Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Bel B Apr 2018
It was effortlessly beautiful that night,
shining the brightest amongst all.
I've never seen it glowing radiantly,
such exquisite sight is rarely seen.
I ponder upon the beauty,
unlike any other day
where it was just a crescent
and sometimes faded.


It reminded me of someone,
someone whom I've lost
while i was busy searching for the star.
SE Reimer Nov 2015
~

do you believe?  

hold that thought!

what you are about to take is a journey.  my telling of this journey is brief; we poets are after all not well known for our long attention spans.  this is a tale of astronomic proportions, an epic years in the making, and now centuries old.

have you ever considered this?  the starry host above us cannot lie.  its movements are as sure as the movement of the clock; as predictable as the tide, a sunset's hour and as precise as a moon-rise's geo-placement at our horizon- precisely where it will rise and at precisely what time.  it is after all  precisely the study and understanding of such things that allowed us to place mankind on the surface of the moon, to know precisely where she would be before she got there, therefore permitting us to plan the journey well ahead of time, a journey that took three days of travelling once it began...  and then returning those men home to us.  but back to our larger journey.  

such things only require an understanding of relatively simple mathematics and a knowledge of each unique planetary orbit.  the only questions remaining then, ones that require acceptance of less proveable things, is do the events of the starry host above us reflect back or point to us, to humanity? are they a fortelling of earthly events and eventuallly a coinciding with earthly events? some have trouble believing such things.  for me, it is not a leap to accept that the visibly established order above me (what we call astronomy) is simply a mirror of the order below, here surrrounding me.  but then that takes us back to the first question... do...   you...   believe?  for this part... it requires acceptance ... acceptance that some things are true, though i cannot see them.  some call this "faith," though i think "acceptance" is more relateable, and therefore a far better word.

if i have not lost you yet, thank you for reading this far!! please continue the journey.

like me, have you ever wondered... what is (or what was) the Bethlehem Star?  according to some who research historically astronomic events, the “Bethlehem Star” was no star at all.  but more on that after the poem... for is that not the purpose of these walls?  

below is a poem birthed out of their research... the poem mine, the research compiled by smarter folks than i.


Virgo's child

~

oh, planetary royalty,
and mother of the sky,
your celestial stage of six,
a ballad echoing our hopeful cry;
pirouette the stars amidst,
sets a course for rising king,
closer with each night's descent,
hope, your brilliant union brings.
conjunctive encore heaven sent,
today our song in advent sings!

oh, wise men of the east,
following a westward star,
the king you sought
you found because,
discontent you were,
to be a distant onlooker
from your home afar.

hallelujahs here composing,
with stunning care the stars portending,
in universal magnitude,
oh fallen man your dirge is ending.
in retrograding motion,
encircled thrice your halo spun,
Virgo’s child in coronation,
the starry night foretells,
and with splendid sky’s array
the joyful birth of king pronounces

oh, wise men of the east,
following a beckoning star,
bearing gifts you came,
and on bended knee
you offered praise, for
empty-handed for a king,
is no fitting offering.

look to the sky, you men of earth;
behold your king in humble birth!
a stable for his sleeping head,
here rocks a mother’s babe;
what Adam lost, in him restored,
oh, Virgo’s child, and living Lord.

~

*post script.

~ Cast~
the six acclaimed celestial actors/actresses of this starry dance

Role ° Played By ° ​Meaning/Symbol

Moon ° ​the Moon ° life cycle symbolism
Star ° ​Regulus​ ° ​King of stars (regal king)
Planet 1​ ° ​Jupiter ° ​King of planets
Planet 2 ° ​Venus ° ​Mother of planets
Constellation 1​ ° ​Leo ° ​the Lion (heavenly kingship and tribal significance)
Constellation 2 ° ​Virgo ° ​the ****** (maidenly and earthly significance)

the basis for this write can be found here...
add: http://www.
to: bethlehemstar.com/setting-the-stage/what-was-the-star/

in summary --
whatever it was, the Star of Bethlehem needs meet nine qualifications to plausibly satisfy what is written in the Biblical accounts:
1. The first conjunction signified birth by its association to the day with Virgo “birthing” the new moon. Some might argue that the unusual triple conjunction by itself could be taken to indicate a new king.
2. The Planet of King’s coronation of the Star of Kings signified kingship.
3. The triple conjunction began with the Jewish New Year and took place within Leo, showing a connection with the Jewish tribe of Judah (and prophecies of the Jewish Messiah).
4. Jupiter rises in the east.
5. The conjunctions appeared at precise, identifiable times.
6. Herod, puppet King under Roman rule, was unaware of these things; they were astronomical events which had significance only when explained by experts.
7. The events took place over a span of time sufficient for the Magi to see them both from the East and upon their arrival in Jerusalem.
8. Jupiter was ahead of the Magi as they traveled south from Jerusalem to Bethlehem.
9. Jupiter “stops” as it enters retrograde motion “over Bethlehem.”  On December 25 of 2 BC it enters retrograde and reaches full stop in its travel through the fixed stars. The Magi viewing from Jerusalem would have seen it “stopped” in the sky above the town of Bethlehem.

according to astronomical research of historical events, the “Bethlehem Star” is, at least by this explanation, no star at all, but was instead Jupiter’s rendezvous (planetary conjunction) with Venus in 2 BC.  this is a tale of two planets normally radiant and distinguishable forming a single-looking, indistinguishable, and never-before-in -their-life-time-appearing large and radiantly brilliant “star”, which when coupled with each of the previous eight facets creates a most noteworthy series of events, all of which match words written centuries previous, and pointed their gaze to a pivotal and altering point in mankind’s history.  

now back to the beginning question...  do...  you...  believe?

