I sat with the beasts of the field.

“Natures learns nothing from hunaites knowledge, there a no lessons the beasts of the field can learn from us.” 

I sat with all that is wild
and 

envied freedom

desiring to breathe the breath of the untamed,

for all that is ungoverned shows to be more lawful and all governed lawless. 

Humanity lay 

malnourished 

naked 

and 

impoverished in knowledge

before the beasts of the field. 

Nature learns nothing from humanity 

there are no 

wisdoms 

or

lessons to be taught,

the lion and the lamb have laid together for common good. 

There is no gold or silver she desires,

the beast of the field 

reproduce 

hunt

wake and sleep apart from humanities instructions. 

Kings and queens desperate to own the earth 

destroy that which they cannot control, 

humanities rulers 

have yet to make the stars dance 

the sun rise and call forth day

the moon set and call forth night, 

the seas to voyage beyond their boundaries by mans commanding her waves to cross. 

The beasts have declared to men/women, not all knowledge is knowledgeable but rather,

vanity..

 

My fear

So, 

this is you, 

my fear, 

daily on my heels, 

seeking me. 

I’ve run from you a thousands times, fearing you,

but,

you’ve been chasing me,

to make peace with me,

to teach me that you are the beginning of my own personal free. 

 

Embrace

A beautiful silence,

the way the clouds embrace the sun.

So, is this love? 

A quite, constant embrace.   

Music

Melodies flood the air,

mountains sway, snow dances, 

birds awake,

1,000 wings flutter to rhythms released to clouds, 

a gentle rain falls upon natures skin.   

Here

    “Here, a ray from the sun, his cape.”

  

 Conversations sullen,

afflicted by sorrow,

lured in by madness,

rhythms of deepening tones. 

Beneath his feet the earth groans. 

Here,

beyond figures of stone, 

the tree bows to greet him, flowers offer fragrances of peace. 

The sun offers from its ray, a cape, 

here, 

he is a super hero, 

he plays, 

melodies awaken nature, birds sway to lyrical pulses, and offer choruses the world cannot hear.  
  

Close your eyes for me

“Close your eyes for me. Close your ears for me, says the soul, I lay unexplored. You will not find me within staled walls.”  

  There’s a story here, close your eyes for me,

                    see.

Beyond staled structures, roads uncharted. Lay reflections of a soul unexplored. 

There’s a tale here, close your ears for me, 

                  hear. 

Narratives yet to be. Not published within books or phones. 

Heard, within aged branches breaking beneath the sole, sweet aromas and fables never told. 

Close your eyes, 

Close your ears,

                          says the soul, 

I lay within vastness, alienated and unexplored. 

I thirst, for bewilderment and awe.

I’m dying, and slumbered, for I have been to long unexplored. Narrations stilled from staled walls. 

Awakened

    Awakened by a nightmare, to find, I’ve been breathing in someone else’s dream.  

 

Photo credit. World through my eyes. 

The reflection you see

  “Thunder mumbles riddles and rhymes of what the eye refuses to see.” 

    The voice of natures warning, a sudden crack of thunder, deafening the ear, the eye of lust captivated by beauty, storms, unable to see.

    The warning of poverty is near, adds one more laborious hour driven by fear, only to hear a knock upon the door, unable to see, confined by cycles, paralyzed by fear, adds one more as poverty draws near. 

    Left by nature to see, a leaf upon a tree, brown and dying, refusing to leave for there is still need, afraid to see, the leaf remains awhile longer, for death cannot be. 

    For you see, I am you, this leaf upon the tree, afraid to leave, of what will no longer be. 

    For you see, I am you, poverty’s cycle standing on the street, searching for one more hour. Broken in cycles and lost of what will no longer be. 

    For you see, I am you, thunder cracking, lonely and maddened by riddeles and rhymes, for the eye refuses to see what will no longer be. 

    So you see, you are me, the crow soring above the trees, reflecting the desire to be free, of me, the reflection you see and what may no longer be. 

    Reflections speak, “I am the you, you refuse to see.”

Maddened

Maddened within by changing rhymes. 

Heartbeats irregular, thoughts as rags, lay themselves against barren skies. 

I close my eyes to see within, the poet searching for a scar to bleed through. 

 http://spillwords.com/author/bethtremaglio/

Excerpts from a poem. Any voting on this poem greatly appreciated. Any favor I can do in return, let me know. 

The point of this poem is to show, within all of us lay words, verses starved for more expression, starved for attention that these may write their story and maddened within shows itself through beautiful languages. 

 

Natures painting

   “The sky quietly painted upon blue canvas.”  

The sky paints, 

         quite and still

Tapestries of gold, 

         spill

Upon vastnesses sill,

 The eye barren, 

           quietly filled. 

http://spillwords.com/author/bethtremaglio/