My Utopia
Not having any awkward vibes
Accepting there are varied lives
Forgiving all who insult me
Understanding they can't see
Meeting new inspiring souls
Attaining all my unmet goals
Never feeling like I'm tired
Throwing out the word retired
Rejoining with my peeps who die
Realizing death's a lie
Watching blazing sunlight's gleam
And colors that I have not seen
Reassured that all is well
There is no place people call hell
Resting in the arms of Him
Who lets me slide of all my sin
Rewind my life so better be
The next time I possess this me
Know that I am not alone
The Spirit with me where I roam
knowing how the universe
Relates to frankincense and mirth
Feeling wonder in my soul
Angels dance as the clouds roll
Vanilla Breast Hills
Once upon a field of snow:
White intoxication lit her face
lanterns leaving patterns
in the harboring snow
sorrowful piles of gloom
Alabaster white hands
blend in incandescent glow
as booted feet sink
into powdery quick sand
Lemon yellow winter sun
echoed on sallow skin
airborne snowflakes
of butterfly flutters
Knotted and pleated mounds
oyster gray clouds
whipped snow
in froth of dreams
Sparse windblown tree soldiers
march to refuge
snowdrifts plodding
single file down hills
Howls of sleeting whiteness
form blankets
shrouding white hot pain
veiled gauzy curtains
Fields of crystal diamonds
adorn her throat
wind breathing its last
on vanilla breast hills.
His Love For Her
Once upon a field of snow
a babe was put to breast;
his mother’s sparkling eyes aglow
with love, she did impress
his love for her so deep and true
that every ounce of his soul knew
his love for her.
His love for her
waxed stronger daily as he grew.
Once upon a field of snow
a young man passed the test;
he earned the right to be her beau,
with passion he’d invest
his love for her, and thus he’d woo
his future bride; so fierce and true
his love for her.
His love for her
gave his heart wings, with which they flew.
Once upon a field of snow
a heart was laid to rest;
his soul mate, he had watched her go,
his tear-filled eyes confessed
his love for her, so strong and true.
His future, shaded gray and blue
his love for her.
His love for her
would somehow help him see it through.
(c) 2017 - dustygrein
** Note: This form is called a trijan refrain, and is one of my favorite poetic forms to work in. The triple stanza structure lends itself well to story arcs that encompass lifetimes.
Eat, Drink—Sleep, Die
We're born bloody.
Travelers from nowhere:
Infinite possibilities,
Statistical improbabilities—
Loved by "Family."
We cry, slightly:
Orators with no skills,
Filled with emotion,
Lost in an Ocean—
Covered with eyes.
We sleep fleetingly …
Innocent, but wary,
Caught in baby dreams,
Prone to scary screams—
Unsettled by sounds.
We grow slowly:
Stumblin'-mumblin'
Day-to-day,
December-to-May—
Moving ahead.
We speak haltingly,
Coaxed by love:
"Goo-goo; ga-ga."
"Ma-Ma; Da-Da"—
Creating smiles.
We live fully,
Dueling with life:
Waving & Saving.
Craving & Raving—
Weakened by wounds.
We die lonely,
Stuffed in a box.
Covered with dirt,
Never to hurt—
Resting, at last.
Sigh of Whispers
Taking one step at a time
sailing vessel toward promise
struggling to find the joy within
moon intertwines with the sea
Taking one step at a time
footprints of my journey
salt-encrusted banks of life
shored up by sea oats
Taking one step at a time
butterscotch moon smudged
by my aqueous tears
crushed fantasies transformed
Taking one step at a time
wandering beneath diamond stars
shining like bulbs, cracking
misty web of fog
Taking one step at a time
shadows spun by dawn
deserted in the sand
life’s troth leading way
Taking one step at a time
embers of new beginning
smoldering pillars of tenacity
leaving thin air of the past
A solo journey led by the sigh of whispers.
Let Me Free
One. I was never here.
Two. Why am I still here?
Three. Does nobody care.
Four. Where am I?
Five. Who am I?
Six. Let me free.
Seven. Why am I trapped here?
Eight. I want to go.
Nine. Why am I like this?
Ten. Why am I treated like this?
Eleven. You are nothing to me.
Twelve. When will I find someone?
Thirteen. Someday someone will find me.
Fourteen. I need to find myself.
Fifteen. I need to be free.
Sixteen. Away from you.
Seventeen. Let me go.