(publication of this write is intended to coincide with the first of the four Sundays of Advent, 2015.  tis the season for Merry Christmas, my friends!)
I have fallen into the snare of love; whether or not I wish it, I must love; and strugglingly, whether or not my heart desires to taste it, I have to go through it. I have tried, certainly, with beads of weird sweat, to crawl along its muddy channel; a muddy channel adorned only with tears and grievousness, but still I have failed to pass it. I have failed to pass my heart onto it, my poor little heart; and relieve it with comfort love might just ever have.

How I once desired to call thee, hath now ceremoniously gone; my stomach flips and churns itself like a whirling streak of poor butter being invaded by endless chains of ***** charms. My heart is plain, bleak, and can only whisper to me the pain it feels; my heart has beats still, but neither air nor breath. Its air has been radiantly tossed away; and superseded by a chance of madness it had always averted--at least before the very incident took place. It is now, thus, pale and has no shimmer nor glitter on its surface; its tale is as bare as a thin wintry raspberry branch might be. Ah, Immortal, my Friday morning; my Saturday evening; my Sunday afternoon. Immortal; with his faded grey hat strolling comfortably alongside a smiling me; our love was growing mutually on a warm Saturday morning. I told thereof, some minuscule bits of anecdote-like poetry; and his laugh afterwards warmed up all the butterflies that had hitherto laid down lazily around the grounds on their coloured stomachs. Immortal with his arduous bag hoisted onto his sturdy shoulders; and greeted me softly, with a rough morning voice; as he padded down the stairs--smelling like honey and trees and a flying bumblebee. Immortal with his love settling onto his voice; his shaky lips as he uttered a verse he remembered from a novel he had (unsuccessfully) tried to read. Immortal with his reddish lips, and innocent brownish glances--as he walked down the stairs. Immortal with my love encircling every swing of his steps; Immortal with my little heart within him. Immortal my dearest darling; his treasures were always brown--at least twice a week, and the smell of his perfumed blossom-like shampoo clinging all too gently onto the way down his white neck, and waist.

Immortal in his black garments in last year's cold weather; and with a witty smile so meaningful that he was once like a candle to my darkened heart. Immortal and his bored face that always entertained my heart; and his anxiety about immaculate workloads that made everything but funnier than they already were. Ah, Immortal, Immortal, Immortal; my very own Immortal. Though thou might be Immortal no more, in thy mind; thou really art still my Immortal in every sense; and I can still but feel thy presence even from a very far distance. Immortal, thou art my blood; my jugular veins, and the definition of my very heartbeat! Immortal, how I am a fool to have confessed this; thou might remember me no more; but for thou knoweth--thou art my prince still, of whom I feel the humblest streak of pride; and for whom I shall still wipe my showering tears. Ah, Immortal! One day I had just emerged from my room with a jug of warm water, and a flavour of strange poetry in my literary mind; and my Immortal greeted me with a stamp of melancholy smile as he always does when he retreats from work. He looked tired but not submissive; he had a rain of spirit still--for the remaining ingress and egress of the raucous Monday evening. I was, indeed, explosively exhausted from my head all the way to my feet--and a lurid chat with him slowly melted my stern visage and restored its gleams. Ah, Immortal; my lover, my shiny petal; the missing wing of my eastern soul; my European moon. He is from Sofia; as how its chaotic--yet elaborative auras always danced around his face. The charms of Sofia were even better scented in his breath; he was always prophetic about the skies and the red-skinned suns of the summer. He thoughtfully suggested that I write of 'em; he breathed his relief and exhaustion only into my hands, how he trusted me and depended himself on me like a selfish little lad! On other occasions laughed with a pair of red cheeks--is aromatic and handsome my lover, indeed he is! My poor, poor lover; for the world hath now defined its triumph over him; and thus its terrifically evil proses his very regions. Ah, my darling, if only still-I could save, save, and save thee! Ah, 'em--doth thou, by any chance, hold any remembrance of 'em still? Our blessed, blessed offspring--and they but shall be nurtured and overjoyed and delightfully pampered, as the very special fruits of our love. The love that both of our souls enjoy; the love that our sides agree on. Your fatherliness is in our son; and just as how I am, our daughter shall enlighten our home with her poems; ah, dear, dear little giggles t'at would be ours, and verily ours only! Ah, Immortal, if only thou but knew--how panoramic my wifely love would be!

Immortal, my darling; my purplish sun; my picturesque sky; my starlet dream. Even the oceans across our splendid earth are not vacant, and innocent, as thy eyes; thy words are like a calming river whose odour once shrieked gently onto my ears. Every breath thou maketh is my poem; and thus in every single poem, or verse I write--there dwells a vast bulk of thy charms. Thou art alive still--in my lungs; in my humorous soul; thou art the eve to my nights; the leaf to my mornings. Even the only leaf that shall stay firm when autumn finally arrives. But unfortunately shall it arrives with dire terms; for shall it have revenge--due to its savagely desperate needs for reclaiming its once lost freedom. Ah, its freedom, that was consumed away by the compounded fires of the summer. Then, still there shall be no-one to replace thee, even about the adequate hills and valleys outside; I could find thee not this jubilant afternoon. Oh, how unceremonious! And how malicious my love is, for thee! And our song is, for thou knoweth, resembles the one echoing in yon marvelous Raphaelite painting; my hair sings of your love; just as my poetry speaks of thy bounteousness. Thou art not Him; but still--thou art more bountiful to my heart, than to all our frail counterparts may seem!

And by this I am still your little girl; I shall play with my bike and congratulate thee on crafting off the last bits of my poetry. Like in a nursery once, though I doth remember it thoroughly not; I played with my dolls and later created a bride and groom out of them; I shall perhaps play with them again and make the remembrance of our now astray marriage, this time, their illusionary sanctuary. Ah, Immortal, this love might be virtual--and thus not by any chance effectual; but do remember, in thy severed heart, that it was once real; and that it was, long ago, deeply heartfelt and actual. Immortal, the king of my moon; the very last spark of my charms, I hope thou wilt know one day--how I selflessly loved--and love thee still, purely and artistically, just as how I loveth His other creations and my beautiful poetry; and that I shall still supplicate that you be the first, and last mate in my arms-- for my love is sacred, humid, and eternal; and I want thee thus, to be my only immortal.

