deepundergroundpoetry.com
Molding and Trimming
Every relationship has meaning…
A purpose...
A lesson to breed into our consciousness,
unconsciously…
We second guess...
the pendulum swings…
the crystal ball glows a stream of reminders in motion re-comparing one to the next.
With every closing door another open one is left.
A heartbreak put to rest…
is never really dead,
but simply a memory on the air...
a warning to be cautious in matters of the heart and breath.
Walking on eggshells shouldn't be a burden you’re made to cross in order to hold to love.
Love needs no limit or bind,
simply a solid foundation,
concoctions of vulnerability and trust.
There should not be a cloud in your mind on a clear thought,
blood should not stream or puddle at our feet in pursuit of anything or anyone,
say for yourself.
Trial and error are a guarantee,
but errors should not be looked upon as weakness.
Everything has a reason…
the mold isn't always a perfect duplication of hints leading us to an answer.
At times we need to be careless and spontaneous in our dealings.
It is possible to love and not hold on. Nothing that scorches the soul should be carried over and on.
Sometimes a waltz is needed to complete the jig sawed maze of a moment.
Nobody is perfect…
but we are perfectly ourselves when we remove the box top from our paths and allow the days lily petals open.
Beauty in mourning the loss of anything and the beginning of an awakening.
We aren't given our answers freely,
but in motion.
If we stay still we never transform.
To be the best of oneself isn't found without tribulations and turns of a tide.
It is easy to fall,
harder to leave…
impossible to forget what shaped us to a form.
It is hell to look into the eyes of our scars and retrace the times the heart failed to beat because we were ignorant to our minds.
It is infuriating to hope for the undecided...
torment to be the unwanted in a list of options.
The breeze can be attentive to the skin
or brutal to our fragility…
what we fail to realize is we choose the ways of its caress.
Humanity in matters of art are often careless…
But maybe….
Just maybe…
That's the way a masterpiece comes to be.
A purpose...
A lesson to breed into our consciousness,
unconsciously…
We second guess...
the pendulum swings…
the crystal ball glows a stream of reminders in motion re-comparing one to the next.
With every closing door another open one is left.
A heartbreak put to rest…
is never really dead,
but simply a memory on the air...
a warning to be cautious in matters of the heart and breath.
Walking on eggshells shouldn't be a burden you’re made to cross in order to hold to love.
Love needs no limit or bind,
simply a solid foundation,
concoctions of vulnerability and trust.
There should not be a cloud in your mind on a clear thought,
blood should not stream or puddle at our feet in pursuit of anything or anyone,
say for yourself.
Trial and error are a guarantee,
but errors should not be looked upon as weakness.
Everything has a reason…
the mold isn't always a perfect duplication of hints leading us to an answer.
At times we need to be careless and spontaneous in our dealings.
It is possible to love and not hold on. Nothing that scorches the soul should be carried over and on.
Sometimes a waltz is needed to complete the jig sawed maze of a moment.
Nobody is perfect…
but we are perfectly ourselves when we remove the box top from our paths and allow the days lily petals open.
Beauty in mourning the loss of anything and the beginning of an awakening.
We aren't given our answers freely,
but in motion.
If we stay still we never transform.
To be the best of oneself isn't found without tribulations and turns of a tide.
It is easy to fall,
harder to leave…
impossible to forget what shaped us to a form.
It is hell to look into the eyes of our scars and retrace the times the heart failed to beat because we were ignorant to our minds.
It is infuriating to hope for the undecided...
torment to be the unwanted in a list of options.
The breeze can be attentive to the skin
or brutal to our fragility…
what we fail to realize is we choose the ways of its caress.
Humanity in matters of art are often careless…
But maybe….
Just maybe…
That's the way a masterpiece comes to be.
Published 18th Apr 2019
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reading list entries 1
comments 10
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The author encourages honest critique.
Anonymous
18th Apr 2019 12:09pm
BOOM !!! 💥
18th Apr 2019 12:10pm
Bahahha! Thanks Ragnar, oddly enough before I saw the notification that you commented on my poem I was on your page reading one of yours. Thank you as always! V
18th Apr 2019 12:22pm
I sure hope you are right. I do believe things happen for a reason and love sometimes only a season, but it is about shaping us into a "masterpiece"
18th Apr 2019 12:25pm
I believe we are shaped by what we have endured in a sense and therefore perfectly imperfect, to me what we become when we rise from the ashes is a masterpiece. Thank You very much JusTim! V
18th Apr 2019 1:25pm
"A heartbreak put to rest…
is never really dead,
but simply a memory on the air...
a warning to be cautious in matters of the heart and breath."
So true. Flaws make the masterpiece. Wonderful poem.
is never really dead,
but simply a memory on the air...
a warning to be cautious in matters of the heart and breath."
So true. Flaws make the masterpiece. Wonderful poem.
18th Apr 2019 1:40pm
18th Apr 2019 2:19pm
18th Apr 2019 2:38pm
18th Apr 2019 2:50pm
You deserve more of a comment but my brain is in lockdown this morning....
Always good to read you EG
Always good to read you EG
18th Apr 2019 3:00pm
I totally get that! You're lucky to get 2 words outta me before coffee. Always a pleasure PoetSpeak!
