#sonreyes

[sonreyes]

[loveme--lustme]

Follow sonreyes

[inkstainsandheartbeats]

Let's collaborate! Can you finish my poem? Tag @sonreyes and I'll reblog it! To the poet, this world is [ ]. I'm at the center becoming [ ]. My [ ] tell(s) me [ ]. Saying I've been grasping at [ ]. The poet's desire to hoard everything is making me [ ]. This greed is spilling into my [ ]. [ ] heavy like anchors. Teach me how to let go so that when I [ ] I can [ ]. Poetry is so [ ] and majestic. We are poets in a world [ ]. Unobtainable, we try anyways.

Tagging my main here with this one too... To the poet, this world is constant adventure, through words, each edge explored. I'm at the center becoming me again. My soul tells me, there is more, there is more Saying I've been grasping at haystacks, every handful falling through my fingers The poet's desire to hoard everything is making me my heart beat fast This greed is spilling into my chest, I want more, I know there is more Thoughts weighing in my mind so heavy, like anchors, I sink inside Teach me how to let go so that when I become my own I can feel the release, I know there is more Poetry is so complicated, yet so raw and majestic. We are poets in this world, finding constant adventure. What may be unobtainable, we try anyways

[followcb]

Let's collaborate! Can you finish my poem? Tag @sonreyes and I'll reblog it! To the poet, this world is [ ]. I'm at the center becoming [ ]. My [ ] tell(s) me [ ]. Saying I've been grasping at [ ]. The poet's desire to hoard everything is making me [ ]. This greed is spilling into my [ ]. [ ] heavy like anchors. Teach me how to let go so that when I [ ] I can [ ]. Poetry is so [ ] and majestic. We are poets in a world [ ]. Unobtainable, we try anyways.

This universe is fire and light, galaxies of constellations. At the core is life. Flora and fauna. Emotions and spiritual energy. Enchantment amidst darkness. We attempt to interpret. Grab at straws for understanding. Hold onto unimportant stuff far too long. Swirl in circling circles - vacillating between fear and greed. Wings in need of major clipping before we can ever fly - take to the sky. Poet pilots. Creative spirits. Artists on the periphery of anonymity. Torch carriers headed to the dark side of the moon.

That's my attempt ^ to add to your words. Appreciate the question and opportunity. I always love impromptu throw downs!!

Hugs you !!

@followcb @sonreyes

[inversetherapy]

Let's collaborate! Can you finish my poem? Tag @sonreyes and I'll reblog it! To the poet, this world is [ ]. I'm at the center becoming [ ]. My [ ] tell(s) me [ ]. Saying I've been grasping at [ ]. The poet's desire to hoard everything is making me [ ]. This greed is spilling into my [ ]. [ ] heavy like anchors. Teach me how to let go so that when I [ ] I can [ ]. Poetry is so [ ] and majestic. We are poets in a world [ ]. Unobtainable, we try anyways.

@sonreyes thanks for the opportunity to collaborate. Such sublime words, and such superb responses! Here’s mine…

To the poet, this world is too much, yet never enough. I'm at the center becoming supernova ��� burning, yearning. My inner demons tell me to give up. Saying I've been grasping at thoughts unnamable words beyond reach. The poet's desire to hoard everything is making me earthbound. This greed is spilling into my inkwell. My quills heavy like anchors. Teach me how to let go so that when I write I can defy gravity, glimpse a higher plane. Poetry is so transcendent and majestic. We are poets in a world desperate for nirvana. Unobtainable, we try anyways.

–Alec Prado / SJM

[elycwinters]

Let's collaborate! Can you finish my poem? Tag @sonreyes and I'll reblog it! To the poet, this world is [ ]. I'm at the center becoming [ ]. My [ ] tell(s) me [ ]. Saying I've been grasping at [ ]. The poet's desire to hoard everything is making me [ ]. This greed is spilling into my [ ]. [ ] heavy like anchors. Teach me how to let go so that when I [ ] I can [ ]. Poetry is so [ ] and majestic. We are poets in a world [ ]. Unobtainable, we try anyways.

I'd love to collab! Here we go:

To the poet, this world is another form of art. I'm at the center of becoming an universe on my own. My heart tells me not to give up or give in, Saying I've been grasping at slippery shadows. The poet's desire to hoard everything is making me selfish and dark, instead of becoming what I desire. This greed is spilling into my very soul and it aches.

This desperate huger and greed of mine are heavy like anchors. Teach me how to let go so that when I transform myself I can be able to take flight. Poetry is so uniquely ours and majestic. We are poets in a world that needs it.

Unobtainable, we try anyways.

An honor to work with you @sonreyes

[sonreyes-poetry]

before we were born we were nothing at all and then in a mortal cocktail consciousness was born and never returned home so tonight I’m calling home for the first time in years the star stuff remembers me how I was  the cosmos left the bedroom just how I left it the metal that binds this world together grows so cold, so fast so that by the time you put the phone down it’s already cold again I measure my breath in volumes as I lose it speaking to empty spaces the void never picks up the phone I thought I’d be welcomed I thought there would be more to life than flesh and blood //calling home for the first time by alec prado// Photo Courtesy of: João Marques

#writerscreed challenge: calling home for the first time in years

[smittenbypoetry]