I love thee; and thee only, querida. Obicham te, obicham te, obicham te.
usagi Feb 2021
smog all over your head
you're hanging on just by a thread.
I'm worried about you. I worry about you,
but then you flash me a smile that tells me
your gleam of interest to live burns deeply,
and I've never met anyone so radiantly alive yet somber.
the most beautiful paradox I've ever laid eyes on
sophia
On the cold solstice
the velvet magnet
of Luna's magic
pulls

quietly urges

whispering
gentle spells
into dreamy ears

compelling
her lover
to rise
quixotically
coaxing
him from
the warm sleep
of winters
first night slumber

she summons
a willing lover
inviting him
to follow
her stark
alluring light
illuminating
the lonely blackness
of a bleak universe

her
seductive powers
transcends distances of
a thousand solstices

her
resounding light
a sure mark
braces any weakness
emboldens desire
guiding the bidden
to unforeseen
destinations

standing
in your presence
my face is flush
reflected by your
resplendent light

my heart
broiled
by your
vexing
radiance

the roiling tide
of a midnight reverie
ebbs
as my
earthen shadow
begins to pass
over your
indelible
whiteness

I witness
my dark countenance
eclipse your light

defiling you
fearing
to forever
mark your
effervescent silver
with the baseness of me

without shame
your smile
allays my fear

you understand
you anticipated
the expression
of my
coy reticence

a sweet chant
sings
unencumbered
reveries
gently
reassures
you've danced
through many
moonlit nights
with eager lovers
only to return again
in virginal whiteness
across the
endless cycles
of time

released
relieved
abandoning
all restraint
now
I
summon you

my blackness
your whiteness
breeds a
sensuous
orange
sweeter
then an
open mango

she rules the sky
a celestial monarch
forcing Mars into
a sheepish retreat
commanding
mighty Orion
to sheave his sword
while
Venus
seethes
with envy

my form
begins to swallow
your lines
and
soft curves

my blackness
disappears
into
inviting cracks

falling into
dark creases
the soft billows
sweet mounds
voluptuous craters
gay playgrounds
for my mouth
mysterious hillocks
eagerly explored
with hands and
limbered fingers

a quixotic Eros
the scent of spice
swells in my head

everything
enveloped
like a
holy ghost
playfully gaming
hide and seek
radiantly moving
through
darkened canopies
of a lush forest

nostrils fill
with
tang of spice
a scent
of Caribe

face buried
in thick tresses
of maddening blackness

becoming unhinged
by eyes speaking
a thousand languages
as lips whisper
joyous whimpers

a silent kiss
of an orange lit night
writhing bodies
splayed together

ravenous tendrils
shape sloping
cloud pillows

quivering lips
unveil smiles of
alabaster pearls

mocha darkness
sambas through
the night

she exhales
her lovers name

Luna bathes
her cinnamon curves
in delicious
mango light
offers generous
dollops
of ******

peeking
baying
drifting
I cast off
onto a sea
of lucid dreams

drinking from
a dark aureole
as the tresses
of her
sweetened nest
moistened my member
in a sacred communion
to a hungry lovers mouth

her dancers legs
slim, supple
unbounded
and open
sweet to taste
smooth
so soft
to touch

the fullness
of our rumba
se los tango
con cha cha cha

light steps
close caress
kinetic commotion
wild laughter
fills the sails
of bold schooners

Luna's smile
commands
the seas
to heave

un poco loco
ola de feliz
los hablamos
un contrara
la estas
la esta

the lavender sky
of the mornings
twilight
inspire
Meadowlarks
to herald
the emerging day

still
drunkenly swigging
loves nectar
sleep creeps closer

confessing
small regrets
she fell
victim
to passion again

Luna
comes back
to her lover
pets his chest
with delicate fingers

in a voice
as light as air
she sings
a poem
into his ear
of passionate nights
beauteous art
longing to express
heartfelt truths

The mango consumed
Luna's whiteness returns

my shadow recedes
into inconsequential
nothingness

naked
I stood
sadly witnessing
the dark horizon
overtaking
my fleeing lover
swallowing her
in tiny bits
as morning drops
a final veil
over the face
of a now
vanished love

Music Selection
Grant Green, Moon River

jbm
Oakland
1/19/11
Martyn Thompson Aug 2011
There is a wondrous feeling of completeness
When immersed in the act of …
Cleaning a flute
The soft light radiantly refracting from
The slightly concave…
Keys

The shimmering of the shiny sleek skin
A perfect nickel finish…
It’s sexiness salute
A strangely seductive serpent stealing
My willpower; I submit to you…
With ease

The perfection of this harmonious union
As my trembling hands caress…
Your heavenly body
Gently working away until my eyes are
Illuminated by your brilliance…
Your gleaming sheen

Intoxicated, mesmerised by your lustre
The warm ambience brings out…
Your luminous beauty
Ready now for my lips to blow a refrain
A sweet tune is primed…
The flute is now clean

Let the melody begin…
Wendell A Brown Mar 2017
Kindred spirits sharing love from around the world,
Touching each other with their welcoming words
Having never seen another face to face at all
Embracing life pages as their words are now heard

We find great hope in the hearts and minds we meet
Eating from the same table of Gods creative delight
As are filled daily with amazing genuine words
Finding our great love for sharing helps us to unite

Daily together we lift up hungry spirits in this world
With our individual gifts trying not to leave one behind
As we all are part of the same beautiful sharing coverlet
Full of the real love which our God always had in mind

Even though we as humans in many ways are the same
We each are gifted specifically by His heavenly design
Being bound to the loving spirit of sharing our words
To shine radiantly through others His true love divine

United we become a real compelling power to others
When our written words genuinely carry true weight
Because the strength of our inner spirits great vigor
Over time helps many lives in this world be reshaped.
“You are all beautiful people, continue to help
change, and reshape the world.”
Julia Elise Apr 2015
Can something really be beautifully  tragic?
Is it possible for a being to be gracefully destructive?
How can a life be insignificantly worthwhile?
Does that mean an existence can be grotesquely appealing?

