A Poem for Every Day. A Poem for Today.

Drakes365 : Day16 : The Wise Oak Tree

Drakes365 : Day16 : The Wise Oak Tree

One day, 
the dwindling rose 
Sought the advice of the old oak tree
as it’s petals were falling 
and fear of death was iminent.

“Oh wise tree…”
“… you are lucky in your life, as your life is long and plentiful”
“your leaves fall, but ur death is not imminent”

The wise oak tree chuckled,
“Oh beautiful Rose…”
“… It does not matter the length of ones life…
“but rather … 
the impact made in the time given”

“But dear oak…”
“… I am nothing but a once bright rose, used as a sign of adoration”

“On the contrair oh beautiful rose…
“You are a sign of beauty, a sign that love still exists”
“I on the other hand… am just an old tree, dying a slow painful death”

“But Mr Oak, your life is full of experience… Of wisdom… Your bark speaks a story… Your leaves have a voice”

Regardless of our time here on earth,
The “leaves” of our lives have impact.
Whether through beauty, 
or through wisdom,
we all make a difference.

It is often easy 
to admire another’s petals 
without acknowledging our own self worth

It is often easier 
To admire the proverbial grass
that’s sits on another’s lawn.

The beauty of life however,
Is how we live it,
with what we are given.
Be it short lives,
Or long lived wisdom.

We are wise oak trees 
We are beautiful roses.
We are life.
We are death.

We

are beautiful beings.

-Greg Drakes

http://drakespeare.tumblr.com/poetry 

Why is it that we try to change ourselves for others to accept us?

Not realizing what their negativity does.

Our personalities disappear while we hide behind lies

Just so in their eyes we can rise

We lose respect towards ourselves

Denying who we are

To blend in with the rest

Instead of shining like a star

Cuz behind our glamorous smiles

Lay hidden wounds and scars

Left from cruel judgments

That we repeat in our minds

Causing us to make adjustments

And slowly adapt to ‘perfection.’

We look in the mirror

Though we are blind

We can’t see

We have forgotten the person we used to once be.

© 2011 Kristina Keurjikian. All rights reserved.

The Aftermant: A horse and man

Oh, Great steed with silk hair white
graced with beauty pranced in moonlight
bears no spiraling horn or wings to fly
earthbound hoofs, incapable of flight

Adorned with crown the rider takes mount
dreams of triumph neglected to surmount
carries him away from battles engaged
throws down his spears painfully enraged

Countless battles were drummed, he answered the call
alive to return but did not escape unscarred
his opaque vest tattered, many hurling arrows deflected
alas, memories of war left his soul unprotected

Sat high on his horse, reflections impure
closing his eyes to make the world obscure
he finds great solace in the rhythmic dancing gait
deflecting the visions casting unbearable weight

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
-TheMsLvh June - © 2011
image source:http://devilry.deviantart.com/gallery/#/d2ylrrm

oh keeper, take me home

In the iron halls of dusks cold walls
In the sleeping breeze of midnight
Brass and tin rattle and fight
Riots pass the streets in Rome
Killing the oppressors with their ancestors tombstones
Break the walls with their own flesh and bones
Oh keeper, take me home

Fire swept my wilted town
Burning all the dead flesh down
Ruining what was left of crowns
Destroying the pulpit for their sinful hounds
Crack the windows, break the streets
The warhorse storms, ten million speak
Through the fires screaming howls
And the burning eyes of elders scowls
All their slaves began to bring it down
The banks, the schools, the churches too
Cleanse the town of this putrid fume
Oh keeper, take me home

The battle rattled, the sun set again
Forty years of wars to scrape this filth
The writers wrote, the warriors warred
We took our anger to their doors
Guns and gas to kill them fast
And erase the ways of the wicked days
Never again shall our people say
That we gave up hope, or gave it away

So stir the war horse and bring the hounds
The warlords stomp and spit our loving sound
Burying the rich as they belong in the ground
Taking from the wicked and proud
To cure the cancer that rang so loud
Of the human disgrace that made my fathers frown

