A Vortex To A Quill Poem by John Ackerman

shaped from the tiny fragmentation of the impulse in my mind
blinded by the mere silence in its brigade of solemn tenderness
alone I sit on a high hill visually seeing the passerbys visit then leave
a quaint encounter to the vast duration of negate circumstances
all of life is a test each of us is caught up in its fix you see
out of sincere necessity one is willing in which to achieve
the heavy garb of compromise is suddenly removed from there eyes
does it come at any big enough surprise the closing of the door
another window will appear this time very clear
light & love


hands, eyes & feet
shadows block the vortex in my magestic thoughts
once again I'm on a raft near the shore I suddenly get tired falling into a sleep
next I know I'm out in the middle of the sea away from know civilization
life hits us hard when we least axpect it to
many have bitten off far more then they could ever chew
sullen brevity
the quill is a welcoming mat for all to enter
a heart saturated with truth will withstand the truest test of time
sublime

many times we have to come up for air
a little folding of the hands and then
hopefully you will understand
yet a heart will not beat something it clearly can't
the mere notion of love is not for the faint hearted
love permeates a soul vested existence
with columns of lavender torn in its vested mockery
we now come suddenly to a close for I never felt like this before
you were all I was living for