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A Poem by OCeallaigh

Author: OCeallaigh
Created: February 13, 2012 at 07:41 pm
Upload Type: Poem, G (All)  
Category: Spiritual | General/Other | General/Other
Upload Stats: 5 Stars by 1 users with 1 comments and 162 views

Moving On  

Weighed down with fetters, the pen I use
While thinking about ink tinged with tears
Whether it be a pining poet or malefic muse
Wet cloudy words rewritten for so many years
Of lost love and the good times some will miss
Passionately penned and ever prompted by pain
Wounds either festering or healing in poetic bliss
Moving on with extreme care or choosing to remain
Sadly the most passionate prose is inspired by sorrow
Penned last night having little thought of tomorrow

Light as a feather, this old pen in my hand
As I cheer on those who desperately want to heal
With nature as a muse in this wild wooded land
All that surrounds me, to see, hear and feel
Whatever one finds personally pleasing to the eyes
So soothing to the senses, mind, heart and soul
One should never have to hurt in while in paradise
So very far away from any deep, dark, dismal hole
Words penned all of this morning cool and long
Faintly heard through the trees, like a birdsong

Hearing many calls and songs, not familiar with all
From the undergrowth, streams, boughs and boles
Sitting in dark hollows or upon ridges standing tall
Some distant, yet clear, out of the deep dark holes
Probably laying ahead along with those left far behind
Offer sympathy to anyone who would turn around
Turning back to those holes, deep, dark and unkind
Little will remains to dare what is new and unfound
Consider digging a shallower hole along the way
Less further to climb on another given decisive day

I would give more words to a moss covered rock
Than to all those put off by my unfettered pen
What is behind the door on which one would knock
Unopened, shooed away, or warmly welcomed in
Tapping not upon windows or knocking on doors
It is better to loudly call out from the open road
No mud to be tracked on anyone’s cold stone floors
Inside a deep dirty hole, or lofty immaculate abode
More trust and respect earned under the open skies
A warm embrace while looking into friendly eyes

Enough ill words of such uncomforting things
I shall step off this road and onto the wooded trail
Much wanting to experience what tomorrow brings
And sharing it by means of another poem or tale
Penning not in any hole, dark, dismal and deep
Nor by impossible conditions that one could impose
Freely form verse to new stanza, my pen will leap
Eventually bringing another optimistic poem to a close
Terribly trapped in holes and sorely shouting out to me
Or talking softly in the cool shade of a streamside tree

© OCeallaigh - all rights reserved

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Comments & Reviews

March 04, 2012
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cute i like

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