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 Aug 2015
poetessa diabolica
Devoured by the intensity,
  words that quench the soul
an enchanting intoxication - -
    like a spirited ******
      whetting a voracious thirst,  
plunging in for another swallow
   of adoration's satiated ******
 Aug 2015
Sally A Bayan
(10 w x 9)


A glass of wine waits
beside a tureen,
..............where soup
......................

~~~~~

with twisted noodles
of choices
and reluctance
is
slowly simmering.

~~~

there's no fire,
yet,
ladle goes on,
stirring within
........amidst

~

quivers...
rivers of fear
..........of paths
circumstances may lead to...

~~~

to stagnate?
or rise from inner swamp?
::::: a recurring
dilemma

::::::::::

losing
people...things
most loved,
derails intentions,
w
  e
a
  k
    e  n
           s
     existing wall...

~~~

faces...voices,
wisdom gained,
all reside in
one's comfort zone

****
to move on,
or stall?
when?
tomorrow?

no!

not...yet...

****

doi­ng    n o t h i n g,
this humid evening
just swimming
~
~~~
~~~~~
in dark
waters.

~~~~~
~~~
~



Sally

Copyright May 31, 2015
Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan
 Aug 2015
vincent j kelly
MY IRISH ROSE

      In the corner of the pub I stand and raise my glass
      and ask the folks to drink a toast to my Irish Lass
      the one I left behind - the one with the Irish smile
      the one I left behind - the one with the Irish eyes
      so raise your glass and drink a toast to my Irish lass
      cause hopes and dreams of love and life they all go by so fast

      she said oh Jimmy please don't go - you know I love you so
      I kissed her lips and held her tight she was my Irish rose
      then packed my bags with hopes and dreams and off to old New York
      and left her waving on the pier my rose of County Cork
      I said someday I would return and marry you my lass
      but days and weeks turned into months as years went by so fast

      In the corner of the pub I stand and raise my glass
      and ask the folks to drink a toast to my Irish Lass
      the one I left behind - the one with the Irish smile
      the one I left behind - the one with the Irish eyes
      so raise your glass and drink a toast to my Irish lass
      cause hope and dreams of love and life they all go by so fast

      I thought someday I would return with pockets full of gold
      but time has not been good to me I'm a penny short of poor
      it took me years to find my way back to County Cork
      to try and find my Irish lass but she had died the year before
      and on her stone the words they read - forever Jimmy boy
      I placed a flower on her grave - god bless my Irish Rose

                          By Vincent J Kelly (c)2000
                             from the song My Irish Rose
                                   vincentjkelly@yahoo.com
from a song I wrote left it as is ...a song....
 Aug 2015
Pisceanesque
It slips,
this new surrender,
past the rusted locks
and caution signs
and crumbling roads
of cul-de-sacs
and vacant lots
and open tracks
to freedom;
where conundrums play
and secrets huddle
and bodies lie
and youth decays,
retired past expired days

Engraved in time,
cocoons and shells
and nests are hung
and quartered for a chance at love;
the way ahead,
receding,
half behind
and part enslaved
(a mask of promise worn from birth to lucid grave)

And,
like an avalanche,
it falls in quick pursuit,
this multiverse of
filthy guise
– of liquid paths and dangerous eyes –
and ruby coloured blushing cheeks;
where every lover’s
heart of sponge or stone
descends to meet . . .
heating,
for another touch
beneath the fraying sheets

And all the while
in rush and glory,
time,
******* moments
as it passes, flies away –
manifest instead as flesh,
(again)
with wings that only beat
to re-transcend
and scar
and mend in
pounding,
swollen,
rhythms,
c
l
a
w
i
n
g
for the warmth of smothered distance:
roaring
for a welcome end

So,

spaced between
the tics
and tocs
of darting pain
and thrusting *****,
of ***** aroused, abused, and shamed,
a silence, near, deploys again
the ever caged
and emptied song
and lusting shame
of mouths and tongues,
inclining, fast at last
to go
from whence it came
to soak the mind
and strip the soul
and blur the lines
of time and toll,
buried,
in surrender, whole
© Tamara Natividad
www.pisceanesque.com
Written 21 July, 2015
-
Roses shrivel in winter’s core
Skies decay on mountain’s gore
In lies a youth with severed paws
Death is crawling on all fours…

In the meadows of a shepard’s land
Lays a mother on rigid sand
Staying there for which she will
Tomorrow she must pay her bill…

A long distance so far away
A father of four can all but stay
For he, a widower can leave no trail
Of the ever-lasting love, doomed to fail…

Lonely is as lonely does
Reeks the evil of Morsel’s couz
A wretched soul for which he rusts
Now that bellows in the dust…

Strange although all is true
The youth is dead, cold and blue
The mother in prison with many a trife
Killing her child has given her life…

The reunion of two ruined souls
Buried side-by-side near the blinded moles
Morsel’s couz will burn in hells might
Forever a figure of wicked light.
 Aug 2015
Rebecca Shain
You
Hey you,  
Yes, you.
Don't do that to yourself.
Don't allow someone to treat you like that.
This is your life.
Don't let other people burn you to the ground.

Hey you,
Yes, you.
You put the ******* stars in the sky.
Your are gold.
You are art.
Stop letting people make you feel small.

You are fascinating, don't surround yourself with people who are not curious about you.

I believe that you are a miracle and its about time you started to believe it too.
This is for everyone.
 Aug 2015
brandon nagley
(Niamh Price), this is thy own dedication, thy shortened sentences art lovely, they showeth me mine homeland of Ireland, wherein the druids didst roam, wherein tales went back far and old, as niamh thy soul I feeleth its pain, yet soo amazing thou art friend.

