Haiku #2

I thought it would be fun to make another post of Haiku poetry, so hey why not?

Tread lightly at night,
Where the shadows have grown dim,
There the shade awaits.

Courage can be seen
In dim hearts, of searching souls,
Near the end of hope.

From beauty and hope,
Nature’s founding principles,
There is corruption.

Love is the moment
When living becomes worthy
Of all of the pain.

Epitome of the mind: Memory

I was inspired again by a wonderful poem named “Flanders Fields” by John McCrae. The form of the poem is a Rondeau, so here’s my own about memory:

In memory our life is cast;
Forever reaching from the past,
Until the soul, from heaven’s sky,
Unveils the fate that all must die
To dream, in sleep, of home at last.

We are the ships, tied sails at mast,
Whose days at sea so too have passed,
To wander oceans, where we lie,
In memory.

The forgotten, though life amassed,
Know well to say the end is vast
Like tears, so far away, we cry—
At heart, still close enough to try
To sculpt as if our life is cast
In memory.

In response to:
Epitome

Two paths, and you: A fork in the road.

Honestly, if this post right here isn’t an indication of what I’m feeling right now… I’m not sure what is.

Two paths,
And You;
Of course,
It’s never just two,
Yet dreams bounding
Like pirouettes
On strings
Make clear paths
Like days to a year.
Choosing the direction,
Is only the start of the fear,
And really,
It’s never as clear as it seems.
You’ve seen the empty roads,
With barren footsteps,
Leading to nowhere,
And you listen—
Echoes of hopes like yours
Now empty screams.
It starts like this,
Always,
One foot,
And the next.
Wishing secretly
You could stay,
But your home
From the beginning
Was vexed.
Love passes by
Like stray thoughts
Of what once was,
And you can almost
Feel the touch,
Hear the voices,
But life is such a rush;
It passes by like
Childhood fantasies,
And goodbyes
You never had time for.
So you
Take the chance—
Perhaps your last—
Holding your breath,
Awaiting death,
For that is one road
We all travel.
It’s time to leave;
So many paths
You’ll never have the chance
To see.
Praying the one you take,
Won’t leave you
Wondering:
Is this one for me?

Response to:

Fork

Countless

Countless:
Goodbyes
From bitter eyes,
Letters
Never sent,
Souls
To be forgotten,
Words
You never meant.

Countless:
Tears
From hollow years,
Heartaches
At the core,
Wishes
Cast aside,
Reflections
In mirrors.

Countless:
Memories
In the peripheries,
Eyes
Who’ve lost the spark,
Dreams
Now fallen nightmares,
Opportunities
Looking dark.

Countless:
Worry—
Life’s a hurry,
Regrets
I must confess,
Times
I feel I’m drowning,
Pain
I must address.

Countless:
Hopes
From the sages,
Years
Turned to ages,
Deaths
With final breaths,
Patience
Put to the test…

On and on,
I will contend,
When you start counting,
From the start,
You start
To wish there was an end.

Response to the prompt:
Countless

Invisible Man

There’s no doubt in my mind that the poem ” Do not go gentle into that goodnight” inspired me, and still does, to pursue writing. The form of this poem is a Villanelle, so I thought to myself: Why not try one? For anyone confused about the title, it was inspired by the novel “Invisible Man” by Ralph Ellison. If you’ve never heard of either of these great works, I would go check them out; you won’t be disappointed. But without further ado, here was the result:

Dream away this insidious sight.
Wrathful tears cascade, as broken wings, from once endearing fate.
Oh Death! I slave to the phantom of night.

Although, in entirety, we search our lives for light,
In the insufferable darkness, it seems, we learn to late.
Dream away this insidious sight.

Locked deep in thought, thought solely as right,
What mind, so lost, could yet relinquish hate?
Oh Death! I slave to the phantom of night.

Runners, whose souls were lost to spite,
Whose hopes, embellished, came lost to date,
Dream away this insidious sight.

Revenge, so sweet, could never reach such height—
So closely bounded by such a cold steel grate.
Oh Death! I slave to the phantom of night.

Even now, unseen, you sit in frozen fright;
Invisibility gleaned from humanities ceaseless wait.
Dream away this insidious sight.
Oh Death! I slave to the phantom of night.

The Maiden of sweet death

In continuation to trying new poetry, I’ve tried my hand at a Triolet. It’s really fun and simplistic in form, yet still very meaningful. Let me know what you think.

To the maiden of sweet death: I knew
My life was not beyond me.
In the essence of her eyes, so true,
To the maiden of sweet death I knew,
In death, she promised life anew–
Though she had yet to call me.
To the maiden of sweet death, I knew,
My life was not beyond me.

Phases of living

Thinking about my own life, the existential phases of moving forward, moving on, and forgetting, are things I’ve come to know all to well, and moving on to college is only the beginning of the newest change.  This is in reflection to that thought:

I remember yesterday;
The stark superficiality
Of now artificial whispers
Calling forward from the past.

Time cares only for what’s to come,
As do we,
In quiet moments
Between triumph,
And the inevitable pull of emptiness,
Which is the longing of life.

To live is to wonder,
Of better things,
And certainly worse,
For living is only the interim
Of discovery.

I hope for the day,
May it come,
In the eyes of others,
When discovery,
Is more than just a phase,
But the beautiful certainty
That life is worth living.

In response to:
Phase

Haiku Collection

I decided it might be fun to try my hand at some different styles of poetry, so I wrote a few Haiku poems; I hope you enjoy.

At the horizon,
Beyond the darkness and veil,
I wander alone.

Clarity at dawn;
At last the world awakens,
So will my lost heart.

I can use all the
Syllables necessary
To complete this poem.

Love is a flower:
A spinning petal at brink
Of falling away.

Time is the border
Between what always could be,
And what never was.

Humor is knowing
Exactly the moment when
You, yourself, would laugh.