Could you be more radiantly  pitiful?
You are stunningly heart-rending.
How are you so delicately harrowing?
You are harmlessly treacherous.
Edward Barnett Feb 2014
I chased her in the ivory moonlight, her ebony hair curling softly over her dark skinned shoulders.
A faint smile with a chasing laugh followed on lips as soft as down.
We ran down by the sandy sweet seaside. The shore called our names and our feet carried us forward.
Frothing waves kissed our feet as my hand slid into hers. Their roar quitened as we drew near.
The night disguised us as I wrapped her safely in my arms and held her closely to me.
Her radiantly sparkling eyes told me I was right in leaning down to softly kiss her, my hand trailing
through her tresses and down her back to rest lightly on her hip.
It was the first of many as we stood under that heavenly sky, alit with stars and the faint twinkling of
refracted light from the crests of the waves.
As I led her by the hand back towards my home, our footprints stood still.
A memory in the sand.
Wendell A Brown Apr 2014
As each day in my life passes by
I fall deeper in love with You
As the sun does rise and set
I find it always remains so true

There will never be a day I face
When You are not fully on my mind
For loneliness no longer dwells within
As my soul knows no lonesome times

My eyes shed tears of sweet happiness
Yet, in my heart I shine radiantly
As my smile daily shows it gladness
With words spoken so enchantingly

Of the One whom I love so deeply
With the passing of each new day
As each one brings me a blessing new
My love grows deeper in many ways.
A psalm for God
CHEERFUL voices by the sea-side
Echoed through the summer air,
Happy children, fresh and rosy,
Sang and sported freely there,
Often turning friendly glances,
Where, neglectful of them all,
On his bed among the gray rocks,
Mused the pale child, little Paul.

For he never joined their pastimes,
Never danced upon the sand,
Only smiled upon them kindly,
Only waved his wasted hand.
Many a treasured gift they bore him,
Best beloved among them all.
Many a childish heart grieved sadly,
Thinking of poor little Paul.

But while Florence was beside him,
While her face above him bent,
While her dear voice sounded near him,
He was happy and content;
Watching ever the great billows,
Listening to their ceaseless fall,
For they brought a pleasant music
To the ear of little Paul.

'Sister Floy,' the pale child whispered,
'What is that the blue waves say?
What strange message are they bringing
From that shore so far away?
Who is dwelling in that country
Whence a low voice seems to call
Softly, through the dash of waters,
'Come away, my little Paul'?'

But sad Florence could not answer,
Though her dim eyes tenderly
Watched the wistful face, that ever
Gazed across the restless sea,
While the sunshine like a blessing
On his bright hair seemed to fall,
And the winds grew more caressing,
As they kissed frail little Paul.

Ere long, paler and more wasted,
On another bed he lay,
Where the city's din and discord
Echoed round him day by day;
While the voice that to his spirit
By the sea-side seemed to call,
Sounded with its tender music
Very near to little Paul.

As the deep tones of the ocean
Linger in the frailest shell,
So the lonely sea-side musings
In his memory seemed to dwell.
And he talked of golden waters
Rippling on his chamber wall,
While their melody in fancy
Cheered the heart of little Paul.

Clinging fast to faithful Florence,
Murmuring faintly night and day,
Of the swift and darksome river
Bearing him so far away,
Toward a shore whose blessed sunshine
Seemed most radiantly to fall
On a beautiful mild spirit,
Waiting there for little Paul.

So the tide of life ebbed slowly,
Till the last wave died away,
And nothing but the fragile wreck
On the sister's ***** lay.
And from out death's solemn waters,
Lifted high above them all,
In her arms the spirit mother
Bore the soul of little Paul.
We are as clouds that veil the midnight moon;
How restlessly they speed, and gleam, and quiver,
Streaking the darkness radiantly! -yet soon
Night closes round, and they are lost for ever:

Or like forgotten lyres, whose dissonant strings
Give various response to each varying blast,
To whose frail frame no second motion brings
One mood or modulation like the last.

We rest.—A dream has power to poison sleep;
We rise.—One wandering thought pollutes the day;
We feel, conceive or reason, laugh or weep;
Embrace fond woe, or cast our cares away:

It is the same!—For, be it joy or sorrow,
The path of its departure still is free:
Man’s yesterday may ne’er be like his morrow;
Nought may endure but Mutablilty.
Hilda Nov 2012
'Neath leaden skies, amongst windblown, agèd trees
Lies an old graveyard swept by moss laden breeze.
Each stone cries a volume of heartbroken years,
While one, yew-shaded, marked "Maude" weeps unshed tears.

Now only a broken heart and shattered dreams
Telling of long lonely days and unvoiced screams
Caged within her chest those nightmarish years long;
No more able to enjoy the wood thrush song.

Tongues of old wives wag in the village below,
Afire with wild rumours why Jed had to go.
One night in mid-June he suddenly took leave,
Never minding his wife and children would grieve.

Alas! Jed—tall, handsome, dark with manner suave,
Had a weakness for drink, neighbours never forgave;
Blaming Maude for her melancholy silence,
The reason they claim for poor Jed's defiance.

Early each Sabbath morn she sat in the pew
With her weary heart bleeding and pain anew;
Sighing as she watches each mother rejoice;
Asking God why heaven gave her no such choice.

