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After his Image

~ Mostly philosophical musings after religion and politics

After his Image

Monthly Archives: February 2013

Descent

27 Wednesday Feb 2013

Posted by myrthryn in Poetry, Rubaiyat

≈ 4 Comments

Tags

careless, free, moss, Poem, Poetry, reward, rolling stone, rubaiyat

image

The careless stone released from high
and smudged repose from passerby,
its purpose voided down the trail
careening past a donkey’s cry.

It garners speed in downward fail
and gathers friends from steep sloped shale.
The mass of stones with tumbled sound
stop mindlessly on mountain vale.

The careless one continues down
to plumb the depths with leap and bound,
’til papered ice at river found
and breaking through, with moss now crowned.

Sabbatical

24 Sunday Feb 2013

Posted by myrthryn in Uncategorized

≈ 2 Comments

Tags

desert island, loneliness, love, Poem, Poetry, relationships, sabbatical, seclusion

image

This island, loneliness recome,
has washed my feet with lost white sands.
The course has smoothed with clays undone
by fruitful trees, no reprimands.

Those paths I tread so long last found
befriend my feet as never gone.
The reed-bound hut, world views around,
opinions not, in Erehwon.

New friends, new books acquaint the shelves
to fare the time amidst the waves
forever curling on themselves
the lost desires and worldly craves.

Contentment reigns idyllic shores
against the months of star-eyed tears.
Perhaps one day, past nevermores,
I’ll sail again.  And burn the piers.

23 Saturday Feb 2013

Posted by myrthryn in Uncategorized

≈ Leave a comment

A beautiful piece about fighting off addiction!

Tony Mutton

Her Frosted Winter

She told me she would sit each day
at her desk of cluttered dreams
and place the palm of her hand
upon her frosted office window

She might not be able to see
but she could feel the reality
that existed on the other side

It was her one belief

Within her dreams and nightmares
there lay a single thread of hope
that she prayed would lead her through
the unforgiving winter her life had become

Burdened by the weight of autumn leaves,
her heart failing with broken spirit,
each day she would place the palm
of her hand upon the frosted glass

It was a sun filled day the first time the
glass softened beneath her palm
Only for a fraction of time, but it
was so real it made her soul jump

She slept that night with not so heavy heart
as deep within her…

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