unborn
March 31, 2023
it is not impatient, it is not angry
it is not lacking, it is not form
it is stainless
it is
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Listening
September 26, 2016

Uncertain
Cricket points to space
Trees sway sleep
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Secrince’s light
September 8, 2016

Was true in moonlight, set in space
absence of time, blue, red and black
fountains violent, desire-less sight
touching, yet separate; similar paths
Rage does slow, abound and kneeling
with page in hand, soaked with feeling
perfected sight, foot steps go slowly
come back full circle, season dwelling
Sane willows sway and hold dear secrets
sworn once more on final night
known and forgotten just to see
merged again to absorb light
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Sisyphuis
July 28, 2014
Illusory veils
Blankets upon the mind
Capturing up moments
imprisoned fireflies
Heed the warmth of flicker-flame
As awareness becomes fire
Fuel for the journey
Coals of desire
The artwork at above was inspired by this writing. If you’d like to view more of my art just copy and paste the link below;
fineartamerica.com/profiles/dennis-welch.html
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In the depths
February 12, 2014
Telling a story made of lies
to bring about awe and surprise
Does the three seconds of laughter justify
the ingrained solicitation?
Now that the crowd has lulled
what next will be revealed
to fulfill ones’ empty need?
Or is it just the opposite?
Is it a covering over of the uncertain and the unknown?
For true death comes from surrendering the cyclic process of thought.
Pushing away all discomfort and uncertainty; aggression
Pulling and grasping that which makes a sense of security; passion
Endlessly oscillating, thinking it will bring about happiness; ignorance
Is it not below the current where stillness brings about clarity?
In the darkness; the disorientation; the fear…
In the depths where stainless love has always been.
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Entrance
February 6, 2014
Are these grooved things not fit for better things?
They that tell a lifetime
Speak of evolution
Are they to be employed by illusion?
Twisting and turning
Bending and burning
Forging and fusing particles of the past
This dust cannot take form once more
And if this Vegas show would once more perform
surely its sights and sounds would betray
These distant images arise not from depths of clarity
But are summoned by the minions of longing
How true the air is striking the skin, now, at this perfect hour
Waste no more and wash these gifts at last
Let dust be dead as it is
Are these hands meant for disabled clutching?
For enduring the ritualistic death that fear brings about?
Let joints breath again and open to the world
Sounding pulsing instruments of awakened life
These beautiful extensions of love and gentleness;
To reach out
To touch
To pull oneself and also another upright into liberating posture
How true they move when the heart pulsates through these veins
How true the air is striking skin, now, at this perfect hour
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Still places
January 30, 2014
Fix the light bulb at night
sampling midnight air just right
fur-covered explorers striding elegantly about
while skin speaks with eloquence
Red, red embers attract the wind
the end of death, breathing begins
bright blue lover with a beautiful caress
emptiness granting romance
Altering to remain the same
counting cracks on the ceiling again
flow of heat showing all the lost places
flow of love, perfected spaces
Flowers bend a knee
notes made of dreams
a time without memory
a place made to feel
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All to be
January 14, 2014
To sit in silence;
slowing down
thoughts losing speed
even more importantly, losing substance
Allowing all to be as is;
the tense neck
the fear of the unknown
the unassigned love
To walk as human;
to feel a heavy heart
experiencing uncertainty
knowing all is fleeting
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Sisyphus
May 25, 2011
Half-self.
Striving to multiply
the brilliance of the sun
while our energy binds
the beauty of the night.
Submitted to One Shot Wednesday: http://onestoppoetry.com/
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Alaya
April 25, 2011
photo courtesy of mike1851.deviantart.com
Footsteps fleeting as they go
Fading quickly, stone in snow
Removing memory lest you choose to flee
The path ahead the only way to leave
.. been away so long. It’s really good to be back on here reading others’ work and letting a bit of me spill out…feels d@#n good actually. C ya around.
Submitted to Jingle Poetry – Poetry Potluck :
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the Tide
August 23, 2010
Friend in pain from heart stretched thin
The ties that pull at the organ within
Across a plane that blurs from sight
This very pain that is the path of rite
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