold,
The ice in the wind, like time,
Has no hold.
Flitting in a blink,
The stings gift,
Is the gift of a smile.
An extra layer of warmth,
However cold the journey or far its mile.
Set where clouds are met,
There's a balance linked in light, in dark.
The ambient and the stark.
It's a source of strength,
These mountains and these lands of home.
And on the edge, its brink,
Where better placed to pause and think.
To let the reason be as is,
To be no more than this,
For...
The ice in the wind, like time,
Has no hold.
Flitting in a blink,
The stings gift,
Is the gift of a smile.
An extra layer of warmth,
However cold the journey or far its mile.
Set where clouds are met,
There's a balance linked in light, in dark.
The ambient and the stark.
It's a source of strength,
These mountains and these lands of home.
And on the edge, its brink,
Where better placed to pause and think.
To let the reason be as is,
To be no more than this,
For...
#nature
#SelfReflection
83 reads
6 Comments
How she calls
The storm falls
And in the furrows of its wake,
Warmth is sown upon the ice.
The moon, beaconing from its height,
Illuminates with indiscriminate sight,
The speeding sails of gray tilled clouds,
Skim the charging waves of distant,
Needled crowns.
As if, black horses rearing upon a gown of white.
How the tranquil past of yesterday,
Is washed tonight,
Colossus.
How the river in its traces,
Gushes,
Whipped to writhe engorged,
And course forever on.
I am, besieged by the storms cacophony,
Driven to a given knee, ...
And in the furrows of its wake,
Warmth is sown upon the ice.
The moon, beaconing from its height,
Illuminates with indiscriminate sight,
The speeding sails of gray tilled clouds,
Skim the charging waves of distant,
Needled crowns.
As if, black horses rearing upon a gown of white.
How the tranquil past of yesterday,
Is washed tonight,
Colossus.
How the river in its traces,
Gushes,
Whipped to writhe engorged,
And course forever on.
I am, besieged by the storms cacophony,
Driven to a given knee, ...
#storm
#nature
86 reads
2 Comments
A Path less walked
Each step is a choice,
A moment comprised, a composition.
A beginning, a middle and somehow, always waiting,
The transition of change.
An end but not an end.
A layered continence to being,
Never entirely knowing,
Never entirely certain,
Always ready to be humbled by the course of one's direction.
Yet, each step is still a choice.
Always better for the making.
Wherever a well discerning foot is placed.
A moment comprised, a composition.
A beginning, a middle and somehow, always waiting,
The transition of change.
An end but not an end.
A layered continence to being,
Never entirely knowing,
Never entirely certain,
Always ready to be humbled by the course of one's direction.
Yet, each step is still a choice.
Always better for the making.
Wherever a well discerning foot is placed.
#nature
#travel
#SelfReflection #choices
#SelfReflection #choices
92 reads
6 Comments
DU Poetry : Submissions by Fiftysevenhours