Use these words in a poem,
windowpane
destination
seeker
circle
reading
Post your poem in the comments.
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Use these words in a poem,
windowpane
destination
seeker
circle
reading
Post your poem in the comments.
a bowl of random words 
My eyes fall upon a small, warped circle
forever frozen within a wavey windowpane.
What a sad and final destination for one last molten breath.
I am reflected in these windows. Distorted.
Pitted with imperfections of the past.
I’m old and inefficient.
Even with the light I let in
you can see through me,
easily reading along the aging lines of fear and desire;
open to anyone who cups their hands against my pain.
Open to the seeker of light within.
At the Mouth of the Bear River
Where the light shines through the clouds
Is a sacred burial site, now fully restored;
The final destination for a few of Chief Petosega’s native tribe.
Legacy now honored, historic interest attained.
Symbolic crosses gleaming white, proudly stand, listening
Prayer-like as the gentle waves beat an age old rhythm
of worship to the designer of all mankind. Heritage and
Language at first denied, now a battle underway to preserve.
Oh Ottawa spirit, ringing out majestically,
Overlooking the shores of Little Traverse Bay,
Is it possible to see memories reflected through the windowpane?
Can a seeker gaze through and see your spirit uplifted?
Were many a head bent in prayer, before the snowshoe priest?
Was your soul uplifted reading holy words from the white man’s book?
Or, when the bell tower majestically rang did your spirit rejoice,
Revived and refreshed, due to the rays of the morning dawn?
At the mouth of the Bear River, perhaps “The Little Church by the Lake
Embraced both the heritage of the red man and the white man’s faith.
Like the Petoskey stone, your spirit washed clean and smooth by grace and
The circle of the rising sun which still warms this land of renewal.
by Margaret Bednar
http://www.margaretbednar365.blogspot.com
that circular face
pressed to the windowpane
is … your destination
(o, seeker of shattered glass
reading shards like cassandra )
reading seasons
seekers retreat,
stumble against
winter, yet still
pause, notice
delicate circles
icy-white light
etched on each
dark windowpane.
frozen pathways
passed in flight —
destination, spring.
Tired of my reading,
I gaze out the windowpane
seeing the busy circle of life
going about its daily business.
I am a seeker – but of what?
And what is my destination?
Night’s Wet Embrace
it is a night for no mortal
rain whips the windowpane
plants reach as if to
suck
a tumult of clouds
worlds upon worlds unfolding
things flitting
protesting
all is lost
the moon a mere vanished circle
where is your destination,
seeker?
many ways to go
no way to go
you would scarcely see
the feet with which you
walk
better reading a book
than reading the stars
they’re all tucked away
for the night
gentle sleep one and all
your consciousness abdicates
the rain beats
a lulling requiem for the day
– surrender to her arms
and hug tight….
(Greg Cameron, Poem, March, 2011, Surrey, B.C., Canada
I stayed up til dawn reading letters you had left,
Remembering the feelings that now cease to exist.
I was the seeker of your heart,
And long ago had reached my destination.
But, being an irrational girl, I retreated
And left you alone once more.
Now I lay awake from twilight to dawn
Drawing circles in the dew that accumulates on my windowpane
And I think about you, and what fatuous girl I was.
Probably not the most ideal place to post this but if you’re looking for another good place to find random words you can find one here:
http://creativitygames.net/random-word-generator
…As my tears stained the window pane I could see a wet circle made of all my sorrows…
one by one my tears come,softly staining the old windowpane,writing the words my heart dare not say; Please don’t leave me!
Don’t leave me reading the clouds looking for clues,looking for reasons…
Please don’t leave!
Don’t leave me alone inside this circle of sorrow…
waiting to see your face once more…
waiting to hear your heart, beating so close to mine.
waiting to hear you say that love was felt both ways.
Why have you go so far without taking my hand on yours,leaving me stranded and lost like a blind seeking for light?
Why have you made me feel like a seeker of sorrows and pain? have i not loved you enough? Have I not loved you at all?
