Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
 
 Nov 2018 Jo Swan
Sam Hammond
Going through the motions,
A corpse on puppet strings.
Showing no emotions,
Too wooden for such things.
One day I'll be locked away
Inside my wooden crate.
Till that day I'll dance and sway;
A much more awful fate.
 Nov 2018 Jo Swan
Isaac
With Jesus
 Nov 2018 Jo Swan
Isaac
Good days come with bad ones.
Time carries many different moments.
What matters is that each person runs
With Jesus. It's what makes the most sense.
Written 14 November 2018
 Oct 2018 Jo Swan
Timur Shamatov
Love is like a ****** - it hurts at first
Like a shooting pain from a needle that
****** the skin in a middle of your arm
Like a fire, floating through your veins as it
Burns it's way to a middle of your heart
Before it clouds your mind
You feel your body float as
Free as one will ever be
Unknowingly your mind slows and races
To unimagined peak of ecstasy.
 Sep 2018 Jo Swan
Salmabanu Hatim
Life is a river flowing,
Beautiful and challenging.
Begins with birth,
Ends with death,
Same source.
Life is a treasure,
Its contents has no measure.
Down the river of our life,
Roars raindrops of love and strife,
Laughter, dreams and sorrows.
Life,like the river splits into arms,
Moving where we want it to strum,
With  courage and right attitude,
Not to forget HIS gratitude,
Either be islanded between our negative thoughts,
Or plunge down into a long waterfall of depressive  noughts.
Let the sparkling water of life flow through us adventurously,
Vibrating, exciting and luxuriously,
Awakening every cell and fibre in us.
As the river of our life takes a turn and a bend,
We never know what it will send.
All we have to do is follow the right
path,
And not cross HIS wrath.
 Sep 2018 Jo Swan
Salmabanu Hatim
He came like a tidal wave,
And engulfed me in his ocean depth.
My joy crossed all boundaries,
Happiness seared through my very being,
I found the lyrics of my love life in his arms,
We were one large heartbeat.
And when it was over,
He threw me with the surf that rolled and crashed on the shore.
It left many ripples of grief,
With me, abandoned,  a forlorn  seaweed,
Overwhelmed with bitterness and regret.
 Sep 2018 Jo Swan
Mitch Prax
Just keep climbing
until you become the sky
Just keep climbing
until you become the heavens
Just keep climbing
until you become the future
We’ve climbed these mountains
with bare hands and heavy minds
screaming at our upward battles
so just keep climbing
until you become what you seek
 Sep 2018 Jo Swan
Literatim
I dreamed I stood upon a little hill,
And at my feet there lay a ground, that seemed
Like a waste garden, flowering at its will
With buds and blossoms. There were pools that dreamed
Black and unruffled; there were white lilies
A few, and crocuses, and violets
Purple or pale, snake-like fritillaries
Scarce seen for the rank grass, and through green nets
Blue eyes of shy peryenche winked in the sun.
And there were curious flowers, before unknown,
Flowers that were stained with moonlight, or with shades
Of Nature's wilful moods; and here a one
That had drunk in the transitory tone
Of one brief moment in a sunset; blades
Of grass that in an hundred springs had been
Slowly but exquisitely nurtured by the stars,
And watered with the scented dew long cupped
In lilies, that for rays of sun had seen
Only God's glory, for never a sunrise mars
The luminous air of Heaven. Beyond, abrupt,
A grey stone wall, o'ergrown with velvet moss
Uprose; and gazing I stood long, all mazed
To see a place so strange, so sweet, so fair.
And as I stood and marvelled, lo! across
The garden came a youth; one hand he raised
To shield him from the sun, his wind-tossed hair
Was twined with flowers, and in his hand he bore
A purple bunch of bursting grapes, his eyes
Were clear as crystal, naked all was he,
White as the snow on pathless mountains frore,
Red were his lips as red wine-spilith that dyes
A marble floor, his brow chalcedony.
And he came near me, with his lips uncurled
And kind, and caught my hand and kissed my mouth,
And gave me grapes to eat, and said, 'Sweet friend,
Come I will show thee shadows of the world
And images of life. See from the South
Comes the pale pageant that hath never an end.'
And lo! within the garden of my dream
I saw two walking on a shining plain
Of golden light. The one did joyous seem
And fair and blooming, and a sweet refrain
Came from his lips; he sang of pretty maids
And joyous love of comely girl and boy,
His eyes were bright, and 'mid the dancing blades
Of golden grass his feet did trip for joy;
And in his hand he held an ivory lute
With strings of gold that were as maidens' hair,
And sang with voice as tuneful as a flute,
And round his neck three chains of roses were.
But he that was his comrade walked aside;
He was full sad and sweet, and his large eyes
Were strange with wondrous brightness, staring wide
With gazing; and he sighed with many sighs
That moved me, and his cheeks were wan and white
Like pallid lilies, and his lips were red
Like poppies, and his hands he clenched tight,
And yet again unclenched, and his head
Was wreathed with moon-flowers pale as lips of death.
A purple robe he wore, o'erwrought in gold
With the device of a great snake, whose breath
Was fiery flame: which when I did behold
I fell a-weeping, and I cried, 'Sweet youth,
Tell me why, sad and sighing, thou dost rove
These pleasant realms? I pray thee speak me sooth
What is thy name?' He said, 'My name is Love.'
Then straight the first did turn himself to me
And cried, 'He lieth, for his name is Shame,
But I am Love, and I was wont to be
Alone in this fair garden, till he came
Unasked by night; I am true Love, I fill
The hearts of boy and girl with mutual flame.'
Then sighing, said the other, 'Have thy will,
I am the Love that dare not speak its name.'
This poem was written by Lord Alfred Douglas and published in "The Chameleon" in December 1894.

— The End —