Oh keeper, make no sound
Oh keeper, hold this ground
Oh keeper, please, take me home

HE WASN’T MAN ENOUGH.

this goes out to all my exboyfriends;

you know i often wondered where the hell we went wrong
i thought i was the one had hated you all the time
which i did i’m not going to lie

i thought it was me who couldn’t comply with your style
i knew little about love or how to love you
the relationship kind of blew

i’m always saying it takes two to tango and i still do
i feel like i’ve been reaching back to my roots
now that i no longer want you

i always said you could do better with your life and style
you were the one who held yourself down
and it made me frown

you always said i could do better but i knew you couldn’t
i was the best you had and probably will ever have
you made yourself sad

not me- i always tried to make you feel worthy and beloved
i tried to make it last so i stood tall and strong
but you knew we didn’t belong
you knew all along.

[c]nikki

Hands

our hands

all connected

strengthened by wearisome tasks

yet withdrawn by the possessor’s consent

bedazzled and befouled by our strange fetters

superficial beauty

yet underneath,

such magnificent stories

each told through the skin

being merely the cover

passing stories

through the energy

the warmth

of a subtle impact

the first touch of a child’s small fingers

the grasp that saves a life

the firm grip exchanged with a new partner

the final embrace of a loved one

each simple sentiment

passed on

our hands

all connected

differing only by physical means

the superficial criticism

such profanity

words provide the criticism of the mind

yet hands carry out the task

how can they be dishonored 

by the corruption of destruction

then made to look pristine

to the master’s mental welfare

yet the hands stay soiled

by the horrific actions

involuntarily conducted

by the hands

so undeserving

subject of reprimand

hands

what delicate storytellers

stories added each time

to be read and judged

our pain

felt by others’

hands

Verecund Volume

Actions speak
Louder than words.
But even my heartbeat
Is silent.

What if 
I open my mouth
To sceam
And the quietest
Chamber quartet
Tumbles, flops
Out,
No noise known.

I could yell
Across streets,
Through forests
Over time,
A noiseless heartfelt holler
For you,
I call for you sans sound
Just tick tick tick 
Muscle blood bone.

Verecund volume,
A whispered wish for
Permission to 
Say your name outloud,
If only I had courage.

Lift me from this pitiful pit, 
This silent state.

I dream language flavours
And I taste
Words like stop,
Like please, 
Like need, 
Me,
Love,
Like us.

The ache of daring dreams.
I awake and apologize wordlessly 
To my hungry, hushed heart.

The Truth

The truth is my sword, the bitter sweet lance of the word, it is more damaging than any weapon, but more loving than a mother and kinder than you know

the universe.

the universe has

run away.

chase it, my mind tells me,

chase it.

but i grew tired, for

i could never

catch it.

i long for a touch

of it. but this is

my reality,

and it is

the world’s illusion.

if i screamed into the sky

would the planets

hear it?

if my heart was but a crystal,

would it shatter

when i cry?

the universe has run away,

it hides, behind the stars,

behind the planets,

i can hear its laughter,

through the mouths of the planets.

the universe

is mine.

Her Skin Gleaming in the Morning

the light shines through the curtains,

it stirrs and wakes my brain,

i roll over to greet my sleeping lover,

my arms around her softly,

i note her gently closed eyes,

her peaceful slumbering pose,

and as i watch she opens,

her shining cocoa eyes,

she smiles at me a smile,

that outshines the very sun,

she moves to fix her hair up,

i stop her slender arm,

i guide my hand toward her,

run my hand through morning hair,

i look tenderly at her skin so soft,

goosebumps flirting on her skin,

the thin blanket slips away from her,

revealing a wondrous form,

my eyes stay true to hers,

 my hands tremble as i pull her close,

in my arms i hold her,

 our lips in a loving embrace,

 our vows renewed again.