| Abstract Rhythms
Posted: 5/18/2007 9:03:25 PM | You are here, In my room, in my home, I can feel your presence areound me, I can feel you wonder around me, I can sense the not knowing what to do, I can feel the need growing, the need to hear you call my name, My body shaking, rapt in anticipation, I can feel your breath quickening, the desire building around us, the electricitycomes from deep within, yet inside me is the fear to let you in, The idea that I hate myself, For the need you bring inside of me, the need to feel your hands on my skin, I hate this fear I have of you, The fear of letting you in, the turmoil this need brings to me, the self doubt that rises, the uncertainty of what will come,yet the burning desire consumes me, the need for your lips upon mine, your fingers stroking my lips, ow do i deal with this feeling, while i tremble with pleasure, waiting your every touch, your every breath on my body, all consuming, this need for you, yet needing you so despereately, wanting you, experiencing you, as you experience me | |
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| Abstract Rhythms
Posted: 5/18/2007 9:10:39 PM | | Diamondsx2. welcome to abstracts! There’s a great deal of intensity and reality in this poem…very expressive! I thank you for placing it here. We have a cozy, calm and embracing community here, make your self at home. | |
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| Abstract Rhythms
Posted: 5/19/2007 1:25:32 AM | Glistening sunshine into air
Hovering silently in a stare
Days of summer a gentle dream
Flowing swiftly like a stream
Waves of heat…squiggly lines
Crawling on horizon’s vines
Inhaling summer into your lungs
Climbing up the ladder rungs
To your memories stored within
Memories of where you’ve been
Times of pleasure buried deep
Deep inside your soul to keep
 | |
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| Abstract Rhythms
Posted: 5/19/2007 5:17:03 PM | | Triplebp, it's always a pleasure. Thanxs for dropping by. | |
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| Abstract Rhythms
Posted: 5/19/2007 5:17:14 PM | Wrestling mentally with
This Old Man of the Sea
I find myself mourning at
The Rivers of Babylon
Thanking God for this
Rabbit hole | |
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| Abstract Rhythms
Posted: 5/19/2007 8:05:42 PM | bitter purple hazen light of repentent agnostic despair
wrapped tightly in thy blanket of thorny rememberence
held close to the burning embers of truth laden sunrise
washed by gentle flowing stream
does give life of rebirth in chasen glory found
convulsed in regret nomore as new birth does your body hold
for the soul of the agnostic fleeting shadow does open to new realms of unbegotten
pardise in purest of light and graven form
shadowriter | |
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| Abstract Rhythms
Posted: 5/19/2007 8:22:23 PM | as does rise the son
so does die the father
in painful remembering of timeless grey
that decends upon the tired trees
everloosing the battles of time
until mere reflections cast of momeries long dead
to the hearts of giants
but always present in the eyes of childhold blindness
shadowriter | |
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| Abstract Rhythms
Posted: 5/19/2007 9:42:38 PM | Everyone's writes on this side of the pond lately
and as always...truly captivating!
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Painted with many textures
caressed with a pulse from a distant drum
flowing like a human faucet
many rivers of thoughts
images
turbulance of emotions exploding
flooding the page.....
No desire to compose
to conformity
when the trembling ink
begs
to ride the unmarked rapids,
piercing the veil
that takes one beyond the mainstream currants....
Then
and only then
anxiety
exhaust to a calming passage of it's own...
Then
only then
do I sit awhile
wrapping the fragments of motion around me
as I await for the words to be revealed .... | |
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| Abstract Rhythms
Posted: 5/19/2007 10:28:57 PM | | oops..misspelled currents...made it change from something that flows to a fruit..oh well,smlin' | |
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| Abstract Rhythms
Posted: 5/19/2007 11:27:29 PM | I found a word that had no meaning
I stared at it through broken shards
It gave me nothing
It haunted me
It told of what I missed
It was misunderstood
but I held it hard and strong till it became something.
