Can boldness be regrown?

Dousing dreams in gasoline.

Can I have all the strength of attack

And all the safety of defence?

Or was the armistice

Only ever meant

To leave me disarmed.

Can one have faith

Without first having doubt?

Could I have roots with depth

Beyond my own

Grafted to this timid trunk

To make a steady

Yet brave hero?

Oh let it be true

That this and more

Will come to pass,

A day where the world rests

Squarely on my shoulders

And sits there comfortably

For I’ve been imbued

With your might.

– Vagabond Prophet

Happy Birthday

It’s my birthday today

Though every day is the anniversary

Of something

Today is the anniversary of me,

Of when ink first spilled

On empty pages of my life.

Old enough to know

Youth can’t be given

Only thinned

Like a ring resized

For ever widening fingers.

Young enough to know

Most of the book is yet unwritten,

Many trips around the sun

Not yet spun.

– Vagabond Prophet

Pandora’s Box

‘I am pandora’s box

Devil’s got the key

Opens as he pleases

To take control of me.’

This is the way I thought

Before my heart was bought

Taming every vein

Purifying acid rain.

What a miracle you’ve wrought

In blood spilled for prices paid

Your mercy magnified

By wrath that you have stayed.

The justice undiluted

For my behalf you have disputed

Saving me from hellish jaws

And circling vultures hungry caws.

– Vagabond Prophet

vagabondprophet:

Balsa Wood

If I could remake you

Out of balsa wood

Would I?

You’d be lighter

Yet strong,

Easily take flight.

The wind would push

Against your wings

And caress your face.

Ascension, descension,

Thrown by the carelessness

Of the air and the sky.

Letting every splinter

Alter your course,

Dancing on the map.

Would you even return,

Fight the current

To come back to me.

I see you in the flesh

And swear

You’re something better

Could I set you free?

Free of the land

And free of me.

Knots and imperfections

Same as now,

But you would fly.

You belong

High above me,

A distant speck.

I can’t make this choice

I’m selfish in my love,

What say You?

Wind filled wingspan?

Or me, simply me,

Pink tongue, white teeth.

I’ll be yours

To hold and kiss,

To wriggle against.

I know it’s a poor choice.

I’ve always ruffled

One too many feathers.

So which is it?

The clouds,

Cotton and dewy.

Or me, simply me

I’ll hold you close

And love you tenderly.

If you wish

I’ll remake you

Out of balsa wood

But know that if

The gale proves too much,

You may return to me

I’d make you safe again

Peeling back every ring

Of that lovely balsa wood.

– Vagabond Prophet

Starry Night

mildreflections:

My fingers trace the contours of your face,

There is an uncanny familiarity.

I have long stared out at the night sky,

And wondered if anything could be so pretty.

It is strange how name forges skin,

Some would say it’s destiny.

I have long spent time finding meaning,

Behind such brilliant anomalies.

It is sad beauty never sees itself,

The night doesn’t know and neither do you.

How the moon forms in your smile,

And the stars sparkle in your eyes.

How every blemish on your skin,

Is like a foamy cloud that gives the sky substance.

You are what I have always lost myself into,

But in a form I can hold.

My fingers can finally trace the light,

And know the true warmth

Of a starry night.

                               –  Mild Reflections

vagabondprophet:

Unenlightening

I can hear it off the eaves

Drip drip drip.

Distant coyotes,

Yip yip yip.

The darkness and fog

Combine and decide,

Unenlightening.

Tonight we unenlighten.

The rain comes quicker

And thicker than before,

Making soil so fertile

As to be barren.

One dewy drop

Says to another,

“We’re so heavy, full of wet,

Tonight let’s unenlighten.”

That’s when I start to feel,

Along with tobacco smoke

Swirling in my mind,

I’m being unenlightened.

Flipping through your pages

Traditions get unraveled.

With your gold gilded edges,

The unenlightening is frightening.

Contradicting every wisdom

That I’ve ever known.

You put your trust in vagrants,

Rather than royalty.

You talked to strangers

Befriended cheats,

Trusted prostitutes,

Beguiling in the streets.

So I’ll do it I’ll commit,

To break the mold,

To be an idiot,

To become unenlightened.

Rain’s just pouring now,

I’ve just learned up is down,

Meaning we’re all drowning.

I’m the only one who knows.

Thank God for unenlightening.

– Vagabond Prophet

Under the Weather

Under the weather

Above the soil

Where else could I be?

Unable to soar above

Subject to the way the sky

Indecisively swings on hinges

Like alcoholic binges.

The staccato of a door

Urgently tapped upon

When hail falls on my roof

Reminding me of what I’m beneath.

It’s okay it won’t always be that way.

– Vagabond Prophet

Thanks @josy57 for prompting me with “under the weather.”

7 Years

Seven years ago we

Braided our lives together,

I’ve never felt taller

Than I did that day.

My shoes red

Your shoes yellow

Dancing they turned orange.

Orange like sunset

On the days of scorn from others,

Trying to bring clouds

To a sunny day.

Orange like sunrise

On the best chapter of my life.

– Vagabond Prophet

@delightfulharmonypoetry