Submissions by Fiftysevenhours
POEMS AND SHORT STORIES
Poet Introduction
Moments of the day that take me on my way.
Direction
Now here,
Is the reference of nowhere.
The point of attraction,
The pivot of direction.
Now here, Is somewhere,
To begin.
A sense of place, To face,
The absence, within.
Is the reference of nowhere.
The point of attraction,
The pivot of direction.
Now here, Is somewhere,
To begin.
A sense of place, To face,
The absence, within.
#SelfDiscovery
378 reads
3 Comments
A necessity of peace.
The feeling brings unease,
A restlessness,
Like countless leaves tormented in the breeze.
A ceaseless, endlessness,
Which dresses every shadow,
Every tone, every moment born.
I know that now, more than ever.
For every seconds toll,
And every miles scrawl,
For every scratch, gift and scar.
This feeling, a kin of pain, of loss, of love,
Is ingrained within.
Is the flight and fight,
Is the presence and the sense,
The breath and the twist of light.
This feeling,
Unbidden and untaught,
Smothered and re-wrought, ...
A restlessness,
Like countless leaves tormented in the breeze.
A ceaseless, endlessness,
Which dresses every shadow,
Every tone, every moment born.
I know that now, more than ever.
For every seconds toll,
And every miles scrawl,
For every scratch, gift and scar.
This feeling, a kin of pain, of loss, of love,
Is ingrained within.
Is the flight and fight,
Is the presence and the sense,
The breath and the twist of light.
This feeling,
Unbidden and untaught,
Smothered and re-wrought, ...
#peace
405 reads
5 Comments
Goodnight
It's these,
Those quiet, turns.
Their transitions and banked uncertainties.
The paused plays,
Deaths and rebirths along life's ways.
The moments surfaced,
The experience, kindled.
The light of essential nature,
The intrinsic reflection dancing along the water's skin.
Expanding across ripples, fire merges within.
This day, closing on the peaceful scent of willow,
Settles in its supple subtlety
A sense of peace in the warmth of night.
Those quiet, turns.
Their transitions and banked uncertainties.
The paused plays,
Deaths and rebirths along life's ways.
The moments surfaced,
The experience, kindled.
The light of essential nature,
The intrinsic reflection dancing along the water's skin.
Expanding across ripples, fire merges within.
This day, closing on the peaceful scent of willow,
Settles in its supple subtlety
A sense of peace in the warmth of night.
#hope
#environment
#SelfReflection
461 reads
6 Comments
Remains
Breathing life into the face of death,
Clinging to the chests compression,
With each, emotive, compulsion.
Calling out,
Through the abstract stillness of the void,
The crowded silence of the moment,
The growing, deepening, absence.
Futile gestures of the present,
Holding what you were to ransom.
Knowing,
It's not, who, you are.
That change, in all its forms can not hide,
Can, not,
Hide,
The truth, the matter, that you matter.
That you've always,
Mattered.
Change, can not hide what you impart,
For who...
Clinging to the chests compression,
With each, emotive, compulsion.
Calling out,
Through the abstract stillness of the void,
The crowded silence of the moment,
The growing, deepening, absence.
Futile gestures of the present,
Holding what you were to ransom.
Knowing,
It's not, who, you are.
That change, in all its forms can not hide,
Can, not,
Hide,
The truth, the matter, that you matter.
That you've always,
Mattered.
Change, can not hide what you impart,
For who...
#grief
#hope
#death
378 reads
2 Comments
Early Winter
The cold of death unwarmed by fire,
Stokes burning where life, where breath,
Now perspired, has left.
The touch of death, cold and calling,
Sows love to fall upon the earth,
Sows seeds of strength to rise from their last breath.
To part respects and prayer in autumns offering
To the altar of their birth and flare,
To a backwards stare down the road of an early winter's long despair.
Where no hope nor promise,
Where no safe harbour can ease or spare,
The hold of a love, stripped raw and bare.
Stokes burning where life, where breath,
Now perspired, has left.
The touch of death, cold and calling,
Sows love to fall upon the earth,
Sows seeds of strength to rise from their last breath.
To part respects and prayer in autumns offering
To the altar of their birth and flare,
To a backwards stare down the road of an early winter's long despair.
Where no hope nor promise,
Where no safe harbour can ease or spare,
The hold of a love, stripped raw and bare.
