A thousand seeds, a thousand wishes,
A thousand hopes, a thousand wounds,
A thousand tears, a thousand curses.
Fate laughs and twists its blade
A thousand times in the heart.
A thousand seeds, a thousand blossoms,
A thousand breaths, a million wishes;
A million new seeds to be sewn.
A billion crossed stars may stand opposed,
But their number is finite.
Frayed threads of hope, torn scraps of fondness
Cast to a biting wind, and ground
Into the mud by countless, careless feet;
Caught in the claws of dormant, fruitless branches.
Far flung and traveled, yet strangely ever closer to home.
Plucked by tentative beaks,
Woven between twigs and packed with earth,
Once more the sentiments are used:
Manipulated for another's gain again.
The story is repeated, yet as reversed as it is removed.
Nesting birds huddle unaware
From whom the gifts were surrendered,
But they, for once, show gratitude:
By your upheaval, despite the pain.
The spring will yet hold song.
Where we wing, this young autumn day,
The world behind is painted
By our streaks of reds and yellows:
Passion and friendship blended orange;
To a love-laced sunburst of fond friendship
That spills from our filled hearts
And washes all in our wake with a similar fire;
To flit and journey where the warmth leads.
To you who bends in heartache's gale:
Your stout heart has held up
Many a weary, leaning traveler.
To you who withers at desire's height of heat:
Your kindness, as a crown
Sheltered the soaked in a storm of burdens.
To you who withdraws at rejection's icy bite:
Your loyalty has been an anchor
For the tents of heartbroken wanderers.
To you whose boughs creak with cycled fatigue:
You have held up in fond support
The onlooking dreamer unsure of the way.
To you who shriveles under a judging, petty moon:
Your stark shape and stature a landmark
To the shy revelers silently on their wander.
To you who yearns collapse in devistation's quake:
You
Meet me in the grey;
The hidden place amid the shroud
Where order and chaos touch.
Where thought swirls and mingles,
Lingering on outstretched boughs
Grasping for the kiss of thought.
Where light forms golden posts, nearly tangible;
A bridge from one idle yearning mind
To a lover's deep sleep dreams.
Where skin, so firmly pressed, gently held;
A thin veil over senses keening:
The hidden place where mysteries beg to be known.
Whispered secrets strike like leaden blows:
Heavy and gentle persistent pressure,
A sounding chamber in heart and mind.
But rest.
Stir from slumber, and know I have been there,
Every heartbeat metered and eye flutter
Every smile and uttered word,
Each sly turn of your head:
A soft breeze that rolls on my skin.
Gently embroidered with the sun's warmth,
The alluring scent of opening blossoms:
Shy whispers of lovestruck desire.
Approach again, beset upon me,
Linger, laden with rolling, pining tremors:
Cling to me, caress where your heart wanders.
And know I lay open to your advance,
Ear inclined to hear your secrets murmured:
To return pleasure for pleasure as love yearns.
A leaf held in hand,
Warm, crimson, passion filled veins,
Deep purple heart and gold-kissed edges.
A gust from the north:
Relentless, ravenous, with biting fangs.
Persistent gnawing beast, ever unsated.
What's held by a stem,
Delicately between numbing fingers,
Torn away, twisting into the dead gray.
Oh, cursed life;
Too short to appreciate love,
Too cold to let it pass uncontested.
By night's dim edge,
I hold vigil:
Over frost-gilded stem
Still bowed
Where ebon-sea revelers
Whispered
Secret songs now thawing
By cautious,
Venturing light.
Each beam a bough,
Laden
With warm cargo, golden fruit
Just sailing
Into the west from eastern berth
Climbing
Over emerald waves, my eager breath
A bow wave
Before your hand.
Stayed by timid storm,
Old scars,
Cloud banks over warming skies:
A crown
Cresting hill after high hill
Withholding
Rife, burning nature
Swelling,
Growing.
I, frost-ladened fellow,
Await
Your golden caress and
Fiery bosom
Long forseen, beheld, reflected
By moon's glow;
My heart calls with yearning tempo:
"Arise.
I hold your letter in hand:
An invitation once sealed with a thousand riddles.
By it, I am guided to your city where you,
A soul inhabitant,
Live among finest fountains and gardens,
That put boastful Babylon to shame.
Cautiously you peer
Down from your steadfast battlements,
Mightier than Qin Shi’s dreams put to stone,
As you lived surrounded:
Brigands and raiders who sought only to take
What fineries your life has crafted for their merriment.
Now a lone tear falls:
There is no foothold in your crenellations,
Nor gate or portcullis that you may open.
You apologize softly,
For the world has been so cruel,
That you now live protected by
By night and day we chart our words,
Cartographers from two sides of one heart
Beneath likened constellations of mind and soul.
Yet we pause in awestruck shyness
That you, a traveler turned pilgrim,
Would feel homesick for the likes of me:
Foreign land untouched by your skin's tread.
A thousand seeds, a thousand wishes,
A thousand hopes, a thousand wounds,
A thousand tears, a thousand curses.
Fate laughs and twists its blade
A thousand times in the heart.
A thousand seeds, a thousand blossoms,
A thousand breaths, a million wishes;
A million new seeds to be sewn.
A billion crossed stars may stand opposed,
But their number is finite.
