a cool sense of tranquility overtakes my troubled spirit.. i emerge slowly from a deeply entrenched, lifelong nightmare and proceed into gentle reverie, into quiet wakefulness.
youthful ideals, embodied in vaporous form before me, are a black reminiscence, threatening to return as an untold want having neither name nor substance, only a niggling dig that skewers my soul.
i shut it out, shut out all the noise in the head: irrational thought, excessive thinking that leads to depression, to insanity.
Thank you, rip, floriferous, and zeb, for your welcome replies!
Those words to "Stardust" are very meaningful, rip, because I recently learned and performed that song at a dinner/dance/play. A dear friend is related to Hoagy.
Yes, flori, anxious thoughts -- I get them all the time myself. I'm glad those words helped!
I appreciate the thought, zeb. I've been writing online for quite a while. If you search "DARK MOON," on this site, you'll see similar stuff: prose poetry.
With gratitude,
CoCo
a cool sense of tranquility overtakes my troubled spirit.. i emerge slowly from a deeply entrenched, lifelong nightmare and proceed into gentle reverie, into quiet wakefulness.
youthful ideals, embodied in vaporous form before me, are a black reminiscence, threatening to return as an untold want having neither name nor substance, only a niggling dig that skewers my soul.
i shut it out, shut out all the noise in the head: irrational thought, excessive thinking that leads to depression, to insanity.
Greetings, wannaexit and NVR2L8:
Thank you for your kind words; they are very much appreciated.
Related to the above text are words below that harken back to my life as a young pioneer, then later as a Bethelite. I had many wonderful experiences, but I do feel the same pain which you reference, NVR. My heart goes out to you and all us other lost souls . . .
My much older, wiser and jaded shell of spent humanity gazes downward through an opened pane of filthy glass. I eye with menace my youthful, scrubbed ruddiness and earnestness. Though dressed in somewhat worn hand-me-down threads, my tattered saintliness won over not a few souls. Little did I then realize that the inherent naturalness of youthful persuasion had been reeled in, unhooked and shoved into the creel of rigid and uncompromising uniformity. Unwittingly, I had been selling my own soul while in the process of winning over the souls of trusting men, women, children.
From my enlightened vantage point I look back in time, I look down at my beautiful, young manhood. From a darkened pane I see my reflection and despise what I have become. Strangely, a cool sense of tranquility washes over me as I come out of my reverie, my black reminiscence.
a cool sense of tranquility overtakes my troubled spirit.. i emerge slowly from a deeply entrenched, lifelong nightmare and proceed into gentle reverie, into quiet wakefulness.
youthful ideals, embodied in vaporous form before me, are a black reminiscence, threatening to return as an untold want having neither name nor substance, only a niggling dig that skewers my soul.
i shut it out, shut out all the noise in the head: irrational thought, excessive thinking that leads to depression, to insanity.
A cool sense of tranquility overtakes my troubled spirit.
I emerge slowly from a deeply entrenched, lifelong nightmare and proceed into gentle reverie, into quiet wakefulness. Youthful ideals, embodied in vaporous form before me, are a black reminiscence, threatening to return as an untold want having neither name nor substance, only a niggling dig that skewers my soul.
I shut it out, shut out all the noise in the head: irrational thought, excessive thinking that leads to depression, to insanity. Yet, I am hopeful that devils of the past are blocked approach to me by a portcullis that guards both heart and mind.
I see but darkly my amorphous reflection and sense it is a phantom, not the real me. From behind scudding clouds comes an awakened moon that illumes my way and shows inner turmoil in a light once unfamiliar to me. I suffered a turbulent youth and truly do welcome the slow and spiraling descent into older age; I am not afraid . . .
The black shadow of the walking dead, cast upon the asphalt by a gracious moon, shall be my companion.
so i had about had enough of reading jw's excuses online about wt child abuse and the candace conti nightline abc video about her case.
this is a really deep burning topic to me as i'm sure it is to many of you.
so today the gloves came off.
Mr. Flipper:
I believe, from reading past reports, that Candace was never baptized. If that is so, she was never officially a JW, i.e., not a former Witness.
?
CC
original:.
mary had a little lamb.
whose fleece was white as snow,.
Oubliette, EQV, and Hairtrigger:
I am speechless!
A deafening silence of the lamb ensues.
CC
original:.
mary had a little lamb.
whose fleece was white as snow,.
ORIGINAL:
You whisper in my ear that never will you leave me.
But you died -- you died! -- at such a time that I
Could not stand alone, nor take a step, unless
First you gave a shoulder 'pon which to cry.
Then, then I should take that lonely road
Less traveled . . .
EDIT:
You promised never to leave me.
Your death leaves me all alone.
I'm on my own now, helpless.
I need support to stand, to
Walk the lonely road that
Twists and turns ahead.
You lied to me . . .
original:.
mary had a little lamb.
whose fleece was white as snow,.
Greetings, Magnum:
Have you ever landed four-footed, with questioning brain and feeling heart at odds, on the question of the ages. Beauty is in the eye (and ear) of the beholder?
Much ink has been spilled on what you have pondered, as well as many an oral discussion over what works and what doesn't. Working the fine arts since earliest childhood, I have my thoughts -- shared by others -- yet there is no concrete way to delineate between objective and subjective evaluation. I believe that it is a rare, precise combination of brilliant technique and heart- and sense-touching emotion that will hold onlookers in their thrall.
I love your analysis of my edit. You saw economy and barrenness, yet stopped to reconsider . . . there might be beauty in what initially seems devoid of life. Well put! You have given my little edit more credit than I.
More to follow. I, now, am favoring the notion that less is more in my own verse.
Gratefully,
CoCo
original:.
mary had a little lamb.
whose fleece was white as snow,.
Thanks, cofty! I'm OK, and hoping the same for you.
Any attempt at poetry is fine with me. I'm paring down the words in my own.
Best.
CoCo
original:.
mary had a little lamb.
whose fleece was white as snow,.
Original:
Mary had a little lamb
whose fleece was white as snow,
and everywhere that Mary went
the lamb was sure to go.
Edit:
Mary travels; her ultra-
white sheep tags along.
"glenn close stepped on the stage to honor the academy members who sadly passed away this evening.".
.. what did the reporter mean to say?
coco.
Good ones, Oubliette, Bobcat and GrreatTeacher!
Thanks.
CC
What's that lying in the road ahead?
What are we having for dinner Mother?
