Soul Wings

 If writing words are the Bare Bones of me,

then Poeme` is the ephemeral Soul of me

Bones are formed from dust

flesh out the form of my shadow

Poeme` the intangible core of my being

the breath of life to my shadow

Without the breath divinely inspired

I am but a lost thing having no heart, no core, no soul

My soul is not anchored in my flesh

but soars within the cage of my earthly body

This too is the beautiful tragedy of  Poeme`

Flesh pulls the oxygen from the air

my core pulls divine inspiration into streaming flight

~ the uncaged bird is set free ~

I can no more cage this poeme`

to trap my soul in earthly realms hollows my flesh

Poeme` is life fleshed into my Bones

A place where the intangible is material

A window through which the tears of God

break open the unseen cracks in a heart

A Love divine and Light surreal

is my heart free, my soul uncaged

the Bird of Poeme` soaring into the heavenly realms.

© All Rights Reserved Kim Koning

***

*Image Credits: http://neosurrealismart.com/modern-art-prints/?artworks/dreams-of-flying-or-sleep-paralysis.html&fullsize *

Come to The Dark Side | Grand Launch #PoetrySociety #Poetry #BlogHop Starts Midnight 21st July

Welcome to the Grand Launch of The Kintsugi Poets Society

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BlogHop ~ 21st July – 28th July

Theme – The Darkness

Broken Words Whispered in The Dark

To celebrate the launch of this new society of Dark Poets,

we are kicking off with a BlogHop Tour of Poetry

Poetry in its darkest and most terribly beautiful forms

Find the whisperings of broken words and dark spaces below.

Kim Koning

Jack Varnell

Kavita Rao

Amy Marshall

Andrew Drage

Anita Stewart

Ash Krafton

Caroline Adele O’Brien

Ellie Rose McKee

Irina Dimitric-Stojic

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Enter here to let the dark words of The Kintsugi Poets seep into your soul….
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Dorian in Flames

Arms wide I reach toward the tide

I, Dorian, trapped behind the flame

and, though I burn with dark desire,

no longer shall you know my name.

Lifetimes ago I walked these streets

when gaslights broke the seamless night

and gentle death no man would greet–

those lepers caked by chanchre’d blight…

When high above the running sewers

the well-bred souls drank bowls of wine

and far away from desperate moors

the nobles in their castles dined…

Poor men, like rats, forged meager meals

of scraps dropped from those linen’d laps.

What deeds have greased time’s well-worn wheels

across the night sky’s starry maps?

Can evil works speed men along

to claim their just rewards so soon?

And are we judged but by our wrongs,

each step one closer toward our doom?

I swore I would not be held down

by those with coin or friends or power.

I would not kneel before a crown

or let my spirit be devoured.

I would conquer time and death

although it meant a soul for sale.

A single oath, a well-timed breath–

the pact was sealed. I did not fail.

Familiar trapped in tints and oils,

the artist’s brush a countenance made.

A canvas spread to take the spoils–

each hurt, each wound, each scathe displayed.

Thus beauty, charm, and grace preserved,

the freedom to pursue my whims

unhindered by the threat of night,

this darkened heart, redemption dimmed.

I could not push things far enough.

No threat of pain could hold me fast.

So farther, farther I would go

and begged each danger be the last.

I thought my soul to be preserved

within that painting, safe and still.

What magic had I once deserved?

What reason for the chase and thrill

when other men were doomed to fail,

succumb to, each, his conquering worm?

The slow repose beneath a veil

of time and lies and flesh infirm–

I rose above those well-bred souls

and loomed over their crowns of greed.

I helped them dig their graveyard holes

and used their screams to sate my need.

I toppled and turned upside-down

the towers of aristocracy,

insinuating hateful roots

to choke the roses with my weeds.

But once I turned to look upon

all that my wretched hands had wrought–

the beauty of the world was gone,

those gardens wrecked and turned to rot–

that’s when I knew my heart was black

with sick revenge for sins unknown.

The why’s, the how’s, the long way back

to sanity—all gone—alone.

And snaking deep inside my breast

the itching sting of fear and shame.

It’s done, this ride. I pray for rest

and pray that you forget my name.

I can’t undo all that I’ve done

and can’t give back all that I stole.

Touch flame to canvas… Death, you’ve won.

Be kind to that, my orphaned soul.

To Perseverance (ghazal)

 

I sought my refuge, day and night, while dreaming of a life empowered

A sacred sanctuary suite, spread high atop enchanted towers.

 

My weary steps shall find relief, my trek through desert, wilds, and plain

and I shall raise my face to clouds that drench me in redeeming showers.

 

I spy the spire, struck aloft, a gleam of polished well-fit stone

that pierces sky and stretches tall, with circlets of fresh dampened flowers.

 

So close, so close! I see the door, which swings wide open, greeting me

but every step I take toward brings me no closer to the tower.

 

What treach’ry, this? What wicked spell could stretch this path eternally?

My wish, my dream, just out of reach—I stand abandoned by the tower.

 

So still I trudge, and still I trudge, no seconds pass, no days or hours

and I shall turn to dust and ash before I reach my phantom towers.