Original Poetry about anything and everything.
I don’t believe in true love
Or in soulmates
But I know what happened to me
And I believe in addiction.
You did not screech or beseech
With kissable lips
And raised eyebrow
With clever fingers set your snare.
I was yours.
You hooked me
With the efficiency of a hurricane,
I became forever yours.
– Vagabond Prophet
Gentleness as defined by the poets dictionary:
A softness of spirit that aims to caress rather than bludgeon. Instead of softly spoken lies gentleness speaks truth, fanning the flames of timid souls. Always edifying always encouraging.
Other definitions include: A tender heart expressed in tender touch.
Kindest of instructors, teaching by example and love never by the rod or with condemnation.
Antonyms: Violent, angry, rough, unkind.
Only gentleness is concerned with love and truth being soft to the touch and easy on the skin.
– Vagabond Prophet
– So excited to be on this project with @mildreflections .
Created like clear running water
Either joining up to marry a greater body
Or going still and murky in marshy mires.
Designed to age like a spider,
Which is to say well
But with a web that tells a story.
My tongue intentionally sits
Uncomfortably in its fractured saddle
Amidst broken teeth and words
Not yet sharpened.
Destined to wrestle with myself
And the one strand of DNA
That must be made of razor wire.
The anthem of the damned
Cries out loudly
“Freedom!”
Freedom to wander
And freedom to ponder
Freedom of choice and care of consequence.
Is freedom the best desire to have?
Not better to serve a good master
Than serve only myself?
I answer this question
In the negative to find I am
A bird that would fly
But grounded by weighty bones,
Having not had the lead yet hollowed out
By painful but saving tools.
By design I am the battlefield
Between Hells Hallowed Howl
And Heavens Terrible Goodness.
Both at times whispering,
Both at times shouthing,
And both at all times
Vying for my soul.
By design I trust in Goodness
Though it does not shimmer
Though it dances less entrancingly,
For its promise to pull out razor wire
And extract lead from my bones.
Though the Howl dances beautifully
Shines brilliantly and sings convincingly,
How to trust something
That only promises my desires
As though there is nothing greater?
By design,
Is a question I can not answer.
– Vagabond Prophet
– Thanks @josy57 for prompting me with “By Design.”
Shooting stars, the carrier pigeons
Of worlds long gone cold
No longer spinning only hurtled
Burning up with one last urgent message
“The idea of me has lasted
Long after my embers turned to ice,
Will the same be said of you?”
Vagabond Prophet
Another week is done
I spread out beneath the sun
To let the sun bleach the stress away
And colour me with dreams.
Late July and overcast
Clouds as heavy as my eyelids,
Ready to spill open
And move on to better weather.
Vagabond Prophet
They call me the commuting poet,
For I conjure verses
On my way to places.
It’s remembering them
Long enough to find a pen
That’s my real weakness.
Vagabond Prophet
Tallest mountains keep on growing,
Deepest seas never full,
Oxen heavily yolked
That will forever pull.
Grass that grows only to be cut,
To feed the greatest beasts
For unending preparations
For unending feasts.
Like tides that bathe the earth
Exfoliating her skin
And volcanoes erupting
Making beauty marks on her cheek.
Night skies more full of
White than black
That just hasn’t reached
Our eyes yet.
Like slugs rolled from tail to head
Everything comes to a point
That uncontainable must explode.
When the stones begin to scream
And whirlpools turned inside out
Shoot fountains into the sky,
When the earth with confetti
And pomp and circumstance
As never seen or heard before
We will no longer doubt
Will no longer reason or argue
That everything is promised for greatness.
Made to look beyond the confines of our skin,
Beyond the confines of long forgiven sin.
– Vagabond Prophet
– Thanks @josy57 for prompting me with “Promised for Greatness.” I hope you like it.
This mother died in childbirth
In the hopes of children
That may one day fly.
Though your body
Provides good ground for roots
One day they will tear them out
And soar above us all.
What could be a better
Picture of salvation?
Casting aside bark and personal gains,
To let the next generation
Grow right through the memory of you.
– Vagabond Prophet
Tell time by the fire
By the licking of the flame
By the smouldering of embers.
Stirred from the ashes of yesterday
And still warm enough
For today’s beginning.
The orange glow at night
Echoing the orange glow of morning,
While at the same time
The dark of night is upheld
By twinkling distant lights,
For those nocturnal creatures
To hang their silhouettes.
It’s important to stay awake
Into the black hours
Where no city lights dare
Tarnish the sky with greasy fingers
To notice just how brightly coloured the night is.
– Vagabond Prophet
Vagabond Prophet 