Tag Archives: #poetry

The World of Roses

In the world of Floris, a planet where every being was a fusion of human and flower, roses reigned supreme. The inhabitants, known as Rosalians, were characterized by their delicate rose-petal skin, leafy hair, and a subtle fragrance that filled the air wherever they went. In this unique world, the only flower that existed was the rose, and it was the foundation of their culture, economy, and identity.

Dr. Alaric Thorn, a prominent scientist and a respected teacher, stood before his class in the grand botanical amphitheater. His students, all young Rosalians eager to learn, sat in rows of petal-shaped seats, their eyes gleaming with curiosity.

“Today,” Dr. Thorn began, his voice carrying the gentle authority of a seasoned educator, “we will discuss a revolutionary idea: the existence of other flowers beyond our beloved rose.”

A murmur of excitement and disbelief rippled through the room. The concept was as alien to them as the stars beyond their sky.

Dr. Thorn activated a holographic display, projecting an image of their planet, Floris, from space. “For centuries, we have believed that the rose is the only flower, the pinnacle of botanical evolution. But what if I told you there might be other worlds, other planets where different flowers flourish?”

One student, a bright young Rosalian named Lysara, raised her hand. “Dr. Thorn, how can we be sure? We’ve never seen these other flowers. What makes you think they exist?”

Dr. Thorn smiled, pleased by her inquisitiveness. “Excellent question, Lysara. Our recent advancements in interstellar observation have revealed traces of botanical structures on distant planets. These structures differ from our roses, suggesting diverse floral life forms.”

He switched the hologram to display various shapes and forms, each representing a possible alien flower. “Imagine a world where flowers bloom in countless shapes and colors, each with unique properties and characteristics. A world where the flora is as varied as the stars themselves.”

The students leaned forward, captivated by the images. Another student, a quiet boy named Thorne, spoke up. “If these other flowers exist, what does that mean for us? How would it change our understanding of life and our place in the universe?”

Dr. Thorn’s expression grew thoughtful. “It would challenge our perception of uniqueness and inspire us to explore beyond our known boundaries. It would mean that life, in its infinite diversity, has found countless ways to flourish. It would teach us humility and expand our horizons.”

He paused, letting the gravity of his words sink in. “We must prepare ourselves for the possibility of encountering these new forms of life. As scientists and scholars, our duty is to seek knowledge and embrace the unknown. Perhaps one day, we will embark on a journey to these distant worlds and witness the beauty of other flowers with our own eyes.”

The amphitheater buzzed with a renewed sense of wonder and anticipation. Dr. Thorn knew that this was only the beginning of their exploration. The Rosalians were on the cusp of a great adventure, one that would take them beyond the petals of their familiar roses and into the vast, blossoming garden of the cosmos.

:: 07.07.2024 ::

Notes:

This poem conveys a message about the endless possibilities of life and the importance of remaining open to new ideas. It suggests that understanding and accepting diversity, even in forms of life, can lead to greater knowledge and a more profound sense of humility.

Conclusion

“The World of Roses” is a crafted poem that I sought to use as a fictional setting and characters to explore deep themes related to knowledge, diversity, and the human (or Rosalian) spirit of exploration. It invites readers to consider the beauty and complexity of life beyond their immediate understanding, encouraging a sense of wonder and a desire to explore the unknown.


How Love Can Hurt

SHE fled from me who once sought my grace
with tender steps in my room’s quiet place

i saw her gentle, tame, and oh so meek
now wild, forgetful, and she never seeks
those times she ventured close to share a crumb
now she roams, restless heart on the run
forever chasing change beneath the sun

Thanks to chance, it’s been another way
often better, but one stands clear as day
in delicate array, with a gentle fall
her gown slipped, arms around me, soft and small
sweet kisses whispered, “Dear heart, how do you feel?”
in moments shared, too precious, too real

No dream this was, my eyes wide awake
yet now, all’s turned by my tender ache
into a strange new form of forsaking
her kindness grants me leave, but still i’m breaking
while she seeks new thrills, my heart’s left shaking
but treated kindly thus, i yearn to see
what fate she’ll find, what will her heart decree?

I have seen your face before. I saw, with my own eyes
how a soul was incinerated by just a few words.

Oh, how long. How long before it’s my life?
Oh, how long.

My love hurts.

:: 07.07.2024 ::


Not The Love We Dreamed

Not the Love We Dreamed
We cross our grievances,
Speak of our sorrow,
Utter solemn prayers

To live another day.

We speak of laughter,
Share our private tales,
Make our promises

To live another day.

Life plans another week,
Each day a challenge,

To live another day.

We shed our tears,
Sometimes it’s blood
From a broken heart,

To live another day.

When the sky bleeds,
He comes, that Day,
Comforting the lonely

As we live in despair.

It is the spice of hearts—
My heart embraces
Crying inside your tears

For the rest of my life.

And alone, I weep,
Measure your absence,
Adore you in solitude,
All my life, needing you,

But it’s not the love
We dreamed of, my darling love.

