Archive for category Poetry
In the Dark of My Soul
Posted by Marissa in Poesye, Poetry, postaweek2012, vis~a~vis on May 24, 2012
Dusky non-dark lightness the kind that comes only in those no-name motels, secret places of meeting where the darkness of strange rooms is muted by lined-orange curtains, where parking-lot-lights caste ethereal shadows: you come quietly to bed like nothing uncommon exists in my being there drowsy head on your pillow, clothed in your shirt. Your body, stiff in the act of lying down, carefully trying not to wake me from my almost-dream-state sleeping. Your warm-volatile spark-laden energy forced into submission -- still atomic: your skin, chest warm, hips touching -- rolling, turning, wrapping myself around you -- normal-necessary touch, like a moth to flame -- the burning-shock epiphany moment, in an old motel room --you, a bright-white imprint in the dark of my soul.
~May 2012
ky
Like this:
Even-ing
In the after-breath of the day
we render our song mute
to block creation. Out-
side the birds turn silent
to hear the crickets chorus bounce
across the dusk-struck yard
betraying the dispirited world.
©2001, Marissa Mullins
funeral song
ego-separation from the letting-go
is the last phase of loss.
solemn-silence is declared.
it will not lift, can not lift
until vision clarifies.
imagine the world as a new
place created and transformed by
the without, adjusted perception
looks for meaning
submerged in the pain.
seeks solace from a fragmented spirit
that clings to us in absence.
each lost thing claims
a part of our souls
perfection
unravels the lies we hide
inside ourselves
leaving us
bare and jaggedly grieved.
we becomes
the creation of losses
evolves into shards of recovery.
Stimulated by grieving
we acknowledge the mirrors
reflection of our souls love
for others.
©2001, Marissa MullinsAmerican Lullaby 2001
Mule-bred defiance exemplifies
our lasting creed . . .
We will not fall!
The possum in his need to move
is destroyed by the movement . . .
We will not fall!
The legacy of Rome declares failure
for those who model her . . .
We will not fall!
Adam never considered the choice
to be that important . . .
We will not fall!
Surging rapidly toward destruction
is the one thing we do well . . .
Oh, the view from such heights!
©2001, Marissa Mullins
Anymore Understand
Anymore Understand
Having believed I cannot
Anymore Understand
the great landscape of vines
and twigs which conceal
the great God…and
All His answers.
Plato believed
an ultimate perfected truth
Existed.
Descartes knew
his mind
rolled toiled and turned
in agitated thought
That equaled
Existence.
Alexander fought
to dominate the world
another effort to know
he lived.
I breathe in sanctity
The Word -His Word
All-meaning Word
Which tells me there is truth
Behind the verbiage
The words live a life
Of power and knowing and
There is
Existence.
In dreams awake
Written December 2008
“Our truest life is when we are in dreams awake.” – Thoreau
How you have learned to play me, beautiful one.
It was in the first glimmer of green eyes, brightly-lit and seeking that you captured my attention. Sway, roll, movement like a ship undulating on the tide in harbor – a sweet, delicious turning of the mind in ecstasy as each thought creates – tension, heat, vibration, force, tenderness.
Truth hides in the raw, wet, throbbing stream of the mind…In the depths of gray darkness, where dreams come to life and distant voices scream silent wisdom inside shadowed minds – THERE, I heard your voice. Your voice speaking in its soft, deep timbre of melody and vibration near my face, against the creamy flesh of my breast, beside the slow pulse beating in my throat. I could feel your breath against my face as words came flowing like slow, tender water.
Anchored in my gray-dark sleep, I felt your words move into the depth of my hearing, roll across my skin, felt them tumble across my breasts, slip down across my stomach, to slide within the sacred places, sheathed and protected. You were so close in that moment – the warm, moist tremor of your breath across my skin as tender lips trailed…you moved through me as dew across lilies in the early morning hours. Your voice, dear one, woke me from deepest sleep with clarity.
