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fruitfulodyssey · 1 year

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I've abstained from

Sexual encounters

& visuals to acquire

Spiritual Stillness

In my vessel.

Raw emotion, deep yearning

engraved in the fabric of flesh

I don't despise the feeling,

But I've delayed an awakening

Authored for me.

A journey purposed

for clarity Is a need

For the depth of my soul

Desires comprehension

To articulate the intricacies

Of devotion.

.. Why swim ignorant of

The canvas that welcomes

The paint of a lover?

Isn't it foolishness

To give what is sacred

Lacking the intimate

Understanding of its value?

I cannot love beyond

The natural understanding

If the eyes that's meant

To see beyond the

veil of flesh

Fails to see the intimate

Textures intertwined

Behind the layers of skin.

On this journey I remain

To discern potent affections

In alignment with my soul.

- Journey of Discernment 1

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fruitfulodyssey · 1 year

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The soul is only

An everlasting

If stretched in hopeful

Expectations of a journey

Beyond the body of flesh.

Mere mundane desires

arrest inner expressions,

For the action of satisfying

An infinite with finite fruits

Diminish the taste of potency

In the depth of the soul.

Harken onto wisdom,

For she will only heed the call

Of those who beckon on to her.

Cultivate a need intimate

Beyond bone to receive

The nectar from her lips

Endowed in spiritual journey.

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fruitfulodyssey · 1 year

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Sleepless nights in her arms are coveted by men desperate for comfort.

She's peace & serenity incarnate..

Her embrace soft & warm,

Tender & welcoming, her touch

Sweet & graceful.

Her words nectar for the soul

As I'm snuggled up in her arms.

I Soak in her presence, drowning

In her nurturing spirit, shunning the hours.

I've found belonging in a home,

Who knew it resided behind skin & bone.

She held alittle tighter

& whispered

"Welcome, my beloved, I'm happy you're home"

- comfort in her arms

#poem #poetry #poet #spilled ink #thoughts #words #spilled thoughts #new poets society #spilled words #fruitfulodyssey #poetsandwriters #poetsandartists #poetsandauthors #original writing #black woman #black relationships #black love #writing promt #poetry portal

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fruitfulodyssey · 1 year

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Woe is the man

Who plants seed

And does not know

What he is growing

- FruitfulOdyssey (Book: Journey of Discernment)

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fruitfulodyssey · 1 year

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In a time of careless touches & selfish wander,

Vandalised walls, were sacred, lay bare.

What bloomed in mornings dew,

Dulled, tamed by pilgrams unaware.

What gleamed in midnight's light

Vitiated by Insensitive meander & siphon stare

An amusement, a spectacle, a theoretical jest,

Your quivers are for game,affection mere pleasantry.

Addicted to wordplay, they are jewels in your ear.

Yet the commotion of the heart yearns the elementary.

A time meaning dripped like honey,

A season a sanctuary bled vulnerability

A day dream, a crave bitter sweet,

You've known enough, a bellowed soliloquy,

Caresses dipped in promised care, a stimulus,

A dead flame, sought an empty surrender.

A conditioned crave for adulterated intimacy,

Magnify a pallet adorned in pretense & adventure.

Relinquishing home, in pursuits of apogee,

What is Odyssey, a forsaken earnest hunger

Patience, a love deficient on your skin,

Knowing you whole, a philosophy opaque to remiss souls,

I honor you with my hands, a coveted liberation, for a canvas latent in wonder, an unrefined gold

A taboo, To enagge without conviction,

my raison dêtre, unveils the divine secrets of old.

A craftsman, a creator, an author, an artisan of sorts,

Dedicated to paint & brush, Avidity unleash its hold

A pottor graced clay, a nurtured form,

Nakedness, immorality housed in clothes, unfold.

Bewitched by curiosity & wonder,

& all its galore,

Story of anticipation, a love composed.

The tales that lay beneath skin,

an opus, a bible, a scroll, I'm eager to know.

