Purpose

Unknowing Escapists

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Unknowing Escapists 

 

 

 

Death, ..not proud—So sleep!

...dreaming of thy softer skin

—Thee—objectified!








Author's Notes/Comments: 

Reedited on 07.19.2019, 07.18.2019, 07.17.2019 (On clarifications, disambiguation, misspelled/mistyped words, grammatical/semantical errors):  Upon reviewing my notes/comments, I could not help but notice something that I had to revise.  I have edited that something in my Author's Notes/Comments, for some time, yet I had not been able to update and indicate those in the former reedition (I may have forgotten it).  Some of my previous grammatical/semantical errors were corrected/edited; but that had also lent itself to being still erroneous after I had found out about the others/another, consequently.  Those were the scruples which I had, i.e., in noticing/not noticing/ignoring an unedited/missed part, i.e., of a sentence (that was erroneous & that which was consequently omitted.)

 

The idea behind this practice poem is certainly not an allusion to John Donne's famous line or to his poem, although it sounded like it—in fact, it was sort of in my head before this was done (I do not know about his poetics until later on, after doing this).  But the usage might easily denote such notions or concepts which you might have in mind already (a correlative or a relation/association to this).  The phrase first came to mind while I was in my first few steps of composing something (which I wanted to pull off in the creation process alone & not necessarily done while visualizing my supposed ends).  That might/could be dangerous if it was Magic.  I did not know what had prompted me.  It does not necessarily end up as I supposed to have wanted it to come off (in that it was not my endpoint, to think about it).  My orientation is/was not in that specified way, as for most poetic styles &/or semblances with each poems that are rather perceptual (aside from being already conceptual).  Generally.  It is a moot point to take note of the circularity of such philosophical arguments (e.g., especially at this time) which I could have done with the rest of my haiku adaptations during the last.  I kept on feeling awkward at using haikus in the first place, or for taking on the minimalistic Japanese approaches/styles (& the use of blank spaces), just to go about such particular pieces of "literary work".  I especially connote my written English aside from my own thoughts about the subjects (&/or objects) that comprise the 'denotata'/'designata' at the moment.  Besides, if you might want to really know about my objectives, you may outright realize that these would be my test pieces or guides for mapping out my whole understanding of Language.  I just hope that this note's real message (real intention) comes across and becomes well received in conjuction with the poem's explanation/history/reason/etc. as in the other author's notes/comments that went before this.

Silvery Appearing On Dark

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Silvery Appearing On Dark

 

 

 

Why like this—are we

While you're lying on the ground

Bedstead hovering









Author's Notes/Comments: 

This poem is reedited on 07.12.2019.

 

A replacement/substitution of a specific phrase "bed base" to the word "bedstead" was made unto the last line to properly denote what I had in mind earlier on.  I wanted to achieve something that I formerly thought would better represent those ideas (the intended imagery which was originally imprinted in my mind/thoughts during my initial creative process).  The specific word was not known to myself yet, or I also have no exact vocabulary word for that specific thought.  Neither do I know really how to call it, up until this point, because of the many specified ways to call something that resembles a type of a bed. This poem, therefore, might be tentative for that reason (due to the limited vocabulary words that I possess & for yet clarifying such undetermined objects in my mind).  Thank you for reading on.

Ordinary Or Not Ordinary

Folder: 
January 2019

She goes to ultimate lengths to reach her  dreams because she was born to spread her wings and fly. Nothing could ever stop her now since she's found a new way to live because over the past year; the possibilities have become limitless, for the sky is her limit. She looks like an ordinary girl, to those around her, they would say she did ordinary every day things, talked to ordinary people, but in her heart a fire burned bright, she's achieved so much in this new life, miracles can be seen and are working within her, and through her, continusly and developing in her life for the better, she's always been one step ahead of those around her wheather anyone notices or not she has accomplished so much, but to ordinary people it may seem just like an ordinary thing that she accomplished, but to her it is a mile stone reached, her dreams are possible no matter what people say or think, she has changed her life for the better. The twinkle in her eyes, is a sign to others that she is different, happy, she's been blessed with a second chance, because she does it one day at a time.

