Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
 
 Sep 8
Kalliope
It was all real
For a moment
And I was sad
When I woke
But happy to have
Spent an hour with you
Even in the shortest naps
I live lifetimes with you
𝐴𝑛𝑑 𝑦𝑜𝑢𝑟 ℎ𝑎𝑛𝑑𝑠,
𝑇ℎ𝑒 𝑙𝑖𝑙𝑦 𝑓𝑙𝑜𝑤𝑒𝑟𝑠
𝐼𝑛 𝑔𝑟𝑖𝑒𝑓...
𝐼𝑛 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑐𝑒𝑟𝑡𝑎𝑖𝑛𝑡𝑦 𝑜𝑓 𝑦𝑜𝑢𝑟 𝑐𝑙𝑜𝑡ℎ
𝐼 𝑡𝑢𝑟𝑛 𝑔𝑟𝑒𝑒𝑛;
𝑇ℎ𝑒 𝑐𝑒𝑟𝑡𝑎𝑖𝑛𝑡𝑦 𝑜𝑓 𝑚𝑜𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑟'𝑠 𝑐𝑙𝑜𝑡ℎ
𝑊𝑎𝑠 𝑏𝑙𝑢𝑒;
𝑂ℎ 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑚𝑜𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑟'𝑠 𝑓𝑙𝑜𝑤𝑒𝑟 𝑔𝑎𝑟𝑑𝑒𝑛
𝐻𝑎𝑠 𝑝𝑒𝑡𝑢𝑛𝑖𝑎...
𝑊ℎ𝑜 𝑎𝑟𝑒 𝑦𝑜𝑢?
𝑇ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝑖
𝑊𝑒𝑎𝑟𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑎 𝑠ℎ𝑟𝑜𝑢𝑑
𝐼𝑛 𝑘𝑛𝑜𝑤𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑦𝑜𝑢𝑟 𝑒𝑦𝑒𝑠...
𝑊ℎ𝑦 𝑎𝑟𝑒 𝑚𝑦 𝑓𝑙𝑜𝑤𝑒𝑟𝑠 𝑑𝑦𝑖𝑛𝑔?!
𝑊ℎ𝑒𝑛
𝑀𝑦 ℎ𝑎𝑛𝑑𝑠 𝑤𝑒𝑎𝑟𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑎 𝑠ℎ𝑟𝑜𝑢𝑑...
و يديك،
إنها زنبق...
في شجن*
سأتحول إلى اللون الأخضر
في يقين قميصك
وكان يقين قميص الأم أزرق اللون
حديقة زهور الأم،
لديها زهور البتونيا؛
من أنت؟
بأني أرتدي كفناً
في معرفة عينيك؛
لماذا تموت زهوري؟!
عندما تلبس يدي كفناً....
How could this be  This awful reality
Falling into the fire  burning above and
Below me. a terrible reality from which
There was no escape but one.  it was not
To fight  but to sleep in the midst of it all
To sleep or burn  in a reality from which
There was no escape.  I dreamed I was
By the still water that ran so deep in my
Youth.   Could it be? How could it be?  I
Awoke.  Woke to the morning sun and
Knew not believe again all I thought true.
Knew if it  told me my life was  in pain over
Dead and never to return; all taken  from me
To sleep perchance to wake.  An easy choice
My burden was lite,  Only to let my self sleep
And wake born again giving thanks for my life
And All things made new I gave my love to all
Who sleep that they may in  newness wake again

It is not that I did not fight against the  dying of
the light but in my strength  I failed. but in the
end I found the way to understand the Master"
"My burden is lite...'And in that was the answer
"

With Thanks to Eliot and all my readers
tMy burden is lite
 Jun 14
nivek
I could make out the Sunrise
-the one in your dance
as you rose up in your poems
my sisters, my loves
your songs reverberate
forever in our hearts
Here in this seeming wasteland
where children are born
we contemplate living forever
the forever Sunrise.
 Apr 19
IrieSide
Remember to breathe...
and flow with the rythm,
that sacred pulsing rythm

the one of life and a heartbeat,
the one of nature, the trees,
and the moon

sway with the core dance,
a gentle movement,
as the trees in gentle
wind
 Apr 14
Nat Lipstadt
East River: The Many Calories in Water and Words**

this weighty obsession, counting the energy
consumed and disbursed,
to be lean but not mean,
traverses into its third year

a late start does not forgive
over Forty years of transgressions, that damage,
sustained and in part irreversible,
yet I awake this Sunday morn,
all quiet on the East Side front, observing the East River flows
on the surface, contented and uncontested,
strongly bound for faraway Oceans unknown, and it tickles my
imagination that the rain from the nearby Adirondack and Catskills mountains might soon be quenching thy flora, fauna and your parched throats, confirming and conforming our connection and threading our interwoven tapestries, our unified aqueduct, carrying
with more than poetic words, but poetic water!

this notion sustains in multiple manners, and I deep drink the calm and the power as if it were,
for it is,
a daily vitamin,
calorie free,
God  delivers

Delivering
us with
its contained and contentented potency,
to all
in equal dosage

and now the script finished,
the water imbibed,
this baptized, scripture loving
mind and body
as/is
wholly holy
refreshed,
as are we,
my friend

8:38AM
April 14, 2024
by the East River
 Apr 10
Max Neumann
Prayer of an empty room
In a gap of the forgotten
For the love of ancient dust
Living in my fibers
Under my skin
Where the building ends
Till kingdom come

I came to pray
Cause live is a riddle
From words of greed and guilt
I started solving this riddle
A little boy
Chewing on a pen
Looking through the window
At a grey garden
Colorful birds were singing
In the boy's language

This moment passed
So I'm praying
For forgiveness
I'm asking sincerely

For honesty
For freedom
For love
A Prayer
Tell the loved ones, how much you love them,
waste no time, and it's no shame
because if silence, steals your word
it may be lost, and never be heard.

Don't defer it, to another day
what you feel, immediately say
we don't know tomorrow, what's in fate
it's too far away, it'll be too late.

If you willed, know it to be true
it's easy to say, I love you
when you hesitate, high will be the cost
chances postponed, are chances lost.

When they are with you, it's such a boon
to have the loved ones, so tell them soon
before time snatches away, you or them
with your love unuttered, heart unspoken.
 Feb 2
Bijan Rabiee
Poetry is a gateway to salvation
Where day is subjugated
And darkness reigns
Where dying drains
And spirituality, illuminated.

Tongue is derived
From striking feel
Fusion of words
Portray the deal.

Poets whether inferior
Good or great
Unload the gratifying freight.

A loving touch of a lion
The spark of a smile
A sudden burst of laughter
The paintings in sky
A lone traveller
Bound to nowhere
The drizzling of autumn rain
Stillness, flow
Detachment, devotion
Testament to poetry's motion.

What songs should we sing
In praise of sunshine and
Magic of moonlight
In praise of Nature's beauty
And Animal Kingdom
In praise of solitude
And matrimony
For speech alone
Cannot be captivating
We need Music and Poetry
The twins of creation's kindness
The reasons for hope and peace.

Poetry fuels the fire of fairness
Preserving humanity in life.
Next page