The blood of me seeks in vain..

15 Comments

  • nature
  • is adjacent to the sun and moon.....can life get any more creative

The blood of me seeks in vain..

In the regal of my mind I foresee a divine inclination
this recommendation is a palpable sensation
that stretches through my heart into my gyration
of my soul that existed before my making.

Like the blood through my veins Iam a circular cause
The pause in my enviornment is naught but thoughts
Nonexistent is what I seek, not what I sought
My past talk and walk through the fires I stalk.

Sometimes I wonder as I wander in vain
Just to maintain my simplistic domain
So chaotic in it's frame, my focus is tamed
Like the multilinked chain, varied angles the same.

What does this poem mean? I seek to explain
However the metaphors hide it in shame
I hold dear to the similies that it claims
Dualistic purposes not meant for the lame.

Existentially Iam freewill, choice beyond appeal of my eyes imagery
Running with emotions through my vessel it empties
Callus in nature, Hollowed nature within me
One thing arises, the whole of my trinity...

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nonners commented on The blood of me seeks in vain..

10-19-2009

wow supurb imagery. i loved it. also could relate. awesome .

WinterFrost commented on The blood of me seeks in vain..

10-17-2009

I am having problems following your poem Don't take this as criticism. But I can almost make sense out of it... it just isn't hitting home for me

koolmom0 commented on The blood of me seeks in vain..

10-17-2009

This is awesome, I loved it, well written. I look forward to reading more of your work. Koolmom

cloudburst commented on The blood of me seeks in vain..

10-17-2009

good one nature keep it up..it was lovely to read, nature with in you...God bless you...

DeepEclipse commented on The blood of me seeks in vain..

10-16-2009

Ah smooth. Lyrical flow that ends right on point. Rhythm kept in step the whole way. Nothing forced, it all flowed so natural. Hopefully you find a home here you are a great poet.

The true philosopher and the true poet are one, and a beauty, which is truth, and a truth, which is beauty, is the aim of both.

Ralph Waldo Emerson, American Poet (1803-1882)