Featured Poem: release by jtwhitaker

springing forth inside a maze-like cavern

i toil in sinuous oscillation toward my destination

to be combusted by the friction between your fingertips

my purpose, your utility

building into the crescendo of our release

ebony waves crashing on the shores of our alabaster universe

i believe everyone has poetry lying dormant inside the deep wells of the soul.

blood pumps from the heart, feeding & carrying oxygen through our bodies. so too, words of passion & authenticity flow within the soul like a heavy petroleum-waiting only for the thrust of creativity and ignition of life to be caught ablaze.

we are all closet poets. we commute through life meditating on yesterday & today,

formulating a plan for tomorrow. all of this quiet contemplation is energy that if we

stopped long enough to record, would fill up volumes upon volumes of self-analysis and universal truth.

the next time life happens, write it down. let the emotions trapped inside your mind flow from your heart to your arm, to your fingertips. let your stream of consciousness bleed onto paper. you just might find that your internal poet is the kindred spirit you’ve always wanted to meet but never knew existed. without fail, you’ll experience a profound release, as the pressure bubbling inside gives birth to the tangible.

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JTW writes here. follow him on twitter here.

by JTW

©2010 JTW “jtwhitaker.com” All rights reserved.

I Won a Poet at the Willow Street Fair

I went to the fair on a warm summer’s night

The Willow Street fair to laugh and play in the carnival lights

I studied the games to look at the prizes

they came in so many color, shapes, and sizes

To my amazement I saw something there

sitting behind the pink teddy bear

A poet,

He smiled as I threw my first darted verse

at the Carny,  whose manner was just a little bit terse.

“Well done, ma’am,” he said, with a tip of his hat,

I laughed, because he sounded a lot like a cat.

“but,” he continued,  “one stanzas only wins a rose.

And I’m afraid your lines were more like prose

than poetry meant to win the heart

of our poet, with your lightly versed dart.

Fear not, try again, it’s only a dollar.”

The Carny said, adjusting his sweat laden collar.

I tried once again, gilding my verse

with flowery words, but these lines were worse

The rhyming was off and the rhythm fell flat

And still on the shelf, my poet happily sat.

His smile, meant to encourage, just tied up my tongue

I’m finding this game is no longer fun.

But the light in his eyes captured my heart

So again, at the Carny, I threw a versed dart.

Hoping this time the words held more meaning

I could see on his face, the Carny was scheming

“Dear, Madame, your words were truly poetic,

But I’m afraid the attempt was still pathetic.

Our poet needs fire, warm, passionate words

Not light fluffy verse meant for the birds.”

He turned to the poet, with a laugh and a sneer,

I looked at the poet, my eyes welled with tears.

But there he sat smiling, not moving an inch

I drew in a breath, my heart felt the pinch

I turned from the booth with a heart heavy sigh

That’s when I heard him starting to cry

He called out my name as I walked through the crowd

I wasn’t expecting to hear such a sound

It gave me a start, I stopped in the lane

Up with the teddy bear my poet came

smiling, then grabbing me warm in his arms

How could I resist such masculine charms?

My heart melted quickly, as he opened his mouth,

at the lyric words that came pouring out.

I smiled, and then kissed his warm pouted lips

his hands reached down grabbing my soft, rounded hips.

And that’s how it happened, believe me it’s true

go to the fair and I’ll win one for you.

Written for One Shot Wednesday at One Stop Poetry.  Check out the talented poets posting this week at One Stop Poetry  http://t.co/Xbcg5cB .

Copper Headed Angel Audio Recording

Unaltered Silence

I’m lost

in the unaltered silence

of empty words

Pouring from your mouth

poisoning my soul

Uttering’s

hollow, burning with intention

wrapped in gingersnap dressings

may go down easier

but leave a bitter aftertaste

in my heart

Tenderly acidic

rolling off your lips

Meant to warm the skin

they char, with missed fervor

Meaningless

if meaning ever existed

Now tumbling

into the cavern

that consumes a chest

Once full of life

lost

in the unaltered silence

of empty words

Busy Death

 

 

I see busy Death's work,
From the friend four feet away
To Mom, lips cold black.
In far too many absent friends,
Two in terror's pyre.
While on shockwave's path, we escaped,
With "guilty" more, Death missed.

A Midwest viewing with cake.

A suicide's funeral,
Death Is not a friend to help.
With life there is Love.
The living do not forget,
Those brushed by busy Death.

By Sean Vessey (@Seanotd)

Impassioned Lovers

Impassioned Lovers

I wander through the dusky twilight

searching the heavens

for a sign of our broken hearts;

fading stars, cast aside by jaded lovers.

Though the lights have dimmed,

the passion they hold is still raging

in the darkness of eternity;

set aflame by the hope of loves renewal

from impassioned souls,

begging to touch and be touched;

Wanting…waiting for that distant lover,

traveling through the misty mountains

undaunted by a barren land,

spotted with the litter

of empty branches, once heavy with

the weight of passionate pleasures.

