I will lie in the earth and let the blood flow and tell you it’s growing flowers on your grave. I will tell you the sun is shining on your face as it turns to stone in my hands.
.
.
When the sun goes out
I screw in another
and the whirring threads
stitch my worried heart
Illuminating a surgical scar
that reads like a liturgy
Passing between passages
and small holes in skin
I start to feel the warm air
assimilate the cool again
So I open the window
to keep out the storm
that walks in my head
through a landscape of thorns
.
.
There is nothing difficult
about holding a hand
but I find it impossible
to keep my fingers
from crushing yours
Snapping, cracking
like stems cut from flowers
The trashbin will smell of roses
for a week to come
As I raise the lid
I raise your nails
with a winch
to sleep under
The gold
stains my palms
with glitter
I spread it to my face
as I stir in my sleep
And when I wake
the morning light
illuminates my skin
like the sunrise
over a field of dew
.
.
You should unmask. We have all laid aside disguise but you.
.
.
There is love in the violence
that tears a man apart
and there is mercy in the breaking
of a wide and lonely heart
I am painting with the blood
that pours from your arm
Something depicting
the way you used to feel
The red brings out emotion
that other colors do not do
So look into the mirror
See me looking back at you
.
.
I am on the verge of the void
If I raise my arm
it disappears
If I lean my head
there goes an ear
Holding onto life I feel it snuff out
with the same hollow wind
which laughs as it flows
from heartland to heartland
in a black undertow
.
.
Isn’t it red?
That hue as you carry
it closer, it mellows
It’s more like a yellow
Funny how things change
as they spend time in
your head
If you’d have caught it in its prime
You’d have given it all to green
Unchecked by time,
one draws from what one has seen
But you didn’t notice it was different
You didn’t notice at all
Until it was lying dead before you
Until summer turned to fall
.
.
If this is not what you meant it to be
then bend the earth back
and touch moon to sea
Let them kiss there quietly
The tides breathe:
“Finally”
My first Christmas without him Started with the first glint Of sunlight through morning fog, Dense and thick for miles around, Visibility low, muffled sounds Of animals scurrying, Like my mind pursuing thoughts To distract from the void (a crater) Of missing seeing his name Pop up on my phone: Merry Christmas Dad! I’ll see you later! He’s been gone a few weeks. And I long to speak to him Of all that I have going on, To prompt his iconic laugh, Play him my new song. But instead I’ll stand in the foggy mist, Sing at the pale horizon, Listen for a moment, Close my eyes then carry on. I’ll repeat the usual motions: Drive, gather and eat, Chat, laugh and sing. I hear him in the wrapping paper crinkle, When glasses clink and flavors mingle. I see him in the children’s joy, When white elephant gifts are deployed. I’ve been told the loss never ends, But often eased by family and friends. So with them, I toast to your life: I miss you, Dad, this Christmas night. #10MinutePoetry #DailyPoetry #APoemADay #PoetryCommunityofInstagram #PoetryFun #VTVerse #MerryChristmas #RIPDad 🎄🎄🎁🎁🎶🎶🙏🏽🙏🏽 https://www.instagram.com/p/CmoKTykO_qW/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=
Sometimes it is good to be lost in between, and not knowing how to feel. Sometimes it is not about being found in the same place but growing in some other. Like those wildflowers in those ecstatic valleys, they are wild; they are fresh; they aren't found in gardens but still their beauty is the winner of all races of flowers. Travellers find them, not calling them lost. Like them, I am found. Newly found.✨ #poetry#poetsofinstagram #writers #writer #writerscommunity #poetssociety #poetsdaily #dailypost #dailypoetry #poetsoninstagram #igpoetry #authorsoninstagram #author #poetry #poet #poems #poem #poetsandwriters #spilledthoughts #spilledwords #spilledink #spilledinkpoetry #explore #explorepage #experimentalpoetry #writersofinstagram #writersofig #motivation #findyourself #wildflowers #lost https://www.instagram.com/p/CjX7RaCpaxC/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=
I once knew a young girl, a lot like myself.
Who dwindled and dwaddled upon a great shelf.
She was smart like I am and worked real hard too.
But street smarts are something we have yet to accrue.
So she stayed in our hometown, as I moved out fast.
I never looked back, I was free at last.
Except I DID look back from time to time,
But just to realize Im not done with this climb,
So I reach on up and I grab the last rung.
I then gasp so fast that I choke on my tongue,
I jump off life's ladder and look around quick.
I realize I recognize why this girl is sick.
Where here melds with there and our worlds start to collide
We can't keep them apart, no matter how hard we tried
For my heart lives where home was, while my mind is here
because while today Im strong, my heart still has fear.
JL Meicht
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Peace and tranquillity
A heart full
A whisper of a breadth
Whispers of the past…
As the rays touch and spread
Orange to amber to firery red
Two onlookers inhale the calm
That rest may bring before the dawn
A day partially over
Time well spent
Minutes to go by too
Melting into hours now new
The vast firmament resplendent in technicolour
Streaks of ambient light
Bold, board strokes…
How can it be that the God of the universe is alive in me? What does it mean to be alive? To be now?
My whole life I have searched for answers to these questions. I thought myself wise. I was self deceived. I. I. I was the common denominator. Had I been truly rooted in wisdom, I would have heeded Solomon’s words and known that “under the sun all is vanity, striving after wind” (Ecclesiastes 1:14). Instead of accepting the insanity, I charged headlong, full speed into the fall of humanity.
