Winter grips the
Harvest tree
Stripped of proof of life
the once-vibrant colors
lay decaying in the dirt
Turned brown like the
Fallow field
The riches that grew there
Hauled away
It feels as if all life
in this place has been
Spirited away
leaving the shed skin
proof of life's abundant harvest
Scattered about like
like a trail of tears
Proof of life escapes me
As my once vibrant colors
Lay decaying on the poem's page
The harvest tree to be
My forever home

Open wide
the gates of Hell
The butterfly effectually
flutters to false intent
from that organelle

From double hearted
wing beats
the flattery will not cease
Proudly inciting insolence
from the center of the beast

It takes a coal
from the altar
that the lips must kiss
To purge all iniquities
to burn on the bliss

Olive tree standing tall on mountains top high.
Branches moving graciously
in the wind.
Little green leaves shimmering like emerald greens under the sun.
Then came a storm out of nowhere
everywhere flooded
Like Noah’s day.
Born was a sea above the land.
Olive tree hit rock bottom.
Still standing tall.
Branches still graciously moving
on the beat of turbulent waves.
Emerald green leaves now with silvery shine.

The branches of an olive tree are strong
Always moving, bending.
Resilient.
Never breaking.

Be like an olive tree
on the top of the mountain
or under the sea.


Shell✨🐚

Is awareness I lack, I am unaware of that,
What can make my mind full mindful?
It is bringing me close to the count of the breath I take
But I unaware if I am still asleep when I wake,
What could possibly be blocking my sight
how to delve deeper in the insights,
am I lacking in anything?
What move do I play, do I need deep cleansing?
I am practicing daily to retain the bliss,
But by the end of the day, somehow it flees.

The distance between us  
Stretches, vast and dark,  
A storm of broken senses  
That tears me apart.  

Out here, I wrestle  
With nature’s cruel game—  
Waves whip and lash me,  
Salt brands me with shame.  

Mountains of water,  
Crash, freezing my skin,  
I’m anchored to the seabed,  
Crushed with guilt, and sin.  

Fear is my existence,  
Hope feels far from home.  
Encircled by water,  
I’m fighting alone.  

Memories surge,  
A flickering reel,  
Each one a wave  
I can no longer feel.  

Numb to the light,  
And the glorious view,  
A break in the storm—  
Leads me to you.

By Darren Wall ©

You fill in the blanks
Add adverbs to happy adjectives
Make days dance with similes of sun beams
And turn nights into metaphors of heaven
Words become songs
That beat to the rhythm of the heart
Muse and art merge
To become one -
And life becomes a verse