Destined's Poetry Corner

Prelude

Within a new realm, my ink shall mark
The tale of words and imagery.
Betwixed the confines of a solitary prison,
my works will crackle and spark.

Images and emotionalities
may cross your heart or ear,
but I for one will attest to this:
I verse for your enjoyment.

 

Maelstrom

Sitting there, lost amongst the dialect of phrases,
my eyes are prone to wander.
A glance is all I dare to steal away,
A whispers more than I deserve.

Suns and moons entwine the sky
As customers sweep the pebbled shore,
Eroding pocketbooks and expanding girths.
Behind the counter your ginger eyes ingest the sea.

Children screech, removing you from your slumber,
Serenading the café booths with ease, juggling wit and requests.
Your course leads you past my starboard,
I work to fashion courage forth, to introduce my name.

What’s in a name aside from glyphs and curves,
An honor and a curse, lost amongst the shawls of my past.
To be given merit, I like how it chimes,
Yet your answer is my desire.

Years I’ve came into port here
Each day your aura bewitches my soul,
Filling my life with cautious jubilance
Yet you know nothing of this, for my name is still my own.

To announce the feelings hidden within my chest,
Would air on lunacy, off settling.
How can one feel amored without saying a word?
The answer is singular.

My feet set course toward your station,
Slipping between skippers and decorated commands.
You take my check with a cornered smile, enough to make me crack:
“My name is Hawkins. I’d like to ask you out.â€

Your face reddens as you sweep a girlish grin into the background,
But the wheels are turning behind her stonewall teeth.
She twirls a pen beside my receipt, her eyebrows raise playfully.
“Mr. Hawkins, call me Elizabeth.â€

 

Wow. I didn't know you wrote poetry, Destined. XD

I loved both of them and I could see you did put emotion into them. Loved it.​

 

10:12 pm 6-09-09
Unnamed

​

Day transforms to Night
Trapping orblets of energy
Twinkling dutifully, uniform.
Crimson, Magenta, Sapphire, Gold.

Tiny hands cling to momentary wonder
Eyes alive with magic,
Witness to fictions transformation

Alone I sit, observing, reflecting.
Transcribing thoughts beneath Walt’s imagination.
Fifteen years past, my soul first beheld this dream.
Age, jobs, conflict are trapped at the gate
I am home.

Not with the second star to the right.
Not around a wish my heart made.
Not upon a star.

But in remembering innocence.

 

4:41 pm 6-10-09
Unnamed
​

Emerald crystals decorate the rolling surf,
Champagne frosts the edges of the mighty Pacific’s reach.
Each droplet, tears of the planets storied past:
The peace.
The war.
The sadness.

For on the beaches edge,
Two teens stand at the border, fingers webbed together
Challenging Poisodon’s worst.
The water clings, trying to rip apart of bond of childhood adoration
But the waves can only recede…
You laughed, the sound would always let my heart soar.
For once, I was happy…

I stand on the same beaches edge,
Foam prodding my foreign feet.
Two friends stand interlocked among the tide, engaged love.
Eight years ago and this beach has never once let my heart,
If only she had…

Your name lies before me,
Carved shakily into the pebbled earth.
Goodbye Tara Webber…
The Pacific wipes away my past.

 

The imagery in your poetry is of a very high level, I must say. Your themes are none too complex (which is a good thing: I like comprehensibility in poetry) but word them so beautifully that one can't help but to look for a deeper meaning. Either way, your pieces are quite eloquent. I'll check back in this thread for sure.

 

... WOW. That's all I can say. These are off the charts. Like Malestrom the best, but they are all great.

 

Orion

Eyes unblinking, a fixture of humility and silence
forever more gazed upon with seeming awe yet unreachable.
A curious squinting eye can piece together a biography,
yet one mystery remains:
With blazing stories of yesteryear, why no sound?

Frozen like granite, your emotions unknown
yet so detailed description is unfathomable.
Grounded atop the catherdral of the world we know today
how will the future marvel at your uniqueness?
Uncaring scorn? Praise? A cold shoulder, shunning your glory days?

I've looked into your glowing eyes to find the truth I do not understand,
But your answer has always been what I needed to hear:
silence.
An unbaised response to show that individual choices are our own.
Each day is made from the memories of the last
It is our question, it is our answer.

Your message is key: fight the good fight or forgo tomorrow's sunrise.
Your immortality, is it your gift, or a curse?
Or is it your work; to make a child question the question
what mysteries lie in wake.
If you listen, you can hear the winds whisper my answer,
silence.

 

I love this poem so much. It's kinda special, as if that moment in time the person holds a link to Orion. It kinda reminds me of wishing upon a star.

It's so amazing...I can't shake it off.

 

The Past Remains Present

June third, were you there,
Hidden behind pillars
seated amongst proud parents?

June third, could you hear,
Thirty voices blending as one
A years memories culminating together for forty-five minutes?

June third, could you feel,
The raw emotions
The friendships forged and broken, the tears and the laughter?

June third, could you see
Your son finally feeling accomplished
Your son tearing as the finale ended?

June third, could you imagine
The heartbreak of your son
Staring at three empty seats amongst standing room only?

