Loving an ocean

Loving an ocean

Why do we fear drowning?
when all I want is to feel the ocean fill my lungs
I want the water to become my oxygen
want the taste of salt on my tongue
My teeth are clattering – your love is cold and refreshing
I love the way you wash over me
if only I could stay underwater

My love, I will sink into your essence
until my bones tire from floating
then I will sit by the shore
my feet tucked into the sand
my fingertips brushing your waves
Can I meet your here when the moon is high above to witness our dancing?
It seems that’s when you have the most courage to step closer

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ONE YEAR!!!

Okay so apparently I’ve been on WordPress for one year now and I just can’t believe that so much time has passed already. I started this blog after finally convincing myself to publish my works (poetry, stories, photography, thoughts, etc) out to the world, not out of some need for attention, but just as an avenue to speak my mind in these art forms (like an artistic social media hahaha). Since then I’ve gained quite a few followers, and some nice comments from people, and my friends have been supportive of my works.

I know that most of my work here has been poetry. I’ve only had one short story, and a few photos I took to accompany my poems. I guess I just really write poetry most of the time, but I love writing stories and taking photos just as much, and so I do hope to have more of that. My Instagram is there, however, as a way to display some of my photos. Nevertheless, I will continue to post poetry, and whatever it that I want to post.

I don’t post as often as I used to at the start of this blog, but I do still write poetry, and so there are a lot of unpublished poems I have at hand. I just haven’t found the time or I forgot. I hope to publish more this year though, and I do hope to experience more of the world, and to express my experiences, thought, and self, in this blog.

I named the blog Ferryman of the souls as a reference to Charon from Greek Mythology (I LOVE Greek Mythology), the ferryman of the Underworld that carries souls through the river Styx. In my mind, we’ve always been much more than our bodies; we are an embodied spirit, and so I believe that living our lives is like going down a river, and we all try to steer our way through it. I believe that many people can find their way down the river and guide others as well in a multitude of ways, and so I felt that poetry, stories, and photography, is surely one way of going about it. I believe we are all ferrymen of ourselves and of others, that is how we relate with each other in the world. We become guides and influences, be it good or bad. And so my hopes for this blog was that it would just become one of the many sources of influence or guidance, even just a place to see an understanding of the world through a different set of eyes.

I’m thankful for the few kind words I received for my work, ¬†and I’ve loved reading and seeing the works of others as well. I’m thankful for this platform. Thank you WordPress!

Sincerely,

Geo (aka just one of the many Ferrymen of the souls)

 

More than words

Tell me, do you ever think about all the things left unsaid?
Like how you could go an entire day talking and know that there are still words that haven’t made it pass your throat
and you choke a little everyday but no Heimlich maneuver will ever force you to say them so you become familiar with your limited air
Or how you can read every word off the dictionary but you know you will not have said it all
because there is more than one dictionary, and there is more than one language
and you know that everyone always comes up with a brand new word or a brand new way to name things because we would go insane if we couldn’t stamp a label on the unexplained
And we know that dictionaries are just composed of the things that the authors have said
so even if everyone on this planet became authors there still lies a word out there suspended in space
Not because it belongs to no context but because we will always have a tendency to forget
and more often than not we will find ourselves agreeing so much that we fail to see the words that are left in the dusty corners of our minds
How funny it is that sometimes we are speaking but it seems like no one is saying anything at all
How funny it is that each one of us at some point becomes noise?
Because words can build sentences and paragraph and an entire autobiography but it will not be enough to build skyscrapers or pillars or bridges
Because sometimes the only way to bring people closer is through joined hands and eyes that never leave each other
through hugs that linger, and kisses pressed on foreheads, or cheeks, or lips
Sometimes the best way to say I love you is the brushing of fingers through hair and the circling of arms around bodies
sometimes these are the best ways to tell someone you are there
And there are moments a promise becomes much more concrete through swears with the pinkies and rings that we slip on fingers
It is when we transcend our words that they become meaningful

Tell me, do you think about all the things left hidden?
Like the treasure your buried in your backyard, or the skeletons that you still keep in your closet
or the books that fill the shelves but you know that for every one you read, there is another that you haven’t
and there is one that isn’t on your shelf
and there is one that hasn’t even been written
Because maybe life is just this huge game of hide and seek
and we spend all our time looking for what is hidden that we’re nearly startled to death when we are found
How funny it is that the more we look for something, the more we are hiding ourselves from something else?
And every meeting, every hello and goodbye, are all part of the game of passing by
But there is one special moment when you are in limbo
where the thing you are looking for is the thing that finds you
and here the words only become noise
Because it takes more than words to make spaces
and so we are fine to leave the things left unsaid

Intimate conversations

I’ll grip her hips tightly
and pull her flush against me
with her mouth pressed to my ear
as she lists her dreams and fears

She shakes as she tells me
all her needs and desires
and the heat builds between us
like a hot roaring fire

I ask that she tell me
all the stories her name holds
so i can whisper her name like prayer
with the weight of all I know