In this final freedom flight on fragrant waxed wings
stay close to the path cloaked between sun and sea,
for the lively spray of ocean waves to feathers cling
and the sun’s fire revels in melting our desire to flee.
For if in momentary Self we do so choose to indulge
blinding ourselves to the chalice of the open heart
Our choice to take cloaked flight lost in secrets then divulged
will result in freedom lost and wings melted so as to not depart.
Though against the Gods themselves and my father I would rebel
in leap from determinate ground to unarguable death, I cannot deny
to become one with searing sun would be worth an eternity in hell
Vanquish, I pray, these lashing tongues from mine ears that I may fly!
I stand upon the precipice; between freedom and shackles;
knowing this be the moment…for which my heart has longed.
And though it may be hubris to think such heights can be tackled,
with one leap of faith–I’ll soar ‘cross the sky, where I belong.
Between Sun and Sea:
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Tag Archives: poems
In this final freedom flight on fragrant waxed wings
What Will Be Will Be
The way we were lies imprinted upon our smokestacks
and townhouses; etched deep within the cornerstone
of our foundries and storefronts. A general feeling—of
what it meant to be…who we were. And yet, we’ve lost
so much of what was…forgotten so much of what it took
to become who we were. We’ve succumbed to the belief
that it is all simply ours for the asking. That which we want,
we shall have…if only we say it.
When did this miasma of insanity slip into our beings?
When did we become envenomed with the seeds–
of our destruction? How did it come to this…
this foolish notion of all is right when desire
outshines common sense, and when wild impulses
over-ride seasoned judgment. And yet…here we are.
It used to be said “Advice is what we ask for
when we realize—albeit for the first time—
that we really don’t know it all.” Now…
do we even know what advice is?
Would we seek it out, in the darkest of days,
or would we continue to believe
in our own omniscience,
and continue the downward spiral
into the destruction of civilization.
© December 2, 2010 CRF
This was written for Blogophilia. Feel free to check out the topic and other fine participants at:
Seasons of Thankfulness ~ Poets Round Table 196
Every time that I feel, the pain of living
each day, with its overwhelming nature,
I wonder if life is worth surviving.
And yet, I sit and think—and know the cure;
for all around me is beauty so pure.
There’s so much to be thankful for;
so much of what this world is—at its core.
Take a moment, notice the little things;
beauty in a sunset, puppy’s soft kiss,
unstirred silence, then the songbird, he sings.
Quiet and still your soul, else you may miss
all these special things that will bring you bliss.
A gentle heart is a contented heart;
and being thankful is a perfect start.
Majestic mountains that reach to the sky;
or the valleys that are so full of green.
Seeing the beauty in our world—I sigh.
The sound of an eagle’s cry—loud and keen;
deeply thankful for all that I have seen.
Strong winds blow—while the waves crash at the sea.
Everything brings gratitude to me.
Reasons abound to be filled with great cheer:
Each new breath draws life, a new chance to feel
To the fullest, ev’ry day of the year,
The hope that is kindled from a warm meal;
The joy we discover when love is real;
And the peace we can know by holding fast—
Seasons may change, but Thanksgiving will last.
The Thankful Ones:
D J Myke: www.myspace.com/jmichaeltodd
The Poets Round Table is a weekly event. If anyone would care to join in the process, just check in with D J Myke.
Rise of the Naked Empire
Across the land a new dawn has risen,
bringing change to all it touches,
illuminating every nook and cranny,
as the powers that be extol
the gloriousness of the emperor’s new clothes.
Rejoice at the baring of your soul!
Privacy has become a bad word—to be shunned;
for in this new age all know everything
about everyone—we all lay naked
in the glare—bereft of shelter
as we stand with nothing to wear.
And the predators smile—a sardonic
black-toothed grin, saliva dripping
from their maws as they scan the landscape
of potential prey. All the while,
schisms erupt into mighty chasms;
as the indivisible has been shattered
into factions—fully convinced of their truth.
Eternal Optimists—exude hope
that all will be fine.
Infernal Pessimists—cry out
in the wilderness knowing no one listens.
And the disillusioned realist
weeps in the corner
mourning the end of all things.
The Naked Empire has risen!
© November 13, 2010 CRF
Trapped With Eyes That Never See
You claim soul sickness through all that you see;
and yet you’re blind—to your own vitriol.
Marching to the beat of hubris’ call,
you project your faults upon all but thee.
All that your mouth spews out is ‘Woe is me!’;
You flash the eyes…of an innocent doll,
whose evil is hidden within the pall
of the darkness within—such jealousy.
And though you claim to be misunderstood;
friendship denied…for no reason nor rhyme
in the end, the truth—through your mask, it burns.
As you linger within hate’s murky woods,
crying out! Exclaiming an unjust crime;
Those with eyes see, move on as the world turns.
© November 4, 2010 CRF
What Fear May Come
Within the dark recesses of my mind,
it’s not the normal phobias you find.
Creeping, crawling spiders of every size
venomous slithering snakes are no surprise.
Things that go bump in the night fill not with fright.
Falling through the air, I delight in flight.
Creepy, nasty, black-toothed clowns all around;
my laughter wipes away their frowns with nary a sound.
Crowded market places never make my heart race.
The specter of death’s sadistic grin fits this space.
No…none of these fears scurry round my head.
Not one of these phobias fills me with dread.
The simple truth is only one thing terrorizes me.
There’s only one thing I never want to see:
My own failure to be all that I can be;
letting you down, betraying your love, in time of need,
as I fade away, drifting into eternity’s obscurity.
© October 23, 2010 CRF
For so long I stayed wrapped up
deep within the cocoon
I formed; a victim
of my own misplaced trust.
Or, was it just tattered
from years of abuse,
as I willingly opened up
…only to be betrayed.
I started out so innocent—naïve,
only to become jaded—unwilling
or unable to reach out any more.
Too often had I been misled;
too often, had I bled;
I pledged—victim never more.
And so I was alone—ever more.
But then you came, from nowhere;
opened my eyes to everywhere,
as you mended my broken shards;
showed me, that not all life
is doomed to be hard.
Some joys still remain.
You took that chance,
made that first step,
braved the inevitable pain
and trusted me…with your heart.
You showed me just what was missing.
You gave me, the most beautiful,
yet tender part of you;
and in so doing, awoke me
to the land of the living.
In you, I’ve relearned trust…
With you, I’ve set aside the dust.
Because of you—I broke free
spread my wings, and fly again.
© October 6, 2010 CRF