Defiled coming down.
It’s the way of men.
No one starts off vulgar—
You learn that.
We live in a fallen world
Where everything is stained;
I see sepia—You see nicotine,
And we shudder to see
What the news will bring…
Mostly the rot of decay.
And that’s why I love flowers:
They don’t succumb
To the entropy of sin
They grow in manure
Through sheer passion
And make something beautiful
Out of ashes
And I suppose that’s why I also create.
I'm innocent still –
Inside me are stained glass windows
That never break.
...Oh, don’t think I live
In a world devoid of dolor—
I don’t…
But when I see Your light
It stains my soul
With color.
Wow ... I really loved your poem ... It was beautiful to read it ... I could appreciate every word ... Thank´you <3!
Wow... Totally grateful because you appreciate my letters ... Expressing myself through them has been my escape, however I managed to identify with your words ... and it is a great sensation. Thank you @johnjgeddes.
I appreciate your encouragement, Celeste, and I'd like to do the same for you. I read your lyrical post, Reborn, but unfortunately, it's 27 days old - I can't upvote it to reward your beautiful thoughts but I can reward this comment. Keep writing!
De qué tamaño es tu corazón, @johnjgeddes? Se hace nuestro corazón de acuerdo a nuestra vida: vacíos grandes, lugares ocupados. Allá afuera es un cuarto oscuro. Sobrevivimos a un mundo que nos agrede a cada rato. Tu arma es el lápiz, el teclado, la única arma poderosa ante las otras. Bienaventurados los que aún viendo, guardan la esperanza. No es vivir en burbujas, es sentir que puedes pintar de otros colores tu alrededor. Así lo haces Tú! Te abrazo
¿Qué tan grande es mi corazón? Esa es una pregunta para reflexionar, Nancy, especialmente cuando el sufrimiento se extiende hasta el punto donde parece que podría romperse, si no fuera por la esperanza.
I like this comparison of creativity to a flower. I've always felt a drive to create too, even as a child, so I think it was a desire designed by nature. A flower follows it's cellular instincts, and creators follow ours. I guess artists are the purist souls.
You've got that insight because you're the real deal - you understand it's not enough to take life in - you want to create something out of your experience
That's a big compliment - thank you.
The light is as real as the dark. I choose to focus on the beauty. Wonderful work, John:)
Thanks Pryde
beautiful, beautiful and beautiful again. I'm literally bewildered by your concept...good stuff
thank you, Chris
you're welcome great one.
beautiful very good !!
thanks
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Well said
thanks
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great
Simply Outstanding and Wonderful!
I love this overall, but find myself confused by this detail:
Maybe it's the scientist in me, but I think it's the opposite?
Perhaps you're contemplating after it has landed?
Regardless, I love the thesis of your poem...
😄😇😄
ha ha ... has rain ever washed your car clean? Going up it's pure water of evaporation - coming down it's polluted by humans
Raise a million filters and the rain will not be clean, until the longing for it be refined in deep confession.
--Leonard Cohen
Cohen!
Some of his music is some of my favorite, ever...