Who knows the intended destination
of the housefly born
or reborn
in the warming northwoods cabin,
pinballing against the windowpane, above
a circle of dry predecessors, a fly
mortuary
on the floorboards.
Is it reading the frost
still melting on the glass? Poor
seeker
of neverwhen, June day,
heaven.
Sorry I don’t have the poem yet. I just wanted to say that this is an awesome idea. I’m a little busy right now, but in the near future you can definitely expect a poem from this Poet. Peace and Love.
A moment of sparkle.
Raindrops slide down the windowpane, catch my eye with light
Delicate shapes that move down slow yet seem alive and bright.
Moist traces left on their path to an ever downward destination
Diminishing themselves, on a relentless self -erosive mission.
Mere moments of existence and then a sudden disappearance
Almost too less of an occurrence indeed, for later reminiscence
A seeker looking for their evidence will hardly even find a trace
Lost in the circle of nature, fate accepted with simple grace.
Thoughts that form as we read, vanish when we turn the page,
Likewise beauty misses our sight if our minds do not engage.
Though drying quickly under the radiance of the sun,
Each drop had her moment of sparkle, even if just one.
Thoughts that form while “reading”
windowpane
destination
seeker
circle
reading
A lone seeker in the shadows,
inconspicuous and heart torn by sorrow,
looks for a destination through a windowpane,
and reading provides just the lane,
to the circle with so many threads,
linking to all those without friends,
so in the end, the cycle never ends.
correction:
A lone seeker in the shadows,
inconspicuous and heart torn by sorrow,
looking for a destination through a windowpane,
and reading provides just the lane,
to the circle with so many threads,
linking to all those without friends,
so in the end, the cycle never ends.
Reading, unlike other times, did not manage to calm my heart
Palpitations, palpitations.
Could they ever match the rhythm of my lips?
Thoughts encircling me draw me within
the seeker is looking for me, to take its place.
It is my time,
and it is ours.
Looking out the window pane, sights of rain drowning stars forlorn
Almost as if our destinations are already known
doom, negativity to be ever sublime.
You really make it appear so easy along with your
presentation but I find this matter to be actually something that I think
I’d never understand. It kind of feels too complex and extremely wide for me. I’m
looking forward on your subsequent put up, I’ll try to get the grasp of it!
Leaning against the chilling windowpane
my final destination
awaiting the greeting of the seeker of all things life
readings names in an infinite circle
I wait against the windowpane
reliving those memories
a pause and a playback
an infinite tape on rewind
i hear a soft knock
on the same chilling windowpane
as im greeted by my final familiar face
i am not scared
A hand wraps around my arm
begging me to go
pleading for my company
wanting me to leave
I cannot leave my body yet
for i have unfinished business
faces to see
voices to hear
I must have fought hard
for i am standing in my body
hallow but still me
against the same chilling windowpane
I am the seeker,
following the doomed circle
of my destination
in a falling orbital path
into the gravitation of your heart,
You are reading star charts
contemplating mathematical certainty,
but you can witness the proof
if you peek through your windowpane.
using the words dawn, entwine, heath, phase, dead –
dawn arises with a shrug
the sun yawns
upon the living and dead
plants entwine with each other
in ecstatic embrace
the heath glistens with glory
the dead will spring from the graves,
live again
as flowers
the Living overwhelming dead concrete
Time will cease to mark itself
cycles will reassert
and the past will fade
a distasteful phase
we were going through….
Clasped hands over unaided reading
Monarchical circle of thoughts, a breathless
Minute of magic, a destination for the seeker
Southwestern windowpane,
Washed out windowfreeze
beyond the glass (the depths of the bowl/soul)
reading between
people and lines
sometimes,
you’re rounded
and i walk around
the circle of who i think
you perform to be.
but i am a seeker—
i do not stop
at just glancing
what the windowpane shows.
no, because i know
there is more
beyond the glass,
out in the distance;
a destination
where i meet your soul.