Elevation Poems

Alone, perched upon the precipice, The Thinker, swathed in Olympian bliss, Thought thoughts of Truth and Power. The din to his ears did not rise, He did not witness Mankind’s demise From his lofty ivory tower. He fashioned fantastical fancies,

Far away from mankind and society, far I wandered. Through bleak plains and screeching drums, Dragging along my body, weary from the residues of development, My eyes are sore from enduring all this mortal architecture that’s slowly diminishing in my rear

You feel you have conquered it all. Your big ego still feels small Look man … The mountain still stands tall. You blast your way up to the top But you know not now … Where to stop The hill

Lighter than a feather, when weighed on you though, never heavier, Rain in the storm, blown away I’m torn, open up, it’s not like the norm Adored but not shown, praises that become worn, Show me the love, where’s the

So cold But so still Will my well Begin to kill my Own selfish ways Or should I just stay Frozen in order to decay In the mist of the bay May I fly to die? Or soar to become

I approach the 160° turn to the left, The public toilets, still there. Those strange, Striped warning poles and a sign in Old engineering font (like London Underground, but rusted) saying ‘STOP WHEN BELL RINGS’. Up its gentle elevation to

Her severed head she carries, from the Sant’ Angelo Bridge, surrounded features bring her near, so small in comparison, drawn to the Tempietto, she’s associated with this reminder overheard, from my conversation with Paul from the ceiling, conveyance from scripture,

A look past the glass I can see my past Now freed from the disbelieve One can start to relive Though what can I gain? Still I am in pain Maybe with just a wish I’d change my accomplished dish

Who are forgivers? Forgiveness belongs to those with a big heart, people of a strong heart, and powerful in mind; ambassador of peace and jocund, those with heart of kindness and people with milk of benediction. Can you forgive? Yes!

The Laidly Wyrm came to Brighton Wood To celebrate her hatchling day Eleven centuries old she was On this the twelfth of may She’d left her lofty mountain home Forsook her prodigious hoard Unfurled her colossal beating wings As into

Poaching on the brooding landscape you crashed while scaling the flame. A togetherness became a half-truth. How troubled I had been for basics. Then shifting loyalties for petty things you were holding up my soul, and I did not move

I know him since he surprisingly visited us at our infanthood quarter. At that auburn day, we’d just filled up our pockets by our fists, snatched warm embers from the fireplace and from a dragon dwelling inside the tale, then

Well and was this another seal broken As the Pacific Ocean came crashing Down over the red rising sun… You stumble around on shaking Grounds…so much disaster and Destruction, you wonder what else Is to come as the night sets

There are always friends around to share There’s a huge close knit family too They all cheer my dreams The shattered broken ones The made up glittering ones But I’ve had been cheating them Hiding a few deep in my

Took a walk with my dog Rosie today. Walked by the orchard on the hill that we go by on our stroll, stopped to look back as I always do. It’s a very pleasant sight regardless of the season. The

When there were no more Messiahs left to kill that day, the men of the town went home for another night of hoping, wailing, waiting and praying. The Night bore them a child. And Morning came knocking on their doors

You thought, I came back As I didn’t have other doors open for me You must have been day dreaming I came back to see if my absence Made you poised or spoiled! Looking back where we left things incomplete

There is a certain feeling that arrives soon as the thought approaches. A sort of dream like feeling that comes to take over what ever mood, What ever presence that is shallowly felt. In truth it’s the best part of

On an Easter Sunday reminiscing histories. Mulling over life’s mysteries recounting old losses reckoning unknown forces. A kindred soul adding warmth and glow. Dispelling the gloom of a sense of impending doom. Once again light and cheer fill the room.

Corsican born, and an Emperor mighty indeed. Who from obscurity came up to prominence, who from French shores the attacks of armies repelled, who had at his disposal, Europe’s resources, who to Saint Helena from French shores was expelled, of

gradients vivid, humbling I was collecting a bit of myself reading anatomy of animality spawning the hidden eggs flecks of echos scarring: reconnecting to starry night I could not hold my enraged otherself and the homely smell of gunshots orchestrated

*Deep Dark Crimson B.L.O.O.D Flows rapidly from your{razor cuts} Your H;E;A;R;T has |B|R|O|K|E|N | Ripped by a d-d-deadly fairy A.Soul.Lost.In.The.Murky.Abyss. H.A.U.N.T.E.D by your departed (love) So *Insecure*from all the DEcaDEnt [deception] A-Mind-So-Confused-Full-Of-Agitation You feel so even though you know your

I have made mistakes in my history It is nothing personal I am a black woman. However, I remember to do the right thing When those mistakes reflect back to me. I remember my pains more When I try to

I once knew a teacher who occasionally used the word ‘fiddle’. If perhaps he deemed something untrue or irrelevant; Or if annoyed by students or otherwise disagreeable; he would simply say, “fiddle sticks”. In the instrumental world of music, a

your nan, your grama your whatever you called ‘er a soft place to fall if mom & dad hollered chores for a quarter, sleep-overs for fun love aplenty, wisdom a ton strong cementing, dependable fixture penchant for silliness stirred into

You drive me to the same place. You steer so swift and safe. You reached my waist behind your car, In a land seems near, Yet, so far. Your face was so close to mine, And I thought it was

Who will deliver the blow to hissing winds of red hot skin when burning desert hits the green trees? Life flows through fire in the shadows of cloudy peaks. I resume living in the bodies of other people, I am

I sit here, thinking about how you touched my face How you kissed me on my cheek How you caressed me with your love Your sweet love Wisdom came out of your mouth Even when the old man tried to

Little lady only 13. Never pretty enough but smart as can be. No friends just books. Mom overworked so no dinner just lonely. She was bullied for years: isolated in insecurity, abandonment, and unhappiness until she was 17. Senior year

If you weren’t a lie I’d eat you whole, Maybe wisen up to the days you stole, But your consciousness is dripping south, So sit up straight and spit the fiction from your mouth, You’re so effortless to behold and

owl cries out… can you hear the messenger? poised in the dark- call in the light light is consciousness manifestation is simply consciousness in form as love steps into its own heart it awakens a soul within a form creation

With fractured hands I lit a pyre of small nudes with pink globes. A moon bleaches me white in a long night. A reprieve was needed from the scorching sun opening a jinx of a metaphor. The poems will take

GOD we blame you for the evil that we do. Why don’t you keep coming to our rescue, just wipe it all away, make everything new, so the crazy and foolish things we can continue to do, then maybe, we

On a small island cast away Lost in thought lonesome I stay Early stars shining in the evening sky Where am I, alone I wonder Why? Lonesomeness beckoning fear I see A magical book appears from the blue Emitting rays

A taste of life was what I sought Peace of mind was what I lost Biting into chunks of a juicy life Chillies got into my nose and eyes Smoking from all orifices I ran to chill my singed senses

I take out my book I look at the pages Oh the depth of all that through me rages There is so many things I have left behind So many shredded by the ravages of time When I was young,

Submerged in doubt one floats carefree in aimless waters without hope of touching land. Tethered with guilt and regrets one tows his/her soul to a destiny of penance. Overt or clandestine, pain is no one’s gain if one can grasp

Infant sees the light after staying in dark for 9 months in mothers womb Light dawns on birth and will continue through out life Light ceases after the death and has no role to play on the dead In between

She lives in her own world, world that is beautiful still there are fairies in that world witches, goblins and godmothers too such is her world all around and she is the princess of all she is to be cherished

He comes with a bowl of courtesy and begs you to to fill the Bowl with your valuable vote He promises moon and treats you like God You feel special for his flattering words Come the D-day to vote in