Ancient Voices

A scratchy whisper tingles

brushimg the lobe of her ear

echoing words of tomorrow

only meant for her to hear

fearing the voice, she yells

begging it to leave

entirely missing the message

she was to receive

never was she taught

meaning behind the voice

never told she was lucky

or that she had a choice

she walked an ancient path

alone, yet, well protected

learning in years to come

meanings of the unexpected.

            ©River 4/11

There’s always a Point…

Sinking deeper into the center
of a swirling ball of warmth 

rising hotter with every word
expanding and growing 
burning with long tentacles 

spreading through crevices 
cracked by past storms
fueling the building energy

striking the point of boiling
the ball explodes at you.

Sinking deeper into the center
of a swirling ball of warmth 

rising hotter with every pulse
expanding and growing 
burning with long tentacles 

spreading through veins

a warmth of tingles 
fueling the building energy

striking the point of love
the ball wraps around you.

©  5/11

A Tale of Time

A Tale of Time is a story told in the form of a poem.
                              ~ ~


.......  Daydreaming on a Sunday afternoon

              ~ an abstract moment in time ~

          

~ The Keeper and the Well ~

                                   with a Drop of Time!

Time is untouchable

invisible to the naked eye

many have tried to own it

in its own right, it is…

Some believe it is man made

revolving around people

captured by hours upon seconds

tightly within a box.

Others watch Earth’s cycles  

and count the age of old rocks

measuring of mere moments

encompassing all life.

One knows the truth

about time and all its secrets

the chosen one that watches

the true Keeper of Time.

 Decades upon decades

he neither ages nor dies

bestowed a legacy of honor

a destiny of solitude and time.

Crossing through realms

the Keeper wears two faces

one tells of his legacy

the other sees him as a tale.

As a new century nears

the wind sings him reminders

the time is here to begin

his travels to the Well.

The Keeper of Time kneels

amidst the sands of the Sahara

waiting and praying

 on the eve of a decade

a new dawn in time.

One Drop of Time releases per century

the size of a grand mountains tear

falling towards the Sahara

in rings of sand it lands

instantly absorbed

flowing down

the Well of

Time.

Crystal clear

drops of time

lucid in collection.

Awaiting in a well of stone

tended by the Keeper

for all of life

requires

time

stepping

realm to realm

the Keeper travels

 bestowing them their tempo.

Rhythms of difference

beats of fast and slow

realms of opposite flow

carved out riverbeds

on a course of their own accord

running at their own rate

two flows

connect

continuing

down the road on

an abstract moment in time.

   © River 2/11

posted for One Shot Wednesday week 44 at One Stop Poetry~ writers and readers wanted!!!!

O - Oracle of the Feminine

Our time has come to stand tall

united in a revolution of change

a collective of feminine voices

saying, No More!

It is time we take back our bodies

create a resolution to change

the expected and learn to accept

everyone is born their own way

beautiful in their own skin.

It is time to stop participating

in the games of a perfect image

starving for anothers body

an average that does not exist.

It is time to love and cherish
yourself, believe you were born 
beautiful in your own way  

for your daughter is watching.

It is time for you to remember 
where you came from 
to say thank you to your mother,

your grandmothers and aunts,

all the women that wore

the body you were born to wear.

             

                                    © River 4/11

care for a reading by video

posted for One Shot Wednesday week 42 by One Stop Poetry~ clck and come join the fun    

I - Involved in Nothing

See that man laying over there

fading into the bench

disappearing amongst the lines

he has forgot how to live

and involves himself in nothing.

E- Eccentricity 101-[ rewrite 4/12

eccentricity 101

we observe and mimic others to learn the ways of our

people. we learn to conform to mold and transform 

ourselves for we notice young the fears people have of 

difference and how they treat the different.

even so, a few daring teens break free of the mold playing a 

balancing act on the edge of conformity with some extreme.

we all pass the borders of age into adulthood. a majority 

continue following conformed playing the roles that walk 

the mainstream, the societal pieces.

a few ride a personal wave of freedom and adventure 

while dancing to their own eccentric beats.

many fall somewhere in-between and of these some are 

eccentrics beginning to bloom learning to live from their 

passions. the different labeled the odd, unusual, and freaky.

some eccentrics live on the societal outskirts, happy

others learn to walk both worlds, playing the game. 

without either, our world would not be the same

for the eccentric are often the inventors and the dreamers

the ones who bring change.           

             .

©4/11

posted for One Shot Wednesday week 41 at One Stop Poetry~ come check it out  :)

B- Backwards Day

           Slowly

             he walks

              backwards

         up the Mountain,

             blinded to rocks

                             and dips

                        along the way.

   He strolls with a pace of notice

         glancing at the smallest

                             of difference.

    The new amongst the familiar

        the old nearly forgotten

                It had been too long

     since he had a backwards day.

Ancient Stones ~villanelle

Ancient Stones

Ancient stones speak tongues of history
a truth of time buried beneath our fears
forgotten knowledge told as mystery.

Only a few can hear stones speak clearly
bestowed this dying gift they walk in tears
ancient stones speak tongues of history.

A history if lost is gone in misery
it bears wisdom of times we made unclear
forgotten knowledge told as mystery.

Alone among the hills lives a gypsy
she hears stones tell ancient stories when near
ancient stones speak tongues of history.

One must believe and listen gingerly
in hopes to hear an ancient stone appear
forgotten knowledge told as mystery.

Stones tell the truths we lost in memory
the day we ran like fools from nature’s sphere
ancient stones speak tongues of history
forgotten knowledge told as mystery.

©River 3/11

villanelle rules: 19 lines, 2 repeating rhymes and 2 refrains, 5 tercets and 1 quatrain, A1 b A2 / a b

A1 / a b A2 / a b A1 / a b A2 / a b A1 A2.- capitals refrain lower case rhymes.

1 and 3 line of 1^st tercet repeated alternately in the last lines of the succeeding stanzas; then in the final stanza, the refrain serves as the poem's two concluding lines

from the French

posted for One Shot Wednesday week 36 at One Stop Poetry~ come & join the fun!

Echoes

The Stone Nordic Theater

by moonlight is barren,

except for the latest Graffiti

and once in a while a

drifter borrows a night,

soothed by crashing waves

and the hum of the city.

By daylight, the stone

reveals its cold, empty stage,

a webbing of jagged cracks

crumbling from neglect.

The stonewalls hold memories

wrapped  in aged grape vines

flowing from crevice to crevice

near a woman dangling her legs

over the edge.

An edge of the mossy wall

overlooking the mighty waters

behind the Nordic theater.

She contemplates choice

with tear streaked cheeks

watching the brewing storm,

the swell of rolling waters

crashing against rocks

wails against stonewalls

echoes through the theater.

12/10 

posted for One Shot Wednesday week 25 at One Stop Poetry ~ check out more poetry