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Monthly Archives: February 2013

Shore Conversations with Sadness

'two ladies at the seashore'

‘two ladies at the seashore’ by Spool 2 Spool

Saw this photo and I just had to ask “What are they talking about?”, on an cold day. So I thought I would write my conversation. I thought also would be cool to bring Sadness (the ‘girl’ from my last post) back into the fold.

Sadness sits beside me,
Cold we silently watched
The seas sleep, krakens hide
And the lives we’ve botched

Silhouettes, mirages at first;
Two ladies by the sea shore
Brave in the cold they sat,
A photo, their moment to store

Words caught by the wind,
Sadness hears only the wave’s motion
Ebbing at her senses; my patience
But I sit in silent conversation.

Sharpened through the lens I see
Their blur, no light can be shed.
Darkness casts only their shadow
On a rocky beach, others fled.

All I need is her by my side,
As few can see my Sadness.
Alone I sit breaking water silently,
Resolute against my illness.

http://www.beyondblue.org.au

http://www.ruokday.com/

 
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Posted by on Thursday 28th February, 2013 in Poetry, Stories of Sadness

 

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In the Shade, Sadness Sits

This poem came to me reading “Down the Road, Depression Greets” by LadieLexi on WordPress. I thought it would be interesting to look at the poem from a different point of view, in this case a friend of the depressed girl, called Sadness. I tried to reflect the original poem, but from the new point of view.

Shaded, shades, shading
Like a lane between towers.
It stretches, it festers:
Never accepting light,
Never accepting my hand.
Shading, shades, shaded.

Her pain etched in skin,
Torn apart; internal battles lost,
Sadness sits in self pity,
Her eyes blind, voice mute,
Her ears are deaf
Her pain etched in skin.

Her friends mean nothing,
She hides behind her scars;
Her excuses, her pain
From her own hands
Losing, shading attention.
Her friends mean nothing.

Twelve hours later,
She will bemoan again
Her tragedy, her life
But with bated breath
Sadness will shine, I know,
Twelve hours later.

But today, she cares not
She sits alone, forlorn
Her eyes remain shut
Seeing darkness, not I
Standing by her side,
But today Sadness, I care.

 

http://www.beyondblue.org.au

http://www.ruokday.com/

 
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Posted by on Tuesday 26th February, 2013 in Poetry, Stories of Sadness

 

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Justine’s Jaunt (Part I)

The next (preceding) part of the Justine epic.  Thought I best try to write a start for the poem series (will it be an epic?).  Hopefully you enjoy this one, and Part II will be on it’s way shortly.

I. Veneer

Her reflection dances on water,
Leaping between the fallen leaves.
She lies contently on the bank;
The heroine asleep, deceives.

Her true form a veil for your eyes
So look not at her, but behind:
A seraph burning frozen hearts,
She sings “farewell” to lull the wind.

Part II – Riposte

 
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Posted by on Friday 22nd February, 2013 in Justine's Jaunt, Poetry

 

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Bittersweet Desire

Photography from Something Was Hungry by scott2608

I saw her just before dusk,
She was ripe with seduction,
But it was late, she would last;
Tomorrow I would taste her.

That night my dreams teased me,
With her sweet nectar on my tongue
Her embrace warm and inside her
Our flesh pressed with urgent desires.

She was so wet as I caressed,
Dancing across her skin
Tickling her within, and
Pushing her to virgin limits.

With pleasure I would free her.
The tease built, and lust
Journeyed my every limb,
And dreams fed my desires.

As the sun glanced above the trees,
Casting shadows off to the breeze,
I buzzed, rushing to her fruit;
Her broad curves of seduction.

I approached nervously, as if
I had never tasted taboo fruits,
But suddenly I was a fallen:
Her perfect shape, corrupted

She was not untouched,
Torn open, her nectar lost
No seeds to sow, no flesh
For me to press against.

I comforted her, with gentle hands
But her hurt was baleful
In a sour moment, she was gone,
My bittersweet desire, who?

I saw the fly still in the orange, looking around for something and this idea just came to be. Thanks to Scott for his photo that inspired me to write this piece (hopefully you have enjoyed it).

 
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Posted by on Thursday 21st February, 2013 in Poetry

 

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Mirror Mirror

A man stands in front of a mirror:

He sees a man frustrated,
We see a man afraid of help

He sees a man tired and active,
We see a man lazy and afraid

He sees a father who wasn’t there
We see him blind to his own kin

He sees a family tree, strong
We see it ablaze, match by his side

He sees everyone has left,
We see their ashes in his wake

He sees ‘friends’ all around,
We see a lonely man

He sees strength and bravado,
We see weakness and cowardice

He sees lies and perversions,
We see the truth and reality

He sees no responsibilities, no consequences
We see his failures, those he has hurt

He sees blame in everyone’s eyes
We see a scared boy hiding as a man

He sees an uncle,
We see no one

He sees a brother,
We see no one

He sees a son,
We see no one

He sees a father,
We see no one

 
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Posted by on Wednesday 20th February, 2013 in Poetry

 

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Justine’s Jaunt (Part IV)

A little bit backwards but I thought it would be cool to make up an epic poem for the time sheet reminders I do for work (yes my creativity has waned, so trying to find something).  I have revised this poem to remove the reference to “time sheets” … was originally on the last line.  This is actually the fourth part (or perhaps another part? I just didn’t think it is a very good start). More to follow (and precede) this post to make a series of poems (doubt it will be an “epic” per se … but who knows). Enjoy!!

IV. Toil

The heroine of this epic
Could conjure no more today,
So she craved a muse for help,
He was not wise to her dismay.

Belated she had no escape,
The verses of the muse were okay
And will let others know her end,
“Stand with me, so your soul will bay”.

Part III – Challenge

 
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Posted by on Tuesday 19th February, 2013 in Justine's Jaunt, Poetry

 

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Somnambulism

Asleep I wander my throne
A kiss, a nod, a distant daze
Each day insipid, I am a drone,
Wake me from this dreary glaze.

Owls beckon a vacant moon
And sun slithers kiss the dark,
My feet march to a hollow tune
In cold corridors, I am a lark.

Absent as I slumber eternally
But today I will rise early for you,
A sunrise cracks the apathy
And exposed eyes dance true.

Murk will wane in your light
As ears beg to listen, forever,
And my heart begins to fight.
I will be yours, I do endeavour

 
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Posted by on Thursday 14th February, 2013 in Poetry

 

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