Tag: creative writing

Wardrobe

Beware the song with steps danced slowly

With melody so sweet that each word

Eagerly leaps from your tongue,

Do not let beautiful mantras

Robe your mind with lies.

Beware the wolf with wardrobe full of deceit,

Having spent its days learning your itches

Content with scratching before biting,

Not all pleasures good

Many dipped in arsenic

For hunted animals,

In dead of winter of course

He calls you precious.

A caution for the new tenant

In the old house

Unaware of the boards that creak

To wake a sleeping beast,

Know where you are and be on guard,

Mindful that home is a place nobody has been.

Careful with the man who never plays pretend,

Never trying to be somebody better than he is

To make it fit by force, always at ease

With a spirit malnourished.

Traits so wonderful never fit naturally

But in time you can grow into them.

– Vagabond Prophet

Thanks @josy57 for prompting @mildreflections and I with “Hunted Animals.”

Hope folks like it.

Ebb and Flow

Welcome to the ebb and flow

To the sporadic spells of rain,

To the workload that swells to meet

Your well rested vigor.

Good day to the hat

You only notice in its absence

Hello to the fireworks

Hope exploding for a future

Less volatile than the past.

Welcome to the ebb and flow

Of weather that scalds and chills

In the same day.

To the violin bringing

Tears of joy and sadness

In the same melody.

Greetings to the planet

Where hearts of men prevail

And the only chance at redemption

Lies outside the world altogether.

– Vagabond Prophet

Fruits of the Spirit #3

Faithfulness as defined by the poets dictionary:

Definition: Anchors firmly dug into place, to a solid ground nobody else believes is there. Mocks and jeers go floating past as you realize the irony that nobody notices you are not swept away by torrents of madness, despair, or tragedy. Strength tempering your bones into something unrecognizable but so much stronger.

Other definitions include: The knowledge that nobody taught you that guides your every move.

The immovable convictions of a country not found in maps, content that you the amateur cartographer that you are will diligently chart it all when you get there.  

Having a song stuck in your head that you’ve never heard before, and believing that the composer is whispering in a language just for the two of you.

Antonyms include: Cynicism, refusal to separate truths from facts braided though they are, uninvested in the definitions given by the compass of your soul. Untethered as a buoy that warns of nothing.

Only faith promises that there is more to the ocean than water; all because of a dream you once had of it taking your sins out to sea and down to Davie Jones and sending back in their place salvation.

– Vagabond Prophet

@mildreflections thanks for joining me on this project! I am beyond pleased to be collaborating with such a talented poet. Hope you enjoy this addition.

Long Hours

Pen long hours in the dust of your memories,

Discern the bones from the dirt

Excavate the traumas and trophies

And see the foundation of your story.

Pen long hours in the grass of your youth,

With quills wearing feathers so dashing

With ink carve away the parts not needed

White page given meaning by its embrace with black.

Pen long hours in the forests of parenthood,

Admire and prune growth so eager

Never embarrassed or furtive

Only looking for a limb to climb.

Pen long hours in the clouds of age

Wrinkled and grey, ready to let go

Aching to rain life down into the dust

The memories of woodland creatures

Awoken by the hopeful magic of petrichor.

When the sun sets on your inkwell

And life has penned long hours on your soul

And you lay in your spiral bound coffin,

Know that a story is never wasted.

– Vagabond Prophet

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:

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

vagabondprophet:

Disarmed

You were armed to the teeth

With something underneath

Disarmed by my smile

That goofy grin not yet yellow,

You ran away for miles

Losing your shoes in the mire.

Years later it was your turn

I was disarmed by your beauty,

But I ran to you not away

For yours is a beauty that beckoned me

Closer and closer still

Until nothing between us but time,

Time to let our love perfect,

Sweetening and intoxicating as

Years go by.

– Vagabond Prophet