It became poetic
It became love
It became mine
A broken pen still knows it's meaning when it remembers what it wrote. | |
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| Abstract Rhythms
Posted: 5/20/2007 5:11:43 AM | From infinity to physicality…
The seasons change from joy to sorrow
From fragrant lilacs to heavy snow
Amidst the death and the growth
The ebb and tide must go and go
And I along with the larks and loons
Migrate towards those distant shores
As the climate changes with each new Moon
And my vessel glides on the stroke of oars. | |
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| Abstract Rhythms
Posted: 5/20/2007 5:12:01 AM | Then one day…
Our young are born to follow our lead
Until they can flock in pursuit of their dreams
Yet, for now on us they shall feed
Like the soft green moss on the rocks by the Sea.
And the sun keeps on shining in from the West
When the late afternoon comes crashing to rest
To endure the painful glare of the high Sun’s test
While we wait for the promise of the evening’s caress. | |
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| Abstract Rhythms
Posted: 5/23/2007 5:54:14 PM | Shadowriter…I read and reread your poems trying to figure you out. I must admit, you keep me thinking constantly.
Casheyesblond…you are an angel sent from heaven, I thank you for these most touching poems. You have always been the touching heart.
~ME+U=US~…this poem is fantastic, it totally touches on the reality of every poet. Welcome to Abstracts. You truly bless every thread that you touch.
Jesyka….I’ve reread these poems over and over, they each send me traveling into the portals of deep thought. I thank you!
. | |
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| Abstract Rhythms
Posted: 5/23/2007 7:21:09 PM | that american dream
where is that american dream
the one we were promised
the one that was to be ours
if we got good grades and went to college
and became a professional
slated to earn high dollars
that dream is now unattainable
the world changed, moved on
but we didn't
we kept believing in the promise
but the pensions are gone
social security, too
and a generation wails
what are we to do
we'll have to work til 75
to afford 15 years of retirement
i didn't sign up for this
where's my way out
sad, but true
the way out lies
in doing things differently
whatever may work for you
be innovative
look after yourself
no one else is going to | |
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| Abstract Rhythms
Posted: 5/23/2007 8:13:32 PM | I’m Entwined in Faith’s guillotine
Please! Maintain for me the faith of the Monophysite
For I’m locked inside this cryptic church
Where I beg Kalunga
“Free me from this world’s Cleek”
What must I now sacrifice for this Pyrrhic Victory?
This most lightless Pyrrhic Victory
Wherein one has faced the guillotine,
Satan’s Cleek
Despite the prayers of the Monophysite
To my Kalunga
Within the powers of this cryptic church
My cryptic church
Do bless my Pyrrhic Victory
My Kalunga
Do keep at bay my guillotine
Through the heart of the Monophysite
Do excavate from therein Satan’s Cleek
That enigmatic Cleek
Ordained by thee in thy cryptic church
Through the spirit of the first Monophysite
The orchestra of Christ’s Pyrrhic Victory
The orchestra of Paul’s guillotine
Through thee Kalunga
My soul’s Kalunga
My scriptural Cleek
My spirit’s guillotine
Within this fleshly cryptic church
Wherein all is a Pyrrhic Victory
Notwithstanding I the Monophysite
Thy soulfelt Monophysite
The similitude of my Kalunga
Warring to achieve the Pyrrhic Victory
Nonetheless Satan’s Cleek
Runs rampant in thy cryptic church
Afflicting thy saints to the guillotine
Thy merciless guillotine which crucifies the Monophysite
The shed blood of the cryptic church through thy arm Kalunga
Through the power of thy creation’s Cleek, the ultimate Pyrrhic Victory | |
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| Abstract Rhythms
Posted: 5/23/2007 8:18:40 PM | | Humor monger: you are totally correct! We work desperately to obtain the empty promise, only to arrive and be told that the promise was empty unknowingly. Each must survive the best way we know how. I truly understand why so many people go for self. The world is full of empty dreams and carrot promises. | |
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| Abstract Rhythms
Posted: 5/23/2007 10:52:39 PM | Be content to dream
Resting silently by a stream
Flowing gently in the glistening light
A blue heron taking flight
Reality crashes loudly in
Sounds of silence broken within
The screech of society racing by
Everything told becoming a lie
But be content to dream within
This crazy life we are caught wherein
We’ll fade away into dreaming bliss
Thinking of a tender kiss
Soft upon the lips of grace
To take us out of this crazy race
So be content to dream
And rest beside a gentle stream
| |
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| Abstract Rhythms
Posted: 5/24/2007 11:48:32 AM | It will be.
