The Wait

The wait
time has extended so
and out of place

soon
to a little child
on a long road trip  

be there in a minute
to one smitten in love
on a date, early arrived

"please hold, your call will be answered shortly"
when to do-list consists on nerve breaking
mountain of piled up things

the wait
vacation still weeks
to come

the wait
asks not patience
how do you do?   
how does your waiting hold
and on hold how does your wait do? 

the wait 
like a fuse to Lapland
when here
and always vice versa   

ps. my patience ran out - it's not ready, but i couldn't wait... i'll work it on later... i will, i will
   

Pots And Pans

Cooking with five pans at once
even pots I got two
luckily hobs 
amount only four

children are parroted
hot thing! hot thing!
hobs are covered with guards
we prevent nothing from happening

cleaning on the
same time doing laundry
on bouncing washing machine
vacuum screamingly hissing sound killed 
by squealing fire alarm

watch for this 
       and notice that

have to remember and mind,
learn, to be cautious
and little more 
thorough

or else you 
              will not
    or you 
           will come

with pointer stick slaps
on fingers, directions 
to a good life

I myself can not
          go on anymore

pots and pans I ram
to oven too, the stew
main switch off
                    my head

lids I lock and seal
comfortable cushion
as can only dream

Dreams And Reals And The Gap Between

I embrace her glow
with kisses and caresses
she is to me my perfect mystery
though argued by some
a mere cold rock to be

I have though traveled the world
been in France and Paris too

actually in reality

street artists, baguettes,
bonjour's and oui's
and streets of Amelie's
the atmosphere
portrait...well...

at least pick-pocketed
and panic attacked
under magnificent tower
former happened like jump from the tower
latter torture of climbing up and falling in slow motion

c'est la vie
living reality written
in words allures to 
live in the gap between

-------------------------------------
might even try to continue later this one...
this was first draft to 75 word contest

Quagmires And Dead Ends

Black painted thoughts
beyond the conscious
crammed in my head

no
not enough
out of stock with pity

quagmires and dead ends
frustrations of emptiness
pain that uses no name for itself

shut down mechanism of silence
transition to presence
calmer and colder than death
a life sucked out of joy

I laugh
to me or myself

cry
a dry tearless cry
asleep
in a dream
searching me
diving in my sorrow

Abyss Of Bliss

Bliss

    wandering
       in echoes

tremble of heart

breathe
whispers out

  his scent
with tint of cinnamon
  floating in



               dispersing mind






-------------------------------------
It was a picture prompt of max 20 words.
Had to try it. The pic missing since I lost
it. Try to find it later...

I love you IV

because 
when you reach your hand
and slightly touch
mine
delaying awhile
I know  

Does Anyone Hear Me ! ! !

Stuck
piled up
disorganized
like a backyard shed

equipped too well
with unneeded garbage
and surplus things

verbal maze                 mental
solution converted
                                 to re-entry
eternally yours
                           no recall of signing
accordingly
                             to this condition


                    S     O     S

transferred to

               S          M       S

save my                        soul

I do recall
on a darkest hour
with crumbling fingers
in obscurity of the night
inside me
writing
with
hama beads

Rotten Sad

Love
arbitrary in talk
cemented in seasons
and symbols
over used  worn-out
as if it ever could
conquers all brings back to life
mends bends   does every trick

love
spoiled shunned
yet isn't love all marvel
home of
each man's shivering esteem's urge to find
and be one

love
the power to be
all you need is...

to lose one
lose love
still be loved
to run out of pain
so lost, one does not find
emotions inside

the terror
to look into
your own child's
eyes

    past any description
         for      you

I look back
numb
empty

-------------------------------------------------------------
"I can't feel anything but sadness" was the prompt in contest. I wasn't gonna enter. Hadn't written for couple of days so i started just to dribbling with words; there was a thought (another besides the contest) of writing something nice and positive for a change and started "love" then me hit me and forgot the positive: "arbitrary" and got on making the  dullest lines "conquers all". About then it hit me...the saddest of any possible; something to easily win feeling "anything but sadness". To be crushed so that one feels nothing - there is not a single thing in the world beyond nothing, the power in it!

I finally had idea of writing and just kept on but making true statements on love like "urge to find". We all have it, and to be loved. And "the song" came to mind and i thought this is the time change gears from 5 to REVERSE after   ...   "lose". Afterwards i decided to leave it open but for my sake i'll give here my interpretation. I did write it as lose like to die before time. And to lose love - to lose capability to love after a heavy loss (or dual version: dramatic events in life). Yet "still be loved" as the people around you do no matter.

