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Viewing 55 - 63 out of 121 Blogs.
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"A Bit of Numbness..."
Thrummm Thrummm Not a sound
Not a one... Gray and white
twilight
daylight
midnight silence Thrummm Thrummm I can't hear my breathing just the gray and white
surrounding without sound Thrumm Thrumm "Angels we have heard on high -
sweetly singing o'er the plains..."
it isn't heard - just remembered
and echoes within Silence isn't terrible
just the surrounding gray and white Thrumm Thrumm and the window...
the window is gray
its all just gray
fading
fading to white. Chris
Tags: Writing Poetry
"Snowflakes..."
All the lil snowflakes
stacked and locked
one-on-one-by-one
pretty lil flakes
see them fall
see them fall one-by-one
each covers another flaw
builds and stacks
pretty lil flakes
see them fall All the lil snowflakes
softly swirling round
covering and covering
and never a sound.
Chris
Tags: Poetry Writing
Soft and sweet
a stupid silly beat
a 'vanilla' crossing
and then...
and
THEN... The world paused
and LIFE began "Cry me a river..." Let those teardrops fall
and wash all my dark away. The mood - fire and n'ice
- the night HEAT burning,
a fever forming
driplets of sweat
keeping time
to the rising Sax
and rasping tones Floating and flowing
following the ups -
cloud high,
til diving for the downs
feeling the air passing
falling
sinking farther and further
each beat
reaching
reaching so far within
the sound
sounds
finding each measure
each treasure
each moment
and knowing
the rise is there
beckoning
taking me away
then back
over and over still -
til the dawn. "Bring IT" -
more
MORE
YES that's IT
right there
now hold
HOLD IT - don't let it go
keep me
here
hold me here
fill the wings
let the echoes carry...
sweet
SWEET music. Chris
Tags: Poetry Writing
"1,1,2011..."
Tis a grey-blue mornin...
cool but not chill
birds, ground squirrels,
dogs enthusiastically being dogs -
a window fogging to each exhale. A new year...
beginning again - Fresh thoughts,
dreams
new-old
the taste of coffee
the taste of -
living. Chris
Tags: Poetry Writing
"Yesterday..."
Yesterday
came by again ~ today -
quietly
without fanfare,
without thought,
without a moment's hesitation
and I didn't cry
didn't laugh
didn't hide
nor try to run
evade
or even breathe. Tomorrow - it might rain,
ya know? Chris
Tags: Poetry Writing
"Winter..."
Winter is a time
for building strength
for recovering Spirit
for finding heart and contentment
for seeking understanding.
We pause our existence
to search within
and remember
who and what we are.
We breathe the chill -
deep inside,
and expel
the hurt and fears.
We live - again
or pass... knowing
inside what life is
and was - and that TASTE
THAT taste
of forever.
Chris
Tags: Poetry Writing
I was asked to bring a few thoughts back to daylight...
The "Patterns Of Our Existence..." shift
minute-by-minute, day-by-day - though the words
just reposition themselves - an unending fractal
whose 'Pattern' remains... our existence.
"Patterns Of Our Existence..."
1. Something Blue...
2. Nothing Read...
3. Everything Gone...
4. "Anything" Said. 1a. The 'flower' I never gave her,
2a. Our unopened journal gathering dust...
3a. The trashcan now lies empty.
4a. "Welcome to the Hotel California" - for real. 1b. Was just another still-life watercolor...
2b. Mere words - just old meaningless words.
3b. Dreams... all of it - only dreams,
4b. "...and things that we believe in" - are no more. 1c. While all the feelings gather tight -
2c. Meandering, silly moments recorded -
3c. Wisps of nothingness -
4c. "...turning into another dream..." - each night. 1d. As I watch her leave...
2d. With my unseeing eyes...
3d. Not even our tears remain...
4d. "Love is not enough in itself..." - never was. "For real
are no more...
each night -
never was." "Something Blue..." The 'flower' I never gave her,
was just another still-life watercolor...
while all the feelings gather tight -
as I watch her leave... "Nothing Read..." Our unopened journal gathering dust...
mere words - just old meaningless words.
Meandering, silly moments recorded -
with my unseeing eyes... "Everything Gone..." The trashcan now lies empty.
Dreams... all of it - only dreams,
wisps of nothingness -
not even our tears remain... "Anything Said..." "Welcome to the Hotel California" - for real.
"...and things that we believe in" - are no more.
"...turning into another dream..." - each night.
"Love is not enough in itself..." - never was. "Patterns Of Our Existence..." The 'flower' I never gave her,
Our unopened journal gathering dust...
The trashcan now lies empty.
"...and things that we believe in" - are no more. Was just another still-life watercolor...
Mere words - just old meaningless words.
Dreams... all of it - only dreams,
"...turning into another dream..." - each night. All the feelings gather tight -
Meandering, silly moments recorded -
Wisps of nothingness -
"Love is not enough in itself..." - never was. As I watch her leave...
With my unseeing eyes...
Not even our tears remain...
"Welcome to the Hotel California" - for real. ... and the patterns continue and flow
and flow
and flow
and its never
just
words...
ever... ya know?
Chris
Tags: Poetry Writing
I always found the silence - really wasn't silent...
if you listened close. At the very least you heard
the breath catching in your heart as the eyes
flowed and flowed.
"Seasons..." We pause as we can...
isn't always bad
nor good -
just as we can. Season's have heart -
though some are of the heart,
and others' well, others have
neon moments under star-naught skies. Have you ever -
kissed a rainbow?
tasted sunlight?
touched a moonbeam?
cried cause that falling star was YOUR heart? Its what we do...
as we live
within the seasons -
and we call it
life... Chris
Tags: Poetry Writing
"In Shimmering Waves Of Sound..." In shimmering waves of sound each tear strikes the ground reverbrating so hard and strong even the sunlight moves along. The deafening silence filled my soul where moments before angels played magical musical melodies made by the heaven sent smile that you bestowed... then stripped away. Your faultless single comment came with innocence. You truly didn't know or see. But, you had again reminded me, a 'we' could never be. I could not stay nor stand... nor play... as if it all really mattered not. Though, I guess in the end, it didn't actually matter... "Anyway..." Chris
Tags: Poetry Writing
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