Soul Poetry - Hello Poetry

Aug 2015

Sally A Bayan

DUSK ll

(a cluster of 10W)

When
      dusk
             is
       nigh

and
    creamy
             full
          moon's
               up
         high

:::::::
think light,
      ::::::  close your eyes

imagine skies,
       ::::::  then, slowly... s  i  g  h

::::::::

dark
    silence
            bares
       holes...

...opens
      dialogue
              'tween
                   man
                and
           soul

::::::::

inner
     self
         whispers,
                "patch
           h o l e s  ---

...amend
         ways--
             again,
                   be
        w h o l e ---

::::::::

rise---when hurled to the ground
life---is a merry-go-round
::::::::

...now,
      feel---
         night's
                soothing
          calm ~ ~ ~

...nurtures
             soul
                 like
         healing
    balm ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

Sally

Copyright July 8, 2015
Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan

***Good night, folks, hope you all have sweet dreams!***

#nightmanholesoulmoondialoguemerry-go-round

Aug 2015

GaryFairy

definitions - confusion - /kənˈfyo͞oZHən/

can you feel that?
the thoughts are pulling
feels like a hook in the gut

it's grueling
words ruling
like a book that i can't shut

mind stealing
what am i feeling?
i'd rather feel anything but

fate sealing
revealing
it's something, but i don't know what

Aug 2015

beth fwoah dream boleyn

the water dreams...

the water dreams,
wild as a sea,
tranquil as a star.

#dreams #water

Aug 2015

Francie Lynch

Loving My OCD

I don't pick my skin,
Pluck my hair
Or number things.
I wash my hands
Many times a day,
But I don't check doors
Or count footsteps.
I set the alarm,
But I don't re-set;
I'm meticulous
But not perfectionist.
I'm self-critical,
Not self-loathing,
I'm proud of my kids,
But I'm not doting.
There's one thing
I'm obsessed with:
To be in your heart
Every minute you live;
To touch you
Before leaving a room,
Have you wash over me
Under all the moons.
I'm not looking for a cure,
I love my disorder.

#ocd #obsessivecompulsive

Aug 2015

Mike Hauser

~Love~

How many out there
Are always searching for love
That think it comes in a package
And when they open it up
They quickly find out
It's never enough

But what love is
that some do not know
Is a seven course meal,
best not eaten alone

But then you have some
That treat love like a jewel
Where they keep it hidden away
Thinking it might get stole
So that its everlasting beauty
The heart seldom knows

When it comes to love,
that's the way that some live
Love is a treasure,
that is well worth the dig

When love comes into bloom
Some can't see the forest for the trees
The difference between love
And the over taking of weeds
Use your heart as a trowel
And tend the soil in need

*When it comes to love,
don't give up hope and know
Love is a garden with its share of weeds
but still grows

Aug 2015

Sana

Rebirth

As I lay here
Encapsulated in softness
I close my eyes tenderly
For my dreams are placid
Gossamer, floating wild yet gently
My dreams are the sparkles
My dreams are the ambers
But my dreams are not dreams
My dreams are honeyed streams
Manifestation
Of bliss, of love so pure

I am witness of a miracle
I was born once as mortal clay
Buried deep within, seeds of my dark fate
They said,
“You can change not,
Your fate is forged,
On iron pages it is wrought”
Exclaimed I;
“Does not moisture crack the seeds?
Does not I carry that grows to reed?”

So I marched on barren lands
Wildly searching that could damp
Scared, a step with each heartbeat
Thorns piercing and bleeding my feet
To heavens I prayed in desperate I cried,
Tears of agony in my eyes
That moment bestowed upon me
Our blood is the water that damps the seeds
The more we bleed, the more we reap

Hence I was reborn amongst sunniest rays
To taste the sweetness in bitterness
To experience the noise in silence
To listen the music in smiles
To see the laughter in eyes

As I drift to sleep now
I will not dream, I can never dream
My reality is too beautiful,
My reality is all I dream

Until that day when,
My reality becomes only a dream,
When my lids would turn stones
And the blood in me runs dry
Till that last day,
I will use my blood
To moist my seeds of fate

Dedicated to each one of us who struggled through their dark fate, who rebelled against failure

#motivational

Aug 2015

Sally A Bayan

Things That Were Not Meant To Be

We worked hard for these plans for so long
these dreams, we feel, could never go wrong
we have given them our all...they are nearly done,
but, "nearly" doesn't mean it's been won
deep inside, we keep alive their essence
and we choose to stretch our patience...

