Tag: peoplewithpoetry

Backtracking Majesty

I am arrested by love

Incarcerated by affection.

I once walked the withering sands alone,

Burning these pale soles black,

Sweat stinging these blue eyes shut.

I used to tread the coals of hot regret

Until I noticed some backtracking majesty.

I saw still morning lakes

Reflecting things much deeper

Than themselves.

Saplings with supporting rods,

Even twigs need a father

Something to grow in the shadow of

Learning not to turn all blooms

Away from but towards the sun.

That trees need no language,

Soil needs no tongue

They speak to each other

With yearning twisted fingers

And thrive upon the embrace.

The sun has no agenda

Yet the mountains bow

Before the glory every morn.

Rain that kisses the land

To lend a helping land

When the fields cry out

With dry lips and parched throats.

No paperwork, no formal requests

Only simple needs simply stated.

Every rockslide applause

For the sky it could never reach,

Every thunderstorm a parade,

Fireworks celebrating

The end of another drought.

Finally the people who dare to trust,

Loving and giving to people

Who can never pay them back.

Working fingers to the bone

To help others find a home,

In this world full of shadows

Finally shedding some light

By trusting and striking

Some matches on the rocks.

So yes I am not my own,

By love I am arrested

My deepest sins contested

And at times even jested,

That I would be such a fool

As to sojourn alone.

By grandeur so big it’s hard to see

I am swallowed whole

And spat back out a whole person,

With a whole soul

That is freely yet completely

Given to the one who soothed

My aching feet and breaking heart.

– Vagabond Prophet

Grip

Grip tightly to the bravery

Caught at brightest noon

When your form casts no darkness

Behind itself.

Grip tightly through

The long evening shadows

And the deep black of night

Until the sun boldly climbs the hills again.

– Vagabond Prophet

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.

Kamikaze

I have no blood

I have no heart

Only a red sea in my chest

Tide in highs and lows

Every single second

At the beckoning of a moon

Behind the very sky.

Pulled by things unseen

Plucking feathers clean

Pruning vanity clipping pride

Silencing remarks so snide.

In the end I’ll be a nomad

Walking ever inland

To where the gardens grow

I’ll have no grass to mow

Only seeds to sow.

Come with me

Come one come all

Untie the dreams safely moored

Let them risk open waters

And swift unseen currents.

Be swept away by the music

That’s played in the background

Of your dreams.

Be the kamikaze 

That forgot to say goodbye

Overwhelmed by the importance

Of the task at hand.

– Vagabond Prophet

Unleavened

You can crush me you can mold me

You can tuck and fold me

Draw me taught or leave me wrinkled

Letting time spread its ripples

To each and every shore.

Leave me flat or by grace let

The wind impart a trace of wild yeast

To this unleavened soul

That I may rise.

– Vagabond Prophet

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

Fuego

I am the fire burning in your heart.

Not a flickering spark

Not cooling embers from a night

With no embrace.

I am the blazing fury of the sun

And the sun itself,

Burning just for you,

Come now for we embark

Upon the path to become

A flaming tendril yourself.

– Vagabond Prophet

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

Cluttered Skies

The light reaches out

Long fingers touching everything.

Hobo tents and bank roofs alike

Both glistening under

Last night’s rain.

Sky still cluttered

With the aftermath.

If the heavens do not discriminate

With their celestial perspective

Maybe we can learn something

Under cluttered skies.

– Vagabond Prophet