Instead of mourning the soul is lost in the wilderness,
wandering thr’u the weary fate of crooked tunnels
to find eternal rainbows of myriad hues.
Then the dawn breaks open and life is re-born,
like the cracking open of shells to hail it’s reincarnation after all is lost.
And it’s depiction of many souls are like leaves on sunlit paths,
finally restored.
Someday we will all be free.
Who, when, where, and how
This fantasy you spout, are you speaking to me?
Someday we will all be free
Is that as the bird, or as the eagle?
Free; a concept that many seek, but it seems that few ever find.
Free; is real or is it fake?
This phenomenon, free is it meant for me?
I look, we search, where is freedom? Is it all in my mind?
I stand and I fight, with all of my might, this freedom I must find.
I am hungry, you are cold, he is homeless, she is sad,
I am black, you are white, he is brown and she is red,
I seek, you seek, he seeks, and she seeks
Freedom, freedom, freedom; we all want it. Is that so bad?
Someday we will all be free
Who? Both you and me, as well as he and she, for we are all the same.
When? The day we decide that what we all want is the same.
Where? Right where we are, because the place we live is the same.
How? We stand, we cry, we support, we forgive, for the way is the same.
Free as a bird,
Flying high as an eagle,
No more concept, but really free
Freedom is real, but it does have a price;
For nothing comes without sacrifice
Will I die for you? Will you die for me?
Does he or she need to die to be free?
Stand up, stand tall, we can all be free
You can’t die for me, nor I for you.
He nor she can pay the price, for on a cross at Calvary
That price was paid by Jesus the Christ
O wake up and see that freedom is won
Believe, and take heart, as we all are one.
I’ve watched her in my garden
She visits quite a lot
She lands upon my windowsill
To see what food we’ve got
She likes to peck the nuts we have
That hang in the feeding net
I even get quite close to her
She knows I pose no threat
She’s here again this morning
So cautious as can be
Then hops towards the nuts we have
That hang in the ivy tree
This lovely little homely bird
That stands out from the rest
An adorable little creature
The Robin Red Breast.
The ears of the night are mine
The dogs in the distance
What rouses their darkness
What disrupts our peace?
The ears of the night are mine
Hoping for the company of an owl
But the nightbirds have been poisoned
Long gone from dark skies
The ears of the night are mine
Listening for the sound of your breathing
Hearing only my own, a low rumbling
And the closing of a door
The eyes of the dawn are mine
With the light comes visions of flooding
The sun on the waters of our destruction
Both God and Man had lied.
PUBLICATIONS: Huffington Post, Kindred Spirit, Permaculture, Welsh Coastal Life, Celtic Life International, Big Issue Cymru, Mediterranean Gardening and Outdoor Living, Bee Culture The Magazine of American Beekeeping, National Federation of Occupational Pensioners (NFOP), Prediction and Living Tenerife magazines, as well as Tenerife News, Tenerife Weekly and the Tenerife Sun newspapers, and the Tripedia and Ancient Origins websites.
I wrote a poem
about the inferno
that burns
in the pit
of God’s belly,
and how it’s spit
with caustic intentions
unto a world
that still hasn’t
quite figured out
how to handle
the last dose
of suffering
delivered
as a plague
of pestilence
and other such
terrible perturbations.
Then I swam
in your eyes
as the earth cooled off,
calming at its core,
soothed at my center.
Not just an ocean,
but an oasis.
Not just a womb,
but the waters of life.
Not just a smile,
but electric songs
vibrating
from your lips
with every shift
of this sweet symphony.
I watched a poem
write itself
while the day went black
and the curtains fell,
shrouding evolution
as the last gasp
of civilization
snuffed out
beneath the violent rhythm
of decayed seizures
and hollow shaking
in the bones
of a broken theory
gone oh so wrong.
Then I danced
to the sound
that echoes off walls
in a room
blessed with your presence
as we spun
under the spotlight
of a circle
drawn by the hand
of fate
and freewill
aligned perfectly
in harmony
with the bliss
born from your touch.
Not just a dream,
but a vision manifested.
Not just a raft,
but a ship that saves souls.
Not just a laugh,
but the frequency of your purity.
Not just a moment,
but a sign
on the path
ahead
that points toward
you and me
together.