I was akin to Alice falling down the rabbit hole, except, I dove, knowing that it could be the end of me. This idea didn’t bother me. I welcomed it, longed for it, I didn’t care. I was trying to prove a point. My own misery, my impatience, my rebellion led me to lie to myself, to convince myself this was what I wanted, in fact, what I “needed”. “It’ll be an experiment, a worthwhile experience”, I thought.
So, I walked alone in a world alive with ghosts, heavenly bodies nestled inside carnal hosts, little sheep fast asleep. I got lost in my attempts to keep up with their dreams. Getting sucked into a whirlwind of vanity, instant gratification, and delusion was quite unbecoming for me. Accordingly, when darkness knocked and told me he held the answers to my questions, I gave him the keys to my bedroom. Not once, not twice, not any quantity of times that I can recall on 10 fingers and toes. All I know is that enough alcohol and ammunition in my nose caused a cranial combustion.
Self destruction. A loss of control. A violent eruption inside of my soul. A surrender. A burial. A transmutation. A rebirth. An unbecoming, an unraveling of what I once was. I have emerged, new. I am free. I am alive.
The plug has been pulled. My eyes are open. I will no longer deny the truth that indwells every cell in my body. I am but a vessel, a receptacle for something sacred, incomprehensible and holy. I do not belong to this world because the spirit in me, in you, is not of it. Here, I watch and I wait vigilantly for the return of Love. In my waiting I am refined, through flame I am fashioned into gold.
The dust of my departure will leave behind only a trace pointing to the truth, the truth that is a return within, to my Creator. This I know now, I have tasted and seen for myself, I have returned. You too, must retire control of your vessel. The clouds are here, the inevitable storm is brewing. Nevertheless, have no fear, behind the clouds you will find the ever-present Son. Breathe the light into your belly and allow your brittle bones to come to life. Awaken from your slumber. The time is now. The end is near. Judgment is coming.
Kissing the hand in the dark
All of your lips course and spark
Raising the hairs on her fingers
like trees in wildfire lose bark
.
.
Nothing will ever placate
my nature’s indiscretion
An everyday intoxicant
A gauntlet of obsession
Scriptwriter,
would you not
write me wise?
What is ironic
about the look in your eyes?
I cannot see
you easily
but I feel the film careening
I hope they capture
the way that you are
.
.
The temperature plummets
I cannot face the wind
I am radiating heat
and steam rises from me
like a hissing snake
slithering in the blue morning
skyward over a copse of trees
.
.
Someday there will be a change and we will all feel it.
.
.
No landmarks
No good or bad
No consequence
No decision
No direction
No closure
No end
.
.
Red flag,
freezing wave
Caught between
movement
At the mercy
of two hands
Fingers at a
half-mast
.
.
I steal a cup
to collect you in
I shake it on the streets
with my head bowed low
The pedestrian shuffle
sounds like your name
repeating
Who am I to you?
Who am I to anyone?
.
.
Will you let me find
a new way to say
these words?
A different way
A better meaning
Like how moving furniture
can really change a space
.
.
The floor that gave with every step.
.
.
It sees the bigger picture
It hands me an eraser
It wants me to know
the mistakes I am making
It wants me to change
but I do not
And my ears close
and my throat closes
and I wonder
if death is worth fearing
at 29
.
.
When was the last time
I stayed out
til I feared the sun
would see me?
When was the last time
I felt his eyes
upon my head
as I turned away to sleep in agony?
In the morning
he’s still watching me
and I wonder what he thought
about the words I spoke
in my dreams
.
.
You pass a witness
on the path
Your way divided
A yellow dash
Reflection only
in pavement passed
Beneath like bows
on presents wrapped
Giftgive in silence,
in nods and glance
A strange encounter
A stranger dance
The denim, blue on
blue black bike chain
Grease on my pant leg
I mix it with air
I pat the way down and
continue on.
.
.
I have one minute and it’s all I’ll ever need.
.
.
I’ve been taught
the most and the quickest
by the people who know the least
I have been given a scythe
with no deadline
for a field of wheat
Final stalk uncut
I grasp it gently between my fingers
and cut it like I were loosing a ballon
.
.
Two streams moving beneath two gentle stars.
.
.
I want to start making promises
but I’ve never known
something that cant be broken
.
.
Tiny sips
at a manageable
pace
Banging a
stack
of paper
on a desk
40 corners
and then
You turn
your back
I twist
spin in
the chair
form
a cycle
in
my heart
and keep
you deep
down there
.
.
It is possible
that the world may spin
without an impossible
complication
There are mornings
which may rise
without melody
in the throats of men
The silence is not empty
It is working too,
whispering
the implication
between me and you
.
.
Fake everything.
.
.
The spider in the ice cube
You saw it as you filled
You didnt care to warn it
You turned away and killed
It melts down in your water
and climbs upside the cup
And falls into your stomach
and never comes back up
.
.
Birds at nightfall
but which will be
the last to sing
a song for me
If one is followed
in tune by two
I wait for three
or else it’s you
.
.
I will never amount to anything and twenty minutes ago I considered how likely it was I could never write a word again
I am looking down a million pinholes backwards through time so what is a pair of binoculars to the Abyss Watcher?
What is age to the man about to die?
If you are reading this then it is too late
I see your eyes now
moving across the sky in an extraterrestrial pattern
Deep in the distance you are waving the world away
and I mistake it for a greeting
I guess I'm on a flower kick again. Wow maybe it's time to do a second bouquet book? #Day68 of #AYearofPoetry challenge just a short little musing poem. Because today has been incredibly odd. Not good not bad just odd. Besides this was a great opportunity to continue playing around with my ipad and Procreate #daisies #procreateart #dailypoetry #inspirationiseverywhere https://www.instagram.com/p/CpmPqcIucxW/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=