Sunk deep in service exploring your mahogany hue.

Prune & chisel, a sculptures honest desire,

To discover life in stone, intricacies of bone&tissue.

Intrigued in details weaved, a blemished tapestry

& divulge tales untold, shielded in a flowered venue.

flesh flustered by discernment, Goosebumps

A response to heavens sagacious residue.

A devout healer, for what rests in my hands,

I'm called to nurture, effleurage, Petrissage.

Therapeutic art, a pride, a Smith,

A preserver of beauty hidden by pillage.

Exploring culture in the curves of scars,

Concealed knowledge and indomitable heritage,

A fabric, a woman, a shell of the heavens,

A palm, an embrace, my delicate clay.

- Duty of an Artisan -

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fruitfulodyssey · 1 year

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Learning to observe

Myself in times of low,

Can be compromised

By immediate needs.

A work of art

Unworthy to be seen

By wandering eyes,

Because no one knows

The Demeanour, they see.

The strokes of my brush

Are interpreted based

On what the soul feels.

Yet miss to articulate

What exists in front of them.

Because the paint that clothes

The canvas holds a different

Meaning only the author

Knows.

Such details blend with

vivid colors hugging the pallet.

Nurturing a view of the horizon

In hues intimate to the one who

Orchestrated it.

How can you comprehend

what I’ve not understood

Or define in my garden

Of bloom & Odyssey.

My hour has come.

To determine the meaning

Of sacrifice when my addiction

Offer their service.

To deny myself

Of selfish satisfaction

Stealing serenity & sanity.

Staging as sovereign as if its

Some role in a grand scheme.

In my times of low

Guarding the thoughts

That breathe live

Is a necessity.

Because an idle mind

Is the devils Playground

They say.

Like a sandbox

Of trinkets dripping

In want are on display.

I'm Learning to observe

Myself in times of low,

And forgive myself

For how easy flesh succumb.

To understand patience is

Not a wish to be granted

But a daily action

Supported by the belief

"This too, shall past"

- Journey to Discernment 4

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fruitfulodyssey · 1 year

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I'm aware weakness

has its cure.

I understand the

remedy takes time

to refine so

the inconsistencies

of my character

I must endure.

At times famine

embraces me sweetly

draining the strength

I need to say no.

At times, I'm abundant

like the leaves that clothes

the Amazon, nurturing

the mind to believe

Walking away always

leads to something better.

At times my garden

goes through pruning,

my vines have lost direction

avoiding what the sun exposes

to live in the shade to conceal

sin parading proudly pretending

to be promising.

Urging me to despise

change even when

It's good for me.

At times water flows

Into me like a great waterfall

pursuing the confines

of a river leading me home.

A calm that comforts

me when I notice

what growing pains

has Cultivated.

I'm inconsistent

but ever growing.

my words lacked

conviction on this journey,

but as I stumble along the way

I learn to see where I'm going.

It has been a battle

for resolve to take its place.

Despite the calluses on

my bones, stubbornness

manages to keep its reign.

Each step has transitioned

from unsure to certain.

But the acquisition of

wisdom felt like lashes,

painful, the agony blinded

me from what was being engraved.

... a lesson... an impartation

of principles needed

to articulate ones purpose.

- Journey to Discernment 3

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fruitfulodyssey · 1 year

Text

At times courage

comes from being

at war with yourself

to break ground

for new soil to emerge.

I'm a gardener lost

in the oscillation of seasons.

This perpetual pendulum

Of personality shifts

Exposes the fraud fighting

Furiously to surface as face.

What must become

Of me if I fail to overcome

The temptation of imitations

Just to feel comfortable

In a skin needing peace

I must stretch for substance.

I can't deny,

I've become foreign in

This vessel many times.

A process of soul

reconstruction terraforming

a landscape in need of

a container.

In need of a new canvas

Desperate to draw in

All the paint expanding

the picture.

In need of a fabric

Knitted to adapt to

The growth of a sinner.

My existence is not

the same as yesterday.

