searching for my soul
in a world that seems soulless
offering control
to old lovers and old poets
playfully forming worlds
with the words no one has heard yet
trapped as boys and girls
behind the barn with cigarettes
unicorns and magic
hide the fact, that we know nothing
love's worthless unless it's tragic
until the time of our becoming
when we realize at last
we are the love that we've been needing
tossing petals on the trash
sowing the seeds in need of seeding
growing our garden
from out of nothing
just beasts of burden
with shots of something
blooms of our rebirth
filling a field
finding our worth
in what's concealed
inside that soul
we've been in search of
becoming whole
in self made self love
About the Creator
Kelli Sheckler-Amsden
Telling stories my heart needs to tell <3 life is a journey, not a competition
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More stories from Kelli Sheckler-Amsden and writers in Poets and other communities.
Babbling Dixie
The short form of tomorrow is never the whole story. Abbreviations mean nothing when we are born to die and we all are aren't we? Being spoken for before birth is something we're not supposed to remember like some kind of karma after effect. Still here we are spending our lives looking for each other.
By Canuck Scriber Lisa Lachapelle5 days ago in Fiction
Comments (2)
I can no longer exist without a soul. I continue with a tear from the perfection that others shaped with pain. I love just as I wish. I write, the madman, like... like a small child for you. I play like a teenager with words that I don’t know if they are mine. Or [if they belong] to the shadow of my youth that acts childishly. I wound my heart alone, not you, my wisdom. I never felt the pain that I recognize in your eyes. My sublime vision. I try to find. To find true words. Because I am ashamed of my nakedness. And I shiver. I hurt much, even more for you who loves me. Become a river to change my loneliness. Become a star to change my moon. Truly, you made me lose my mind. Whether you answer or not, you deserve congratulations. I will treasure your poem. I feel like an engine cover now. I hold only the heat.
I'm coming