:: 07.05.2024 ::


Songbird’s Serenade

MY dear throated song bird
Upon a branch higher than clouds
you sing Life
i dream of you
my song bird

How musical notes
sway inside my Life
touches a Spirit
called Life!

In the dawn’s tender grasp
your melody echoes clear
through whispers of leaves
and whispers of dreams

Your feathers aglow
with the hues of sunrise
painting the sky
with hopes unseen

In the quiet of morning
where silence meets song
you weave tales of wonder
in each note that’s strong

Through seasons that change
and winds that may blow
your song remains constant
a lifeline I’ve know

For you are the keeper
of secrets untold
in melodies whispered
in mornings of gold

So sing, my dear songbird
for my heart beats with yours
in rhythms of life
through nature’s grand doors.

:: 06.28.2024 ::


THE WORLD MOVES

THE WORLD moves and does in mysterious ways
as the thighs of a lover moving closer
breathing and touching, both awakening
the senses of the other.

How the quiet
night speaks, with low voice and rich
with leaves and moss and soil. The scents
of nature is between thighs. Both man
and woman. At all times whether in a bus,
or sidewalk, or riding a bicycle we exude
the scent of our animal nature. We are
the city of our Nature, the Empire. A tall
building of soft scaffolding mylon-foam
caught deeply within our throat and heart.

Appear as Mother, sweet and kind
On pasta, butter, and potatoes dine
The bee lady swims, unconfined
For those with wit not yet refined

Soup and cream, your frame bestow
The final word, you proclaim
Though plump, in splendor you will glow
Sublime and grand, you’ll earn your name.

:: 06.25.2024 ::


Morpheus

While sleeping quietly dreaming
and weeping — the graveyard
of believing is my meaning
a wishful dreaming;

I sweat and gnast my teeth as a
baby painfully feeling life

how this relationship makes me
feel small/hearing the screams
of my parents, dead and crawling
from their graves telling me i
should grow but the alleys and
their slipery walls hold no
leverage and so my back again falls
into the Eden’s garden of all

While sitting here I can see there
and snuff my cigar in the eye of
a bright full moon while sipping
Merlot and aching breaking thanking
making waking my Soul

The woman’s soul and scent — her
womanly smells. Does she crush
my heart or penis with her words?

I would prefer she crush my mind.
Then take my body and make it her
vessel as a grand boat with seven
sails to sail across unknown oceans.

She says this makes her eyes weep
and breaks her thoughts — tightens
her vagina and then experiences
a touch but then to wait …

:: 06.23.2024 ::


Alpha Bet Lesson

Have you seen a ‘v’—(sounds so beautiful)
Hop across a ‘t’ or even ‘y’ inside
A ‘d’, it’s all inside of me, so full.

Alphabet needs, in language’s pull,
Something in the way, I cannot hide,
Have you seen a ‘v’—(sounds so beautiful)?

In a deep dark well of mostly nights dull,
I kissed ‘m’ and ‘e’, where secrets reside,
A ‘d’, it’s all inside of me, so full.

Words touch all I hide, their whispers mull,
Cries feeling how I am, though much denied,
Have you seen a ‘v’—(sounds so beautiful)?

All of me cried feeling how I might lull,
Am SO “m” “T”, emotions collide,
A ‘d’, it’s all inside of me, so full.

Something in the way, how words just cull,
All I hide away from me, thoughts untried,
Have you seen a ‘v’—(sounds so beautiful)?
A ‘d’, it’s all inside of me, so full.

(rev) 06.20.2024


While Humanity Sleeps

WHILE humanity sleeps (half of the world to you and me)
We, birds whom nature adores charm from atop lookouts
shut eyes and dream
dream of mind and feels
As each night branches out into a single, flowering thought
from wings to the beak of your beloved wheelbarrow
who flies away after pecking food from Earth’s Soul
We, the bronze sighs of a statue that raises itself
upon an elbow while institutions sleep
And the dreamer, may his glowing gaps open up with shut eyes
dreamer with tears and laughs ; the horror of things
through it all i can hear you cry
beyond white sand shores into coral antlers of pain
So stretch your eyes and heart
So just say the heart is fractured
(i’m saved) so shut your mind and sing/just say
“Your heart is right — just go on and dream”

:: 06.20.2024 ::


The Terrors of Infinite Realities

The day is midnight at noon and the skies are bleeding red yokes.
And the skies and sky scrapers are on fire ./cars on fire with no one at the wheel
and the government\corrupt/ tens of thousands of suicides and the wind is hot
everyone trapped within the belly of this machine and we are screaming. And the machine
is bleeding to death while the flags are all dead on top of all those poles.

In the quiet town of Eldridge, four teenagers—Alex, Jamie, Sam, and Casey—stumbled upon an ancient book hidden in the dusty attic of their school’s library. Bound in worn leather and adorned with strange symbols, the book seemed out of place among the mundane school records and old yearbooks. Intrigued by its mysterious appearance, the group decided to take it to their usual hangout spot, an abandoned cabin in the nearby woods, to explore its contents.