Every peel unveils

The surface of my soul

Embracing a necessity

For understanding.

Every level discovered

Enlightens me,

A tedious process of

Arrogance & humility

Cultivating new wounds

Unknown to the natural mind

Frightens me.

Only a healing profound

In the spirit awakens

an atmosphere

Of forgiveness.

I now know I'm a cocoon

Of the old ways.

Will this person perish

Or persistently pursue

pleasures powerful

In pain...

On this journey I'm in need of grace

A grace Unknown

to human emotion.

Such peace sits behind

The veil knowing this endeavour

Will not leave me unscathed.

But open I may..

To usher in an identity

Belonging to me

Not subject to mere definition

But divulged through

discernment & revelation.

- Journey of Discernment 2

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fruitfulodyssey · 1 year

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My days of clarity

Are time lapse pieces of art.

Its glory is short-lived

Prompting passionate pursuits

For fleeting fabrics fascinated

With leaving me longing.

Stricken with woe in

my moments of discovery,

desperation surfaces.

Walking weary with wonder

as I wander wanting wisdom

to uncover coherence.

Peace, tranquility is a high need

That eludes me.

- Need for Clarity

#poem #poetry #poet #thoughts #new poets society #fruitfulodyssey #poetsandwriters #original poem

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fruitfulodyssey · 1 year

Text

My afternoon canvas

glazed over into black.

The shades before,

hues in red & yellow,

Apprehended me

With quiet introspection.

An embrace inhabitant

Fragments of imagery,

a sign of yearning

for soft skin & conversation.

Patiently placing pieces

Potent in passion & promise.

Cultivating curiosity

carefully for clarity.

I needed to understand

The purpose of this appetite

Interrupting my lonely.

- interrupt my lonely

#poem #poetry #fruitfulodyssey #poet

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fruitfulodyssey · 1 year

Text

I've listened to

Lost souls confused

About where to belong.

I've wondered why they

Heeded my advice

About life,

When I was lost too.

What I've discovered is

Purpose, love & identity

Ached the heart.

But the core of it all

Was guidance.

The lack of

uncompromising

leaders have encourged

Weak wisdom,

Breaking the soul

Deeper faster

Than it mends it.

Broken Philosophies

By Broken people

Insightful, yet

We still have Broken

Minds seeking freedom.

Value comes from

Within yet the soul

Feels like it's pieces

Are scattered seeking,

collecting, Hoarding..

Anything that could

Bring it back together.

Our teachers are human,

Mistakes are in their nature.

But what should we believe

In to gain actual wisdom.

To understand intimate

Details about our existence

Not conjured up by natural

Experiences..

but something divine

That actually conceived the code

For every walk of life

And to know it

Is to know ourselves...

Know love... & know fulfilment.

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fruitfulodyssey · 2 years

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Hidden letters

carved in your mother tongue,

lay bare like your hues embrace the skin.

Such intimacy resonates

in the texture of your canvas,

like diamonds in sand

or crystals in brown sugar.

I'd scavenge for those precious freckles

tucked away underneath layers of pages

potent with code & brush strokes

that carves out a painting.

Such a quest cannot be

embarked half heartedly

or by half a man who cannot find

The cosmos obviously displayed.

He'd be blinded & lost as he seeks

aimlessly interrupting carefully designed

constellations pursuing his way looking for you.

But how can you be missed?

Your scars travel like a comet,

some marvel at it

but care less to understand the stitches

that blend stories leaving traces to you,

& deaf to planets that hold your signature

& sing praises to you.

Their melodies cannot be ignored

unless he's not spiritually aligned

with the soul he believes he pursues.

I am not that man.

I'd be foolish to be remiss

on an Odyssey that unravels you

like a epic Greek tale clothed with leaves

& honey coated on every page.

