Seasons of Decay

000001

A withering apple tree
Will ripen with the days,
And share its fruity love
With bees and mocking jays.

In snowfall there is hope,
For those of us who roam
The footprints of a deer
Will always point towards home

And scorching suns may turn
A sandy shore to coal,
But wavy seas will rise
To soothe our aching soles.

Those seasons of decay
Will always end in May
And every broken heart,
Will mend itself with clay.

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Words

goodbye_v_by_moosiatko-d5kx8lq

And never
Would I have thought
That we would share
Those words
From all the words
That we have shared
And not
Only a few
To mark the end
As they depart
Into that haze
Above my thoughts
I greet your words
With rain
To fall upon
A different land
To meet again
Endless conversations
From the sky
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The Alchemy of Hope

Hope_by_gnusi

Confined to the very elements that make up who we are, we struggle every day to break the rules of nature. And little do we know that nature’s rules are only broken with little blows to our inner selves and to those we love around us. Above the rubble of what we break are countless heaps of problems that need repair. And only through the same collective pain that wrought this err can we find amends for our transgressions.

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The Liberation of Mortimer

Deliverance

Slow footsteps, but sure ones through the morning mud. Mortimer was awake and waiting for us to save him. But as we walked around the mountain tops the day fell victim to the dark. What cometh then, we could have never known.

Long winters hibernating through our memories, spring cleaning for a braver day. The cold inside was profound. The darkness bleak like raven skin. A thousand pies would never make me smile, a thousand winds could never take our ship to bay.

And in the jungle of that island land, a thousand days of rainfall. Pounding drops of a saltless sea falling from above. Dampening the mud below our naked feet. With every step a squeeling ooze of muddy throngs yearning for deliverance.

I turned to Annabel, she was dead. Our chains still binded us as we dragged her corpse along the way. Our horde was destined to work the land. Towards that quarry we walked with dying footsteps counting down the days.

I turned to Mortimer, he was awake. Waiting for the morning sun. Waiting for his friends to save him from the coldness of his home. And when it was my time, I bathed inside the mud. Stripped naked, dragged along an endless line of misery. I closed my eyes and slipped away hoping that the load of my decaying corpse won’t be too much a burden for those who chose to live another day.

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The Physiotherapist: A Fighter’s Mantra

poetry

I love you
More than the bonds of love
Can handle
Crutches made for giant hearts
Taking us afar
Sharing shoulders
Chests apart
But one emotion
A mystic sneezes rain
A vagrant breathes adventure
But on this chair
Forever
We can dream about the
Roads we never took
And picture stories of our life
Stories we could never realize
Everyday a different ending
Everyday a new beginning
Changed, maimed, marred
But more complete
More connected
An eternal bond
Between our broken selves
Stitching light into the unforeseen
A path for us to follow in dark times
A fighter’s mantra
For Siamese beginnings

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Character: 96/100
To all the people out there fighting to become their better self, I have no right to assume your pain but hope to share the joy of your recovery.

The Schizophrenic: I am Real

photo (6)

Words a million words
Callous judgments breaking skin
Numbers peeling lemon trees
Desires fading by the day
Citric scents
Carried through the universe
Trailed by constellations
Tracing crevices
In the way we interact
You will never know me
But I am real
All our senses
Geared in this conspiracy
Will keep us close
And take us far away

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Character: 95/100

The Bus Driver: 36 to Victoria

Image

There she is
All I can see
Across this bus
A crooked nose
Pointing out a masterpiece
Her eyes so blue
And lashes honey blonde
Fingers crafted
Like the twigs
Of Avalon
Dicing through her curly hair
Shaping galaxies far away
Bumpy roads ahead
Simple smiles
Are all I need
On my way
To trust in life
To trust in purpose
To trust in goodness
On this very day

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Character: 92/100

An Open Letter to the Readers of Bohemiaspeaks

Dear Readers,

   Bohemiaspeaks was supposed to be an experiment and a challenge to complete 100 poems in 50 weeks. That said, I would like to apologize for lagging behind a bit. This year has been very tough on me. I lost my father to cancer, moved to another country and started a new job. Big transitions, but nevertheless no excuses. More to write about and reflect upon I guess.

   What is important is that I am now determined to continue with the challenge. I have been reviewing some of my work in late 2011 and I really see a lot of room for improvement. When the 100 poem finish line is reached I will then re-blog each poem making changes to improve the quality and story lines. After that, we can begin the process of creating an awesome-eccentric-ridiculous novel with 100 characters/short stories. 

   What’s in it for you? I can promise you fresh poems on a regular basis, some will be okay, some will be great and some may even be horrible: you can be the judge. Bottom line, please sit back and enjoy the ride.

Love,

The Author of Bohemiaspeaks