If Only For A Moment May I Touch The Wild Twist

Standard

I stand alone upon the sentence of my grave
It keeps no form of weeping
No telepathic takings have their measure
No hush-hurries have their place
No one thing or soul is safe
If in reason-seeking came

Embers to be faced
From a fire which could not be traced
Stamped out
Pressed in around its edges
Told its name
Assigned its space
Dare we call Earth’s Mother
Tamed?

Here upon the wild froth
And crashing of its waves
There lies a subtlety
A saved and wretched madness
Unembraced
A lingered still breathing
Unlabored, though
If not in vain

Hopes collect in mass and come unkempt
Together, here remain
Tempt and torn
Undressed in haste
Of that which guiltless keeps the blame

Hard, unforgiving hands beat down
Of time
And laws of reason;
Soundness
And its often wake
Collapse upon the cleaved-leaning martyrdom kind

Not a one
Shall find complaint

Be stilled, unsorrowed, soothed

Like footprints
Be them far removed
Scattered in and off the path
Variations of a purpose
Deviated from degree

Still, the skilled wisdoms of the ancients unfortold
The blind–but not the sightless-heart would seek

Be it bound
To thee, in chains
To endless fuel
Of longing
For knowledge
And for innocence
Dichotomous belonging

Matrimony juxtaposed
Mortality in duty
Bind the seagull, searching seeking
To her own refusal shore
Emptied of her wanton sight
Unthieved unclaimed
Uncoward braved
Forevermore, Foreverstays
The treasure
And its troves untold
Or if at all, then too untake

She came–not once did hesitate–but crash arrived
In versions; sighs
The truth a disappointment
Perpetual, in nature

She was Compassion
Without permission
Sympathetic of all sakes
But came, she nonethelessing did
To have her bite
Her bitten dust
To taste
Its dew
The morning midnights
Too
A legacy, abate

Familiar should be as the gate
The worms shall have their meal

This of course, is what is meant

By patience, terms of virtue

Cyclical in terms of sense
In feel, it be serene
Portion filled divinity
The quiet keeping bliss

Simplicity reducing us
Duality, to this

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8 responses »

  1. Words fail as thoughts run too deep…
    for this post wrenches me into another dimension…
    and sadness tugs upon my heart, my soul…
    Love,
    M

    Ecc 3:1 “To every thing there is a season, and a time to every purpose under the heaven”

  2. If can be so bold and perhaps be allowed to ride on the skirt tales of Sprinkin Thoughts~ I must agree. Lovely but so sad and yet perfectly weaved by the heart.

  3. Reblogged this on Sean Bidd and commented:
    A poet I’ve missed for like a month, they where not well, walled in, but Brandy is back, three poems since the 19th. A gypsy traveler in her younger days, she knows how to write with the wild twists…

      • So appreciated. Also, thanks for continuing to stop by, pontificate, share your wonderful ideas words and sights– despite my prevalent silence lately. It’s mighty cool that you’ve taken no offense, and haven’t pulled back. I like that. I’m slowly but surely recovering in health and I’ve valued every word and visit you’ve shared. Thank you.

        • Silence is cool, lets the natural world into the recesses of our mind. The only offense undertaken by me, has been to share more where possible, illness is always a tough time.Thank you for making it back, and with such a flying start too.

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