Even in my madness

I couldn't fail to recognize

the journey set before me

Covered in vintage films

Of blemish & emblems

Called birthmarks that marks

Significant destinations,

Such a Voyage would not be a bore

For I see vulnerability only

Speaks when intimacy

Is beyond skin, but

Knowledge of the deep

that lies in skin to illuminate

the raw history in pigment

which guides me how to love you.

Such a quest cannot be

embarked half heartedly.

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fruitfulodyssey · 1 year

Text

I've sought out texts

& words of wise council.

Needing to understand

the way of the heart.

How affection functions with ease

when directed to another.

Yet ignores me in need.

Is it I, the soul who lack

the understanding

Or does flesh deny

Simple compassion

Not engraved in muscle memory.

Palms open to hold

what belongs to me.

Yet empty like the wind

Carried it away.

But I'm in a season where

Seeds find my garden.

Where water is an endless

Stream of sweet nectar.

Where green is ever so deep

For I've learned to discover

A divine masterpiece in

My imperfections.

I've grown wise to understand

What I produce, I can harvest.

Because Potent fruits

also belong to me.

- Self love: Reflection

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fruitfulodyssey · 1 year

Text

From the sweat of my brow

The soil springs forth flowers.

It's the hour of perpetual fuss,

Repeating conversations I needed

An escape from.

Journeying on emotional coasters

Discovery stable articulations

When I've settled down.

Forgive my frustration

Words tend to diminish

In meaning when I utter them out.

Yet I try to convey simply

Miscalculating the intensity

Of my passion.

Leaving you filling in the gaps

Of incomplete thoughts,

Believing you interpreted all

When you haven't.

It's tedious being

in constant change,

learning & unlearning

how to communicate.

But through this pain

Flowers will grow &

We will be in an environment

Of understanding.

- flowers will grow

#poem #poetry #poet #spilled ink #thoughts #words #spilled thoughts #new poets society #spilled words #fruitfulodyssey #poetsandwriters #poetsandartists #poetsandauthors #black woman #black love #black relationships #original poem #original writing #poetry portal

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fruitfulodyssey · 1 year

Text

Pain comes

In many

Forms.

From desperation

Of change,

To perpetual

Conditions

Diminishing the brain.

How long shall

I live

In consistent

Anguish & fear.

Existing fully

In agony

As i fade away.

Drifting

Out of alignment

My soul has with

The heavens.

I'm more than flesh

& bone.

But grey tissue

& imagery

Submerge me

In dreams

With golden

Chains.

A paradise for

Lunatics

Enticed by

The glitter.

Yet the pain still

Throbs

Like a weak

Heart beat..

I see frustration

Has become

An identity..

The form

Of pain

Takes intimacy

To end the war

Within.

To see broken

Bones find

Glory

In tedious labor

Desperate to

Walk on my feet.

Making a conscious

Decision

To walk towards

My destiny.

Pain comes

In many forms.

But I've come to

Understand self-loathing

About helplessness

Is the worst of them.

- Pain comes in many forms

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fruitfulodyssey · 1 year

Text

Her mind

A mine field

Of assumptions

& expectations

Waiting

To welcome me.

My image

A distortion of

Her reality

Sees my expressions

As manipulation

To rest in soft tissue.

Here's the issue...

I wondered on

Her door step

Eager to know

The host.

With a smile on

My face I wear no

Deceit or charm

For dim lit rooms

Abundant in sweat and

Absent in soul.

I'm an intimate man

I must uncover

The name lying

beneath Skin

For the supernatural

To whisper her core

Making her body's

Nakedness seem

as clothes

While genuine vulnerability

Strips her bare

exposing the tenderness

Hidden in the depth

Of the soil

But mines are planted

Above them.

Darling if I

wanted the night

I'd entertain

what amuses

your dark fantasy

Ruffling still waters..

Sowing sweet nothings

For meaningless passion

That expires after

the moon is gone.

But I'm at

your door step

Digging deeper.

Eager to know

The thoughts

That drive you.

With a smile

You can't deny

It wasn't for the night.

But a morning

Revealing fresh fields

And ruins

From the walls

That held the bruises.

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