Lo! There sits gold-haired Edith, babe at her breast,
Beaming radiantly how much God has blest.
As if at some angel her proud husband smiles
While with dimples and coos Baby Jane beguiles.

She recalls little Willie who died with flu,
Red-headed and freckled with eyes of green-blue;
Mischievous at seven and so full of life;
His memory pierces her heart with a knife.

Beside him rests sober Alice only four,
Whose grey eyes brightened with each rap at the door.
Day after day waiting for Papa in vain;
Little knowing she'd never see him again.

Homeward she trudges, July's skies ablaze,
Scorching heat of midday sun's blinding rays.
Lo! There runs little Willie with open arms
That long lost freckled face her doleful heart warms.

Behind him skips Alice, her pale face aglow.
Maude's heart quickens as tears start to flow.
O! How can this be true? She feels in a daze.
A flashback of time in this sweltering haze?

"O, Mamma! We're home," they so merrily cry.
Her arms outstretched with sobs as their small feet fly.
Her heart soars with rapture—then suddenly gone!
Vanished fore'er like glad dreams at break of dawn.

Heartbroken anew, she trudges home again
To a lonely cottage while tears spill as rain.
Before her looming a thousand bleak morrows
Stabbed with yesterday's knives and endless sorrows.

As years drag by, old wives stop to mock and scorn.
"Crazy Maude Heathcliffe!" Sneering at her forlorn;
Blaming her yet for Jed's wild drunken ways,
A judgment from God for the rest of her days.

One morn—silence! When Edith raps at her door.
Gasping she runs across the creaking old floor
Where Maude sits quietly on ladder-back chair.
"Wake up! Shame on you! Why is it you don't care?"

'Neath June skies, pines whisper, silvery moonbeams play
'Round yew-watched bed where Maude's slept years since that day
When Edith found her in the ladder-back chair.
A mocking bird scolds, "Shame! Maude! Why don't you care!"

**~Hilda~
November 20, 2012
I don't care if you are the water or the groove of the stone. I want a place In your arms that feels succinctly like home. I want to be encircled like an old oak tree, with a breeze in the air that smells radiantly of you and me. I don't care if you are the tongue or the groove. I want a place within which all these walls I can remove. There is a river that cascades between us that keeps us far from home, but I don't care if you are the cancer or the broken bone. I don't care if you are the sweetest peach or the rattle of the snakes tail. All I want is for you to arise each time you fail.

I don't care of you bruise easily or become yellow from the inside out. I don't care if you walk away silently or you scream, stamp your feet and shout. I don't care if you are the water and I am the stone. I do not care if for your secrets I have to atone. I want to you to seek the hiding places I hold so tightly,  and I want you to seek them daily and nightly. I don't care if you think this is overdressed, or I show too much flesh. I want you to see how I look for you when I calmly undress. I don't care if you are the thunder in my storm. I don't care if you call this safety or if you call me home.

I don't care if you are the salt or the falling tear. I want you to know that me not caring is not what I fear. I want you to know that true love is true acceptance In it's ultimate form. I don't care to know if you're broken or you are torn. These words I asked you, but they are routine and true. I could repeat , dry my face and carry on, but I don't care to do that for you. I don't care if you are weak and strong together. I care about you whatever the whatever. I don't care if you wish to compete and you have won. I want you to know that those secrets were already awake and done.  

I don't care how many times you walk away, I care about the how many times you stay.

I don't care, because In the end nothing matters, and in here, we're all mad as hatters.
Eloisa Aug 2019
In times when she feels crushed and broken,
she would watch the tiny messengers of hope.
The fireflies’ magical sparks remind her that even a little light can shine in darkness.
And when she’s completely torn into bits
that’s difficult to piece together,
she would look up to the sky and stare at the little messengers of life.
The stars remind her that she can still radiantly shine even in pieces.
Sydney Queen Jul 2015
I lose my first life to lightning,
of all things.
I spend the next day
racing through a field of camellias
while golden hour twists the sky yellow.
They are redder than red,
like the crests of your cheekbones
and the tips of your ears-
even your blushes are incredibly focused.
I'm so happy I dont know what to do with myself.
I wait for you as you stand in the middle of the street
watching the sun sink into a kaleidoscope of orange.
Your back is to me
though I feel like I have never seen you more clearly.
You smile radiantly into the distance.
I want to care about things like that.
I want to love things, too.
My second life is stolen by fire.
In the whirlwind of my return,
I find you waiting for me
with an umbrella and a smile
underneath the willow tree.
When I was younger
I thought there was a piece of the puzzle missing.
You make me feel like there wasnt even a puzzle to begin with.
I want to keep you
but I refuse to own a cage.
I trip on my way to take your hands
in the willow-broken light of the afternoon.
You laugh with your entire body.
It's like I have never truly understood poetry until right now.
You are the embodiment
of that peculiar space in between the seasons.
With you goes all things bold and brave and beautiful.
I've got 25 lives
but I love you like I hardly have one.
I intended originally to write this as prose but then I decided to stick to my habit of writing excessively long poetry.
Wendell A Brown Jan 2015
A spiritual richness blossoms within
When love is shared in a spiritual way
The moment selfish lust is cast aside
Giving His spiritual love a home to stay

For His Living words are very priceless
They are the truest of jewels to hold
They make your spirit to shine radiantly
Much brighter than diamonds or gold

Begin your day within His perfect blessing
Always seek His spirits love to daily hold
And wherever  each day you might travel
Along side of you His spirit will also go

