new

heterochromia

my father is a fortified man 
with dark, verdant eyes 
that shame the forest moss
that burn harsh and cold
seeing through deception 
honest, stern, but fair

my mother is a gentle woman
with soft, cerulean eyes 
that transcend the clearest sea
that glow bright and warm 
always saying the right thing 
tolerant, caring, but unwavering 

and I was born with that azure gaze 
though mine is not same 
on half my left eye
a drop of my father's jade 
and so I see the world 
as an even balance 
through both my parents eyes

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Brash

Folder: 
Personal

"This is it,

the last time.

Not my last time,

for there will be many more,

 

but before I go,

take a second.

Or two.

As though leaving a humble abode

 

for the last time.

Or realistically,

one to be proud of,

one no need for humility.

 

A tendency to be crass, 

the one-stop coffeeshop 

that was the first building

foot stepped in,

 

the exact final destination

of a journey

across from

one Ocean to the next.

 

First impressions,

wild differences between

vernacular and tone,

'shaka brah', 

 

and an immediate inquiry

as to where the hell

I come from.

Brash,

 

but immediately warm

the very first contact

turned out to be,

only to observe

 

more than a year of stumbles,

pieces scribbled,

baristas in and out,

one to be a brother

 

calling this location

headquarters,

locomotives blaring by

in a flash of red

 

everyday.

Bicentennial

the count not of years,

but of poetic conveyance,

 

written in the soft glow

of this shop,

this shop the subject

times so often giving

 

detail to who,

what, where,

and how that one girl,

that one time,

 

smelt as she walked by.

Edited,

the time spent 

since the Spring,

 

but some things never change,

and that's how at home

I feel in this booth.

Bottoms up,

 

here's to you,

one last brew,

one last time. 

No more lines

 

to be written

here,

skate to the next place,

though it won't be the same."

Author's Notes/Comments: 

Home, closed down... I'll be wandering around town on a longboard for awhile. Two books written here at Brash Coffee, the local coffee shop I walked in the first hour of being in Chattanooga.

 

Cheers, Brash.

*An Angel By Light*

August.26.2002 
Trisha M. Barrek Hopkins


After we past away 
And the new life we must go on to 
We'll see a darkness at first 
But then our soul will be awaken 
From an angel of light 
It's not mistaken 
But it's a gorgeous warming sight 

 

Now it's up to God to decide 
If this life was wrongfully taken 
And if so It's not your time 
To go on to your next mission 
Because you have not yet reached your prime 

 

Take care of your unfinished business 
Then you may return 
By the angels sight 
Flying so high on a soft feathered wing 
And by then your next life you'll have earned 
Such excitement it'll bring 

 

After the sadness has passed you 
It wont take too long 
You did great in your past 
Now it's time to move on strong 
Because you'll have those memories that last 

 

So when you see a beam of light 
That looks bright as the sun 
You'll see an angel flight 
Then you'll know you are the chosen one 
So if all unfinished business is done 
Please with gods angel don't fight 
A place in the heavens you've won

 

An angel by light 
Is the most greatest thing 
This angel will take you to the greatest heights 
To Gods love This angel will bring 

 

Copyright* 

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The Tear

Folder: 
human beings

whether in angst or sorrow or bliss,

our tears are like the ice

that melts off mountains

to form new rivers and streams.


the sound of a symphony,

the wail of a newborn baby,

the anguished weeping heard

in between church prayers

at a funeral service,

the dreamy fixed gaze

in the eyes of a woman,

holding her great grandchild

for the first time.

 

reading the handwritten

love sonnet from a beloved...

and sometimes,

just the perfection

and sychronicity felt with

the sight of a mere sunrise or sunset

that touches the heart

and reminds us of what beauty is....


or the remnants of a life...

even a death,

after the fury

of mother nature has spoken

truth of powers

that we mere human beings

know nothing of.


It is those things

and those things only

that we continue on this journey for.


the journey we call life,

that is welded and weaved 

with the tears

of all human beings

who ever walked the earth.


all human beings 

who have cried the same tear,

in moments of happiness, sadness....fear,

an inseparable kinship, 

an anchor between,

it's that "something" we reach for,

that's there, but unseen.

 

the human experience, collectively,

shares many emotions while we're here,

and this fabric called life weaves it's tapestries best,

...with its invisible thread of "the tear".

 

 

 

*****


2015, January

Author's Notes/Comments: 

Just about life.

View nightlight1220's Full Portfolio

The Commencement

  Certainly do not want to waste any space
in my precious notebook of chicken scratch
ramblings
ramblings of an incoherent nature
Oh sweet fool of the great lustrous nothing.
nothing better to do of this numbing slumber.
Come...we take to the pen..
on blizzard eve nightfall 
drunken parchment binge 
soak me of this pigmented fluid 
deep into the crooked knotty veins
of this byproduct of our imminent deforestation..
Hypnotic ejaculate of brainwindow 
mouth projector 
pen 
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An Ode to Ages Ahead

With falsity and neglictory,
With lies and efiface,
With hope begone a truth,
Thy soul bounded  multiude.