As the sun set and shadows grew long, they gathered around a rickety wooden table, the book’s eerie presence casting an unspoken tension among them. Alex, the group’s natural leader, carefully opened the book. The pages, yellowed with age, were filled with intricate drawings and cryptic text in a language none of them recognized. But what caught their attention was a diagram depicting a series of interlocking circles—what seemed to be different worlds connected by thin, dark lines.

Jamie, the tech-savvy skeptic, used their phone to take pictures of the pages, hoping to decipher the text later with some translation app. Sam, always the curious one, noticed a small inscription at the bottom of the diagram. It read: “Beware the crossings, for they reveal the unseen.” They shrugged it off as an attempt to scare them, but a strange chill settled over the group, as if the words held a hidden truth.

Over the next few days, they delved deeper into the book’s mysteries. Jamie managed to translate some of the text, revealing that the book was a guide to the multiverse—an infinite number of parallel realities, each slightly different from the others. Excited by the discovery, they continued their research, unaware that their curiosity was about to lead them into unimaginable horrors.

One night, while experimenting with an incantation from the book, the air around them began to shimmer and distort. A portal, glowing with an otherworldly light, opened before them. With a mix of fear and excitement, they decided to step through, finding themselves in a world that looked like their own but felt off—darker, colder, and filled with an oppressive sense of dread.

As they explored this parallel world, they noticed subtle yet disturbing differences. The town was eerily silent, with abandoned cars and empty houses. The sky was a permanent shade of twilight, and an unnatural stillness hung in the air. It wasn’t long before they realized they were not alone. Dark figures lurked in the shadows, watching their every move with glowing eyes.

Panic set in when they tried to return through the portal, only to find it had vanished. Stranded in this nightmarish version of Eldridge, they had no choice but to seek refuge in their old hangout spot—the abandoned cabin. There, they regrouped and tried to figure out how to reopen the portal. The book, however, seemed to have lost its power, the once glowing pages now dull and lifeless.
As days turned into weeks, the group struggled to survive. They scavenged for food and avoided the shadowy figures that roamed the town. During one of their expeditions, Casey discovered a journal in the library of this alternate Eldridge. The journal belonged to someone named Dr. Alistair Crowley, who had apparently been studying the multiverse and its horrors for decades.

According to Dr. Crowley’s journal, the shadowy figures were inhabitants of the “Dark Worlds,” parallel universes consumed by evil. He warned that once someone crossed into these worlds, they risked drawing the attention of these malevolent entities. The journal also hinted at a way to escape, but the instructions were incomplete, the final pages torn out.

Desperation took hold as the group faced increasing attacks from the shadowy figures. Each night, the creatures grew bolder, their glowing eyes peering through the cabin’s broken windows. Alex, feeling responsible for their predicament, pushed himself to decode the journal’s cryptic clues. Sleepless nights and constant fear took a toll on him, and he began to hear whispers in the darkness, calling his name.

One evening, as the group huddled together in the cabin, the whispers became too much for Alex to bear. Driven by an unseen force, he wandered into the woods, where he found an ancient stone circle. The symbols carved into the stones matched those in the book. In a trance-like state, he chanted the incantation he had memorized, hoping to summon another portal.

The air crackled with energy as a portal slowly opened within the stone circle. The rest of the group, realizing Alex was missing, followed the strange light to the clearing. They found Alex unconscious but alive, the portal shimmering before them. With no other choice, they carried him through the portal, praying it would lead them back home.

To their relief, they emerged in their own world, but things were not quite the same. They found themselves in an Eldridge that seemed untouched by time, as if they had traveled back to a version of their town from the past. Confused and disoriented, they made their way back to the library, hoping to find answers in the book.

To their horror, the book was gone, replaced by a note that read: “The crossings have consequences. Beware the ripples.” As they pondered the note’s meaning, they realized that their adventure had left a mark on their world. Strange occurrences began to plague the town—people disappearing, mysterious lights in the sky, and whispers in the night.

Haunted by their experiences and the knowledge that the multiverse was real, the group vowed to protect their world from further incursions. They became guardians of the secrets they had uncovered, always watching for signs of otherworldly threats. Their friendship, forged in the crucible of terror, became their greatest strength as they faced the unknown horrors of infinite realities.

:: 06.16.2024 ::


Fitfull Sleep

Into you I dive, finding comfort,
It’s good to be here, but I stop short.
I rush around in my own bubble,
In this hotel, a place of rubble.

Connected to wires, fed by tech,
But waiting here makes me a wreck.
Break me, danger, call for help,
I need to go, can’t do it myself.

Whoa, whoa, the sounds surround,
But the peace in the air is profound.
Burst out, bathed in new light,
Disconnected, I cry out at night.

A brain, useless, fed by sleep,
Angels of rest, my soul to keep.
Whoa, whoa, the echoes fade,
In this modern life, my heart is swayed.

:: 06.09.2024 ::