More Often
Our Lot in Life
More often than not
I travel with a heavy heart,
A few beautiful moments
And then it's time to part.
It could be a month, a year or two
A life as lovers or maybe just friends,
The time so very precious
As the days come to an end.
It seems like our lot in life
That we will be ships in the night,
Taking what we need
Before disappearing from sight.
We'll say goodbye and promise to keep in touch
Knowing we'll never see each other again,
We'll think about the good times once or twice
Although the memories will remain.
But I’m hopeless at goodbyes
As my heart just tears asunder,
The pain, the tears, unable to breathe
Is it worth it, I’m left to wonder?
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About the Creator
Colleen Millsteed
My first love is poetry — it’s like a desperate need to write, to free up space in my mind, to escape the constant noise in my head. Most of the time the poems write themselves — I’m just the conduit holding the metaphorical pen.
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A Flower Song
Apparently the Aztecs, Toltecs, Chichimecs and other Mexica were crazy about poetry. Despite the book-burning, slaughter, and epidemics that characterized the early stages of the Spanish conquest of the empires of Mexico, some hundreds of poems from the height of their tradition come down to us in Classical Nahuatl, preserved by Nahua and Spanish scholars of the 16th century. One of the most famous poets, Nezahualcoyotl, was a sage-king who opposed the cult of human sacrifice associated with Tezcatlipoca, God of the Smoking Mirror, and favored Quetzalcoatl, the Feathered Serpent. Flowers and feathers were the favorite offering of the Plumed Serpent. Moreover, flowers and feathers are a metaphor for poetry. Individual words, scattered petals, the down of tropical birds. The temples of blood sacrifice could be transformed into temples of flower and song. A sublimated offering to the Heart of Earth and the Heart of Sky encapsulated in the Classical Nahuatl kenning for poetry: in xōchitl in cuīcatl, meaning, "the flower and the song." The following poem is part of a longer work, and is in a state of flux, so take the waters as they flow:
By Rob Angeli3 days ago in Poets
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