#love
#death
#travel
841 reads
12 Comments
Into the trees
Burnished in a heartbeat,
Capillaries rage,
An open fire, flushed upon skin.
Their flames,
A mirage of stretching sinewe,
Of igniting muscles,
Consuming oxygen as it's drawn.
Throwing the body on.
In the only way, that makes sense,
Compelled to wrench oneself,
Across the apparent void of emptiness.
That the energy imparted as the river parts,
Takes trust in the ground of some far off land,
And it's sound;
Speaks of the same song,
As the essence of that essential spirit,
Taking flight within the shattered light, ...
Capillaries rage,
An open fire, flushed upon skin.
Their flames,
A mirage of stretching sinewe,
Of igniting muscles,
Consuming oxygen as it's drawn.
Throwing the body on.
In the only way, that makes sense,
Compelled to wrench oneself,
Across the apparent void of emptiness.
That the energy imparted as the river parts,
Takes trust in the ground of some far off land,
And it's sound;
Speaks of the same song,
As the essence of that essential spirit,
Taking flight within the shattered light, ...
#nature
#SelfReflection
542 reads
4 Comments
736 reads
8 Comments
Dark Bequeather
A gift settles upon the ground,
Cast from blue skies all around.
Not a sight is seen of its dark bequeather,
But the gentle quiver of the feather,
Held now between my thumb and forefinger.
I know I am richer for your encouragement,
Stronger,
For your presence.
Safer,
For your reminder that your watching over,
Even when your nowhere, to be seen.
Except,
Now here,
A sign of you rolls between my thumb and forefinger.
You are known,
As well as felt,
You are seen as I day dream,
Walking amidst the recollection of...
Cast from blue skies all around.
Not a sight is seen of its dark bequeather,
But the gentle quiver of the feather,
Held now between my thumb and forefinger.
I know I am richer for your encouragement,
Stronger,
For your presence.
Safer,
For your reminder that your watching over,
Even when your nowhere, to be seen.
Except,
Now here,
A sign of you rolls between my thumb and forefinger.
You are known,
As well as felt,
You are seen as I day dream,
Walking amidst the recollection of...
#love
#spiritual
#NaPoWriMo2021
519 reads
5 Comments
Permeating.
You can find anything if you're looking for something.
You can read everything and hear,
Nothing.
You can listen so intently,
It falls as silence upon your ears.
It's taken years to realise,
To stop chasing fears.
I hear the stillness now,
Feeling the touch of the currents pull,
Edging on calmness,
Poised in transition.
Knowing it always seems to rise,
At once in leaps and bounds.
So before the surface breaks,
The circling reflections ripple,
Retracing the grounds.
It always comes round. ...
You can read everything and hear,
Nothing.
You can listen so intently,
It falls as silence upon your ears.
It's taken years to realise,
To stop chasing fears.
I hear the stillness now,
Feeling the touch of the currents pull,
Edging on calmness,
Poised in transition.
Knowing it always seems to rise,
At once in leaps and bounds.
So before the surface breaks,
The circling reflections ripple,
Retracing the grounds.
It always comes round. ...
#meditation
#SelfDiscovery
#NaPoWriMo2021
444 reads
2 Comments
696 reads
7 Comments
A Silver Accent
When you touch
It is the emptiness of your form that
smothers the manifestation of sight.
You are the tendrils of life
That weave between the plumes of smoke rising from an open, smouldering, fire.
The provocation of a scent, as it evaporates to saturate the mind.
There is no place that I can find,
Where your wind has not caressed.
No rest, to escape the absence felt.
Irrespective of my labouring chest.
I pause upon the precipice of perception
That is formed in your consideration.
An entire nation of thought transpiring
An...
It is the emptiness of your form that
smothers the manifestation of sight.
You are the tendrils of life
That weave between the plumes of smoke rising from an open, smouldering, fire.
The provocation of a scent, as it evaporates to saturate the mind.
There is no place that I can find,
Where your wind has not caressed.
No rest, to escape the absence felt.
Irrespective of my labouring chest.
I pause upon the precipice of perception
That is formed in your consideration.
An entire nation of thought transpiring
An...
#winter
#nature
#IMissYou #philosophical
#IMissYou #philosophical
550 reads
6 Comments
645 reads
2 Comments
DU Poetry : Submissions by Fiftysevenhours