Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
 
Sam Temple Oct 2016
meaningful conversation
                      gestures of compassion

a tribe of cohorts
fades back into the night ~

each on their path
                developing projects

as if we all pretend to be
                       Santa Claus

     lists are checked twice  ~

a swelling to the point
                        of burst
              fills my breastplate
                      

                          goodbye
                           farewell
until we meet
again /
Sam Temple Oct 2016
~




twisted copper

                  adorns this utensil

the weapon of choice

                over a sword
  


                        or pick ~



a relic

nearly forgotten...



my pen /
Sam Temple Oct 2016
~



mouths move
               gestures grant meaning

                            some smiles pass
                                   and
                          animated flailing follows ~

     one set of eyes
        does not register    
          my observation
   the droning facilitator
              ******* life and air
        from forced bodies ~

the second hand slips gears
                 time reverses

mounting stress and
         flipping pony tails
              an adjusted power tie
                                  tucked into a grey blazer ~

How long has that coffee cup
                    been floating?    /
Sam Temple Oct 2016
slight wisps of frankincense
    traveled to the ceiling
looped and swirled
     before attempting to dissipate ~

within the smoke’s
                                 last throws
     his ghost
                arose
and our eyes met ~

locked in a spacial gaze
my emotion could not contain
      tears fell as my body
                       shook
fear overtook me as
etheric lips parted ~

a voice formed
           deep inside my skull
                 slow and steady
                    guttural mumbling
began to take shape
                    form words ~

a message of perfection
was imprinted on my mind
     complete with feelings
         surrounding order and place
I was exactly where I was
                 supposed to be
doing the very thing
       I was born to do~

inhale    exhale        blink
spongey texture filled the void
    off white and shabby
laughter found sound
and a smile beamed forth
          the ceiling
                    was perfect   /
Sam Temple Oct 2016
there is a space
      far out at low tide
          near the mouth of a river
               where the sand is flat
                                                 and wet ~

one instantly remembers
why people thought the
     world had an edge

why they shook

        fists and sticks

ran clutching babe

         to safety of cave

when asteroids passed by ~

why when the goddess comet
               Venus
finally came to find her home

and Mars no longer suffered

when gravitational pull and
      magnetic fields
                   did     not     exist ~

when it could only
      be God
parted waters

and those
feet
in sand like this

saved them ~

global disaster destroyed
                  collective memory

so many have
       the tales

all of their gods
                  saved them ~

it’s easy to remember,
                all so innocent

when the moon
                 is new

when the season is summer

and toes, exposed

can follow a river

   to the sea

          at low tide ~

when stars reflect

                and the world
                       floats away

when it is at first
                       terrifying

to be so small

and simultaneously

invigorating to the
               point
of physical vibration

when recognizing oneself

as part of the all

made by the all

and therefore

yourself the all…………..


I see you Whitman

with your toes          in sand
                
                                                    like this    /
Next page