I had that dream again yesterday
that kept me up that night
whereby the wind pulled me, like water,
by arm around with her and spoke to me measured words
perhaps the only sounds i would have heard
Utopis became of the zittering world
Then I returned again to Earth
feet once again bathed by her
Not yet meant to fly, I began to walk
looking for a brooding passion to display
at my fingertips.
Oh Catullus were you right after all?
For now I too wonder if I felt that gale-less
storm of wind and running water.

Where were you when I was looking,
Lurking in the shadows
beneath the shade of the weeping willows
Covered in oak and laurel leaves
Wondering what might have been
If I had followed the path of the eagle
clutching his fasces
wielding that hatchet with abandon
The death of your dreams
As the night comes back to haunt
With only the sun as your saviour
the salvation of the twelves steps
Before the rest
Calling out to Seth
To accept his rest
The work for the day done
Leaving you to confront yourself yet
No warmth in ignoring your deeds
Nor in constructing fantasies
So layered that fish will never see the ocean
A ring of their commitment
their entrapment
Sealed all in your little black boxes
Avoiding Chaos
Until Anubis comes calling
Beckoning
brighter than the Aten
You shield your eyes from the light
And turn away
And anger at the rays
Disapating the shadows from under which you hide
And leave the rest
In their blissful bestial ignorance
to be sacrified
The new holocaust of man
As we await the waters of life
And the turning of Ixion's wheel.

I spent hours watching leaves detach themselves from trees
Doing exactly what their namesake of a season suggests
I felt the warmth of the sun and was at home
amongst the trees as they shaded me
The presence of such life that is always actual
Immalleable to the wills of societies or the desires of
We insignificant things who believe in our own importance
I am at peace when I belong to nothing
When I am unrecognised as being an entity trapped in flesh
Alone, in the world without words, there is another language
you can hear it on the wind, feel it in the breeze
As they speak to me or you with rustling ancient voices
Welcoming us into the places they would call their homes
The places we interlopers dare to go
Tresspassing int the realm of ancient eyes and life and experience
Shh, hush and listen to their cries carried by the skies
Let them tell you of their hopes
Watch their leaves wither as these silent philosophers ruminate
The meaning of a world we can only imagine
Ask for their knowledge, their understanding
And receive their warmth and love as you harvest them to build
Your homes, furniture, play pens to hold the life you dare to value
And remember, all that lives dies
And all that dies should learn how to so gracefully as they.

I love your poems Would you like to be friends?

yeah, sounds cool

Antoninius, only one poetry thread is allowed per person in this forum, so I've gone ahead and merged the three threads you've made into one. You can continue to post your poetry here, one poem per post. Thank you!