*Magnify*
    March     ►
SMTWTFS
     
1
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
10
11
13
14
15
16
17
19
20
21
23
24
26
27
28
29
30
31
Archive RSS
SPONSORED LINKS
Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/books/action/view/entry_id/1028788
Printer Friendly Page Tell A Friend
(116)
Rated: 18+ · Book · Spiritual · #1149750
10k views, 2x BestPoetryCollection. A nothing from nowhere cast words to a world wide wind
#1028788 added March 21, 2022 at 9:46pm
Restrictions: None
Deep In Glass
Vintage? Perhaps

Peering through clearest marble,
expanding eye visions,
purity of green glass, smooth
as a time-worn pebble feet felt
in blue bay, summer water on silt,
imagined deep brown, murky.

yellow eyes, pierced black,
peeped amid reeds guarding
a blackened, brackish shore;
castoffs, sequestered collective,
joined us all in senses infinite;
until time dies where I wade out
to meet the frayed clouds forming,
absorbing faded sun-glint horizon
on bubbled, frosty-death glistening.

I would buy all of you and hold you,
wedged in undersized pockets, play
on unforgiving sand outside school
in snow-melt spring, ceding space
with small, prying thumbs marking
a place for entry, to be won or lost,
gamble to gain more of you to covet,
but burst stitching in pants, cast off
to echo on floorboards, post recess,
collected by the annoyed, ruling man.

A child does not yet conceive
untimely fate for each of you. And now,
my turn to be buried deep in white
within a black, grimed corduroy space.
But I do not gleam like you,
as age burns us all to ash.

It takes only one of you to carry
one of me to the earthen place.


3.12.22
33 lines

we go back and forth through time, making it infinite in our reality, imagined. there's not science to back it up, but even eggheads don't hold all the answers to the mysteries poets explore.

remembering what is what like to hold up a pure marble and use imagination to envision, as a poet does with memory to recall what it felt like, where it takes me now and how I relate as a child and an old man with one poem to carry with me to the grave. in fact, a metaphor that implies deep, but it doesn't take much to get past that surface, knowing (if only subconsciously) how close we are to it...D-E-A-T-H


You held my nose in it.
I said it was just fine,
The smell intoxicating,
Brute strength divine.
Because,
I could have fought you,
But chose not to care
How I was treated
By the likes of you,
Because,
My mother said only love.
While I love myself more,
It didn't take time to devise
How time would even every score.


It was no work.
No work to be done.
We each are judged
From only one up above.


Tell your mother you love her,
even if you think her wrong.
Just a lad's spirit guide,
not a god damn oracle.

and, stop looking for answers.
keep eyes open for serendipity.
life's about having fun. at least,
that's how I'm Told it's done.


© Copyright 2022 He’s Brian K Compton 18 year (UN: ripglaedr3 at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
He’s Brian K Compton 18 year has granted Writing.Com, its affiliates and its syndicates non-exclusive rights to display this work.
Log in to Leave Feedback
Username:
Password: <Show>
Not a Member?
Signup right now, for free!
All accounts include:
*Bullet* FREE Email @Writing.Com!
*Bullet* FREE Portfolio Services!
Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/books/action/view/entry_id/1028788