Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
 Feb 2016
Born
We all walk the same path
How far we travel depends only on ourselves
© Ibrahim
 Feb 2016
SøułSurvivør
Lookin' for a definition
The search engine position
It's a tricky proposition
Siri's off upon her mission

The standard answer is her stance
Has she ever been entranced
By starry eyes or moon's that dance?
Without a heart...? Not a chance

But maybe in her circuit board
There's an AI song... a chord...
In her there is some reward
Her humanity restored

Maybe in her silicon mind
There's a place where she can find
A way to let go and unwind....

No.

To her, love's truly *blind
Just a thought...
 Feb 2016
Elisa Maria Argiro
Two hundred years ago and yesterday
a sailor wrote a letter in longhand,
entrusting it to the road
back to his beloved,
where dawn was breaking
at the closest port of call.

A century ago, a shy and lovely
mail order bride wrote
to the man who would be her husband,
in a land entirely different from her own.

In her delicate, sincere questions, from a
heart wrapped in ornate brocade layers of
kimono silk, she hoped to begin to know him.

Relationships formed gracefully, over time,
an ocean of water and thought intervening.

Water and air may be there
keeping souls apart,
until they are meant to be united.
 
Now, two beloved young friends have found
in each other a twin flame, first seen shining
in the virtual world of today. With only letters,
or flares or morse code, these two would have
seen, and known, that light within one another.

Souls destined from very early on.

My loving eyes have seen them, decades from now,
leaning into one another, silver hair entwined
as they rest their heads together on one more journey.

I defy anyone who might challenge me,
seeing these two blossoming in love
from a virtual, chance encounter, 
to say that life is any less real
in the ways that matter most,
when it is born in abstract space,
in this manifestation of a reality
that is in itself a metaphor for
Reality.

Reality, is living,
deeply living,
the inexplicable,
unfathomable,
exquisitely simple
complexity,
of being fully human.
For Lynn and Josh ~
©Elisa Maria Argiro
 Feb 2016
Sourodeep
A flower so grand
in itself, vivid in
details, following no pattern
like the leaves of the plant.

All the leaves are the same
but a single flower so distinct
one does and the other doesn't
add to the plant's fame.

In its life of just a day, it steals the show
and spreads so much happiness
though the leaves may, in silence keep low,
diligently work for air's cleanliness.


Even then it sticks to the branch
as its life is given by
the apparently dreary plant.
Here, all its coming generations
will choose to be born,
and this plant only will they adorn.
We may be so much accomplished and successful in our life but we should not undermine the value of our roots, things which have helped us to reach where we are now.
 Feb 2016
Mike Hauser
This poem came to me inside a dream
Knocked upon my conciseness
Trying to awaken me
Did its best to invade my rest

Set its rhythm to my breathing
My snoring to its rhyme
Whispered in my inner ear
All the words it hoped I'd find

To pour it out on paper
To give it room to breath
This poem that came to me last night
While I lay asleep inside a dream
 Feb 2016
Gaffer
Some guys just want you for ***
And I can see that
But I really think that would be doing you an injustice
I want to know the real you
And who knows, maybe a relationship
Take it to a higher level
Who knows, we could be forever young
What do you think.

That’s quite good Paul,I mean, compared to last week's effort anyway.

Was last week’s bad.

Let me see now, you’re pulled.

Did that lack substance.

It was sort of to the point.

And that was bad.

Well I did mention it to you the next morning.

Was that in between you’re a crap lover.

You said you could do it all night.

I did do it all night, slept like a baby.

I know, but that wasn’t exactly what I had in mind.

Did I or did I not show you a great time in the morning.

No, you said you had to get a run in.

I know, but after that, were you or were you not screaming.

Are you surprised, there was blood everywhere, thought somebody had attacked you. how was I to know you fell down a hill.

After that, did you not say it was out of this world.

I could have said anything, I was still traumatised.

I’m not surprised your husband doesn’t understand you. You staying at your sisters by the way.

No, she’s at mines.

Did you two read the marriage contract. I mean, I’m not religious or anything, but I think the Priest would be a little concerned about your infidelity.

Have you met father Tom.

Don’t think so.

You have, he was the guy giving you *** tips.

Was that him, he was brilliant, told me all the things that turned you on.

****** great, you get the advice, I get the Hail Marys.
 Feb 2016
Ja
I bestowed to you my heart

You ****** it dry
Left me to die

Then ripped it out and threw it away

While I gasped at my soul
As it oozed out that hole

I realized I was dying

I clutched hold of it and gripped
But between my fingers it slipped

In despair I watched it rise, then linger

Then it glanced back at me
That’s when, I ceased to be

Now I’m in an ambivalency

Am I really dead
Or just my world instead
BOEMS BY JA 484
For her
he was always the man
on the other side of the table.

He was fond of it that way
so he could see her face
read the shades and lights
crack jokes through the grim times
when on the table was little
brimmed plenty in their hearts
and her tears when flowed
were not of unfulfilled needs
but a happiness she couldn’t grasp.

She doesn’t know
what she misses is love
or a mere habit.

She only knows
food doesn’t taste the same
without the man
on the other side of the table.
 Feb 2016
Dhaye Margaux
A bottle of sin
A glass of foolishness
A taste of revenge
A smell of hate

A time of madness
An awful night
An hour of ignorance
A fearful gate

A wasted chance
A pause in dream
A shaded mind
Here comes your fate
Alcohol makes people crazy.
 Feb 2016
ryn
Today bears the weight of erstwhile trepidation.
Uncertainties exhumed only to be hung up as ominous flags.
Black as night my widowed heart paraded through the procession.
Garbed in ash encrusted, sequinned frock, hemmed train all tattered in rags.

Herald the face with no features yet obscured behind a chiffon veil.
In hands, a bouquet of black roses, worm-eaten to the stems.
The mourning sun only gave the weakest glow,
feeble attempt to rejuvenate all that is stale;
to imbue the shimmer back into forsaken jewels and dulled gems.

Her entourage kept up with heavy feet; all grim and sullen.
Also faceless... Armed with pitchforks and torches.
Today they will draw much; having thirst for crimson.
Today they witness her death as the black parade marches.
Inspired by My Chemical Romance's "Welcome to the Black Parade".
 Feb 2016
wordvango
be a feetless floating
gill fin laden underwater
poet, My mouth would still gulp
I would recite and still stutter
all the words in fish languages
and possibly mate
with my father's daughter.
or my brother's mother.
Next page