There is a place, I know -
where all is peace and harmony.
There is no desire to hurt,
There is no desire to kill.
I have seen this place, I think -
but I have never been there.
Sometimes, when I am very tired,
I imagine I am there, in the sun.
There, I am among people -
people with no insecurities,
who do not hurt others;
who are happy just being.
They stand in the grass -
grass thick, green, and fragrant.
The sun shines on their hair,
and sets a twinkle in their eyes.
Their eyes, windows to their souls -
shine brightly, honestly, at me,
with nary a hint of deceit,
above their radiant smiles.
They reach out to me -
accep
I sit on the beach at night,
lit by a thousand moonbeams,
effused with the light of the stars,
and wonder of the limits of space and time.
The kaleidoscope water before me
scatters the brilliant moonlight,
like a path of shimmering beauty
leading the way to the edge of the world.
The soft whisper of the waves
reaches deep into my being,
comforting me, returning me,
to a time when the waves were our home.
The warm breeze caresses my skin,
its fragrance hinting of far off worlds,
of wonderful and glorious peoples,
of others, such as I, on their beaches.
I raise my head and expand my soul,
rising to the heavens among the sta
Music of motion
I am leaned over,
motor screaming in
mechanical gnashing,
frenzied concert,
louder, smoother,
as the revs rise higher.
I scrap my knee,
lose the leather.
Head twisted -
road horizontal,
scenery still-blur.
Wind in my face,
incredible pressure.
Corner ending -
rollon throttle,
wheelloft slowly,
crossup slightly,
- hint of attitude -
This is the time
the music comes -
all motion, movement,
on one small patch,
incredible speed,
imperfect position,
perfect balance.
The laws of physics
sing to me in joy,
all is chaos,
yet still, in harmony.
Controlled energy,
kinetic, potential,
unbalanced death
b
It was not always this way by yeravener, literature
Literature
It was not always this way
It seems, to me, that
it was not always this way.
Sometime, before now,
the universe was my domain.
I could traverse at will,
flying through plasma,
sliding on moonbeams.
Motion was my music
and knowledge my guide.
I knew more then,
than I do now.
I am limited
by this corporeal state,
by physical laws, which,
though possibly bent,
cannot be broken.
My senses are dulled,
my knowledge finite.
I can hear the music of motion,
but its tone is flat,
as though I comprehend
in one dimension,
that which is created in many.
Is it my imagination, this
feeling of past freedom,
of present limitation?
Perhaps, but in
Lost
near my soul
somewhere
I search for it, as
I search for you
without knowing either
Which way?
What matters?
Who cares?
I care
Because you are me
When I find you,
I find myself.
I will know you
and in knowing,
maybe then,
understand your death
I am an officemate of Mari's here at UCR and am writing this both
because I hope that Mari can hear the words I am writing here, and
because it will help me deal with the pain of her loss.
I am an engineer, not a poet. This is not meant to be a technically
impressive bundle of meter and cadence. It is looks like butchered prose,
it's likely because that's what it is. This is a compilation of my thoughts and feelings regarding losing Mari from this world, so be kind in this regard.
The tears beat against my eyelids,
followed by a thousand more -
just like them, in fact, waiting
for my tired soul to release them.
They came at the
I was with you.
I blinked
The passage of time carried me
past you
I cannot stop.
momentum forces me on
spinning like a twig.
unlike you
you followed different laws of physics
-as in life-
converting all your mass to energy
stopping.
instantaneously.
I reach back
against the doppler pressure of yesterdays
to hold you
-as holding sunlight-
and fail.
I slip forward
I must age, pushed by time
though I would stay with you.
I will be old
someday
you will be twenty five forever.
Old, as yet-unfaded, soldiers
must feel this way,
bodies diminishing
war fading
fallen comrades
50 years at their sides
still 18, 19
maybe 2
I know this place.
I remember it well,
though the memory is old.
I was here long ago,
as a little boy.
I see you standing,
close by in the dark,
a beautiful, radiant angel.
Wavy, shimmering
as though separated from me
by glass, or time.
You look at me,
enigmatic face with
no smile, no frown.
Dark eyes reflecting
the depths of the distance
across which I look.
I try to touch you:
I reach forward,
but cannot break through.
I try to speak to you:
but the words echo back,
or make no sound.
You turn away from me,
into the darkness.
I watch you go,
and cry silently.
Yet again, it is my turn to wait.
Though I know not her name,
my heart leaps in my chest
with a desire to know her:
her hopes, her fears,
all that makes her a person
and all that makes her a woman.
