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Another Poetic Endeavor

stigmaticman

stigmaticman

Active Member
Through My Fingers

I'm at a loss for words,
My thoughts elude me,
Like water through my fingers,
I cannot grasp it.

My thoughts elude me,
I'm grasping for the air,
I cannot catch it!
Elusive as it is!

I'm grasping for the air,
How am I to respond?
Elusive as it is,
What can I even say?

How am I to respond?
I'm at a crossroads,
What can I even say?
Well, I just don't know!

I'm at a crossroads,
And which path do I take?
Well, I just don't know,
But it’s a choice I must make!

And which path do I take?
Where my heart leads!
But I make that choice,
And I'm sure it's right.

Where my heart leads,
Is a message true and clear,
And I'm sure it's right,
But it leaves me silent...

It’s a message true and clear,
But like water through my fingers,
It leaves me silent...
I'm at a loss for words.
 
A Silent Death

What has now taken hold of my young heart?
How I have lain awake, lost to my feelings,
Holding my palm, so near my chest, I pause,
Slowing my breath, as I listen for beating,
I become silent, intent on my heart,
Watching, still, waiting for signs to appear,
When suddenly, my heart sparks into life,
And blood rushes through my veins like sirens,
The beating drum, the rhythm on my palms,
Feeling my heart come alive, electric,
While each beat rings, sounding of an alarm,
And inside my head, I hear the message,
But remember to take another breath,
And am safe once more from a silent death.
 
Love in My Cup

When love is near, I hold sweet feelings safe,
Like nectar filling up a flower's cup,
Sparkling sweet in the Sun's warm embrace,
Swaying in tides of summer days anew,
Spirit of the day, wakened by the breeze,
Nature's child, warm Earth, brought up in her arms,
Love, kept in my vase, is treasure for thee,
For by chance that a bee, who takes some home,
And steals my heart away, oh so fleeting,
It’s a kind thought that love would carry on,
And have some chance at a romantic meeting,
With another lover, as the bee roams,
And finds itself another honey-cup,
Like me, who’s full to the brim with such love.
 
Picture Perfect

the days come near
to those who live them,
take yourself
a photograph

capture the day
In mindful sight,
as the day becomes
our life story

a daytime romance,
photogenic lovers,
a look and a snap,
the times we have

the picture show
realized world,
the fluttering lights
shutter with life

the two of us,
alive and alight,
as we sit side by side
and watch the world burn
 
My TV Takes Me Away in a Way

TV may be a way to be.
It's now, yet somehow without space,
But it's a crazy little light show
That plays upon a small stage!

It's now, yet somehow without space,
But when you no longer weigh reality,
Eyes play upon the small stage,
And you get lost in the moment.

When you no longer weigh reality,
It's a crazy little light show,
And you get lost in the moment!
TV may be a way to be.
 
Words

Words are such strange beings!
Due to their sporadic nature,
They can’t help but complicate.
They stand together, but are divided.

Due to their sporadic nature,
As they mingle amongst themselves,
They stand together, but are divided.
That’s how they congregate.

As they mingle amongst themselves,
They can’t help but complicate.
That’s how they congregate.
Words are such strange beings!
 
It Was the Coldest of Nights

It was the coldest of nights,
A lamp shown in the window.
A man by the light warmed
His hands as they trembled.

Silently, he sat in his room,
He looked to the book by his side,
The lamplight pulsed real low,
It was the coldest of nights.

The Bible laying by his side,
The words distant but reliable,
The comfort that, on such a night,
A lamp shown from the table.

It was the coldest of nights,
But the cold could not part
The joy from his soul that night,
The man, by the light, warmed.

He felt a candle in his heart,
Burning in God's presence,
And it was then that he noticed,
His hands as they trembled.
…It was the coldest.
 
Wasteland

I find my mind a desolate wasteland,
Barren of form, full of empty logic,
And lacking anything that’s worth a damn
Like an empty can void of product,
That easily crumples for lack of substance,
And is worthless but for its scrap value,
As is every thought that goes through my head.
A pathetic endeavor, what have you,
To think that I could even, in some way, tell you!
 
Mistress Night

Of all the feelings I have culled,
Finding my heart in silent woe,
When events had in some way pulled
The inward eye upon my soul,
I cried my tears, gently falling,
From solemn thoughts of sweet remorse,
I heard the darkness come calling,
Inviting me to intercourse.

Loss of love had drove me deeper,
Into a lasting sense of grief,
When the call of night rang clearer,
And somehow became my release,
I looked not to my heart’s demise,
But turned away the inward eye,
And gave myself unto the night,
Where all my pain was left to die.
 
We're Only Human

We're human by nature,
We eat from the tree
Of the knowledge of good and evil,
And we all fall from grace.

We are made of clay,
In earthen vessels,
Made in our father's likeness, yet
We're human by nature.

Like all who are brought up,
We live to be free,
A little bit curious,
We eat from the tree.

What is lost without knowing,
To all who are civil,
Is the price
Of the knowledge of good and evil.

We put it on tablets,
On our hearts engraved,
And when we break the best of them,
We all fall from grace.
…We're human.
 
glad you like them, and that you're in tune with it. means I'm doing something right... thanks
here's some more for ya.