June third, could you taste
The bitter tears as your son walked through the door
A chapter ending in his life?

No you couldn’t
Because June third, you weren’t there.

 

...This poem is...it's too emotional. It's making me tear up. I feel the last sentence exuding a power, a culmination that says it all. It's a strong poem....just a bit sad.

A pox on you for making me tear up...nah, you know ilu.

 

Yes, it does have a powerful emotional drive to it. However, I think you kept it within respectable bounds; that is, without making it overly melodramatic. The poem's buildup was quite clever.

 

I'm adding previous poems to this thread, hence the massive influx.

Wishes

To all who come to this happy place, welcome.

The plaque reads from the castle steps.
One step forward,
Leafs rustle innocently along Main Street
A train yawns awake far off.
Ragtime music sweeps through the airy courtyard,
Raising a wind deep inside.
One jump ahead,
And through the castle gates I soar,
Returning to the land
Where age stands like a frozen hourglass.

Down cobblestone drives and English manors
Over mountains and around the river bend
Past temples and amongst comets I meander.
Every step a memory,
Every blink a moment longing for a glimpse
Into the imagination of the creator.

Faces fly all around, off to Neverland
Youth clutching the unmoving sands of time,
This land cannot be tarnished.
Upon my head,
Two golden spheres divulge and absorb
laughter
excitement
peace.

Slowly, a path beckons like a poisonous apple,
Down the rabbit hole I tumble
And awaken, the hourglass loosening the particles,
Back to reality.

Traffic,
War,
Anger,
Hate,
Destruction….
Evil.

That’s what lies before my unwavering eyes
As the world swirls past my porthole in life.
But a smiles rises by night.

For up to the heavens jewels I glance, wishing.
My eyes unearth the second star to the right,
The hourglass flies from my hands, shatters
The grains falling like a meteor shower.
I can go the distance.

For one man’s imagination has become a sanctuary
Strangers like me flow toward it each moment,
Escaping the reality to enter a whole new world.

It’s a tale as old as time:
Wishing I could be set free
Wishing upon a star
To defy growing up,
To be a lost boy.

But only one thing remains, one last wish.
I’ll navigate my magic carpet in jungles unknown,
Climb the snow-covered mountain for all mankind,
Discover ocean mysteries with me hardies yo ho
Only to wish for to share this small world
With you
If you shall come too...
​

Snow

Silence mystifies the darkened eve
Crystallized tears cascade from humble guardian angels
Blanketing my freshly shoveled driveway.

My Sanctuary

A relaxing peace sets about the sand swept room,
Every storm bringing new hardships.
He enters, casting shadow about,
Sorrowful guilt drowns in his aged face.
A friend lost has he.

He sits across from my enclave,
A weight prevalent amongst his body and mind.
A friend’s death.
An enemy’s birth.
The force cannot for see tomorrow’s world,
As a baby’s cry breaks the silence.

Obi-wan’s eyes rise to meet my mahogany,
I will protect one if you will protect another.
My velvet hands take a hold of the silver shaft.
He smiles, closing the lid,
This burden is mine.

He reenters my sanctuary, a small life in his haggard hands,
Our lives have been changed.
By these gifts.
By these curse.
I close my carved eyes, he leaves, a swell of sand blows in.
My vault shall hide this curse,
For another Skywalker shall bear this burden some day.
​

My Pasture

Trauma and turmoil ravage my world,
Yet, my pasture lays hidden away,
Ushering me to return someday.

Water dances around my tiny kayak,
Leading me on , guiding me forward.
The oars rhythmically dance along with salmon and otters,
Both need not fear the world.
For their home,
Formed by tears of Heaven protect these lives,
Secluded forests promenade my journey
Down the road to my pasture.

The gates unfold, bringing me before the frozen giants.
Breath’s held, casting a calming silence,
Disbelief that this world remains untouched,
As countries battle for supremacy.
Frozen memories float about me,
Falling like crystal tears from the giants eyes.
White lightning juts around these marvels
As more jewels enter the world.

Stepping onto the misty coast, my mind clears.
Eagles soar high above, wildlife sings aloud,
I’ve entered my pasture.
Above me stars burn like rubies,
Glistening amongst the mysterious dance of the Aurora Borealis.
The land of the midnight sun lies far away,
I shan’t be gone long, and next time, you shall come too.

Cresendo

Suspended, clinging to every moment,
A messenger between the worlds holds.
Expression is what feels my soul,
Tranquility enraptures the strings of my heart.

Emotion bleeds out from my auras,
Angels from above heed and take not upon the message.
I’ve never seen the outside world,
Yet my window to it lies through my ensemble.

At the end of each year, my life takes shelter.
The olden days immortalized forever amongst my mahogany,
Tomorrow, the next wave of youth will learn my message,
So they can sing amongst clouds one day.
​

Persecuted

Sunlight glistens down through the mosaics of Grace,
Coloring the wood and pews technicolored dreams.
Distraught, laden with the weight of guilt I sit,
My mind, a ticking time bomb.

