Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
 
 Mar 2017
hazem al jaber
Be ...

Be my spiritual ****** girl ...
And melt on my arms ...
Be a sweat on my body...
And sneak into my pores ...
Be banded with my blood ...
Be the beat of my heart ...
And the blood into my arteries ....
Be the wine between my lips ...
And the nectar to my tongue ...
The secret to my entity...
Be the gentle wind enjoying my face ,..
The bright sun to warm me ....
Be my blissful dreams ...
The light to my eyes ...
You are its star...
Be the tear to my eyes that never leaves ...
Be the light to my eyes ...
However, it is that I am alive ...
Be my soul ...
Be my lady ...
Be...

by hazem al Jaber ...
#be
 Mar 2017
hazem al jaber
Wish you could ...

wish you could understand my needs and desires...
wish you could understand my feelings and emotions...
wish you could live your dream for a second through me...
wish you could pretended at least that you smell my odor wherever i am..
wish you could implied to me even through your eye and your soft smile...
wish you could do, as i'm always wishing to be...
wished always to live through your breathes...
to be with every beat through every breathe...
to stay into your heart as the last home that never to leave it...
to be with you even within your dream that never to wake up from...
wish you could feel...
wish you could know how i live without you...
wish you could know...
how i am now while you are so far from me...
wish you could understand ...
how much i love you...
wish you could know...
how much i wish to make love with you...
wish you could know...

by : hazem al jaber ...
 Mar 2017
betterdays
PSA
NAPO WRIMO

Next month is  Poetry Month
Why not, endevour to write
a poem a day from provided prompt
Stretch yourself, find new sources of creativity.
Discover new poets, new resources,
Celebrate yourself and other poets
Check out the website:
http://www.napowrimo.net/
http://www.napowrimo.net/

Hope to see some of you from prevoius go rounds and some new faces.....cheers
 Mar 2017
wordvango
have you heard the wind
the trees rustle
the wings fly by
the sea roar
watched the mountain
and wonder
sink down
on your knees
knowing this is life
the end the beginning
we are no more
than a bird a mountain a tree a leaf
a wave crash on the shore
a shell
maybe a sunrise
or a moon on the horizon
but nothing more
 Mar 2017
betterdays
bright things,
glisten and shimmer
in the corner of my eye


little fairy wings
flit and flutter
in the outer circle
of my sunny day sky

my oak and acorn
plant seeds in the sunshine

no hope for sadness
no room for forlorn

today is bright
daffodils and roses
happy faces, happy poses

small sloppy kisses
and large heartfelt ones too

the last days of summer
shining, shining through...

dappled sun ...
green grass too,

we all lay down,
soak the heat
from the ground

happy to, look for fairies
and pixies, and gnomes,
lady bugs, inch worms, skinks
and grasshoppers too.....

dragonflies hover
and race the wind

butterflys, flutter
art on the wing

and in the tree
the kookaburras  chuckle
the magpies warble
wrens chatter

these are memories
although, destined to be lost
these are memories that matter
these small things and lazy days
are the backbone of our lives
holding us upright in times of strife
giving us grace to cope, with the darkside of life

these bright things, lead us home.....
 Mar 2017
J M Surgent
I will always think of you
When I listen to Andrew Bird,
And will always miss you
When I choose the next song.
 Mar 2017
Elizabeth Squires
the Hello Poetry portrait gallery
is becoming full of empty frames
what individuals had a hand
in these harassment games

we've been deprived of many
talented written contributions
the villainous mob most adroit
with their unwarranted executions

blank boxes tell of an almighty
mischief being awfully made
by they who are wanting
to garner every accolade

under a serious threat our
fraternity of poets are thus far
and of seeing unfilled cubes
there leaves a permanent scar
 Mar 2017
zebra
there are some folks living in my bathroom
from the in-between world
like a trailer park
for toilet home bodies

it is where some
of the the dead living habitate
gnomish broods who feed
on the mist of mold
and fecundating aberrations
of **** and excrement

where the difference
between objects and souls
blur
sinks and toilets
flapping opinionated vortexes
of gloom brooding
walls wave and warp
like angry water
and howling wind

they are living creatures
animated bodies electric
crying mouths
without breath
fierce undulations
animated denizens scowling
rattling like bricka bracka
used shaking chairs
always steaming
hysterical
daring you to fight them

sometimes between sleep and wake
i enter their dimension
unable to break free of my sleeping self
held down
paralytic
like a narcoleptic slug
inching its way
through a puddle of warm oatmeal

last night i found myself
in the in-between world
to discover some desperate hollow woman
barricading the bathroom

i pushed hard against the door
and heard her sonorous groan
as she collapsed
into thin air

i think i love her
 Mar 2017
Pagan Paul
.
There is a man
     with only one hand,
in the 3rd eye of Buddha
     he learnt about clapping.

There is a woman
     with only one heart,
in the land ruled by men
     she retained her compassion.

There is a man
     with only one eye,
in the land of the blind
     he was ostracised.

There is a mind
     with only one thought,
in the land of the banal
     it treasures imagination.



© Pagan Paul (19/10/16)
.
Old Poem
PPx
.
Next page