Life Is An Impossibly Big Mountain

Hello Everyone,

I’m here posting today as a mark of the fact that I am not permanently gone. I have not given up on this blog!

I recently edited one of my old poems because I felt it could be greatly improved, and it was something I experimented with giving a new meaning. By that I mean that I wanted to take a new twist with the words I had already written out. Hope you enjoy!

Life is like an impossibly big mountain

Intimidating in stature, blocking my path

Path to what? I don’t really know

I thought I had it all figured out

 

I’ve tried to climb it

Like everyone does, like everyone can

But I fall every time, every time I try

I don’t even feel like I have a choice, like I get a say

So I try again,

Only to fall once more

 

Sometimes, it feels like I’m finally getting somewhere

Somewhere far way

Somewhere better than this place

Better than anything I’ve got right now

And then I’ll look down and freeze with fear

Seconds later I’m tumbling through the air

 

I know my struggle is futile

But it’s strange,

Because I can’t help but hope

That something will change

 

And so I climb this mountain

Starting from the floor

Only to climb again,

Only to fall once more

-mrprose

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I Cannot Simply Be

I am lost

Without direction, just a shell is left

To endure the ride of life,

I have nothing more

I cannot simply be

 

The pain raking my very soul

The pain you see in my eyes

It’s there, its real – I put it there

I cannot simply be

 

I’ve tried to run

To step aside

To feel just a moment’s peace within

But I’m stuck here,

With myself

Suffering from the lack of me

I cannot simply be

 

Consumed am I, for I consume

The young man was lost amidst his pride,

A disguise for the truth inside

I cannot simply be

 

So raw, so vivid, so real,

How am I anything when I fail to see

That to be free, to be truly Free

I must learn to simply be

Crushing Me

It crushes me,

With it’s death-binding grip,

I want to be free,

I want to breathe,

But in moments like these,

It’s clasp won’t cease to squeeze,

 

It crushes me,

A tower high in the sky,

Standing far above my head,

No matter how hard I try,

Inescapable,

 

It crushes me,

How my own expectations,

Are impossible, unattainable,

They manifest my limitations,

With force I push forward,

I must reach my destination!

And it’s with those words,

That I run into more frustration,

 

It is my own narrowed mind,

My own greedy ego,

That generates my confinement,

For I am my own greatest foe.

Time Is Slipping

Time is slipping, yet again,

The harder I grip, the quicker it bends,

Before I know it, my time is done,

And all will return to where it had begun,

 

There is a pit in my stomach,

Every night as I sleep, it grows,

I know deep down my life will end,

And I won’t learn all that I want to know,

 

So I must hurry,

I must rush with all my might,

For if I don’t,

How will I discover life’s delights?

 

And yet, the rushing and scrambling,

Won’t help me find a thing,

Because it’s with patience and quiet,

That I will find everything,

 

Time isn’t real,

It’s simply a tracker for what transpires,

How could you possibly think,

That one day your soul could expire?

 

The brightness of this brilliant idea,

Eventually darkens our hearts,

This lie will leave you squirming and twisting,

A lie that’s ever so convincing,

 

–mrprose

 

We Are Slaves To Desire

At first it’s quiet,

Just a soft moan,

You tell yourself it’s nothing,

You can command your own thrown,

 

The quiet slowly changes,

As the peeps create a din,

The gate creaks and wobbles,

The itch enters your skin,

 

A cloud appears in the horizon,

You can see it from the tower you’re in,

It’s still small, it’s still far,

There is no doubt that you will win,

 

The cloud stretches, it expands,

With every moment, it darkens in the sky,

The shadow loom longer and longer,

And suddenly you cannot fly,

 

Your castle starts to crumple,

The storm above weighs you down,

But by now it’s far too late,

Your resolve begins to drown,

 

You’re helpless, you’re weak,

Out goes your fire,

Your empire is in ruins,

You lost to your own desire,

 

–mrprose

Mid-Week Poetry – Share Your Works

Hello everyone, sorry to be so late,

I’ve been really thinking about what poetry is lately. It’s such a hugely diverse form of artistic literary expression. I’ve started noticing that I really have a style of my own, and that there are so many others ways of approaching and exploring poetry. So today I introduce a new feature for this blog: the mid-week poetry. I think it’s perfect because often what I need most after a long, hard Wednesday, is a really powerful, thoughtful poem.

basic emotions.apathy

Share what you feel, what you experience. (Photo credit: neonihil)

Here’s the thing – I want YOU the reader to have a chance to share your poetry. So every Wednesday, I will publish one of my own poems, and one that has been submitted by one of you. I now have the kind of traffic that would mean your piece would be read by several hundred viewers. Keep that in mind.

Here’s what you should submit if you’re interested:

1. Your piece, with a title. It could be one you published already on a blog of yours, for example. But it can also be one that you haven’t yet published. I have no preference, because I have no intention of stealing it. It would be nice to know, though, so that I may be able to give credit where it is due.

2. Your name, or a pen name of your choice. I totally understand wanting to stay anonymous, that’s why I use a pen name myself. Optionally, you may give any other information you would like to share.

3. A link to a website/blog of yours, if you have one.

Send it to this email: writing.prose@yahoo.com

Keep in mind that I truly value honesty, and I don’t like the idea of taking credit for someone else’s work. It’s wrong.

Right, so any form of poetry is fine, in fact I think the more creative and unusual, the better. That’s the reason why I’m doing this after all. Experiment and explore!

Good luck everyone, I’ll be back with my Friday Question tomorrow.

–mrprose

The World’s Way of Speaking

When it gets down to that moment,

That moment I must say the right words,

I stress, and I fret and I panic,

All I can hear are the birds,

At first I try to ignore them,

To let the annoyance pass,

I have things to do, I have those words to say,

Yet the birds continue to harass,

With anger I curse them and their songs,

I need to attend to what lay in front of me!

But it’s the world that I should be listening to,

If I want my soul to be free,

I bind myself down,

To material concerns,

But instead I must let go,

It’s a hard lesson to learn,

Slowly I stop myself and listen,

Quieting my silent scream,

The birds are life’s way of speaking,

Saying far more than at first it may seem,

–mrprose