Remember love the Lord God with all your heart
With all your mind, and soul, and strength
And in keeping with that, love your neighbors
As yourself with the love within God did plant
A reminding message!
Madison McEnroe May 2015
Avenging activity among our society
Based behind our bravery,
Centered in our controlled community
Dances our dimes distantly,
Eating the Economy entirely,
Freeing some family’s from financial stability
Giving the Government full guidance to “Give willingly”
Help save history and fix the hired hereby diligently
Isolating the problem Indefinitely before another civil war breaks out immobilizing us internally,
Jacking up jumping prices to live within our jungle of commonality
Killing Kids futures by leaving them in debt for keeps of knowledge to secure their vivacity
Living our Lives in stress leniently because we are your servants dwelling down here in the low depths of poverty.
Massing out our Money on your table tops feasting morbidly on fattening foods while millions suffer from malnutrion
Nobody speaking nervously now
On the open opinion’s on our governments greed
People pacing the streets for a piece to eat
Quiet our questions or riots will quake the streets
Rage ripping through our roads radiantly
So sustain us all seriously separating the needy from situations of squandering
Take hold of our Tantrums and turn them on the ones demanding this tangibility
You’re yearning for yesterday’s better life
Venom of today’s values vast out over our minds
When will they welcome the revolution?
Xenophobia exerts exteremremitys on our souls
Zero Tolerance for Zaberism and Zolism is the way we go.
I hear these things constantly in my ear about how people feel. So I wrote an ABC poem about our government and the revolution so many speak about that has yet to happen and that could. Not that I should part take or believe in this. But I do agree society is as ****** as an other country. Just with less physical abuse.
OnlyEggy Jan 2011
The last of God's angels
Presence that gracefully push lungs into cessation
Beauty that beckons radiantly in the dark
Immense, Intense
Innocent

Winding curves of silk
Gently strewn upon the ****** skin of creation
Mental fingers running from head to toe
Burning, Learning
Yearning

Coitus whisperings of Heaven
Fabrics slowly cascade with ******* revelation
Tempting Temptress of the moon-lit night
Mentality, Physicality
Carnality
Another Insomniac Poem- From Tough Guys Wear Pink
Got Guanxi Dec 2015
She had a tongue that could open a wine bottle.
Razor-sharp articulation.
A fine art, some might say.
Living sentences on a knifes-edge.
It started in a unblunted manner,
The force hit smacked splintered minds like a hammer.
Honed in cuspate motions,
Incisively smashing the nail on the head.

She wasn’t wrong often.
Vivacious wit vivid oscillating witch,
some might say.
Not I.
I followed in the downstream of her resonance.
A quivering wreck,
soaked from head to toe in her libretto.

She marched in stilettos,
locomotive tip-toe motion,
devotion to the traverse.
Deviating as s he ambulated across lurid cobbled paths.
How she manages, alas.
Evades my comprehension.

She had this brunt agitation,
as if,
she couldn’t hear the words you say to her.
Maybe it was her nescient nature.
A think naive conversant,
If only it was that simple.
Those dimples on her cheeks were like craters in the moon.
That cheesy laugh fractures.

She escaped from Alcatraz,
Caught only by the dereliction,
of her minds conviction.
Infamy lapsed,
as she collapsed in a pretzel of marvellous contortion.
She radiantly turned to stone,
a statuesque stanza.
Cloned in allure,
that never found answers she was looking for.
frasier
Every dawn is a nexus, /
Every twilight is a beckoning; therefore, /
Embrace the fickle future /
Ensconscing within the sacral oath /
Of a thousand words: /
These utterances shall envelop you /
When upon Triumphal Arcadian Skies /
We meet again. /

Save your tears, /
For love shall reign /
From the empyreal aethers above /
To the Gaian epidermis of /
The Magnanimous Matriarch; moreover, the mellifluous kisses /
Of The Sovereign of Songbirds /
Will burgeon within, /
Will descend upon you as The Holy Dove. /

Unfurl your third eye, /
See with an indefatigable clarity /
All that you were meant to be: /
Strong, Wise, Just; /
Love; /
A luminary fulminating /
Radiantly, resplendently upon /
The Denizens of the Terrene. /

(—Se' lah)
Your heart /
Is an impearled grand piano: /
Every word, /
Every thought, /
Every utterance, /
Is an ivory key emitting /
A sonic, an aeonic testimonial; /
A reverberation of spirit./

Awaken your senses, /
Trust your intuition, /
Burgeon in the beauteous /
Molecule quenching, /
Rays of the Feuillemorte, /
Hiemal, Vernal, & Estival Sol. /
In truth, our Mother Lodestar /
Transcends the seasons./

Evanescent, /
Though life may be, /
She is worthy of every /
Onerous breath, /
For all is a quickening; A preparation /
For the auric-ascendence, the platinum self-transcendence /
Awaiting us in /
The Realm of Greater Eden. /


Excelsior Forevermore,



Sanders Maurice Foulke III, AAS


09-06-21
Amitav Radiance Mar 2015
There’s a dazzling solitaire
Embedded in your heart
Love is the brilliant craftsman
Every facet shaped carefully
Dazzling radiantly, life’s beauty
Love felt in every corner
Transparency gives way to trust
Waiting to be gifted to the worthy
Brilliance of your lovely soul
Making it the priceless beauty
Worthy love shall claim
The heart that’s priceless
Basking in the sheer finesse
Jupiter and Venus,
radiantly dancing.

Proximate partners in a velvet ballroom,
somewhere over the eastern trees.

Light from a fiery source,
transformative and transforming
heart and mind of the Universe.

Convergence renders conversation
almost null and void.