Bio:
Scott Thomas Outlar hosts the site 17Numa.wordpress.com where links to his published poetry, fiction, essays, interviews, reviews, and books can be found. His work has appeared in hundreds of literary venues, both in the United States and internationally, and has been nominated for Best of the Net and the Pushcart Prize. Scott is a member of The Southern Collective Experience, and he serves as an editor for The Blue Mountain Review, Walking Is Still Honest Press, The Peregrine Muse, and Novelmasters.
In my dreams, I am laughing, smiling, joking and walking fast and tall.
I never lose my stride, as I’m holding your hand, without fear of a fall…
You hold me tight as if you are wrapping wings around my heart
Like my own private secret secret-service angel that will never let me fall apart…
If only the dreams would never end and I could stay..
In the fantasy of you and I being wild and free as the wind blows warm as if to make our worries fade away…
Sometimes I dream of loved ones lost, as we sit together and talk like old times, no pain just conversing, laughing, and having fun…
Other times it’s my bucket list that I share with you, as we float in a warm pool with my umbrella in a tropical drink in hand soaking in the Hawaiian sun…
Not a care in the world everything is beautiful and Grand..
As I look at nature’s wonders, and bury my feet into the warm white sand…
Sometimes we take flight along the shores looking down at the water, so crystal clear and blue.
On a zip line in this beautiful place, that was made especially for two…
How do I stay in the slumber of soft, beautiful, heavenly memories both from the past, and some that may never be…
But I have to accept that when I awake there is a reason that I’m still here as I look up and I see…
The wheelchair near the bed that are basically chained to me each and every day…
I’ll deal with the hand that God dealt to me, because there is a reason I wake up again each day and can truthfully say…
When the dreams don’t stop one day and I don’t awaken from my sleep…
It will mean that my purpose was the fulfilled and I will take my final rest knowing that it’s no longer a dream, as I pray to the Lord my soul to keep..
I will be reunited with those loved and lost in my life that I really still love and miss…
And from the heavens I will take the seat being saved, as I send my loved ones a final kiss…
I sincerely send my Love to you all… For always keeping me from fear of the fall…
Home Without Walls is about love without limits, the kind so strong that oceans and time zones can’t lessen it. It’s the story of two sisters who grew up in different countries but never stopped loving one another.
Rock On was written for the Rockin’ Moms of the Down Syndrome Diagnosis Network. They support each other without question, through all the hopes and fears, joys and disappointments.
What motivated you to write this poem?
Home Without Walls – I was looking for inspiration for new material, so I posted a “Who Inspires You” contest on my Facebook site, http://www.facebook.com/cantbringmedowntlc. Amy Igama told me about her sister Cristy and the unconditional love they shared that recognized no boundaries, and the poem played in my head like a song all night. I woke up and wrote it in one draft in about 15 minutes.
Rock On – I was looking for inspiration for new material, so I posted a “Who Inspires You” contest on my Facebook site, http://www.facebook.com/cantbringmedowntlc. Janessa Gross commented that she was inspired by Jen Jacob, founder of the Down Syndrome Diagnosis Network. Having met both of these moms and followed their kids’ journeys for the past several years, and watching the DSDN grow since it’s very beginning, I knew this was a story that needed to be shared. Rock On is currently being recorded as a song by Veronica Torraca-Bragdon.
How long have you been writing poetry?
Since I was able to hold a pen and paper, back in the days when typewriters still existed!
If you could have dinner with one person (dead or alive), who would that be?
Natasha, the little girl who is the subject of my book, Natasha and the Christmas Wish. She’s living in an orphanage in Russia, while the American family that planned to adopt her continues to fight to complete the adoption process due to the Russian ban on American adoptions several years ago. I would love to let her know how very loved she is, and how hard so many people are working to try to bring her home.
What influenced you to submit to have your poetry performed by a professional actor?
I have a background in music, and an interest in theater, so the connection between the written word and the spoken word is really magical to me. I like to experience the sounds of the words that play over and over in my head while I write.
Do you write other works? scripts? Short Stories? Etc..?
Yes. I’ve self-published three books so far – two poetry/short story collections and one children’s book, Natasha and the Christmas Wish. I’ve got several projects in the works with Civin Media Relations, helping people with disabilities to share their stories, and also three novels waiting to be finished. I’ve co-written songs with Veronica Torraca-Bragdon, and completed a screenplay that I would love to see on the big screen one day!
What is your passion in life?
People and connections. Seeing the magic when all the reasons why start to appear and things come together as they were meant to be all along.