Relative Something

*this* John W. Hays' take on things and experiences

Posts Tagged ‘poem

Touch

with 2 comments

 

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I missed it
when some sort of chance
snuck past
silently
snow flakes falling
fearlessly
without even knowing
I reached out
through everything
that was nothing
hoping to touch
a mystery
to feel what it’s like
a perfect reality
that laughs
and loves
while I was thinking
simply
in a moment
I should have been
feeling

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Written by johnwhays

November 12, 2017 at 10:50 am

Intoxicating

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there are words
with grip strength
that surround a heart
and come out of nowhere
magically recounting
a lost memory
of unconscious love
sung to a melody
that glides along a winding path
effortlessly rolling over
gentle hills
of unrivaled beauty
from an impossible dream
all color and soft light
with an intoxicating aura
rising warmly on afternoon rays
of filtered golden beams
a chorus of emotional bliss
an immemorial infatuation
that forgot to end

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Written by johnwhays

November 4, 2017 at 9:26 am

Tattered

with 2 comments

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Words on Images

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Written by johnwhays

November 3, 2017 at 6:00 am

Choose

with 4 comments

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Words on Images

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Written by johnwhays

October 10, 2017 at 6:00 am

Ambience

with 4 comments

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Words on Images

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Written by johnwhays

October 5, 2017 at 6:00 am

Think

with 3 comments

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Words on Images

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Written by johnwhays

September 28, 2017 at 6:00 am

Revisiting: Afternoon

with 2 comments

This afternoon we reach the autumnal equinox, marking the transition to the half of the year when days are shorter than the nights. Summer is over folks. Move along.

As IF!

Nope. Today the forecast is predicting high heat and humidity. Near record temperatures, in fact.

No flannel required.

I stumbled upon my Words on Images called “Afternoon” in my media library last night. I’ve decided to reprise it, in tribute to the delightful days of summer we’ve been blessed with this year.

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Words on Images

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Hmmmmmmmmm.

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Written by johnwhays

September 22, 2017 at 6:00 am

Again

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now what is happening
to make everything alright
to change the outcome
to illuminate the night
in lieu of alternatives
in light of more spite
take this little guitar
or it might be a uke
that thought it was a violin
not made out of wood
more like an animal skin
rounded out hollow
one song still within
that it played by itself
oozing memories for others
with fragments that make sense
mostly people
not the places
a door slams me awake
and it’s over
without warning
leaving the sound of the wind
and an endless drone
all crickets and frogs
the very place things begin
there’s a sheet
under there somewhere
bunched and tangled
I smooth it out
then pull up the covers
I’d like to start over
again

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Written by johnwhays

September 4, 2017 at 6:00 am

Shadow

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Words on Images

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Written by johnwhays

August 21, 2017 at 6:00 am

Eleanor

with 2 comments

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Words on Images

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