Begone a hopeless dreams.
Beyond  a place unseen.
An  abyss of solitude,
Ages of things begone.

Beyond a mighty shield,
A pile moves/grows,
Not Delay  taint unclean,
Ever  vigilant of change.

An act  that lies,
Can only be ugly,
A move made already,
Cannot be taken back.

We see  an illusion.
They show a mirage.
A move already made,
And they keep it so.

Rebel Rebel hopeless soul.
Fight, Fight lest unfilled,
Through thy Red blood,
Keep the fight  alive.

Thy hand hold another,
lest be bad end.
A fight continue definite,
A fight won Indefinite.

A world unseen granted,
For those beyond grasp,
A rising sun uncovers,
For they deserve it.

And it all started,
With a single phrase,
"Let it be so."
Will it be though?

- Eventim

Author's Notes/Comments: 

With falsity and neglictory,
With lies and efiface,
With hope begone a truth,
Thy soul bounded  multiude.

Begone a hopeless dreams.
Beyond  a place unseen.
An  abyss of solitude,
Ages of things begone.

Beyond a mighty shield,
A pile moves/grows,
Not Delay  taint unclean,
Ever  vigilant of change.

An act  that lies,
Can only be ugly,
A move made already,
Cannot be taken back.

We see  an illusion.
They show a mirage.
A move already made,
And they keep it so.

Rebel Rebel hopeless soul.
Fight, Fight lest unfilled,
Through thy Red blood,
Keep the fight  alive.

Thy hand hold another,
lest be bad end.
A fight continue definite,
A fight won Indefinite.

A world unseen granted,
For those beyond grasp,
A rising sun uncovers,
For they deserve it.

And it all started,
With a single phrase,
"Let it be so."
Will it be though?

- Eventim

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Righting Wrongs


you're a hundred unfinished poems taking up space under my bed 

 

you're a million pictured memories collecting dust inside my head
 

you're the voice I hear singing in the dead still of the night
 

when everything is wrong, you're the only thing that's right. 

new

 

 

 

New.

 

A small pithy three letter word,

And yet it brings with it,

Great promise, possibilities, growth,

Abundance,

And joys galore.

 

 

New.

 

 

A way of thought process,

That enriches,

Nourishes,

Revives,

Refreshes,

And LOVES.

 

 

The "new" year is about to make its entrance

Upon us all.

The year of the snake sheds its skin,

For us all,

So that we may experience the gravity

Of "new" hopes,

Joys,

Dreams,

Beginnings,

And yes, sorrows too.

 

 

I package the old and less hopeful

Dreams,

Joys,

And sorrows,

With love and care,

I tuck them into a safe shelter

With the promise of "new",

And I welcome the wonder and excitement

Of what the universe has in store for 

The coming days.

 

 

The memories of the old and torn pieces 

Remain forever glorious in their shining

Recollection,

As I carry them with me,

Forever

"New".

And when I reminisce

Upon their well worn edges,

Withered and frayed from 

The strain of creating the beauty of their possibilities

That will continue to evolve,

I will accept with open arms, 

The gifts they left behind

With new joy,

New hope,

New promise,

And new possibilities for them to grow into

All that makes this universe 

New...

Beautiful,

And worth living in.

 

 

New.

 

View nightlight1220's Full Portfolio
tags:

new day

 

 

 

everyone's wasted words 

 

and efforts to  

 

manipulate you,

 

so many long,

 

tedious years

 

of struggle.

 

 

lost, now found,

 

through your love for me,

 

the only thing

 

they all tried so 

 

selfishly

 

to tell you,

 

show you,

 

trying to coerse you towards a feeling 

 

that was so unnatural for you.

 

 

 

but you see now, my love,

 

how the mind distorts.

 

 

all they had to ever say

 

is that the love you feel,

 

will lead us all 

 

to this day.

 

 

this lesson learned,

 

in this hard way,

 

keep it safe inside you,

 

it won't lead you astray.

 

 

 

I will never blame you again,

 

for the despise you 

 

learned by their selfishness,

 

and haughty dogmatic dramas,

 

their ignorance of 

 

true love.

 

I believe they truly,

 

simply,

 

have no understanding

 

of its 

 

power over us all.

 

 

there is no more 

 

they can say,

 

 

New Day!!


 

 

 

 

Author's Notes/Comments: 

Inspired by my love for my fiance and:

http://www.postpoems.org/authors/overtherainbow/poem/967266