The Desire to Create Thriving Verse

Many a time, I've tried to no avail,
My hands to fashion, in attempts awry;
All the times I've tried, all the times I've failed,
Like bending a nail, hopelessly aside,
By my non-adept hand holding the hammer,
Lacking skill, born through inexperience,
While I learn to observe, in like manner,
As one given the task of apprentice,
While I apply my craft, following loosely,
What I've seen accomplished by practiced hands,
As I try, in stark contrast, to make due
With the slight skill, which I already have,
And hold fast to the hope, that as I learn,
To one day be a master of thriving verse!


Celestial Interpretations

Daylight floods the divine firmament,
As the Sun appears upon the horizon,
Bearing in kind-burning glory, radiating

Warmth that encourages life onward,
While the pure nature of light, blesses
Everything upon which it shines, showing

Adonai’s intentions, when spanning the heavens,
Concerning celestial inventions, to fill
The vast ocean of the cosmos with such beacons,
As we see first-hand, gives life to us all.


Night

The night, a raven with its black wings spread,
Takes flight, and glides across the day’s last light,
Covering the Earth with a darkened shroud,

Baring the star-filled heavens to our eyes,
As the moon reflects the ever-burning lamp,
And sits, transfixed, where all can see it die,

While the low clouds, settle in and make camp,
Hiding the heavenly face, now but a phantom,
As its presence becomes a menacing laugh,
And its steady glow is held for ransom.
 
The Desire to Create Thriving Verse

Many a time, I've tried to no avail,
My hands to fashion, in attempts awry;
All the times I've tried, all the times I've failed,
Like bending a nail, hopelessly aside,
By my non-adept hand holding the hammer,
Lacking skill, born through inexperience,
While I learn to observe, in like manner,
As one given the task of apprentice,
While I apply my craft, following loosely,
What I've seen accomplished by practiced hands,
As I try, in stark contrast, to make due
With the slight skill, which I already have,
And hold fast to the hope, that as I learn,
To one day be a master of thriving verse!
Click to expand...

Oh how I know the feeling! Depends really on how much you also want to follow the 'rules' of poetry. The stricter the form, the harder it is to shape.
 
Night

The night, a raven with its black wings spread,
Takes flight, and glides across the day's last light,
Covering the Earth with a darkened shroud,

Baring the star-filled heavens to our eyes,
As the moon reflects the ever-burning lamp,
And sits, transfixed, where all can see it die,

While the low clouds, settle in and make camp,
Hiding the heavenly face, now but a phantom,
As its presence becomes a menacing laugh,
And its steady glow is held for ransom.
Click to expand...

Nice imagery, but as a reader I find myself asking - 'transfixed' why, by what? And the last verse also doesn't make sense without a fourth verse offering a resolution, if it is held ransom then we need to either know why or how it is redeemed. Just my opinion :)
 
For me the enigmatic quality of Night adds to the feeling of menace it gives. It contrasts so strikingly with the joy, praise and transparency of Day. Some really lovely lines, Stiggy. Just love .... Bearing in kind-burning glory, radiating :)
 
On the Brim of Sweet Fountains

The pebbles kept in my heart,
submerged in fondness of days,
when the river is already cut,
and they lie in glassy currents,
like thoughts of a different time,
when the flow of seasons
has rubbed away the jagged edges,
as epoch after epoch has left me here,
sitting on the brim of sweet fountains.
 
A Glimpse Cannot Suffice

A glimpse cannot suffice
When beauty is sustained,
Though eyes may pass it by,
They need to be restrained,
For to miss the marvel,
And one may call it vain,
Is to not see the art
Of which it has been made,

But true beauty is seen
From a place of silence,
Where the only critique,
Is that you must eye it,
It draws you in closer,
And keeps your mind quiet,
For the beautiful rose,
When kept within your view,
May even slow your pulse,
Or make it beat times two.
 
Down With Boredom!

My words, a message I wish to be heard
Loud and clear, come across the page
With enough force to make your ears ring,
While I stand with loudspeaker in hand,
Poised to incite a rebellion, against the tyranny
Of boredom, and the long hours of unrest,
As we all fight for the cause, and I shout
The rallying chant of this generation,

'We must come to our senses,
Each second ought to be vivid!
We must open our eyes, and
live a little before we die!'
 
The Labyrinth

O' how a dream can seem so real!
Even though it makes sense not,
We can only fathom
What takes place in the night!

Even though it makes sense not,
We find ourselves believing
What takes place in the night,
As the dream world turns tangible!

We find ourselves believing
The grand ethereal immersion,
As the dream world turns tangible,
And reality becomes blurry.

The grand ethereal immersion
Drops us into its labyrinth,
Reality becomes blurry,
And we get lost in its depths.

It drops us into its labyrinth
Full of illusion and meandering paths,
And we get lost in its depths
Awaiting the coming catalyst.

‘T is full of illusion and meandering paths,
And we find ourselves held in suspense
Awaiting the coming catalyst
As we continue our quest.

We find ourselves held in suspense,
When the dream suddenly ends,
And we come to question
What had really just happened!

When the dream suddenly ends,
We can only fathom
What had really just happened!
O' how a dream can seem so real!
 
The Great Struggle

O', how anger holds many a man captive,
And leeches his ability to reason,
Mind overcome by the things he imagines,
And driven to act, upon his strong feelings,
When all that's sought, is some kind of release,
A quick escape from the turmoil inside,
His mind, at war, locked in conflict, exceeds
The ability to keep the throngs at bay!
So often does one give up and give in,
Continuing not, to fight the good fight,
And acts upon the fear, retreat has given,
No longer able to hold the front lines,
But life has its battles, and we can win!
Common to man, is the struggle within!
 
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