Her warmth envelopes me:
I feel her soft touch on my arm,
hear her quite voice in my ear.
I touch her cheek gently,
and kiss her face softly.
My desire for her is endless, unbounded.
I long for the return of my embrace,
holding her to me ever so gently,
as the feelings of love and caring
flow from my being to hers.
I know not her name,
only that she is out there.
The feeling in me cannot be
contained, my love for her
an overflowing stream,
turbulent a
It was not always this way by yeravener, literature
Literature
It was not always this way
It seems, to me, that
it was not always this way.
Sometime, before now,
the universe was my domain.
I could traverse at will,
flying through plasma,
sliding on moonbeams.
Motion was my music
and knowledge my guide.
I knew more then,
than I do now.
I am limited
by this corporeal state,
by physical laws, which,
though possibly bent,
cannot be broken.
My senses are dulled,
my knowledge finite.
I can hear the music of motion,
but its tone is flat,
as though I comprehend
in one dimension,
that which is created in many.
Is it my imagination, this
feeling of past freedom,
of present limitation?
Perhaps, but in
Music of motion
I am leaned over,
motor screaming in
mechanical gnashing,
frenzied concert,
louder, smoother,
as the revs rise higher.
I scrap my knee,
lose the leather.
Head twisted -
road horizontal,
scenery still-blur.
Wind in my face,
incredible pressure.
Corner ending -
rollon throttle,
wheelloft slowly,
crossup slightly,
- hint of attitude -
This is the time
the music comes -
all motion, movement,
on one small patch,
incredible speed,
imperfect position,
perfect balance.
The laws of physics
sing to me in joy,
all is chaos,
yet still, in harmony.
Controlled energy,
kinetic, potential,
unbalanced death
b
I sit on the beach at night,
lit by a thousand moonbeams,
effused with the light of the stars,
and wonder of the limits of space and time.
The kaleidoscope water before me
scatters the brilliant moonlight,
like a path of shimmering beauty
leading the way to the edge of the world.
The soft whisper of the waves
reaches deep into my being,
comforting me, returning me,
to a time when the waves were our home.
The warm breeze caresses my skin,
its fragrance hinting of far off worlds,
of wonderful and glorious peoples,
of others, such as I, on their beaches.
I raise my head and expand my soul,
rising to the heavens among the sta
There is a place, I know -
where all is peace and harmony.
There is no desire to hurt,
There is no desire to kill.
I have seen this place, I think -
but I have never been there.
Sometimes, when I am very tired,
I imagine I am there, in the sun.
There, I am among people -
people with no insecurities,
who do not hurt others;
who are happy just being.
They stand in the grass -
grass thick, green, and fragrant.
The sun shines on their hair,
and sets a twinkle in their eyes.
Their eyes, windows to their souls -
shine brightly, honestly, at me,
with nary a hint of deceit,
above their radiant smiles.
They reach out to me -
accep
Ponder preposterous possibilities, my friends,
we may not have this chance again.
Daring discussions, discovering exlainations.
Never important was the question.
Generalizing generic generalizations,
take pause, then strike up conversations.
Franticly formulating our fabulous fictions.
Revive and cherish our ancient tradition,
to revel, and partake of another libation.
Current Residence: On the desert's edge (Mojave) Favourite genre of music: Soulful, to make one think and ponder Favourite photographer: Epitomei....look, and you will understand Favourite style of art: Mystical and peaceful Operating System: The world Shell of choice: Silence, so that I may understand Favourite cartoon character: Calvin/Hobbs, Eric Cartman, Opus Personal Quote: Look inside yourself for the answers, and you will be free. Else, be a prisoner of others.
Waiting, it seems, is the order of the day when the topic is "Nikon D100"......soooo.....feeling the withdrawals painfully known as "haven't submitted in many fortnights", I pulled out my trusty Nikon point and click and forayed out into the world to alleviate my cravings.
Today's submission, as well as some to follow, are of my world........
I continue to be in awe of the talent I see exhibited here on DA......I am thankful for the opportunity to see the creative forces unleashed by those for whom they come easy, or at least well.
I know that every time I log on, I will see something that touches the core of my being, that makes me view the world from a totally new and unique perspective......I realize that my view of the world, colored by my own particular talents and faults, is but one of a hundred billion perspectives........and I get to place myself in your shoes and view the world from your perspective through the works you post on DA.
Thank you to you all for helping me t
oh dear, i have not responded yet purely due to lack of time... expect soon. my apologies if you read the *void* wrong i just have so much to reply that i can not do it in the 10 minute sections i am provided this week.