knowing – Page 7 – Poems by Sam

Adventures End

Good afternoon, everyone. I have another poem today (shocker). I really hope you like it. Without further ado…

Adventures End

There and back again,

as in the style of old hobbits,

we go and have our big adventures,

on our quest against the dark.

We fight with swords,

we fight with knives,

we sail on ships

and meet old wives.

We’ll tread along the untread paths

and we’ll make friends

and we’ll make enemies

and we’ll fight the dark

and we’ll never lose

till the soles fall off our shoes.

And then will come the cobblestones

that form the path to home.

Why have you fought all this time,

but for to see that little village

and that spongy loam.

Now though,

that you are home,

what is it then?

The thing you must do?

When tyrants bend

and adventures end,

does it all simply go back to normal?

Who is this one that stands before you?

The same one?

The old one?

No, I don’t think so.

Good evening, everybody. Little later than my usual posts but I have a real nice one for you all to enjoy tonight. Side note: Did you know that “you all” as a plural form of “you” is a distinct feature of Kentucky and West Virginia english? Without further ado…

Peace On My Own Time

Beautiful lights

on beautiful nights

flitting over fluttering trees

and wispy puffs of cloud.

In the distance is heard

a siren,

far off,

as the blades of helicopters

slice through the sky.

What peace is this?

To know an evening of such bliss?

I am lost as I am found,

in the streets and in the trees

where weary heads would come to rest

beside the neighbors in their Sunday best.

Children play

in the street all day

just like I remembered.

Amphora

Good morning! I’ve got a poem inspired by ancient greek history for you today. It’s been one hell of a year for me so far. I finally graduate in December. I suppose I’ll have to change the About Me page. Exciting! Without further ado…

Amphora

Empty vessels,

these amphorae,

they stand the test of time

with so many stories

laid upon their old and tired skin.

They tell the tales

of long-forgotten ails,

of ancient whales

and ill-remembered pales.

On them are the histories,

the scorching, burning blisteries

that would assault you

at a touch.

They care not for you today,

locked in everlasting clay,

locked in everlasting decay.

Blood trickles down the face

of an ancient warrior

entrapped by monster’s embrace.

Entranced as you are,

you cannot stray,

you cannot look away.

Not from the sight of such dismay.

Crimson pools at its base

and soaks your filthy shoelace.

Perhaps there’s something to this old and empty place?

Battered and bruised,

you’ve made good on this chase

but coming to a head,

now you’ll realize that there’s just far too much red.

Brilliance of the Erstwhile Mind

Good afternoon, everybody! It’s been a while since my last post – my apologies. If it’s any consolation, I’ve certainly been in the kitchen. Just cooked up a hell of a poem for y’all today and I sincerely hope that you enjoy it. Let me know what you think in the comments below and don’t forget that you can follow, donate or contact me with links at the bottom of the “About Me” page. Without further ado, please enjoy…

Brilliance of the Erstwhile Mind

Awash as he is in prismatic violence,

assaulted by waves of color and silence,

the man opens his mouth to let out a scream

and nothing comes out but bubbles and steam.

Lacking lungs to breathe

and breath to seethe,

this cold and empty violence

rips and tears the skin away

in shrieks of angry violets.

Unabated, the silence grows louder;

his ears fill with crushing deference;

humility.

Screeching as the banshees do.

Fleshless, violescent, iridescent hell;

it scrapes the skin from his skull,

exposing his tissues to the void.

Forced to reticence and destroyed.

What beauty comes from this?

The ending then of bliss?

The dream of but a single kiss?

Then, there, in his final moments

he’ll dream of the beginning,

the middle,

the end.

Purgatorio

Good morning, everybody. Happy Saturday! It’s been another little while since my last post, but I’ve got a really great one for you today. This one throws in a little bit of greek mythology for all you nerds out there. Without further ado, I hope you enjoy.

Purgatorio

Bounding, pounding, resounding…

nothing takes the pain away.

Medicate, premeditate,

nothing takes the shame away.

So very still

does he sit,

upon his perch,

looking down at all the things;

“Why,” he wonders,

“are they all so far away?”

“The One who put this all together,

can you see the very lies that you have told?”

“Can you see the very lives that you have sold?”

He would ask these questions of that One,

thinking himself so bold.

No answers will be given,

only grievance will be wrought,

and on his high-up perch,

he thinks he’ll roll a die.

“One to three and I’ll be me,”

he trills to no one in particular.

“Four through six…,”

he laments

as he slowly turns his hand

and the die is cast into the Styx.