Nothing but each other
will ever give them peace.
"A loving heart is the truest wisdom."
Thank you, Charles Dickens
©Elisa Maria Argiro
Brandon May 2012
All her waking life she thinks in shades of inadequacy
It’s a shame that she can’t see all the beautiful things I see in her
The beauty of life that lives and breathes inside her
(Like) she’s got martini eyes framed with supernovas
Galaxies of city & colours radiating like an illuminating beacon
A Maine lighthouse on the edge of a cliff overlooking the coast,
The guiding eye of beaming light brilliantly shining
Along the rocky shoreline of her mind
It’s a complex thing inside libraries and randomness sometimes

But don’t look away for too long or you may miss
How she times her life on the withering ashes of cigarettes
And how many Dispute The Horizon With Me songs
It takes to pull into the parking lot at her work
Says it takes one cigarette to get to the freeway
Two if she’s feeling adventurous
And track number eight when Jordan Sykes shouts:

‘Love is the blood splatter of our liberty,
Seeping out of Cadaver grins and Chelsea smiles
Unshakable in our solemn vows of serpentine addiction,
The feelings we inked with heartached hands are mutual,
Darling’


She’s the kind of girl with a nervous lip-biting laugh
Laughing when I tell her it’s better than eight cigarettes and one song
She liquates tornadoes of wished away secrets
When she whispers moods of hushed sultriness in my ear
Sending shivers up and down my spine and making me feel alive
It’s all I can do to sit here and resist her sometimes
Says she doesn’t want to be treated like an animal
Even tho she loves every animal alive today
And shares a remembered heartache for those that died

(So I abide and put in my time
Causing getting to see a girl this celestial
is like seeing stars streaking across a newly born sky
)

She dreams of slinging seashell butterflies and necklaces made from sunshine
Living her life down on the beach with the ocean always to her front side
Says she wants sunshines and sea salt, deep endless oceans rolling
Wants the ability to just leave it all behind if she feels the urge
Her spirit will explode with fragments of violets and high magenta
Lighting up late night beach bonfires and deep endless ocean waves

Says these are only dreams tho and as much as she’d like
She just can’t seem to get over some past her’s karmatic escapes
But she’s going to keep on dreaming cause dreaming can help
Says today she’ll dream in moonshines
And maybe tomorrow she’ll have her sunshine

(I tell her if she had my eyes she could do anything she wanted to do
And that her sunshine supernova is already radiantly shining within her
)
Michelle E Alba Jul 2010
In a midnight lamentation,
the soul (suppressed) of reprobation,
wallowed in wasted conspiracies-
unjust (censored) confirmations.

My shoes (foundation) which were half on,
stained the beer (love), which was half gone,
that he camped- (devoted) so entitled,
marvelously, (masculine) so magnificently upon.

Ongoing obstacles, alluring alike,
repressed restraints depicted, despite-
ones that evaded, encompassed our love,
which freshly, faithfully, finally took-flight.

That beer (blazing) tottered so temping-
wrongfully, radiantly, reluctantly-right!
It swiveling-and-spinning, (dangling) around the axis of life,
Makes this, yet another- lamentation in the night.
Come walk along the cliffs of uncertainty
While you search for something delightfully new
There wrapped in an air of wondrous mystery you will find
Where your imagination can take you too

Softly cling to the shadows of infinity
Tenuously locked away in an unpredictable hue
Lost forever in a world that you can create
As you wander away with the moon

Radiantly shining like a bead of clear water
Such as a taste of the morning’s first dew
You can come away to this world and discover
How you can become a part of this too

Multi-colored butterflies will be dancing in the forest
Where the whippoorwills sing to the trees
In voices that light up the air so sweet
Like golden honey stolen from the hives of bees
  
Here the untamed sea can be seen forever
Stretching endlessly across it seems
And you can ride the crashing waves of ivory foam
While gliding on a current of dreams

The winds incessant voice will ring right through you
Whispering of the magical things to be seen
When you come away to this fair land of Eden
One must be prepared for most anything
Copyright *Neva Flores @2010
www.changefulstorm.blogspot.com
www.stumbleupon.com/stumbler/HerVigil
Onoma Jun 2014
An avalanche on the sun...
white light face-first...
Union enters a beginning
and end, Union exits a
beginning and end.
Radiance passing out
radiantly...coming to
radiantly, at every mortal
moment.
Sometimes I just want to go to a garden
And take all the flowers I can clutch in my hands
The sweet-smelling, luminous, simple and poisonous (when ingested)
Then scurry away before the gardener knows
Though I’ve taken bits and pieces of grueling work and pride—
To her or him—it’s far more than that, it’s happiness—
And a little bit borrowed from a friendly, flowery neighbor
Is hardly worth complaining about, maybe even worth a smile
And I press the gentle, fragrant ones
In the hard covers of my favorite books
They’ll last forever, I’m certain
And *** the radiantly eye-catching ones
In the places so obvious—
A mantle, pedestal—always in the corner of my eye
I’ll probably put the poisonous
Far away from any man
Hidden in the depths
Still covered yet, concealed to the end—
But the simple things in life
Are what I hold so fast to me
I squeeze the stems and sniff the petals
And know now to truly appreciate them
Suddenly I feel like a man
singing painfully in love
"When man loves a woman"
hear her sing Yesterday
Lennon–McCartney Beatles.
I've seen seven wonders
of the world in your eyes.
Your sunsets to make me cry.
My moon in all its faces
gives shivers to your spine.
I see beauty in diamonds
synthilating within me
same spell sparkles in thee
afire rubbies of us
reflect radiantly on me.

