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



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,



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.

Life Is But a Blazing Fire by Falling Squirrel

Hello again everyone, it’s been a while. I find that I can no longer post everyday amidst the rigors of life, but I am most definitely not gone! I am working on my reply piece to last Friday’s question, but for today, I have another amazing poem to share with all of you. This one is written by a writer that goes by the name Falling Squirrel. This piece stood out to me because of it’s intensity and sad truths. It was as if this poem was written in words that I couldn’t yet find, but somehow knew deep down. It has a nice flow, and I think it’s worth several run-throughs. Enjoy:

Take a photo of your life

Take a little snapshot

Full of joy and full of strife

For which you have a soft spot


In the future, take a look

Shuffle through the cards

And you will see the thoughts that shook

Your world so very hard


But most of all now, you will see

A pattern – ‘cause your life repeats

So take my word for it, I know

That what you reap is what you sow


We’re trapped, us all, each single one

We’re meant to burn another sun

We build our fires, night and day

So we can see the ashen blaze…

So we can pay the price we pay…


So we can see our world decay.

Thanks again to everyone that submitted! You may submit another piece of your own here.


[The [un] [product] [ive] life]

Hello everyone, it’s Wednesday – poetry time!

First off, I’d like to say thank you to all that submitted their poetry. Not only were all of your pieces great, I recognize that it takes a degree of courage to give your work to someone to be judged. I really want to thank you for sharing, though, because some of those pieces were really quite inspiring and inspired me to try new things.

Also, if I did not choose your piece, please do not fret. There is still a chance that it will be picked on a future week.

Right, so for my first ever mid-week poetry piece, I am sharing this incredible poem written by Observing Vessel, about expression and confinements. The thing about this piece is that it really flows in an unusual way. For myself, I felt as though I was floating through the piece at a blissfuly, leisurely pace. Better yet, the words ring with a truth that can easily shift one’s perspective. So please, scroll down and read it.


There is an art to everything,

and everything can sell.

What was once an art, is now a science

and very little is left sacred.

Fear of the unknown is cause for defence;

this defence is a boundary.

We label the spaces between the boundaries,

neatly boxed up.

We crave a sense of value;


I am not sure.

We put value in the spaces;

then value the label.

What is it we are left with?

A neatly packaged product

to keep the fear at bay.

What we cannot see is unknown

and what is unknown still exists, whether or not we fear it.

There is a pill to suppress the fear;

money, the placebo.

And in return;

a neatly packaged product for you to entertain.

I’m tired of the boxes, for there are too many.

They clutter my life space leaving no room to breath

and even less space for growth.

My expression cannot live.

Once it has birthed it is immediately packaged up

in a box,

in a space

between boundaries,

with a label,

where I put my value,

but the label is valued more.

Very little is sacred;

left to be.

Why can’t it wander for what it is?

My expression is meant for living,

I want it a life.

Free to wander and be

not enclosed in a box;

in a space between boundaries,

with a label.

What kind of life is that?

I rather have my expression nameless and free

than sitting in a box,

in a space between boundaries.

I am becoming unproductive.

If you want more poetry from Observing Vessel, click here. Other writing by this author can be found here. It’s definitely worth at least a spare moment of yours.

Right, so that’s that for today. Tune in next week for more poetry. And if you have some poetry you want to share, here are the instructions. Thanks again, everybody, see you tomorrow!


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,




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,