Song takes me to flight,
Moving past the alter, images of the past accompany me.
The hallway is dark, lonely, persecuted.
My souls pace along the path of peace.

I sit down, nerves inflamed,
My burden is starting to collapse away.
Calm words reach my conflicted heart,
My mind erupts with emotion.

Memorizes bound away like wind,
The problems turn to the solver.
My struggle strengthened with his care,
A calming comfort seeps over me.

Peace accompanies my being as I move away.
I may be from another denomination,
But if expressing my mind to God brings serenity,
Then he and I are one.

 

I only read a few of these last ones so far, but I liked them all as much as I liked your newer work. I'm glad I voted for you in the User Awards.
Good idea to put some earlier poems in. Maybe I should be doing that again too. Thanks for reminding me.

 

That Time

Within a room I sit and stare
chair creaks, eyes tire.
One enters unsure then two then four.

Awkward silence.

Pens click, cell phones ticker for savior
eyes dance the room
up and down
through and through.
Minutes collapse off the wall
Waiting.
Awkward.
Silence.

Wheels rattle outside, laughter marks the hall
In here just avoided eye contact and pens chatter.
Two more.
One Harvard
One punk.
Eyes judge.

An unsure cough,
A shifting creak
Papers mingle, scrape together.
Tick

Tick

Tick

Tick.
​

Five past eleven the clock trumpets
Hesitant discomfort bleeds uncertainty.
Are you in the correct cell
Are they?
Did the messenger fail to report?

Handle turns
A mountain of books framed on the wall.
A shuffle leads to an avalanche upon the central table.
Exhausted.
"I need a sherpa."
Broken laughter.
Focus.

Welcome back to class.

 

These are Amazing :']
I liked the way you positioned the ticks in the last one.
I can imagine these so clearly in my head, and I love the images I get x3

More please! ::L:

 

Oh Sweet Wand

Poetic and lyrical
Creative or critical
Language sings, words rythme
While the muse dictates the time
Flow of ink
No moment to think
Write, oh sweet wand write.

Imagination or exploitation
A smatter of fantasy
A whisper of reality
The hand transcribes
Whilst the mind describes
Write, oh sweet wand write.

Brain twists and Plot storms
The page demands a form
A rhetoric from tip to tale
The current rips across the sail
Write, oh sweet wand write.

Chapters pass and bend
Stanzas meet a tragic end
Prose dips below the stage
Write, oh sweet wand write.

Mystify forgotten dream
Characters driven into team
Write, oh sweet wand write.

How to carry on the flame once the story meets reframe
Write, oh sweet wand write.

 

The Scribes

Glass panels sweeping guard above the penitent chasm
twinkling snow drops glisten beneath the unreal city
Devote of instilled aura.

For whom the fisher king cries, hollow silences answers.
Palaces, sanctuaries, graveyards of concrete
A man is a man is a child is a seed
Clutching a branch of regality
While life transcends the fjords of waste.

The hand dips low to blemish the abashed land.
A new man waits, hope dwindles limp from the line, to illuminate the shadows
As missionaries preach the books
of William
of Charles
of Stein
of Dante

Dive through the fog of enlightenment and spring force the desire of paradise.




Exodus

The spell of words is passing away
To view, to type, to die
To witness the the ink bleed dry.

The harshness and sting of the page
Scrapping beneath the Divine's creation
The words so slowly defined, unique to the penstrokes baine.

To feel or to loafe
Would you take moments to praise a fallen Elm
or chastize the torn normality.

 

Untitled

Each stroke of the pen
A slice of the heart
Moments of solitude strike passion cold.
Cracks from beneath thine feet,
tarnishing the path you need me to take.
Let me take.
I want to take.

Don’t shut me out, blood turns to tears freezing on my cheeks A light plays temptress through the vail of glass.
My cries go unanswered
lost in the silence.

Each steps a struggle down the rabbit’s hole I would plunge to purge the sorrow from your soul.
A statue remains before the threshold.
Brittle, chipping turning to dust.
I’m here to stay.
A gladiator, a knight a friend.
You claim you deserve none of these things as your mind remains warden over your heart

I stand resolute as waterfalls pierce stone.

You deserve me.

​

 

Moonlit Whispers

Shouting from the golden man,
Stands innocence.
It screams and screams to be acknowledged
But footfalls compress the motion,

Accept me! It screams into the glittering night
Futility answers mockingly,
Joined by Denial.
They rest upon the forest theatre
Always watching, interfering when Necessity arose.

Innocence shrunk, cowering beneath the willows reach.
The wind stirred, replacing Unknown with Hope.
A hand comes forward, tilting Innocence’s spirit.

I can Hope whispered,
Strength and Truth shall set you free.
But seven crops of consumed rye and Lost I still remain,
Where is Hope? Where is Truth? Where is…

Innocence sweeps south, replaced to the steps of Acceptance.
The marble gleams with salvation,
A reprieve toward the escape.
Hope swirls high.

Take the hand of Compassion, she too has fallen,
Save her to free yourself.
I take the hand, consuming the unknown scents,
The moonlit hair swimming on the coat tails of Promise.
I accept you.


I'm baaaaaaaaack