I am ice cubed frozen
body mind soul cold
a wishful thinking well
pennies for my thoughts?
Oak tree stump my ancient
to willow tree now
has turned.
Tears put out this fire dear
but ambers linger so I write
no Knight may fly your kite
I give myself
everything I got
In love I remain with me.
I trust in self for my courage
to carry on as longing dog
out in the rain alone or in.
  your scorching sun hear me
crying and howling
out I love thee so..
~~~~~~~~~
Karijinbba at
Mr. and Mrs. Andrews
https://youtu.be/QPROkOaqE_4
Wendell A Brown Jul 2014
Their words lovingly make a daily appearance
With a new days birth they seem to find a way
Quite like a tremendously beautiful flower
Bringing many gorgeous smiles to life each day

It matters not which heart gives them life breath
Or whose selfless spirit makes them radiantly smile
Their priceless messages are embraced lovingly by many
As within each one you will find a love worthwhile

A daily love which generates an awesome true beauty
A unique one which will stand the test of time
And whether each writer/poet believes it to be true
Their words will age wonderfully like a fine wine

For God has blessed everyone with a taste of bliss
Of His delightfully joyous creative touch divine
And He will allow His sweet happiness to stay
As long as we praise Him in our hearts and minds.
For my friend and sister...Silent Fingers,
who made me smile today with her
spiritual hug and smile
Man.
Always.
Entranced.
By that,
Horizon
Dawning, radiantly
In the dusk of the valleys,
In that place where only, kings and.
Vagabonds, go
In that secret place where,
you and I know,
That secret whisper that
Lush moonlit smile
That smitten meal
With hidden doves aflut
Good god there is none
Yet still, angel,
You
Are
One.

So where does that leave me,
I wonder, I ponder,
Lost and alone,
Across time, space, and a simple screen,
Across the fragility and powerlessness of the human heart,
The unwieldy empty reach of my dreams,
Those lost
Hidden valleys, oh,
Just the thought of the sight,
Just the temptation of that,
Empty horizon, on the tip of my tongue,
Those beautiful curves, twisted upon every single one
Of
My
Nerves.

Good god there is none,
But, maybe if there was,
It’d be someone and something like you,
Just a precious little thing,
Just something out of reach,
As Icarus reached out for the sun,
And I only your waxing moon,
Content now and again,
If I dare say it,
To reflect some of your own shine,
Upon those who would wear it,
Just over reach,
Just beyond heaven.
Therein.
For a misbegotten friend
CA Guilfoyle Sep 2013
In the Autumn woods of dreaming,
leaving night's forest, in search of coming dawn
amidst a meadow clearing, insects glistened
swooping birds flew swift
without a sound
made softest petals, swirl in circles
to the ground
falling
I was falling, deep in love
with Autumn
sparkling radiantly
so crisp the dawn
Eloisa Jul 2022
The beauty of her heart speaks.
As she floated freely in the water.
Like lotus, she blooms radiantly in the rain.
Catching life as it flows.
Watching the clouds blown away beyond the sky.
Letting the magic of love do
what it will.
JM Mar 2012
I try to be light.

I attempt, in vain, to be
carefree and frivolous
when it comes to
matters of my heart.

I am unable, at crucial times
to keep the lead
out of my words
and my actions,
making them seem
unnecessarily weighted .

I know my behavior sometimes
frustrates you, my love.

I know that in trying to love you,
in trying to help you understand the
deeply analytical,fiercely passionate,
and obsessive mind and heart of mine,
I succeed only in creating a chasm
of misunderstanding between us.

I overwhelm you
with my emotional intensity.

Then, after I have pushed you away,
when all I wanted was to have you closer,
I cry out in selfish anguish,
"Why have you done this to me?"

I manifest my worst fears.

But with each silent, unspoken
step you take in retreat,
with each measure of distance
you recede from my shore,
know that I will love no other
so truly, so deeply.

I make no apologies for loving you.

I am but a man, scarred and wounded
from others before you.
I bear scars from you,as well,
as you do from me, and from others.

But I am alive now. We are alive, now.
These others have not extinguished
the light of hope burning so radiantly
in my chest,
and the wounds
we have given each other
are but scratches,
to be laughed at together
on some future fall afternoon,
as we sit in our warm bundles,
sipping coffee,
eating see-through waffles,
and discussing our day.

I am alive now and
I am learning how to give you my
love in a manner
that is easy for you
to accept and reciprocate.

I am learning how to
accept your love, so precious,
offered to few.

We are alive,now.
Alive and learning
and healing and loving,
with one another.
little African girl, you belong with the sun
little African girl you grow with the soil, the trees, the earth.
Your melanin glows whenever light shines upon it.
Your beauty aligns with the galaxy that surrounds it.
When you see the way your hair defies gravity, the way it curls and is a beautiful bundle a top of your head, what do you think?
I hope you don't think of perming it so it could be completely straight, so it could lose it's fun, because it should stun anyone who walks by it
You should never have to think that your hair is not beautiful with it's tight curls because I 4c you glowing radiantly as your hair surrounds you, I see you loving yourself every way imaginable to man, I see a girl who was taught that your hair is too hard to handle, I see a girl who wished she had straight hair so she would look pretty all the time
I see a fighter who fought to stop the hurt she brings to herself.
Little African girl you are beautiful the way you are.
From where you came from your, beauty stuns them all.
I made this poem while thinking of myself, not only is this for me, but it is also for the African girls who think that their hair isn't beautiful the way it is
Beloved, shimmering satellite.
You pour down dutifully into the night,
Through hilltops and valleys alike;
Impressing a calm, inspiring fright.
Quite heavy sometimes, while other times slight.
Pale and present, smiling upon the world
With that pleasant, Cheshire grin.
You leave me feeling warm, again.

O Moon, doubly resplendent
From your infinite place in the sky.
You share the solar-system with the stars,
And patiently listen as an anxious puppy
Whines from his lonely domain.

Radiantly, you reward
The midnight lover’s stroll,
Fulfilling the task at hand,
Until a rooster crows,
And the Sun steals your show.
Poetry by Ted Boughter-Dornfeld Copyright © 2009
Cody Veal May 2010
out of landscapes frigid and wind-torn,
and from within ancient trees proudly time-worn,
for you this vernal season's born.

the bone-white blanket of snow liquefies,
and the deep, gray clouds quickly clear blue skies ,
at mere sight of your bright sparkling eyes.

you turn the soft damp dew of morning air
from moisture into perfume fragrant fair,
with a laugh and twist of silken dark-brown hair.

and as your smile spreads radiantly,
leaves on bough of cherry tree
arrange in squamous symphony.
(c) Cody Veal 2010
nothing-for-something-poetry.blogspot.com

— The End —