Re: Share one poem from your younger days
This from year 10. I was a young man with a longing for more than the school system could ever offer. I just wanted to find freedom for myself and create it for others.
"Come dear children, come to me!
Come over dry land,
Come over deep sea.
Come, dear children, come to me.
Come from the forest,
from every tree.
Come dear children, come to me.
Come all together or one by one
Together we will escape,
And be free!
Come dear children, come to me!'
This next one from when I was on an expedition into the rainforests of far northern Queensland with ANZSES, the (Now defunct) Australian and New Zealand Scientific Exploration Society. It has a bit of a rhythm to it, which just suits placing one foot in front of the other!
'In the morning we will go
Over mountains, valleys low.
Bending backs, over streams.
One by one, yet all a team.'
Lovely thread. Brings back some fond memories.
Re: Share one poem from your younger days
TeloslanEmbrace / wonderful thoughts of a 10 year old. and then again later on.
Re: Share one poem from your younger days
What if the skies were brazen,
rouge-kissed
by red sands of the Mojave
in a winded tryst?
Or swollen, mirrored with waters
from every far sea...
Would you look toward your reflection?
Beast, man or god...what would it be?
Though principles waiver
with every turn of the page,
history plays mime
no matter what each man's age...
and every good man
sees what he must,
learning self preservation:
to fear or to trust.
(~written a long time ago )
Re: Share one poem from your younger days
Forgot about this poem I wrote forty years ago about a recurring dream I kept having. In it, my future wife and I would have different adventures and intimate moments. I would not meet her until I was 45...and then I remembered the dream:
Another Day Without You
I woke up with a void in my heart
My mind still reeling from our encounter
Last night in my dreams we met we touched
Only our souls intertwined in reality
I hope that one day my dream comes true
And there will be no more days without you.
I wander around uninterested unmoved
‘Cause you’re not here, and I don’t know where...
Now its finally o’er, this faceless day
And my mind is eager for sleep
For again in my dreams we’ll meet, we’ll touch
And somewhere our souls will be one
I hope that some day soon my dream comes true
And there will be no more days without you!
Re: Share one poem from your younger days
From 2010:
Non-anticipatory resonation to the stimuli of Material Incarnation defines a life, manifested through periods of strife, pain, material loss, then gain. Projecting Intention into the void confines potential lines of thoughts, anticipates droughts that comprise our experiential states, relating the deepest spiritual truths to the infinite proofs of our physical existences.
Born of woman
and man
Infinite Souls
brand
moments in time
refined by
elemental strands
of DNA.
Spiraling, whirling referential possibilities outside of time coalesce and regurgitate templates of Archetypal Dramas, Spiritual Karma dictating the Passion Play, relating the state of consciousness implied to the Cosmic Law inside. Each of us, replicated infinitely, wisdom trined holistically defined as Holographic Realities, souls encapsulated materially, ethereally bound to the conditions of our lives, spirituality denied, the negation of the Divine, imminently implied.
Persistently
consistent yet
perceptively distant
inured
we are
the Stars of our own
Mutual Assured Destruction
lifetimes contoured
by our tacit induction
into the
varied and sundry
Halls of Worldly Disfunction.
Life demands a plan, yet we stand at the Crossroads unmanned, our fears projecting tears into future years, our heartache raising the stakes as episodic breaks in consciousness set in, leaving us stranded upon Distant Shores of Neurotic Lands too strange to know, discomfort shot over the bow of ships drawn - remote as the dawn - faraway as defined by space, and time: illusory hulks looming over us, rather insistent upon reminding us of our lurking mortality. Potentiality unbound, astounding possibilities rebound within the mental confines of infinite sound, it is only through gnosis that our experience is Crowned.
Chess pieces battle
upon the
Board of Materiality
Knights and Pawns
tattle as
Kings and Queens
prattle on
rejecting the Truth
in favor of physical
proof
The Bishop is crucified
- worldliness edified -
and Castles crash down
while the Pawns
gather round.
Tesla and Einstein play chess in the lane, while Schrödinger's cat purrs and preens in disdain of the Vanity of Man, humanity's Last Stand is only part of a plan beyond the ken of most men. Ignorant complacency defines the times, Chimes of Truth ring loud but aloof, evading detection by the most skillful of sleuths. True knowledge is not found in college and the road of contempt-ridden indignation is full, traversed by fools and lost souls, with no real sight of the hidden goal. With no less of an idea, the faithful intone the Ave Maria, content to pretend till the arrival of The End.