natemunsonpoetry
They Call It Reverie
Meandering Thoughts Conjured By The Heart
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Morning Light
The sun creeps over the horizon,
and its light transforms the dark, night sky,
into a palette of violet, yellow, and orange.
The air is cool, yet devoid of wind.
The leaves remain still; settled in their arboreal home.
A distant train whistle can be heard through the calm air.
The cow herd is moving west.
My dogs sniff the fence line,
curious and determined.
It reminds me of a cartoon I once watched
of a detective peering through a magnifying glass inches from the ground.
I sit in this chair,
arms crossed over each other,
as the chill of the morning air begins to take its effect on my mortality.
One of the dogs begins to bark at something beyond the fence;
something he desires to chase,
but limited by the boundaries of the wood between them.
Time grudgingly continues,
and so must I
as the day is nigh.
Sun now sits slightly above the horizon.
The western sky is still dark,
dividing the world in half;
showing us the past of yesterday,
and the coming light of a new moment in time.
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Words Over Time
[kaminoku]
Words come more slow now.
As if time lost us along,
The road to our dreams.
[shimonoku]
Time does not escape us, Dear.
It merely forgets us now.
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Perfect Love (Agape)
This hand in mine is
no less than what I cherish
most in this dark world.
A world where dreams are
the champions of tragic
men; men who seek hope.
Yet, hope hides from them.
Hiding in the midst of the
solemn, and broken.
But it shan't hide from
I. I am the force of Love.
In this Love, I am
Not afraid to step
o’er the threshold of this world,
to make this my home.
Here, Love knows no fear;
for perfect love casts out fear,
and through grace we Love.
Grant me strength in You,
and bring me to life, My Love.
On flowing silk we march there.
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Muddy Waters
The rain comes down;
its rhythm erratic. Incessant.
For days we trudge through the muddied earth,
seeking a place to wait out the storm.
Hopeful we are
that shelter is near.
Our hope founded on a promise that tomorrow will be clear,
sunny,
and without rain.
However, we find comfort in these muddy waters,
where little expectation exists.
It's easy to accept this growing pool of dirt,
brought to us by the run-offs.
Sure,
dreams of clear skies and pristine streams,
are encouraged too.
Yet,
the floods continue to sweep us downstream
with our eyes looking towards the sky,
and our backs turned from paradise.
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In Love by Nate Munson
Fancied wanderers,
Dancing on
the foundries
of haunted memories.
Slowly feeling
the subtle dreaming
of our time
in each other's arms.
Let us be
unequivocally
blessed by the warmth
of His love.
Together, we will
soar through the
clouds o'er Texas.
In Love, we took our vows.
In Love, we crossed the threshold.
In Love, we are one.
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Prologue
Helen O’Connor was getting ready for bed when she heard the noise. They were three distinct, but unfamiliar sounds that rang from outside the house--sounds she had never heard during her forty years of living in this quiet, Texas suburb.
They were almost like the sound a record player makes when the needle traces the grooves of an old, throughly used record; that distinct, static Pop sound.
She walked to her window, drew the blinds up, and scrutinized the dark street that ran in front of her house. The houses on her left were silent; these houses were still. The Hendricks’ house across from hers had a light on.
They’re probably wondering what those sounds were too, Helen thought as her gaze shifted away from their house. Next to the Hendricks house was the Muñoz family residence. Unlike many of the homes in the neighborhood, theirs was only a single story. Mrs. Muñoz probably preferred not having an upstairs to clean now that their kids had graduated from college and moved on. Their house was dark like most of the other houses.
She continued to look down the street until she saw the Voughts’ house. All of the lights were on, and well, she wasn’t too sure, but she could have sworn there was a man sitting in the walkway. Probably just Mr. Vought smoking a cigarette like usual, she thought as she blindly reached for the cord to withdraw the blinds. However, she noticed something odd about the Voughts’ house. There was a Porsche parked out front...but they didn’t own one.
Very strange, Helen Said--thinking out loud this time. Her eyes shifted from the car back to Mr. Vought, and she saw something dark in the yard. Something she couldn’t make out very well. Her eyes squinted intensely as she tried to figure out just what that object was. It was lying on its side, whatever it was, and appeared to be rather large.