(Gary L), this one is thine own writing, sir, thy friendship is inviting, thy lyrical sense is enticing, as thou doth speak truth when thou seeith it, never quit! On thy works and on thineself, thou art who thou art, a beautiful man, with timeless knowledge.

(SPT), this poem is for thou as a treat, I feeleth thine anguish mix in with thy compassion, thou art a hopeful mansion, filled with words of someone who hath lived age's, thy pages art touching, and I thank thee for thy support and guiding me through h.p.

(Ignatius Hosiana), brother thou art a hopeless romantic like me, hoping for his queen, seeing her only in thine dream's, yet as we scream, as brother's we doth unite! In color of skin's, black and white we overcometh the ideology of hatred, loving the hater.

(Dedpoet), mine Mexican friend, how canst I not loveth thee, thy word's dark, ghetto, and deep, as I've been around hood part's to knoweth enough, the most beauty LIES awake in the hood, the places the rich men overlook, is wherein the eyes of God art .

(Wonderman poetry), brother thy words of Christ uplift me, not a perfect being mineself, thyself showeth me the light in the darkness and thus when I'm down, thine godly loving giveth me help, as thou knoweth brother, love and forgives as Christ taught!

(poetessa diabolica), word's that thou uses art so complex, for thee so I respect, for all thy love thou hath given me, the hope that thou planted me, to showeth me, God still lingers in man's soul's, despite the devil trying to rear around, I thankest thou poetess...

(Donna,) thine little haiku's art a piece of the celestial, thy pieces extraterrestrial, and high up the Angels weep to thy words. Like cures and herbs they giveth me a better day to look to, as like glass, beautiful the words thou uses floweth to heavens moon!

(Rosalind Heather Alexander), speechless I am to thy grace, a Scottish lass as me part Scottish blob and mass, lol, just saying , two bloods of the same kind, now thou art writing thy soul out, keepeth it divine, thy soul canst not go rewind, so love on ahead.

(Soul-survivor), old friend, as we both preach the same predictions shalt we worry of ourn end? No, we shalt continue to showeth love, and giveth others hope, than when we die the Graves not it, but that God's love over-rose, so shalt we, auntie as I calleth thee.

(Icysky), young one please do not cry, the boy's canst seeith the fine stitching God made thee as, thou hath a vessel of rubies, and thou art like a wonderful movie, fast tracked to the best part, icy, let noone breaketh thine heart, and let thy lord guideth thee .

(Joe Malgeri), a freak hippy like me, playing music to the sun, giving lectures highly and fun, thou wilt find a queen like me one day, continue to haveth class, play tunes by night, showeth thy genuine ways. As thou doth, wonderful supporter, HP gypsie!!!

(Anthony Mooney,) an Irish hopeless romantic like me, thy soul hath beauty friend, let not hate overtake, bypass the anger and the heartbreak. Let thy pen jot down thy beauty, making the earth quake, unlike others dear mate, thou hath high class.

(Wolf spirit) ( aka quin,)though we don't talk, I loveth thee mine friend, though even thou doth not like me, thou art one of mine biggest inspiration's, thou art a true passionate, amongst the tribal nations, as I am Cherokee part mineself, thou inspireth me.

(Chris green, )affectionate of the the earth, thy woman Is lucky to haveth a poet by birth, for thy words drip like honey on a summer night, Chris friend, wonderful delight, I thank thee for kindness, for thy hope in refinement, and thou art a king of love.

(Pradip Chattopadhyay,) a man who canst writeth in all perspective, thy profile picture maketh me giggle everytime I seeith it, ( in a good way friend) I loveth thy style, and sense of humor, how thou writeth, and doesn't listen to rumors, a poet!!!

(Dark icE,) I just met thee, but thy sensuality is so delighting and like a dream, thy words sucketh me in as I canst ever get out, thy amour in poem's is a cloud, on which I linger for more of its nectar wet taste, immense in this place, unlike the human race.

(Beth StClair), mine best friend if back in the sixties, we wouldst hath layed flower's around ourn necks and head's, we wouldst hath sang the tunes of the Beatles and the dead, as I wouldst hath sung with Lennon, and zeppelin and thou wouldst hath watched.

(Vicki,) I've already wrote for thou and beth, but thou two art the best, Vicki in the crumby state of Ohio like me(lol) though me and thou aren't from here (were Angels of earth's dream's) thou art a poetic of kings and queens, thou art kind, sweet, and a a peace.

(Impeccable Space Poetess,) thy writing is like thunder. Maketh me laugh cry and rolleth over, I read again, like a books beautiful cover, thou art a friend, a poetry lover. Thou hath intelligence of God and heaven, never let man break thee or hurt thee.poetic!!!

(POETIC T,) a spirit light as a feather, free not a slave, not of this world, a man not a boy, thou hath been through strife and abuse, thy hands art not bound, thou hath cut the noose, please don't leaveth us, we all careth for thee. Friend of mine. And HP.
This is for some poets for now. Gonna make another one in little bit for more lol... Took forever for this!!!!!! Part two coming lol.. And BTW for others I love on here don't get upset *** u aren't in poem yet this is part one... More people to come lol and for u who who see I even use people I love in here who don't like me at all but fact is I love them I don't need noones approval can just show love (:::
-
i want to write
a happy poem
but
the ink of this pen
is color gray
and blue*

©IGMS
 Aug 2015
js
She said,
“Be a fountain, not a drain.”

I said,
“Fountains make good wishing wells.”
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