We wait...

Notes have yet to be written on the bars
the tunes seem to be playing among the stars
lyrics are springing back and forth
"pen-rubber-pen," is a cycle that can't be fought
they are songs taking too long to be sung
in the air, they fly, like arrows being slung
in spaces too far flung...

We sit on the edge, while waiting...

They are verses that falter
have yet to make it on white paper
altered thoughts, words displaced
lines, here and there...disorganized
hanging...
with unknown endings
work is pending
we desperately seek for the missing element
to come up with meaty, meaningful contents...

We console ourselves, and say, "maybe later..."

They are faces that hide
there, at the back of our minds
smiling at us in our darkest hours
they make us cry, laugh, turn our moods so dour
keeping us company twenty-four/seven,
we fervently wish, the odds would become even
yes...we long for their physical presence
but....it can't...it just doesn't...happen!
they keep stalling
courage could be waning...

It is hard to comprehend why...we're still willing to wait.

When most days of life have passed
and while waiting, we breathe our last,
our songs, our meandering loves, our dreams,
our long written poems with scattered themes,
like shredded paper, shall go with the final heave of our chests
fly away, flee to the open spaces...to find rest,
and, after wandering all over...they would then settle down
to finally become the color of the ground.

One day, things would fit into their proper places,
people will wear smiles on their faces
nothing would seem to be wrong
the air would be filled with songs
from new lives, new loves...risen from the fall
from life's cycle....these unknowing souls
their palms, with lines and colors, much brighter
they could be luckier
they have better chances...they show more courage
the wind brings good fortune, they now have the edge...

How are they to know, their most desired aspirations
used to be other people's inspirations
in the past generations?
their dreams realized had once been,
Things that were not meant to be.

Sally

Copyright JUNE 2014
Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan

***...fell again into the rhyming trap...oh, well...***

#dreams #verses #songs #faces #thingsthatwerenotmeanttobe

Aug 2015

poetessa diabolica

Love's final chapter

Still hunger for your skin,
  thirsting the lips that
   once melded into mine
one last blissful night together
  flowing of wine and passion,
never suspecting you were
   letting me down easy,
our hearts were in sync -
      or so I was led to believe
   veiled in ecstasy,
    a cruelty worse than death
      in the least, dying has a final chapter

Aug 2015

Jack Aylward

The Kiss (Sonnet 5)

Drowse, sink, escape
Until free to sleep
There you will fall deep
In love while the nape
Of your neck and the shape
Of it is softened by touching with a sweep
Of my pressing lips that creep
Towards yours. There your hair will drape;
Fold with light
As the lamp finds your face
And the fire finds the night
To where the moon finds its space;
There the desire to kiss will reach its height
And fade and leave without a trace.

©Jack Aylward

Aug 2015

Chris

The sun is screaming

~

Miles of nothing,
beige on beige on beige
The sun is screaming,
blistering my skin,
draining me slowly
as breath is heated
and tastes bitter
Shoulders slung low
I can’t stand straight,
bent over struggling,
nothing is anywhere
and nowhere is here

Leaving footprints
for the wind dancers,
black feather fathers,
winged circlers
High above, watching
sifting time
in weakened increments,
hourglass patterns of
falling granules
sinking deeper

Water is a dream
and this dream, a nightmare
for it is there,
just ahead, I can see it glistening
but it does not exist
nothing exists,
as the oasis in my mind
dries up, leaving
empty indentations
on horizontal planes, flat lands
of arid emotions
drifting in and out
reaching for…
reaching

It sure is hot here today.