Poetry of the Soul

Poetry is thoughts that breathe, and words that burn. ~Thomas Gray

Mt. Rainier August 20, 2011

Filed under: poetry — laurenmichelleotheim @ 12:07 am

Bald head hovers, alien, as the Death Star above the trees

Waiting, Silently to gun them down in the violent expLOsion it resembles

mushroom clouds like ash all around so only the bulbous crest is visible.

A warning: run while you still can!  Imminent death

will occur sometime

in the next two weeks

to two thousand years.

(c) Lauren Otheim – 2011

 

Evermore July 20, 2011

Filed under: poetry — laurenmichelleotheim @ 3:16 am

To my beloved, Lauren Major.

 

 

I want my love to be eternal

As the moon and the stars

Burn as brightly as the sun

Held in human jars

 

 

I want you by my side

In peace time or in war

Whisper in my ear

“I will love you evermore”

 

 

It is you that makes life lovely

The reason that I glow

I will never leave you

My heart will always show

 

 

I will be your constant

Never shaken at our core

In the silent eye of storm, whisper

“I will love you evermore”

 

 

Press you to my chest

Preserve you on my heart

Pin you to my memories

So we can never be apart

 

 

When life is crushing in

And worries make you sore

I will lift the burden, whisper

“I will love you evermore”

 

 

In old age with our wrinkles

You will sag sage with wisdom

And I’ll caress the laugh lines

For they prove that we have lived some

 

 

In our rocking chairs we’ll sit

As present turns to yore

Holding hands we whisper

“I will love you evermore”

 

 

(c) Lauren Otheim – 2011

 

rise of a silent voice June 12, 2011

Filed under: poetry — laurenmichelleotheim @ 10:22 pm

i feel as if my voice is riding on owl wings

too soft to be detected

who’s fault is that but my own?

my creativity is defected

my thoughts are as cramped and kinked

as my hair when released at night

i remember when it used to shine silk

somehow soft and bright

but now corroded from breaths

taken inwardly rather than

speak my mind

i think.

i think

of things i wish

to say but can’t because

it’s impolite or if nice

because i lack the courage

to say more than “i love you”

and say out loud that my heart tears

at the thought of losing you

to move beyond simple sayings

society has pre-created for me

so that i don’t actually have to put my thoughts

on the line because that’s not something to do over

a cup of tea.

a cup of tea

is just a starting point of mesmeric proportions

spending hours staring at the dark water

splashing in my mug listening to you ramble

wondering what i should say so i totter

on the brink of getting wet or staying dry

i can’t decide if i should jump

and if i do and drown how would the air get back in my lungs?

would you pump

your life source into me so that somehow

i might return stronger

not because i lived and died and lived again

but because i have just a little bit

more of you

inside of me.

(c) Lauren Otheim – 2011

 

New Poetry May 9, 2011

Filed under: poetry — laurenmichelleotheim @ 1:01 am

I randomly came across this site, Gabriel Gadfly, today and found one of my new favorite poems, “Why I Hate Reading Maps.”

I don’t want to take the liberty of reproducing her words here, so please visit the link!  If you like my poems, I promise you’ll like this one as well.  Happy visiting!

 

Buried May 1, 2011

Filed under: poetry — laurenmichelleotheim @ 8:31 pm

What is kept in your attic?
Wonder about personal
history is asleep in boxes.
Dust piled up on taped over
openings, closed against prying
children, all grown up.
After death comes spring cleaning
all the secrets bandaged in bubble wrap.
When piecing together a life
where better to start than dark corners?

(c) Lauren Otheim – 2011

 

A series of small poems April 24, 2011

Filed under: poetry — laurenmichelleotheim @ 1:51 am

Decisions

Blinking is such a small decision

often it is not even a thought

But that momentary lapse in vision

would have been one less view of you

that I’d have caught.

Actions

The trip seemed to take an hour

across the room I nearly ran instead of walk

You stood there tall as if a tower

watching as I sweated and fretted

and spilt my wine upon the clock.

Words

Are hard to come by in a hurry

stumbling and stuttering is best

For when they left in such a scurry

I found the words you guessed

less messed.

(c) Lauren Otheim – 2011

 

The perfect place April 17, 2011

Filed under: poetry — laurenmichelleotheim @ 4:48 pm

Many of you may have discovered my new favorite hobby long before I did. I have recently discovered that I love to stumble.  This past week I have been in bed with viral bronchitis (no worries, I’m almost recovered) so I have spent a particularly large amount of my time stumbling around the internet.  Today I came across the most poetic house I have ever seen and it is now my dream to live in it.

To read about and see the rest of the house click here.

 

 
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