So often, too often it’s chewed away.
In the forest or on a city street,
there is constant chipping.
Something stronger or something preying on the weak, equally unnerving.
Foundations forever removed,
Facades continually replaced,
I wait for the opportunity of new life.
Fruitlessly she danced,
Encouraged by unknown love,
There was no music.
Inspired by:
“And in the end, we were all just humans… Drunk on the idea that love, only love, could heal our brokenness.” F. Scott Fitzgerald
I enjoy playing with the poems of other authors, never because I can do it better but because by removing or adding a word we can see the process.
The power is overwhelming to my senses.
The sound it makes as it crashes into or crushes everything in it’s path reverberates inside of me.
To hitch a ride or to fight, the decision isn’t as simple as it appears.
For years I would have run away.
Afraid of the cold,
Unsure of the pressure,
Captivated by the other shore.
My lungs quiver in anticipation. My souls knows there’s no other option.
First a tie,
Then my legs,
The current embraces me to the next destination.
Fall is coming, all that was lush and green will fall under death’s trance.
A temporary respite from the living. A momentary invitation to dance in death’s shadow.
Does nature get a chance to know what lies beyond? Is that why it fights so hard every spring?
If given the choice to know all, to have all the mysteries revealed I’d fight like hell.
No mysteries- No satisfaction.
A Poem Can Be Found Anywhere If You Take The Time To Look:
The beautiful and the damned,
are on the road,
as Dharma Bums,
looking for the end,
in the garden of the beasts.
Sometimes even the light needs support.
Nothing more solid than an old tree firmly rooted along the riverbed.
It offers a platform, a blank canvas for the light to manipulate.
With each passing moment the sun sets further to the west allowing the light to come to the forefront.
Then and only then,
If and only if
you are willing.
The sparkle will show the unrepeatable contours of the bark.
Easily missed but it’s shelter allows for everything else.
Never underestimate the shell in nature, or
in you.
Keep walking uphill.
On the horizon is worth.
Find the next incline.
Words can capture the essence but they don’t bring about understanding.
I keep thinking, it’s the definition of insanity.
I can’t help it, there’s a bit of crazy in these genes.
Maybe tomorrow,
Maybe never.
I’ll pick up the pen anyways to try and explain all the things you do to me.
After I figure it out,
I’ll teach you how to read.
Each day when I wake up I know there will be a path waiting for me.
Some days I get to chose it, others I don’t.
Today was smooth but tomorrow can’t promise me anything.
Sometimes I walk along the edges in hopes of seeing something, anything.
Each night when I go to bed I close my eyes dreaming of the one path I can’t find.
As long as my eyes open each morning I will go to bed hopeful.
In the meantime I will enjoy the walk.
HIKE. BIKE. DRINK.
College Level Drinking, Elementary Level Writing
A Poet's Journey by Manivillie Kanagasabapathy
An introvert's guide to the human experience
Literary.Land.of.Alysia 