Scribbles 'n Bits

Tag: original poetry

  • A Thousand Little Eyes

    Either I stood in your shadow
or waited in your shade. 
A fly on the wall
buzzing about things to be made.
Now I see clearly
with a thousand little eyes.
Please leave these words,
how little you keep inside.

  • Excerpts from Morning View

    "For once it was nice:
shedding myself of the most boring aspects of my life. 
Which were, realistically, the most exciting parts
in the lives of others...

Before, I placed all my perception of beauty into wonder,
into imagining great features in great lands,
great feats by great hands.
Now I know,
it is not those who wander that are lost,
but those who wonder endlessly of where they could go."

  • Once Again

    I grow dizzy
with all the flames I've burned,
with all the times
this new leaf has turned.
Waste my dreams
as morning burns into view, 
a painful reminder
I wake without you.
Look over the ocean
at all the fish swimming free;
a lonely sailor 
caught by the sea.

  • Glance

    Around and around
the red blue mind. 
Thoughts creep and whisper
in thin grey lines. 
Music to ears 
as silence to sleeping.
Deposit in years,
a warm heart beating.
Ask me now, 
where I have been.
I answer by staring
in low dull hymn.

  • Nutrients

    Where the wandering willows weep; 
for far they’ve come, no home, 
my foggy mind leaps 
to the end of the galaxy known. 
Who should I meet 
but the galaxy always alone. 

Once my travels cease, 
back to the shady grass. 
The tears the willows weep 
have turned all to laughs, 
to water at their feet,
a home they have at last.  

Unlike earth beneath the trees, 
my roots do not dig so. 
They open their hairy arms 
to much I do not know. 
Like water beneath the trees  
absorb all I need to grow.

  • On belay?

    Feats of my burden 
feed on desire. 
All left to leaving 
where twin peaks aspire. 
Wind through your day 
like vines through the grama.  
Painted in plastic 
like carving a comma.  
Dreams left to dreaming 
never climb higher. 
That's where I keep them:  
the subtle belier.

  • The Artist of Pithewa Peak

    A man who paints memories 
gave me one to take. 
Gift wrapped from you it said, 
"Give your mind a rest
and keep your heart awake."
I see him paint there still, 
where the sun stains the forest skin.
I will never forget that day - 
the closest to you I have ever been.