Carefully he floats down

the river of broken dreams,

towards the setting sun,

flying on gold dipped wings into

the nothingness of the shadowy beyond.

His soul stalks the stars,

following my sirens call

through the great heavenly bodies,

where my soul rests,

waiting for gentle fingers

to glide across my alabaster landscapes;

Waiting for my breath to catch

his sweet scent,

thick in the air…heady…musty;

I need not guess,

for I know my lovers heartbeat

like my own, steady…rhythmic as the tide,

washing over sparkling white sands,

as the full force of his passion

...washes over me.

The Gas Station Lady

 

The gas station lady stands

in front of the old Arco,

screaming obscenities

 to an apathetic crowd.

Even if they took a moment to listen

to the random rantings of the "crazy" gas station lady,

it's likely no one would catch the pain

buried deep in her words.

She speaks of society and government

and aliens dropping from the heavens;

of God’s glory and grace;

All the subjects we so carefully avoid.

Conspiracies of the heart....the mind;

leading her on a daily journey,

from Target to Arco to Burger King

and back to the old grocery store,

where she sleeps away the chilled night

in dingy blankets and cardboard boxes.

Insanity took her mind long ago;

these people now take her soul.

I glance at the uncomfortable faces,

Desperately trying to avoid eye contact;

praying she will turn on someone else.

And then I remember…

I am one of those people;

standing in the crowd,

avoiding eye contact.

Desperately hoping

she will turn on someone else.

And I cry…

Not out of pity or sadness,

but from the realization that

I am one of those people.

Are you?

I live by these words. Giving love, kindness, compassion, money should be done freely, without strings. Love is not conditional.

Written for  @Onestoppoetry for oneshootSunday photo prompt homeless hosted by @moondustwriter #poetry http://bit.ly/bIQAq3

A Gift of Innocence

We sit in silence;
watching the waves
roll across the bay.
The birds chirp
their happy morning tune
to the sound of her sweet hum.

I stare at the water, mesmerized,
by the peaceful beauty
captured in this moment,
the calm surrounding
this nothing of a day;
spotted with the laughter
of people passing by;
we hear a plane
flying in the distance.

She finds, in her adventures,
Nature's wonder;
a "diamond" filled rock,
shimmering in the noonday sun.
The spider web,
so perfectly crafted;
glistening silken strands
floating in the breeze.

But it is Her beauty I see;
my treasure, a gift of innocence,
heaven sent,
so that I might see the world anew
through fresh, unjaded eyes.

Here you'll find my soul;
rolling with the waves,
flying in the powder puff skies,
listening to the birds,
following her down a gravel path
to the water's edge;

Eternally lost in play
with my dearest Meagan.

Copper Headed Angel

(My Beautiful Meagan)

She plays, as always,

in a pool by herself;

comfortable with the solitude.

It saddens me to see,

the loneliness hidden

behind that bright smile.
Those sparkling blue eyes

don't reveal the pain

of being the school outcast.

She is...you know?

An outcast from her peers;

who look at her with scorn,

unable or unwilling to understand

that quirky sense of humor.

They tease and taunt her;

this beautiful creature,

gracefully gliding across

crystal waters.

They don't see the treasure

she holds within her heart;

The gift of love she shares

so freely, with every living soul.

She turns to me and smiles,

running across the light blue waves.

"Mom, look!" she calls, giggling,

"I'm running in the water."

I smile, then nod

turning away so she can't see,

...the tears I cry

for my Copper Headed Angel.

Timeless Ripples



These rings, they may deceive you,

but counting them reveals nothing;

for I am older than the sands,

more powerful than any wind.

There you lie upon my shores,

mesmerized by the rippling waves;

Do you see the life held within them?

Watch as each moves in graceful liquidity,

dancing for your amusement.

Ever patient, I sit,

faithfully stalking the land;

Carving…molding…ravaging

the stone beneath your feet.

Until rock becomes sand,

and sand becomes dust;

pulled away in timeless currents.

I am destruction,

I am sadness,

I am beauty,

I am hope,

I Am Life.



Hope you enjoyed my One Shot Wednesday post for @onestoppoetry. Be sure to check out the super talented poets posting today. One Stop Poetry - One Shot Wednesday: Poetry ~ Week 19 http://t.co/PhbWu8Y

Sanctuary

(Photo: Ilachinski Skies of Skye)

The siren sings to me on cloudy days;

when the water sits,

like glass, reflecting the sky.

Her melancholy song

returns my soul

to a peaceful place;

where the rocky shores

soften beneath my feet,

and the sea birds call

floats through the air,

joining the rhythmic

crashing of the tide.

Here, I found it;

my sanctuary of life.

Standing on this unforgiving shore;

I melt into the foam

gathered along the water’s edge,

releasing one last breath;

my soul is finally home.