For R Rilke,
The poet R.M. Rilke has probably had the greatest impact on me of any writer. These poems were written in gratitude to him during 2005. © 2005 under Marissa Mullins.
Like Love
The Great Gift given
was not as simple
as your words.
Rather,
Like Love,
The emotion created by them.
Such simple little things
To grow such beauty
Out of stagnant air –
Fresh breath to a new
Century unlike the one
You came from.
We are Different –
Too busy, too smart, too …
We cannot perceive our own
Needfulness, do not realize
How Badly we need words
Like Yours –
Beauty flowing across
A white page of time.
It was all in the speaking
I look to where you saw —
wonder at the common tune
which seems to play itself
on both our instruments:
music goes on forever in our minds.
I see – here, there
A common chord. Same song
Sung by different voices
Years and times apart.
You are part of my heritage,
German Poet –
Souls and citizenship in common.
I would have liked
To meet you, have come
To know you, believe
We must be friends.
In the Quiet
in the Quiet (2006)
It is not unlike brokenness –
This feeling of having emptied myself
Into you, only
To find that you were already full
Unable to hold more.
I know of mistakes
That they are the “after-things”
The regrets and guilts of the next moments
Seem hidden in the times before.
I should apologize — for
The fact that you asked and received
The truth is it hurts
And that dismal pain reminds me…
I’m still breathing
It will be okay.
The world keeps moving
They keep talking
And I find in the Quiet
Moments of wonder
At the how and why of it.
Time-Lapse II
A few more relationship poems from 2005. ©2005 under Marissa Mullins.
Legacy: Untitled 6
I do not know the Truth you ask for.
It has no movement in me –
no belonging, no place of being.
The rivers of my mind flow
past the rock where you stand.
The stone beneath your feet
feels real to you, each rough-hewn,
jagged edge cutting
into the souls of tender feet.
It is sway and movement only –
To me. A place of displacement
so minor in my essence –
I am river – flowing, churning,
moving forward past the rocks,
moving around, in, across.
My Truth is a place of
moist current, trembling water,
that cannot make itself
a rock, a twig, a pond.
Why do you stand on that
which bruises and cuts you?
Can you not still swim?
Do you now fear the water,
that river which once carried you,
moved you, safely flowed you to
a new destination?
You have left the water,
cling to the jagged rock,
paralyzed and held immobile
by fear. You forget yourself.
The Truth – You are a river too.
You were born of Water.
Untitled 7
The answer that you seek
needs creating. It cannot come
to live in places of light – or
it will be changed, will lose
the darkness that names it.
We are always seeking what is lost.
Truth is that things drift
into invisibility, become
the essence of something else
because our definitions change.
It once meant “this” now “that”
or “the other” –
Truth will not be contained,
molded, shaped, limited
by our definitions.
It has a grander beginning
with the First and Only. Truth
does not betray Him as we do.
Paucis Verbis 1-16-2009
Paucis Verbis is Latin for in a few words or powerful word. I found this little entry in a dictionary years ago and was mesmerized. I was a struggling writer at the time, just two years of writing for publication under my belt, trying to find new and interesting words and phrases to jog and inspire my mind. Reading dictionaries and quotes has long been a favorite form of mental stimulation for me – yes, I know it’s sort of geeky, but it works and leads to a varied vocabulary! The little Latin translation eventually became the title for a poem (one successfully published) and is still a reminder of word-power to me.
Words are powerful – they seek to translate emotion, feelings, thoughts, and all those other truly inexpressible aspects of being human. They often fall short of true and accurate translation, become tangled in connotations and individual schema’s, or turn into weapons that strike with deadly accuracy and pain. Little words, big meanings. Paucis Verbis…Powerful Word.
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Creative Commons
This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 3.0 Unported License. Please cite using (c) Marissa Mullins at Paucis Verbis, with a link to original content or page. Thank you!Identity
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