Aspiring Wordsmith

This is an original content based poetry blog. I attempt all poetry requests. I reblog a moderate amount of art and photography. All original content belongs to me and is protected under a creative commons license.

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A seesaw at the summit,

Fine balance or a fall;

Pixels on a Jumbotron,

From here they look so small.

At the perfect distance

The pixels will resolve.

But with your nose against the screen

You’ll lose sight of them all.

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I bring commotion down As precisely as a tornado Guided by a spinning top, and each time I come around, And around, and around, Like a well greased wheel of fortune, I come to rest on another free spin. There is peace in the air I revel in victory, once again.

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Ankle-deep in fog, 
You drag your feet. 
There is no re-tracing 
Your steps, there is 
Nothing 
Where you came from. A new beginning 
Is around the bend, 
I step off the edge 
And fall again through 
The clouds.

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Re-tune the strings And pluck again. You can recreate The sound, but Not the tone. The smile, but Not its warmth. Pluck again, Try again.

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I grabbed the ground and shook the world as hard as I could, I saw birds flying out of trees all around me and Their song was the sweetest hurricane that ever blew me away.

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Peace in Chaos

I’ve been here waiting, stagnating in the pond water where mosquitoes breed.

When the sun sets day after day, the fish become frenzied,

The water is adorned by superficial ripples, crossing over each other,

Forming a matrix that you can only see at eye level.

Sometimes two minute waves meet at a ridge.

They clash together and droplets kiss the air

Before falling back again.

I am sitting just under the surface,

Breathing through a cattail straw and watching the patters develop.

They are quiet and chaotic, peaceful yet unpredictable.

When the hot summer comes, and the days grow longer,

Water evaporates and my eyes are sitting above the surface.

I can see the grass and trees now, and they distract me from the

Wave-matrix that consumed me before. The wind blows gently,

And I watch the branches sway back and forth like sweeping pendulums.

Their leaves flutter like a kaleidoscope of butterfly wings.

Their soft rustle brings warmth to my heart.

I feel at peace in the chaos again,

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Today you are open ended, A leading question, and I have no answer for you. Tomorrow, you drown In a shallow pool of dreams.

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The rain comes and you watch it dry like paint. The rusting comes slowly, first, and you brush the red dust from my face every morning and before I go to sleep at night.

My rusty knees scream like nails on an chalkboard. You can hear me coming from a mile away. We are blind when the red dust swirls around us like a hurricane on Mars, and every time the wind picks up you worry that we won’t find our way back.

I haven’t seen you in what feels like years, but when the wind dies down I hope you will be standing right where I left you.

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May I not so much seek to be consoled as to console; to be understood as to understand; to be loved as to love;

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Haiku 05/16/2016

Wounded and fearless Inhaling each muted smile My lungs still clatter

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Rope Burn

You cannot control the way That life unfolds before your eyes But some days feel as if It’s being yanked off the spool Forced to unravel, unwinding Rapidly despite clenched hands. On these days I gasp for air, On these days I run, On these days I burn alive. I am not drowning, Nor running away- I will charge into the blaze. I will look myself in the eye, Inhale this inferno deep Into my lungs, and Exhale lashing flames To incinerate fear.

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pt.2

and if it lasts forever,

and darkness drowns the light

your darkness I will carry freely

for love of sightless night.

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pt. 1

Take me to your darkness, and let my eyes adjust. I’ll throw apart the curtains, let light Cut through the dust. Let me breathe your darkness deeply, Patiently and unafraid. My hands will wander through the dusk, To feel your darkness fade.

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How early is too soon, when I was so used To love that bites and grinds it's teeth. You are radiant energy, burning like magma, consuming every doubt in your path. There is sweetness in this suspense. I always hated waiting but you Are sure as the setting sun, And when darkness drowns the waning day Like a whale washed up on the sand It will still be beautiful if you are there. Eyes never change, and though I may be weary of falling through those sweet crinkly windows to your soul, Maybe it is the way you swim so slow That gives me the courage to dive.

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Hello love notes, Hello laced up Underwear, and Nipple piercings. Hello, old scars You look new today. Hello razor burn You taste like fraud, You smell like Old carpet in A new house, you Shine like Canned fruit. (The fruit not The can) I guess You’ve met The can opener.

nfm (via modesofexpression)

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Do you take pride in the hurt? Does it make you feel large and tragic?

John Steinbeck, East of Eden (via aestheticintrovert)

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Snapchat Art by ModesOfExpression