Tag Archives: passion

Desire

Foraging for the purpose, the point

of our desire. Quenched so quickly,

Yes, the yearning holds more fire.

Such heat! Doesn’t it defeat the purpose,

The target, the goal of consummation? Sweet soul eaten like dessert, no hesitation.

A dire, empty bowl scraped – now inert. Serene is the tongue holding that lingering flavour.

Is it the yearning or consumed desire we savour?

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Waking Up

It has been a very long time since I’ve been woken by erratic words racing through my head, waiting to be caught in a net and sorted to make some semblance of order. Last night was one of those nights. Continue reading

Poem

Sewn

Threads dispersed, tendrils drifting,

Cross stitches holding my heart together

Fragile grips for forever

Like kisses on a broken organ.

Undisclosed attachments to materialistic grips

Patterned designs meant for purpose

But, oh, giving me goose bumps of joy

As I blanket stitch them together.

Expressing my toxic insides

Filtering them with padding

Slip stitch my lips so nothing escapes;

Shh! Here comes the blunt truth…

Nothing can hold back the black and white

No shade. Backstitch that bad stuff,

But the running stitch won’t erase it.

The stark truth prevails like a blind stitch.

Broken Voices

There are voices in the attic

Static sounds of confusion

Scattered murmurs of insecurity.

Voices of misshapen dreams

Lying dormant for so long

Now stirring, writhing whispers.

Attic beams once a safe space

Creaking and moaning uncontrollably

Holding back voices searching for escape.

There are voices in the attic

Bold and ready to be heard

Scratch. Click. Roar!

They are free.

More

Consume my physical receptacle

Pool your passion as you will

Favour the inevitable

As I swallow the bitter pill

Of realising your incompetence

Of being more than a physical presence

Leave me yearning for more substance

In my search for a soulmate’s essence.

From now on

From now on I’m not going to drown in your ugly words

From now on I’m not going to hug my sides because it hurts

From now on I’m not going to wish I could just disappear

From now on I’m going to wear my bruises loud and clear.

From this day forward I will climb back inside my skin

From this day forward I will be proud to be African

From this day forward my British roots won’t fail

From this day forward my Dutch forefathers will smile with pride as I prevail.

From now on I choose my destiny

From now on my skin speaks and says it’s free

From now on whomever I dare to love is okay

From now on till my last remaining day.

My Poetry Book is available from Lulu.

Content – gluedmirror

Further to my post the other day, Gluedmirror found something in my story that triggered his own way to express it – through poetry.

I appreciate how hard this must have been and appreciate the fact that it was his muse for a moment in time.


Here it is July already Still no path to calmness, still no connection Like a dancing live wire, burning holes in the pavement I remember my mother, laid up in that institution Waiting to die She had liked to write before I met her, and I went to find that girl  And I went to…
— Read on gluedmirror.wordpress.com/2018/07/01/content/

Slipping Away

I feel as though bits of me are slipping away. The more I fulfil my dreams, the more my essence fades. Where is the balance between my destiny and my provenance? The journey doesn’t secure a link to both. Though I’ll gladly discard the parts that are unsecured and tangible, the rest I want to retain.

I feel as though bits of me are slipping away. Maybe one day I will awaken to the butterfly and not the caterpillar. Until then, my doubt lingers like the promise of metamorphosis.

Extract from My Poetry Book

A blast from the past for this Friday. Poetry from My Poetry Book, available from http://lulu.com/spotlight/eloisedesousa

Thoughts by Mello-Elo

At the edge of our memories and just within sight
Our dreams hover like butterflies on a hazy day
Each step you take to get closer, within reach of the light
These butterflies just dance away.
I watch as each dream flies so slight, playing with the wind and my hair
I see a gun pointed and a shot ring out
Another dream has died in that way.

Push forward you are told and your dreams will come true
Who lied and gave us a false path?
For as you push forward in the future, along tags your past
You will find you’re stuck in the same place.
A stagnant pool that simmers and sighs,
Watching the butterflies dance above it.
You can wait and cry, but it will not change anything.
That is the way life will always stay.

I sit in my play pool, watching the water splash;

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Monday Coffee

Hello and welcome back to my place. Yesterday was pretty spectacular with the dome lifting over our patch of England, allowing a few frosty flakes from the north to melt on our meadow. We were wondering if the snow would reach us and it felt rather special to see those brave water molecules flitter past our window.

Come in and take a seat at the table. Unfortunately the Darjeeling tea is finished so it will have to be coffee.  Help yourself to a ginger bread man and let me fill you in on some of the exciting things that have happened over the past week.  Continue reading