So Beautiful to be Empty By: Alec Prado // Sonreyes Poetry

I keep going back to it in my mind Keep turning it over again and again The clouds parted And we could see the bed stained with colors I had never learned before I wake up in that bed every morning Falling out Spilling over Hanging up the veil of a thousand woven spider threads Rearranging my room to fit furniture I don’t even own Dirty in a way even water can’t wash out With sticks and stones cluttered with traffic Save for the path I walk Beautiful bodies So empty they could never be fully realized I walk by that house As I ride the pale mare I picked up my bags One more time From distant islands in my mind I dusted off the window pane and looked inside Everything was exactly as it should’ve been As if nothing had ever happened No graves in the halls No flowers for the moon The stars lie awake every night The distant echoes of birds fall away And every day the paint breaks off But no one explained why there was rope tied to the bed Guide me The blueprints of all the rooms we used to fill Teach me how to be empty Become me So that I may lay down each memory And wake up anew //So Beautiful to Be Empty By: Alec Prado//

[oddman-the-oldman]

.

the subtle urge

a innocent little scratch  an unconscious action the potential menace unseen

feeding a growing hunger My claws grow sharper Knife blades grow from my finger tips As i scrape deeper and deeper for less relief

And The Itch Spreads until i start trying to rip my skin off with my claws I want to climb out of it I Know I’ll just send it out to the dry cleaner have it cleaned and reconditioned have the itch removed

before I put it back on.

.

[sonreyes]

[loveme--lustme]

Follow sonreyes

[writingthestorm]

That flimsy gravity Those soft floorboards The wide open space All the clutter you left inside Your friends stay away Your family could never know There isn’t anywhere you can keep your feet When the world bends around you I listened hard to the receiver To the body on the other side There was still a murmur An outline of a dimly beating heart “Okay”  “Yeah”   It seems silly I could reach through copper wires and lend my hands “Mm-Hmm”  “Alright” The moisture on the glass quickly evaporates “Things will get better” But that sounds too foreign “I’ll see you later” Meaning: You’ll survive until the next time I see you That flimsy gravity Those soft floorboards The wide open space Waiting for us to spill into But no one can fill the infinite space between planets No one can know the distance between two lines They become farther apart the closer you measure them And fall away infinitely into Negative numbers, A song of static Phone numbers with no one on the other side.... //Phone Numbers with no One on the Other Side By: Alec Prado//

[savage-words]

//Another Shade of Grey By: Alec Prado//

We grew up with a spectral body emanating cold We knew who he was though he had no name Sitting in the portraits we held in frames He wore hand-me-downs And shoes filled with holes When the rain came it’d leak through his soul From grey memories we couldn’t erase Keeping stock of every second like novels Looking back they’ve turned to fossils A face we once knew Unnameable called beyond the veil Terrified wanderer lost to the trail Two trees, we called them brothers We would go there to play One grew up, one was never meant to stay Connecting scars to memories Hiding in winter coats Keeping warm, better than most Now we fix flowers to that old rope swing To the bent-neck trees Shedding itself of all its leaves A face we once knew Looking at dirt under the fingernails To identify a body we waited to exhale When you see him as whole It’s just another shade of grey One grew up, one was never meant to stay //Another Shade of Grey By: Alec Prado//

//Sonreyes.tumblr.com//

_____________________________

written and submitted by @sonreyes-poetry

[goneahead]

To the poet, this world is rich earth, root deep. I'm at the center of becoming, and listlessly fallow. My old   self tells me run, do not stay here, where words are planted deep. Says I'm grasping at autumn’s falling lines, without hope of a second stanza.

But the poet's desire to hoard everything makes my roots unfurl, hungrily seeking richer earth. This greed is spilling into coming winter, and snow-bowed words, like anchors. Teach me how to let go, so that when I sleep, deep in these furrowed fields, I can be a poet again.

Poetry is so strangely deep, yet majestic. We are poets in a world untapped by our own roots. Unobtainable, we try—

anyways

~~~~~

prompt: @sonreyes

Let's collaborate! Can you finish my poem? Tag @sonreyes and I'll reblog it! To the poet, this world is [  ]. I'm at the center becoming [  ]. My [  ] tell(s) me [  ]. Saying I've been grasping at [  ]. The poet's desire to hoard everything is making me [  ]. This greed is spilling into my [  ]. [  ] heavy like anchors. Teach me how to let go so that when I [  ] I can [  ]. Poetry is so [  ] and majestic. We are poets in a world [  ]. Unobtainable, we try anyways.

[betweenthetimeandsound]

--prompt from @sonreyes

To this poet, this world is a crystal ball, overflowing with smoke and obscuring the beauty inside. I'm at the center becoming an ember to an eternal flame; my conscience tells me to stop trying in another language, saying I've been grasping at hope for far too long.

The poet's desire to hoard everything is making me cut my hands on wilted roses. This greed is spilling onto my arms and dripping onto my sneakers; leaving my sins clamped onto my arms, heavy like anchors.

Teach me how to let go so that when I depart this world, only my words will be imprinted on the earth's canvas.

Poetry is so horrifying and majestic. We are poets in a world which turns itself anew not through cherry blossoms and birdsong, but through rivers of lava and newborn continents which only provide promises of paradise.

Unobtainable, we try anyways... --Alec Prado/Elda Mengisto

[sonreyes-poetry]

//I Will Always Love You By: Alec Prado//

Woman:

if I came to you

one night

and hid my face

would you recognize me?

Man: I will always recognize you

Woman:

what if it was years later

and I was wet from the rain

and slimy from algae

fresh from the river?

Man: I would give you a towel and something hot to drink

Woman:

or what if

I had no memories

and no voice

no way to tell you that I once belonged?

Man: I would know it was you for I have known you longer than you've known yourself

Woman:

if I came back home

after all this time

damaged beyond repair

would you still accept me as your daughter?

Man: I will always love you and accept you no matter what