Then she saw the limp arms spread across the grass. Legs awkwardly twisted around each other. It’s a body! She gasped, as her hand instinctively clenched her shirt. In a moment of pure panic, she stumbled backwards onto the bed, wishing she had the mind to scream; but her mind was racing too quick for her scream to keep up. Her old bones weren’t capable of moving as quick as she wanted to run from here...her mind not capable of removing the terror in her heart.
Helen couldn’t catch her breath. Her mind continued to race through everything, yet the image of the body was the only predominant picture she could mentally grasp. This scared her.
Police! Helen yelled--but not to anyone but herself. I must call the police! She thought as she reached for the cordless phone on her nightstand.
It seemed her fingers couldn’t connect with the numbers 9-1-1. The phone slipped through her hands as she frantically tried to contact the police. Finally the phone began to rang. It only rang twice before the voice of the police lady answered, but those rings seemed to last longer than anything she had ever endured in during her sixty-five years.
911. What’s your emergency?
Goodness...um...hello? Oh goodness, Helen murmured into the receiver.
Ma’am, do you have an emergency? The police lady asked, this time with more command.
The man on the lawn, Helen spoke, He seems to be lying there unconscious. Helen very much wanted to say He’s dead! Yet, she hoped it wasn’t true; she hoped he had just fallen and hurt himself.
Ma’am! Hello? Ma’am, did he look injured? What is your address, Ma’am? Hello!
Helen could barely breath. How could this be happening? Here? In their little city?
Ma’am!
Oh yes! I’m so sorry! He appears to be hurt and unconscious. Please send somebody! Please!
Her plea was desperate. Her fear was genuine. Helen O’Connor could not believe it; she refused to think the body was... was dead. How could that happen here? She thought, while the police lady spoke. Yet the lady’s voice faded as the voice inside Helen screamed the scream that she still couldn’t let out.
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What kind of challenge ;)
I know that's you bear...what if it's a surprise for you?!? haha
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Learning From It
Why do we try so much to re-write history,
When we'd be better off just learning from it?
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Wandering Under Storm Clouds
They tell me I'll be fine all by myself,
But I sit here waiting to talk to you, My Love.
-
It's strange how we try to be so strong,
yet we all need a shoulder to cry on.
-
I was lost in a sea of self-loathing
and it was there you saved me.
-
A train whistles through the cool, still air.
Not much longer will we be left in this moment.
-
I pray you know I admire you, Baby.
I hope you know my love for you knows no limit.
-
I wander under these storm clouds,
wishing it would just rain love on me; on we.
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Я желаю Вам всем спокойной ночи
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Write
Let me provoke you.
Let me stir you.
Let me make,
That chair you are sitting in,
Not as comfortable,
As it was a second ago.
Move with your words.
Write your heart.
Get mad once in a while.
Feel love once in a while.
Witness beauty once in a while.
Feel disgusted once in a while.
Let Me provoke you.
Let me stir you.
I want to make you cringe!
I want to make you move!
Write!
Write!
Write like Shakespeare,
But curse like Dangerfield.
Provoke Me!
I want to feel your grit,
your emotion,
your constant devotion.
Write.
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The Shadows Dance About Me
The Shadows dance about me;
Taunting me;
Consuming me.
They torment my every breath.
They contort and conform with my every move.
Following me everywhere I go,
haunting my troubled soul--
Except at Noon.
The Shadows dance about me,
and I do not know where to go,
nor where to hide.
so time I’ll just bide,
until it comes time to die,
and the Shadows will follow me,
no more,
no longer,
the Shadows dance about me.
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You
I’m Standing,
Proud.
Let these,
Words,
Fall on you.
My lips,
Are strong.
Let them,
Smother you.
This Hate,
Decays.
Let my love,
Devour you.
Spoil you.
Let these arms,
Consume you.
Embrace you.
Gently,
Carry you.
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I Wouldn't Have It Any Other Way
I want to feel that again.
I want that desire to intertwine words;
To create meaning from spontaneous emotion.
I want to express my love again.
I just want her to hear my heart.
I crave the inspiration.
I want to feast on the words I used to know.
I miss my insomnia;
I miss those nights when it was just me
and those words
exploring the deepest depths of my mind.
I miss the music coursing through my ears,
as I sought to explain the image
of a cloud I had fallen in love with that day.
I miss it.
I wouldn't have it any other way.
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