Tag: poetpardy

Definition


What is a writer?

A thoughtsmith

Shaping words

With heat and strength

Into something you can wield.

Sometimes a sword

Sometimes a candlestick.

A poet much the same

But more nonsensical,

Like a soldier

Who dances into battle.

No less effective

Just different.

If you do it well enough

It can be understood

In every language

Like “Coffee” or “Mama”,

And maybe just maybe

Make people wonder

If we’re made for something different.

– Vagabond Prophet

Snow


Yesterday was rain

With polkadot asphalt,

The wind made a current

Sky turned white

And slowly descended.

Today is different

Frosty little tidbits

Floating down to earth.

Earth shivers at its touch

Just like a first kiss.

Liquid becomes solid

At the gentleness

Of your touch.

And you say to me,

“I colour the ground,

To remind you I’m around.”

– Vagabond Prophet

Cheese

vagabondprophet:

If even milk can die

And turn into something great

What does that say of me?

In my current state.

If fruit can perish

Turning into wine

Give strength to my gut,

But not straight off the vine.

Okay you’ve made it clear

I’ll undergo the transformation,

I’ll die and die again

Is this truly salvation?

– Vagabond Prophet

Time You Genius You

vagabondprophet:


Give credit where credit is due

Time you genius you.

None carve as masterfully as you.

And she, she fears time ahead.

How it promises to tug, pull, and crease

Slowly unfolding her youth.

She doesn’t know my eagerness,

To see those same effects

See the whole canvas stretched.

I long to see the way

That she unfurls

Day after day.

As water smooths out stone

So time erodes her face,

A slowly chiseled beauty.

As the ax must blow by blow

Slowly strip away,

The fibers from one another.

So I anxiously await

The sands of time

Etching her away.

Crows feet will appear

The years will dig trenches

In the softness of her face.

I don’t believe in evolution

But her beauty does evolve,

A process of natural seduction.

She enchants me without trying,

As time goes marching by

I’ll orbit her still.

The more that’s scuffed away

Cut or split right off

To make way for something better.

Time you genius you

Master of shape

And all things exquisite.

You will scrub away her youth

Unravel her naivete

Leaving wisdom engraved.

Her body swelled and stretched

With babes not once but twice,

Lasting marks of conquest.

She fought to create,

To be the river’s mouth

For life itself to dawn.

Strip it all away,

This current face of hers,

What are you hiding?

A gift with one million layers,

That unwrap day by day,

No shortcuts.

The crescendo of her beauty

Will take many moons to reach,

I await that goddess truly.

Excess must be shed

To reach the final gem

I’ll hold her against the blows.

If time should bring her pain,

It’s no surprise but all the same

I will crouch down beside her.

With creaky knees and hazy eyes

A foggy mind and weakening spine,

I’ll crouch down to kiss it better.

If time should bring her grief

As part of this descaling,

I’ll be there.

Soak me through with tears

So they eat through me too,

We’ll ferment together.

I only wish to love her

Half as well as time,

Every fold and curve

Marked by its caress.

– Vagabond Prophet

vagabondprophet:

Heart on My Sleeve?

I wanted to put my heart

On the cuff of my sleeve,

But there wasn’t one.

I’ve no shirt today,

No sleeves to be found

How will you read me plain?

Here take my heart

I’ll let you keep it

Please hold it true.

Cherish it with joy

Keep it safe,

Put it in your pocket.

And if you say

“I’ve no pocket,

Or even pants to speak of.”

Then hold it in your mind,

As naked both of us,

Are already one.

– Vagabond Prophet