The terror, this is what hit me in beginning when i was still just dribbling with words. Five years ago i was in the state of mind obliged to experience this "terror". My children were young - in the age that all they know of world is little to compare to the love they know "past any description" for parents. And i had to look them back feeling nothing yet knowing and recognizing that fact at the same time; numb, empty, for many months.

I haven't lost anyone before time but i do have slight idea how it could feel. I was just bruised by me - a bit more heavily then than ever before. Mind is sometimes bit shaky to go out of control.

I like this poem, funny how it started and came to (version 1.0) completion. There was only one word i crossed over a second after writing it. Otherwise non, its here - the dribble

I Love You II

because in your arms
soft and warm
secure I am

and full of fire
is your soul

without you beside me
in moment of night
without sleep I might

The Barren land

I now know there will be no return of
you ever again, maybe

I would rather let it be
and leave you withering away from
my sore veins
medicined far prolonged with your
wawering distorted unbalanced friction of
hues mind has tasted
you in your sublime
rest wasted and thrown away
useless to my yearning
resident in mortality
the barren land

at utter most gives life to a pine
distorted with nothing to root in
measly twisted branches out lack of nutrients
a dwarf birch at most
starving suffering survival
a weakling unable to give strength or
height to climb as to scope beyound to navigate
possibilities in or to another life

you are lost from me, gone, away
simmering life out of me
senseless solitude of my puszta
eating away inside, grinding my mind
by shadows of a black hole

(I do still dream of you, of us)

gone
as life from
barren lands viewed
in moments to marked as beauty
but never in time to nurture any more life
blackest of holes of my puszta
forlorn darker than pain
strive away under
smile without
roots 

so weak to have requirements of
shine
nor last to give or to receive any
which it was to harvest, designed

scales of greys have blanketed skies for months, longer
oppressing all under, nascent hope or movement
skies get under your skin, only to disturb and turmoil
I wait, though it be
for sake of waste

clouds to darken beyond the darkest of any black
fire from raging thunders of light
for the dam of my eyes, to crack, crumble
cave, and release along years of harvested tears
to the barren land

Mother

In front did you know
the moment, felt it you may
rustling inside did you hear
that it is me

was it then you started, to weave
rope, completed in time
to the needs on occasion to come

to a rope to pull me into life
with it as quagmire into you
to pull through stressed early years
without sleep, like on tarmac
in a sledge pulling me behind

intertwining  an add-on rope, you did
giving the limits like on a neck of a dog

where did it come the anchor rope
that too did you do
and how had you knowledge
resiliently strict twined

along rebellious years I hid to banes
readily made was, of course
where had you strength to do that too
      and on time to throw
            a safety rope

at last I did find a way with an axe
to cut off our ways
loosen apart rope(s) had become

mine escaping to freedom
thine holding to it's own

diverging ways of two
in the run mine got lost too
in places that even shadows don't shine

lost ropeless crouching cries
no where or strength to go
a way with an axe I  came across
with it writing to stone

MOTHER: do you have rope to home
yes,
always

--------------------------------------

I don't know does this work at all in English (Finnish is a superior language). I thought long  and hard and almost deleted this but egoism or need to share - who knows - decided eventually push the "publish"

I wrote it to my mother on Mother's Day this year since she insisted that I can't waste money on flowers. This one is so personal to me that it's impossible to say how bad or good it really is. I'm blinded by love on this one.

In Between Nights There Is A Space

I dream 
of a dream
where I don't have to wake up

a dream 
arriving by request

awake

cars, blurry people
pouring without reactions
on my sight
an impressionistic paint
in motion

shaky  nausea
eyelids like oppressive rugs
circus tent's heavily flexible canvas

hum in the head
dust in the wind
corpus stiff as iron wire

wind bends trees like string a bow
will I bend too

bloodless heart
beats dragging, volatile

towards which night
would I long
the one I know
the other I fear

can't afford to sit yet
not to be captured asleep
day's work
obligation set as punishment 
in command I march through
in line of ants 

slowly managing, to the night

   I can
    
        I can

I can

under the sheets at last
to discover I already slept the day

in harmony of abhorrence 


    insomnia

        insomnia

            insomnia