Woih's Blog

Robert graduated from university
He was tall, thin and often be seen with a smile
education and training in technology
This man still pursed a path with firearms

He took the written test in the last week of June
Waiting anxiously, he was curious of his fate
Routine and life, the results could not come too soon
Sports and Netflix, sharing of love, how he passed the time

Will I be a cop? See the world? Things to ponder…
What does this awesome life look like in 10 years from now?
Does this path lead to growth? How will my mind mature?
Will it lead to a developed heart, happy and whole?

To be continued until next Poets United

This was written in response to a prompt from Poets and Storytellers United:
https://poetsandstorytellersunited.blogspot.com/
The Friday prompt was “Form” so I chose to write in ballad form. The rhyme structure is ABAC. The first and third lines have 12 syllables, the second and fourth lines have 13 syllables. The description I read of a ballad said, “Contrary to a popular conception, it is rare if not unheard-of for a ballad to contain exactly 13 lines”….so of course, I made it 13 lines with the last line 13 syllables.

Allow all fully
To respond and not react
Breaking of a chain

“It’s that first one…”

Hunched over,
years of focus trained on this moment.

Many call him Papa
as they offer their thanks.
All hairs on his head whitened by experience.

Forever grateful.
Such a great experience.
Immensely missed.

Staring into darkness,
washed of all love,
void of light and warmth.

Familiar shapes start to take form.
They are light 
and laughing!

They told me
that they, too
had given up.

That they had also waited for death

I take their hand
and try to walk,
leaning on them.

As expected,
I begin 
to tear them down.

They smile
with a patient knowing.

They will always be here,
by side, 
gracefully loving.

I wrote this in response to the prompt Friday Writings #131: Glorious Repurpose from https://poetsandstorytellersunited.blogspot.com/ . Pretty cool site.

Letting go
of the impulse
to explain my experience.

It is.

Not because I can explain it,
because I experience it.

Long after lamps’ oil dwindles down
The search voices calls out to Profound
Sirens melodies beckon on
a final truth never found

Forged as tools
Vailed mirrors direct The gaze
In vast colors and every way
Except that which is plain

Seeking preceptor
Kingdoms seduce in whole
Promise lands with crossed fingers
Soon all becomes damned

Towards heaven, passions turn
Every fiber transformed to be in reach
When the fall comes, as it always does
Enemies born externally

No will left to carry on the hunt
A moment arises within the breath
The fourth time destroying ticks
that do not exist

Long after lamps’ oil dwindles down
The search voices calls out to Profound
Sirens melodies beckon on
a final truth never found

Releasing down and away, letting go

I don’t have to be right or justify

What my body is telling me, I know

Resting in peace, releasing of the I

A changing of the season. Like the passing of some deeply held belief. Would this continue for the rest of his life? Chris debated the meaning of the cirrus clouds. What message was it bringing to him? Was it a sign? Maybe his existence has no meaning at all. How could he know? Amongst the confusion he had a moment of clarity, the snow would be. The easy way out of his cyclic thinking began by not fighting nature. It does not matter whether he liked or disliked the snow, whether is was a blessing or a burden; it simply is.

This realization brought a great calm within Chris’ normally discursive mind. All along he had thought everything had such deep and profound meanings. And now, when opinion was removed, his experience was as is, not how it should be. When in doubt, breathe.

Maybe this time, maybe things will magically change

‘I can do it,’

‘just don’t care,’

‘don’t over think it,’

…all false mantras

I was doomed from the stubborn start

It’s so nice to see you again

coming out the shadows with a pen

Just two lines for now. My brain has trouble organizing thoughts sometimes. This is a greeting to the writer in me looking to resurface.

https://dversepoets.com/

energy pulsing

along with morning crunching

breathe space breathe space breathe

In times we cannot accept,

Minutes seem likes days.

No color, no taste…even love seems fake.

And then, we step with our left instead of our right.

We choose to embrace instead of pushing away.

The shoulders fall; we breathe again in a new space

And for a moment, we open again.

