Poetry-Thing Thursday: Imagination

Imagination

 

Limitless possibilities,

Lore and myth, religion,

Ever-expanding realities,

All imagination.

 

Have you dreamed colors that do not exist?

And are you uncertain of that lunar eclipse?

Can you think of a good, midnight twist?

Does your mind ever draw a single ellipse?

 

Is there a creature, a character or little miss priss?

Are they raving or looting or feeling love’s first kiss?

And what of your dashing protagonist?

Does he cry out in pain, or march through the mist?

 

Battles and Wars, science-fiction,

these are the fruits of imagination.

Terror and horrors, and grotesque lim-er-icks,

all at the mercy of unkind critics.

 

Is it their mother or father’s mishap

that led your M-C into all that claptrap?

Or is it a quick emanation of craft,

something you cooked up, to bore or to shaft?

 

A dream, and a screen, and a few words obscene

A satirical note for life’s lamentation,

Women preen with white cream in a deadly latrine

The signs of life in imagination.

 

A clock, and a tower, or a friendly courtyard

a tock without power, sent by a bard,

a Cock ne’er cower, when stripped of its lard,

and will not hock nor sour a stolen key-card.

 

And if you should find yourself at a wall,

a book from the shelf to you will call.

With open mind, read the page and stand tall,

for imagination will no longer stall.

 

Worlds and worlds on paper you’ll write,

this I have mentioned, it’s one way to fight,

the stagnation of a man, whom has no part,

but to play to the crowd through his only art.

 

Be it pictures, of photo or ink in your sight,

or something more, it shall be your right,

to poke and to prod ’til a new creation

spews from the well-spring of imagination.

 

Belabored or bred or trained through the night

All you need do is keep your aim tight,

sights on the sun or the sea, or mountains

imagine them all, and a few thousand more tons.

 

When hope springs eternal just look to the trees,

submerse yourself in determination.

To keep yourself afloat in rough seas,

keep your mind on imagination.

 

For hours and hours one could go on,

‘specially ’bout the prodigal fawn

but for now I believe we’re on the same page,

our hearts and brains, imagination? No cage.

Poetry-Thing Thursday: Finding the Sea Part 5

Desert Rain

 

She moans in her sleep,

needs something to eat,

must do more to earn her keep.

Yet she will not release.

 

Grips my arm,

looks forewarn,

it’s coming on now,

the heart will be torn.

 

Slowly cascading,

curving steadily.

Defying all the earth,

and laws of gravity.

 

The first rains,

this desert has seen,

in a thousand years,

of forgotten dreams.

 

So small and isolated,

yet great in its own,

finally she’s seeing,

how important is her home.

 

With us wherever we go,

no matter what we know,

or what we try to show,

all that glitters is gold.

 

Her sadness reaches me,

somehow I’m not ready.

Something appeases me,

something I’ve missed to see.

 

Her eyes open.

Concern, confusion.

 

– I’m sorry must’ve been a nightmare.

Sounds like life, I’ve been there.

– I feel so strange and so close.

Our minds have no distance,

all we see is cloaked.

 

She smiles at me,

“I love what you do,

Set me up, let me see.

If things were different,

I know what you could do to me.”

 

Comfort.

Amazing.

Amusing.

Beautiful.

 

We can’t know who we are

until we do,

the unthinkable.

 

She laughs.

Desert love and sweet repress,

things will be different now,

– Nothing lasts.

Her decisiveness,

my relapse.

 

I’ve known now,

the most despairing kinds of love.

I see how we are all,

“sent from above.”

 

Nothing more in this world,

should be shown,

than true loving passion,

life’s sweet cologne.

 

We must love to pass time,

we must burn to shine.

 

Only our first day

already past dismay,

Now death and dying,

and earthly decay.

 

Today it has rained

in the Desert of Forgotten Pain.

Poetry-Thing Thursday: Finding the Sea Part 4

The Desert Of Lost Memory

 

Deeper inside, yet one in the same

this barren land graced with no name.

So many things we see inside,

so many more we live without lie,

without hatred, decried,

without the land that bore us,

to darken our eyes.

 

Her lips are silent,

in line with her thoughts.

Her only attention,

lies deep in the plot.