A unification of soul
A happening of rhythm
A sit and talk by the firelight
And sip on stars.
Tents and cookouts and outhouse doors
And poetry everywhere
The spirit moves
Factor in the THIRD weekend in August.
Think near Peterborough, Ontario, Canada.
Think poetry
And drums
And flutes
And guitars
And voices
And banners
And billowing sails
Ist annual poetic drum and flute fest and gathering of very cool people who pontificate in poetry, at Deva Gardens. | |
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| Abstract Rhythms
Posted: 5/25/2007 10:23:39 PM | Triplebp. Awesome words of inspire…it’s always a pleasure.
Ravincause…seems like a marvelous function. It will truly be a unification of the souls. | |
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| Abstract Rhythms
Posted: 5/27/2007 5:57:16 AM | Trashy murmurings
Without soothing whispers
Produces epics of horrors
The toll peels resending insanity
As I hold my hands to my ears
I wish not to utter a sound
I'd rather not see nor speak
As subdued human?
How to love with simplicity
A gentle touch
The forte of an open heart
Falling in love
With a wise monkey
...just an animal to you  | |
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| Abstract Rhythms
Posted: 5/27/2007 7:54:22 PM | | Always...I'm still pondering on this one. I thank you for giving me a maze to unlock. | |
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| Abstract Rhythms
Posted: 5/27/2007 7:54:37 PM | Is the burn not sufficient!
Ideally, you were to me
One’s scriptural unarticulated masterpiece,
You were to me the morning star,
My Utopian in the present far,
My now, indelible scar…
Despite this ache,
I wash daily away the bleed’n scrapes…
The rakes that puncture flesh,
Yet refuse’n to bring home death.
In retrospect I touch you,
Totally drunk and arrant in my expression.
O’ how I wish you would have healed me in
Ardent lust and passionate affection.
But I was an electric barbed-wired trap,
Frighten’d electricity in your veins,
Shadow’n the glint of your heart.
This now maddening fertile soil,
I at moments such as now toil with the faith
Of Job to abolish, but my Magi faith is slanted,
For you remain caped in agonize’n hate.
Now in a kenspeckle’d trance
I awake the empty moon
Swoon’n in spirit, lock’d outside the self
Wish’n mammon could release me from this
Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego furnace dance.
In vain is my hope.
This painstaking acquired brooch
Chokes my soul deathly asleep,
Where only the wisdom of Methuselah can
Free me from this anathema, this world of the
Canaanites, this vague world you have condemned me to. | |
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| Abstract Rhythms
Posted: 5/28/2007 7:35:58 PM | born of empty promise
the sunrises in vain
life has passed and no longer gives breath
as laying dead by narcissus pool
lies the empty shell of once was
all dreams have fadded
as death carries forth its prey
leaving only the white crosses in rows
soldiers at eternal stance
paying homage to the world they have left behind
guarding the dreams and lofty goals of mans false gods
and titantic leaders
in the name of glory and freedom
crosses aligned on the chess board
guarding against the black king
shadowriter | |
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| Abstract Rhythms
Posted: 5/29/2007 11:37:36 AM | ^^^^alot of intensity over this way!
In a crowdwd room
full of many faces...
then a troubled awareness
one may feel....
when you feel
you don't belong...
You may not be lost
and yet the soul
still left wandering
on a "journey of utopian hope
for something different,"
a vision of something more
a place where the spirit has a home.... | |
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| Abstract Rhythms
Posted: 5/30/2007 10:06:21 PM | | Shadowriter, Casheyesblond, I thank you both for the fantastic writes. | |
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