Posted for the Sunday Picture Prompt @onestoppoetry.  Be sure to check out the incredibly talented poets posting today as well as the interview and photography of Andy Ilachinski—Stunning don't miss photos! http://bit.ly/b8kSEA

Two Hearts

Two hearts floating

on liquid crystal perfection;

reflecting the dawn.



The Story Behind my Diamonds on the Water

This is the very true story behind the poem Diamonds on the Water

                I sat on the pier that day looking out into the unquiet ocean, watching as the waves jutted up into the air, stabbing the sky.  It seemed so angry to me, as if at any moment the water would rise covering the land.  On that cold and windy day my life unraveled.  The quiet perfection of my everyday had given way to chaos.  I sat on the bench examining all the decisions leading to that moment.  Alone, I cried in silence, hoping, praying that something might change, but nothing was going to save me from a failed marriage, the loss of a dear friend, and the emptiness consuming my soul.

                The loneliness I felt was amplified by the empty pier.  The ocean was too choppy for any ship, the day too cold and windy for any normal beachgoer.  I sat on the bench…alone. The world looked as harsh and unforgiving as it felt.  I stood, walking to the railing at the edge of the pier.  Looking down into the cold, dark water, I wondered what it would be like to jump in.  The same thoughts swam through my mind again and again.  Was it really that cold?  Would I sink when my thick jacket became waterlogged?  Would anyone miss me?

                Nearing twilight, the darkness closed in on me.  My tears, once slowly dropping, began pouring down my cheeks. 

Just jump, I thought.  No one’s going to miss me. As I leaned ever farther over the railing, I watched the water dance.  Its graceful fluidity was mesmerizing.  Something in the water called to me. 

A heavy gust hit the pier rocking me forward.  My body lurched towards the water as I threw my hands out to grab the wooden rail.  No one was near to hear my scream or pull me back.  Surely I would plummet to the ocean, pulled away by the tide. 

No one knows, I thought.  I hadn’t told a soul where I planned to spend the day.  In this isolation, my choice seemed so clear.  There was nothing left to do but let go. 

That’s when I first saw them.  Glimmering specks floating on the water just off the pier.  I glanced towards the horizon watching the clouds part.  Golden rays blanketed the ocean.  The light glowing on the peeks of the waves grew brighter and brighter nearly blinding me.  I wrapped a leg around one of the posts steadying myself.  Leaning back, I gazed in wonder at the treasure of light  before me.

Diamonds, I thought. The water was covered with thousands of diamonds.  They were bobbing and dancing as the waves rolled.  There was something about the light that held me captive. The rhythmic bobbing was soothing.  I felt a sense of peace as warmth washed over my body.   

It hit me like the waves of icy wind bombarding the pier.  There, on the deep cerulean blue waters, I found a treasure shining brightly in the cold, in the darkness, in the emptiness consuming the world; more accurately, consuming my world.  How could I have missed them?  The diamonds floating on the everyday waters of my life.  Like twinkling stars in the clear night sky the faces of my children, my family, and friends appeared before me.  The world began to glow, even on this cold, windy day.

I travel back to those dark waters whenever the everyday becomes unbearable.  They remind me of that faithful –or faithless– moment when I nearly made the worst decision of my life.  My diamonds never fail to bring peace and warmth flooding back into my heart.  A soul renewed by the divine light cast from the Diamonds on the Water.

Soul Journey

I call to you, my brother wolf,

howling in the misty twilight

of the new moon.

Do you hear my soul’s song,

echoing through the trees?

I am here waiting for you;

to join me on this lonesome journey.

Come walk the ancient path with me,

across the sky, past the stars,

To the cave of souls;

where we might take our long rest

with those who have passed before us.

Can you here them calling?

Chanted whispers, of family and friends,

gently weaving their way through

the great celestial bodies,

leading us home.



Hope you enjoyed my One Shot Wednesday post for @onestoppoetry. Be sure to check out the super talented poets posting today. One Stop Poetry: One Shot Wednesday - Week 18 http://t.co/F8tRJJh

The Message



Here I sit, on this moonlit beach,

waiting for you to reveal my secrets.

I carry precious cargo from faraway lands;

a note, a message of loves first touch.

The words of an impassioned heart

reaching out for your warmth, your light;

so that it might live, renewed

by the tender uttering’s of passion,

from wine touched lips.

The Path I Missed

I walk wearily down a mud laden path;

direction unknown,

 the haze clouding my everyday follows.

Destination veiled, I wander aimlessly, hoping

some magic destiny will find me;

but life holds little wonder on this day.

Look just off the road,

perhaps you can see the path I missed;

leading to that secret garden,

where children still dance and giggle

in the warm, bright sun lit afternoons.

Take me there, with you;

away from the everyday to a happier place.

Let us dance together with the children;

laughing in the moonlight

to joyful sounds of Pan’s flute.