Touched by space in a moment

Not profound nor beautiful; just simply true

Reminds to rest and allow all fully

Not to chase or resist…

Simple breathing

Unborn, brilliant rays

Burn through and fade

Unnatural molds that we’ve  made

                        An invitation
        

         Birds, wind; even train whistle
              

               Connect and experience

Lone brontosaurus

Searching for trees

Wanders through a forest of art

Conversing with me

photo by Emily Blincoe

http://www.emilyblincoe.com/arrangements/

To think that I once thought of myself as free

Wind blown, free to grow, color in cheeks

Whether this life was eventually termed long or short

I’m not really sure either concept will ever come close

I wanted so much more, simply to live and be able to love

But in the end, I became just another story for the coffee book table

for https://dversepoets.com/

Heart smile, eyes gleaning 

She wants only to rest in love 

​30 days

So beautiful

I am blessed

Time seems stretched somehow

Playing each moment sweetly

I remember this

in soft morning light
silence recognizing space
there is room for all

Of all the wanted things,
my only, is
to say goodnight

Finding. A hidden poem in your pocket during work….all the things I’ll never say

Kentucky trees

erasing all thoughts

for a moment I was there

kissed by its’ breeze

The crisp, moist fallen leaves

clinging to the bottom of my jeans

everything so simple

…and so we spend our entire life trying to acquire the most accurate wisdom only to realize that we don’t know a fucking thing…there may be no greater gift.

Maps made of hands

with comfortable borders

An old friend arises

The brain played too much of a role

Empty smoke moves towards the element

while a symbol of love clicks across keyboard

Horns play this final line

The rules no longer bind

The guilt won’t hold

The machine is broke

Tell me how to speak

And i’ll abide

Tell us not to feel

I’ll fall in line

All everyone needs

is to be treated artificially

Tell us where to send our money

Use yours books

to make us fear

Teach us who not to love

The reign has gone on long enough

The end is near

The rules no longer bind

The guilt won’t hold

The machine is broke

Living out the shadows cast down upon us, cause it’s all we’ve ever known

Holding back everything that makes us real, cause all we learned was fear

And they say, “that it is what it is”

“It’s all the same”, well it’s  just self deception

Living the same old self- made lies once again

And they say, “that it is what it is.”

“It’s all the same”, well that’s just self deception

Keeping the truth of pain and freedom at arms length

Back to the heart of me

Living like a crayon in a drawer full of spoons, feels like liberation

Forging forward as others think it too soon, breaking all the chains

And they say, “that it is what it is”

“It’s all the same”, well it’s  just self deception

Living the same old self- made lies once again

And they say, “that it is what it is.”

“It’s all the same”, well that’s just self deception

Keeping the truth of pain and freedom at arms length

Back to the heart of me

Cleaning off the bookshelves. It’s long over due. If you would like to purchase any of the following, just send me a message. Looking for s+h plus what ever you would like to pay for the book(s) in form of money order or check. (I don’t use banks)

   Pyschology

Identity and the Life Cycle – Erik H. Erikson

Inscapes of the child’s world; Jungian counseling in schools and clinics – John Allan

Care of the soul; A guide for cultivating depth and sacredness in everyday life – Thomas Moore

   Spiritual/Religion/Meditation

Buddha’s Lions; The Lives of the eighty-four siddhas (Abhayadatta) – Translated by James B. Robinson

The Tibetan Book of the Dead (intro by the Dalai Lama)

The Practice of Kalachakra (forward by the Dalai Lama) – Glenn H. Mullin

Science of the breath – Swami Rama, Rudolph Ballentine, M.D., Alan Hymes, M.D.

How to see yourself as you really are – Dalai Lama ..translated by Jeffrey Hopkins, PhD.

The Mishap Lineage;Transforming Confusion Into WIsdom – Chogyam Trungpa Rinpoche

Enligtened courage – Dilgo Khyentse Rinpoche

The Upanishads – Translation by Eknath Easwaran

Merton and Sufism – Vons Vitae

Crisis and Story; Introduction to the Old Testament – W.Lee Humphreys

An Anthology of Living Religions – Mary Pat Fisher, Lee W. Bailey

The Routledge Companion to the study of Religion – edited by John R. Hinnels 

if interested in any books, you can message me on here or at [email protected]