Tag: Life

Poetry-Thing Thursday: A Feast of Life

~ S.M. Nolan ~ Leave a comment

Lead me not into darkness,
for I seek the light.
In times of trouble or sorrow,
it is that for which I fight.
For there is no heaven, nor hell,
only those meek and with might,
and good and evil,
is only a matter of sight.

Do not speak of atrocities,
for I intend to feast on life.
In the living there is to be found,
something of a double-edged knife,
two-sided– a duality,
of equal parts joy and strife.
Love is its queen, virtue its king,
loyalty and truth its husband and wife.

So open your mind, and heart, and eyes.
Listen with soul, fingers, and ears.
The world has much to tell.
There are greater things than one’s own fears,
and there is much more to see–
some older than even man’s years.
All of them, in the right moment,
can bring one to tears.

So open up and embrace,
that which is all around you,
life and love and happiness,
all the things you can do,
and live to feast on life,
for your death will come too,
and between here and there and then and now,
it is better to have lived anew.

Poetry-Thing Thursday: Of That Which I Speak

~ S.M. Nolan ~ Leave a comment

Teeth gnawing bone to marrow.
Blood red spatters along a predator’s mouth.
Death taints the air with sickening sorrow.
But is it beast or man,
of that which I speak?

Cold and harsh with icy wind.
Needles stinging lungs with each breath.
Nipping frost along dew-moist eyes.
But is it love or hate,
of that which I speak?

Perspective.
Infective.
Detective.
Corrective.

Flowing outward in diverging currents.
Sounds both entrancing and distracting.
While in the middle of it all drifts dead-wood.
But is it a river or a crowd,
of that which I speak?

A million more ways it could be put.
Perhaps infinite more than that.
Going round and round in circles.
But is it life or death,
of that which I speak?

Poetry-Thing Thursday: Keep It Well-Versed

~ S.M. Nolan ~ Leave a comment

Pumping Red blood,
like a rushing geyser,
that’s ever-present,
sans accompaniment.

The heart of matters.
The muscle of love.
It beats for you,
believe it’s true.

Inside and within,
your love has been,
well-worn and ridden,
if even unbidden.

Though it is never forgiven,
it breeds love where livin’,
in the hands of another,
the eyes of a lover.

So never fear,
it is always near,
beating and pounding,
reddened and coursing.

Its blood is your life,
no matter your strife,
and it treats you well,
so treat it the same.

And even if, by freak chance
it be only your first,
always in love,
keep it well-versed.

Bonus Poem: We Are All Mutants

~ S.M. Nolan ~ 3 Comments

A hundred million years,
or more of evolution,
has made us all mutants.
From dull, single-celled organisms,
to complex universes of life and intelligence.

We came from the sea,
after a bubbling froth,
formed us in its foam,
and boiled over,
spilling us out,
into the Earth.

People,
hung up on monkeys,
so narrow-minded,
and refusing to realize,
how powerful is nature,
that it can outlast us so greatly,
and yet attune us so perfectly.

Science is no myth.
Evolution only a theory in name.
One is the process of confirming,
what the eyes see.
The other,
is the process of how they came to be.

So black, white,
red, brown,
or a color we’ve yet to meet,
We’re all the same,
in a way;
the universe forming itself,
through forge and fusion,
reaction and fission,
and chemical concoctions.

The end result?
No creature could imagine,
nor form in mind,
without prior observation.

All the things of life,
existence;
love, hate,
joy and pain,
everything in between
is the reaction of life,
greeting itself–
of the universe,
creating itself.