Frayed threads of hope, torn scraps of fondness
Cast to a biting wind, and ground
Into the mud by countless, careless feet;
Caught in the claws of dormant, fruitless branches.
Far flung and traveled, yet strangely ever closer to home.
Plucked by tentative beaks,
Woven between twigs and packed with earth,
Once more the sentiments are used:
Manipulated for another's gain again.
The story is repeated, yet as reversed as it is removed.
Nesting birds huddle unaware
From whom the gifts were surrendered,
But they, for once, show gratitude:
By your upheaval, despite the pain.
The spring will yet hold song.
Where we wing, this young autumn day,
The world behind is painted
By our streaks of reds and yellows:
Passion and friendship blended orange;
To a love-laced sunburst of fond friendship
That spills from our filled hearts
And washes all in our wake with a similar fire;
To flit and journey where the warmth leads.
To you who bends in heartache's gale:
Your stout heart has held up
Many a weary, leaning traveler.
To you who withers at desire's height of heat:
Your kindness, as a crown
Sheltered the soaked in a storm of burdens.
To you who withdraws at rejection's icy bite:
Your loyalty has been an anchor
For the tents of heartbroken wanderers.
To you whose boughs creak with cycled fatigue:
You have held up in fond support
The onlooking dreamer unsure of the way.
To you who shriveles under a judging, petty moon:
Your stark shape and stature a landmark
To the shy revelers silently on their wander.
To you who yearns collapse in devistation's quake:
You
Meet me in the grey;
The hidden place amid the shroud
Where order and chaos touch.
Where thought swirls and mingles,
Lingering on outstretched boughs
Grasping for the kiss of thought.
Where light forms golden posts, nearly tangible;
A bridge from one idle yearning mind
To a lover's deep sleep dreams.
Where skin, so firmly pressed, gently held;
A thin veil over senses keening:
The hidden place where mysteries beg to be known.
Whispered secrets strike like leaden blows:
Heavy and gentle persistent pressure,
A sounding chamber in heart and mind.
But rest.
Stir from slumber, and know I have been there,
Every heartbeat metered and eye flutter
Every smile and uttered word,
Each sly turn of your head:
A soft breeze that rolls on my skin.
Gently embroidered with the sun's warmth,
The alluring scent of opening blossoms:
Shy whispers of lovestruck desire.
Approach again, beset upon me,
Linger, laden with rolling, pining tremors:
Cling to me, caress where your heart wanders.
And know I lay open to your advance,
Ear inclined to hear your secrets murmured:
To return pleasure for pleasure as love yearns.
A leaf held in hand,
Warm, crimson, passion filled veins,
Deep purple heart and gold-kissed edges.
A gust from the north:
Relentless, ravenous, with biting fangs.
Persistent gnawing beast, ever unsated.
What's held by a stem,
Delicately between numbing fingers,
Torn away, twisting into the dead gray.
Oh, cursed life;
Too short to appreciate love,
Too cold to let it pass uncontested.
By night's dim edge,
I hold vigil:
Over frost-gilded stem
Still bowed
Where ebon-sea revelers
Whispered
Secret songs now thawing
By cautious,
Venturing light.
Each beam a bough,
Laden
With warm cargo, golden fruit
Just sailing
Into the west from eastern berth
Climbing
Over emerald waves, my eager breath
A bow wave
Before your hand.
Stayed by timid storm,
Old scars,
Cloud banks over warming skies:
A crown
Cresting hill after high hill
Withholding
Rife, burning nature
Swelling,
Growing.
I, frost-ladened fellow,
Await
Your golden caress and
Fiery bosom
Long forseen, beheld, reflected
By moon's glow;
My heart calls with yearning tempo:
"Arise.
I hold your letter in hand:
An invitation once sealed with a thousand riddles.
By it, I am guided to your city where you,
A soul inhabitant,
Live among finest fountains and gardens,
That put boastful Babylon to shame.
Cautiously you peer
Down from your steadfast battlements,
Mightier than Qin Shi’s dreams put to stone,
As you lived surrounded:
Brigands and raiders who sought only to take
What fineries your life has crafted for their merriment.
Now a lone tear falls:
There is no foothold in your crenellations,
Nor gate or portcullis that you may open.
You apologize softly,
For the world has been so cruel,
That you now live protected by
By night and day we chart our words,
Cartographers from two sides of one heart
Beneath likened constellations of mind and soul.
Yet we pause in awestruck shyness
That you, a traveler turned pilgrim,
Would feel homesick for the likes of me:
Foreign land untouched by your skin's tread.
Just over two months ago, I started posting poems here as a personal project. I love poetry and felt like putting my words out there for others to find and muse over at their leisure. I was pleasantly surprised by both the amount of traffic my page saw, and by the feedback and interaction I've received from those who've stopped by to read my work. I had considered writing a journal like this when my page hit several milestones for views, but decided against it because my goal isn't so much to harvest views as it is to share thought and reflection with others. However, I felt now would be a good time to express my thanks and excitement at
Hello Poet Pilgrim! Welcome to the wonderful world of Deviantart! And my comment on your prices on Poems you have brought? I will anyways! You have the finest of literature and poems that I chould like to share to everyone! You have a gift my dear, a gift of story and imagination!
Thank you for such a warm welcome and kind, supporting words! I'm glad you've enjoyed my poems. May the thrill of story and imagination ever-nurture your entirety. ^_^