Wolves No More

The soft flower in bloom,
Striking beauty like dawn upon the gloom.
As soft moisture again,
Waters its soft petals, thin.
Then wolves creep across the sod,
And reveal perversions akin to Sade.
Knowing the bud fears solitude,
So they whisper words falsely hued,
With lies cleverly jaded,
Till she is persuaded,
And opens up her blossom,
And bends down to them.
But these are monsters not friends,
And in that moment when she bends,
They tear into her heart.
Their teeth, jaws, tongue dart,
Into her soft flesh again and again.
Till that moment when,
They are sated once more,
And they leave her hurt, torn, upon the floor.
Then as she just starts to heal,
And again be able to feel,
Wolves return to feast.
These vile animalistic beasts.
Night descends,
Her thought bends,
Towards the abyss,
That none would miss,
Her passing on.
None would miss when she is gone.
So she starts to wither,
Till another beast comes hither,
But! 'Tis old friends,
Who with a roar sends,
The wolves, cowards, into flight.
And the pours words, as water, to help her plight.
This tiger and butterfly,
Whisper, "be strong the gardener is nigh,
Be strong sister of the bloom,
Do not head into the tomb,
Behold the master comes and not alone.
Behold what will soon be shown.
Your heart's desire within thee,
A man for whom you can safely bloom in verity.
A man, not a beast,
In whom your heart can feast.
A man of silk and steel,
Who can peel,
Back the layers of pain,
And your heart gain.
A man who will patiently tend,
Your garden till you mend.
For whom you will never be forced to bend,
For t'will be but two hearts that blend,
Compliments in every way.
You helpmeet in dark night or in day.

A Leaf and A Drop

A drop hangs on quivering leaf,
The leaf shakes for relief,
For release from weight and pressure,
To be sure,
The leaf does enjoy the water.

Water which is quenching the mid day's solitude,
And the leaf is not a prude,
Nor rather a loose windfall,
But the leaf very much feels the call,
Of the change, the state, the release he would prefer.

The drop making him quiver, about to drip,
Poised tauntingly on the tip,
His, the leaf's desire at its apex,
His frame taut to follow reflex,
Such a sweet way to suffer.

Does this leaf have the gall,
To set the drop loose to fall,
Or does he have the gall,
To hold on and never fall,
To honor or pressure will he defer?


        This poem is not literal, you will get very little from it if you view it solely that way. It isn't even well painted imagery for a scene... so if you are so inclined you can try to pick out one of the many implied and suggested meanings. There are many, what does it say to you?

I Train

Chalk flies,
Another rep dies,
Breath deep,
Another rep I seek.
Body on fire,
Driven by primal desire,
Sweat drops like a shower,
Unable to quench my thirst for power.
Another rep,
Another step,
On this never ending journey,
The bite of the steel,
Its crushing weight I feel.
Sister steel, brother Iron,
I will not release you till all is gone.
Till my energy is spent,
Till every fiber is to my will bent,
The fibers of my being woven,
Into the sterner stuff of greater men.
It is not just the body I train,
For I seek not the vain,
But attainment in the entire being,
That is why I come to the alter of pain,
And why my blood the bar doth stain.

Self is Powerless

Struggling,
Deficient,
Trying,
In labor bent,
Yet for naught,
Strength fails,
And one is caught,
Helpless but to flail,
Effort without consolation,
Empty motions,
Full frustration,
One cries to the king of his devotion,
Power and ability,
Blessing,
Motions fluid and free,
Encompassed by ever expanding capacity,
Humble the pride,
Bend upon the knee,
Ask for power from outside,
Outside of self and be free.

      I know I haven't posted in a while any of my poems. I am sorry I have been busy with school starting up, however I will start blogging them again now. So stay tuned. I know I said I would do 1 a day but I may fall short of that, but I am trying to get back into the swing of it.