Author's Notes/Comments: 

Please critique, and give opinions

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Sundown Eyes

Folder: 
Beauty

And the sky took with light

Reflected in my eyes; beaming

Feeling lighter and bright

Submerging my soul; dreaming

 

I’ve fallen into the crescent

A tight woven bond

Enriching the present

A long road too fond

 

A candle in the distance

Awakens the depths inside

A higher purpose of existence

From you, I cannot hide

 

I have fallen in to your grace

No sense of time; still

A torch for my darkened place

Adventures in twilight; surreal

*Wasted Time*

November-16-2003 
Trisha M. Barrek Hopkins

I ask thee above 
What is my purpose Down Below 
Why do you keep sending a different love 
Why this pain you bestow

Wasted time 
Is all it seems That i have 
What is the purpose for my talent to rhyme 
Please tell me what to do for my be half 
I ask of you to just let me be able to laugh

If it weren't for my little one God 
Id be up there with you 
Making a difference in heaven 
But I'm so confused i don't know what to do

Why must i be down here 
Everyone doesn't like me 
And no one shows that they care 
The ones that show true feelings are taken not free

Still i cant fight the temptation 
I've made a sin 
I cant stop the love making 
No matter what way i look at my situation 
I can never win

So there goes wasted time 
On those days that i have nothing planned 
As i sit here time has passed by 
Thinking where am i going to stand 
Thinking were ill end up

Where am i going to go 
Sometimes at night i just sit here and cry 
Asking God my purpose on earth 
Why wont you let me know 
Other times i wish i were with you 
I wished just to die

I have no understanding on things 
On the way of the direction 
Or what God brings 
Even on how to really show affection

Wasted time 
My life is such a mess 
And its probably not worth a dime 
What God has in store for me 
I'll just sit here and guess 
And all this wasted time from it ill never be

Copyright

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Postpoem Friends

Folder: 
Just a thought!

When I joined this site, my words were allright

I didn't see the purpose of a friend.

It's been 9 years now, without one "allow,"

so I dicided to invite one in.

The very first line, was be careful of rhyme

Her writings  didn't include such a thing.

I thought... you write the way you write,

and I'll write the way I write cause,

I have a lot more to bring.

She professed to publish writing, but

I had no sighting like, Browning or

Longfellow or Poe...But... All the good ones read,

are long since dead...I guess, in a few years,

I'll know!

Author's Notes/Comments: 

Just a little "Poetic Humor"

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my distillery-a poem about my BP journey

I was a distillery once

Extracting aesthetics and experiences

Some who tasted thought the distillates were sweet

So distinct

And some thought it was too inflammable


But for me it grew toxic

And I abandoned my spirits for another place

Where am I now

What do I do

I am no longer a distillery

The grounds were sold to a different owner

And he tore down my distillery

Pays me in cartridges every month

Besides those I am on a raw diet

I love the wholesome taste of fibrous thoughts

They take their time to pass through

And leach out some of my heat

Someday I will find an engine to plug in to

That produces for people besides me

Till then I must decide

 

How will I remember my distillery

Author's Notes/Comments: 

the person I mentioned in this poem is not one in particular-I have no hard feelings about being 'bought out.' this poem is to help me move on, and I hope it can help someone else in the ongoing struggle with BP disorder

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Blueprint

What if life came with a plan,

What if you came with a timeline,
What if work came with a timetable,
What if she can with an expiration date?
 
Where is the value in definition, 
What is the satisfaction of a guarantee?
 
Is life not a journey,
Are you not a story,
Is love not a mystery,
Would you want to know the end,
Would there be a beginning?
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Life is, as is Time

The time goes down

The age goes up
Neither to be stopped
Yearnings to be found
Plans to be made
What is it missing
The timeline of life
 
Time never ends yet always begins
No time is wasted in life, only choices made
Why regret
Why stress
When the decision is life
 
Every instantaneous still of life's path is beautiful in itself 
For life is not determined in our decisions, life is lived
Lived between
Lived before 
Lived after
Lived through
Life is simple
 
Why consider life to be past, present or future
Life is not but what it is
 
The course of our adventure in the limited perpetualance of time
Life is relationships
Life is mistakes
Life is accomplishments
Life is pain
Life is sorrow
Life is all that can be
 
Ones purpose is to be their life
To see all that there is to see
In every image
In every heart 
In life
 
While our limited, enigmatically wondrous gift of life is given to us
We must
Adventure 
Discover
Enjoy
Sorrow
Question
Live
Love
Author's Notes/Comments: 

First draft

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