 

I thought I’d show,

after a stop,

what it is about life,

you’ve truly forgot.

 

Pretty things,

nice rings,

a place to call your own.

Broken wings,

cold springs,

those fallen from the throne.

 

Inside have I seen,

of all this life convened,

and so in my hands, I hold the key

to all your wildest dreams.

 

Further in now,

or closer to out?

I hadn’t planned,

all of this drought.

 

Apathetic release,

springs new hoping trees.

They grope with desperate pleas.

But in time you see,

its nothing more than illusory.

Power and fate,

pleasure and pain,

we’re all more than thee.

 

Something inside must die,

so that nothing more can hide,

deep within,

covered by pride.

 

Liberate me,

as I will you.

Our hearts desire wild,

falling through.

Loss of hope, recognition,

all that we hold true.

Here in the desert,

now do I show you.

 

Come night we must rest,

in sweet duress,

all part of finding

life, happiness.

 

Learning to rely on one another,

We find comfort,

warmth, release,

when we become,

all that we have seen.

 

Do you sleep,

and often dream ?

Do you recall forgotten,

childhood scenes?

All are contained,

here, within a dream.

 

Sweet moon’s star-shines,

above broken clouds.

Hot sun faded,

But only for now.

 

In dreams do you see,

all you can be?

 

Here are the words,

we all want to say,

contained in the dream,

of a long lost day.

 

Are you frightened?

Would you scream,

if I told you I’d read,

your most private dream?

 

Have you ever faltered,

do you think you shall?

Tomorrow is a new day,

help lift the shroud.

Poetry-Thing Thursday: Finding the Sea Part 3

The First Few Steps

Taking the first few steps

– Sand?

White hot.

Fills your shoes.

Blistering, scolding pain.

 

The way we came from,

miles behind in high sun.

A road, it seems,

of broken dreams.

 

After all that was our call,

to come, learn to fall.

 

Wandering group of scoundrels,

dead by midday in fright.

– Nothing out here is worth this.

Is nothing worth a fight?

 

Two have turned,

in time to return,

to what they see inside.

Now it is all but her and I.

 

Do you know why I made you come,

I say to the one.

– To show how strong I’ll become?

To teach that you are one.

 

– Great creator of stars!

What meaningless words

Who was so willing,

to go this far?

 

She sits,

thinks.

 

Oh Desert,

absent of beauty!

All alone,

– A desolate reality?

 

We are far from home.

 

We must push forward,

through the heat.

We must not stop.

– Not even to drink?

 

Nightfall

will come softly called.

Waiting until we are ready,

to drift steadily,

away from all.

 

I promise you this;

you’ll see yourself–

You’ll see us all

as minds that never stall.

You’ll wander in waste,

but have no distaste,

for time is the only appalled.

 

– Oh hazy of heavens!

– This heated hell!

No more does the mind tell?

– No more words are needed!

When all you’ve left is to read it?

– Away from all those whom dwell?

Only so long as no-one from their hell,

comes knocking for midnight hotel.

 

All of the people, in all of the world

All of the boys, and all of the girls

need a guiding hand today.

So in the desert we pray.

– For peace to come to all?

For those who fail to stand tall.

 

It’s all in the heart

– and in the mind?

Just play your part,

for all of your kind.

Show them how to find the sea,

out in the desert, amid empty pleas.

 

Do you know the stars,

And do you stare up afar?

Something guiding you, somewhere,

neither near, nor far.

 

Feelings of doubt.

Self-vanity.

My feelings carry clouds,

you dig me?

 

So young and new,

but look deep in her eyes,

do the depths

show no reprise?

 

Never.

Never, my friend.

Never before,

and never again.

So many say, but only pretend.

What of the ones, whom never bend?

Never fake it, or falter,

never break their intent?

 

They are the ones that make it out to sea.

Out to waves breaking in glee.

Does no-one but we see?

The few, the proud,

all we may be.

Out in the desert,

searching for the sea!

 

We push forward,

determined and set.

Yet something on the horizon,

causes us jest.

 

A flash of camel, and memory,

of things the way they used to be.

 

Amid all inside we,

feel tingling uncertainty,

as we walk deeper through,

the Desert of Lost Memory.