Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member

I entered an open door —
A room was before me
The presence was high
And I sense no misery.

When I pray, You listen
When I listen, You speak.
You’re the Author of everything —
You’re the Keeper of the keys.

Nothing —
Just nothing can separate You and me
I say, “One storm at a time,”
My soul was thirsty for more
More Faith to quench the thirst.

When You look at me,
What can You see,
When You measure my faith,
Can You say I passed the test?

When I leave this place,
Does it mean You don’t care?
Oh, carry me in Your arms
I’ll be back, I will always return.
 Mar 31
Francie Lynch
I know you've heard of RINOs,
Perhaps you've heard of DINOs,
Some Christians are called CINOs,
Are those men mere MINOs.
Women become WINOs
(the irony doesn't escape me thouogh)
Humans evolved to HINOs;
Friends are friends
I'll never call them  FINOs.
Avoid lovers who are LINOs,
And teachers who are TINOs.
Could a Jew be a JINO?

But make no mistake:
Terrorists are Terrorists,
Jihadists are Jihadists,
Haters are Haters,
War mongers are war mongers,
Liars lie.

It's We thePeople, PINOs.
I'm sure you couold add many of your own ___INOs. And the initial letter on many ___INOs can stand for so much more. We need more substance in our lives and less veneer.

I told you I would no longer write for you —
That I won’t hide it in series of poetry anymore.
I was old enough
And I know it’s no longer trendy
I write you letters but I don’t send it anyways.

I wanna tell you how much I cared
To let you go as God says so
At first, I was so scared losing you
As if you were “mine”
Though I never had this “thing” with you.

Honestly, I was left with no choice at all —
I thought you’ll wait for me
Just like what you’ve promised.
But maybe words were just empty words.

Hey, I’m sorry that you got tired of me
I was crazy to let you go without even confessing.
You’re too early and I was too late
But it’s kinda unfair
Coz I believed everything you said.

I know I hurt you too
Many times, you told me you’re no longer at peace.
I hated myself for hurting you
But I have to let myself heal and bloom once again.

The connection I had with you was different
I thought I’m already “home” when I’m with you.
But I never had the chance to cherish everything…
It was the last time, but I haven’t said anything.

The pain within me was more than my emotions,
You’re not just a piece of me
But being with you for a short span
Was like staying where I want to be.

I had so many questions in my head —
But the answer I get was you moved on already.
Seeing you around makes me forgive you
And leads me to forgive myself too.

I ain’t perfect —
But this connection has lapsed
And I have to leave this page.
 Mar 17
Let alone the owner come.
To harvest his farms all.

Minsan ka nang lumuha’t
Nagtiis sa mga salıtang binato ng mundo.
Minsan ka na ring napatid at nalunod
Ngunit bumangon at sumikap pa rin.

Sinisinta kita
Sa kabila ng iyong mga pagkukulang.
Pagpapatawad at pag-ibig
Umaapaw buhat sa aking kaibuturan.

Batuhin ka man ng lahat
Ay hindi kita iiwan.
Hindi ito isang pangako,
Bagkus ito ang aking puso.

Patuloy kitang ipananalangin,
Hangga’t sa kaya ko pa.
Hindi kita susukuan
Ako’y yuyukod sa Maykapal.

I found no butterflies when I’m with you,
But there is peace and silent thumping
As I see the calmness of your face.
And your so, so sweet smile
Radiates from the core of your spirit —
Eradicating every pain my heart has.

I don’t shiver when you hold my hand,
And it no longer bothers me
When you ****** me from my old self.
Neither got no goosebumps when you speak.
But when you lead me to the One I love —
That’s when I know I love you the most.

And when my eyes can’t see you,
When I no longer blink as I count one, two, three.
That’s when I know I’m at the edge of my own cliff
And I’m ready to dive and submit
Where the Spirit ignites my vision —
Bringing me to a great heights of my faith renewed.

I don’t make every second count itself —
But I can simply put the verses of my heart
To the invisible jar of hope and start praying…
And never lean on my own understanding,
Never place myself in the drowning emotions
But to bring praise and melody in such harmony.

I won’t deal this this pace
But I won’t shut my doors too.
When the time comes, I will understand
That the best version of me can lift up another soul.
Maybe when I’ll cross this road again,
There’ll be flowers everywhere.

I hope and pray —
But His will be done! The glory is His!

There’s a story not so long time ago,
And there’s this Big Bad Wolf
Hovering where he wants —
Aiming and locking his target.

His arrows do not look like scary
And most are wrapped in beauty —
In gems and in gold,
In iron and in silver.

He will eat his prey alive
But at times, he can paralyze too.
The prey doesn’t  know the schemes,
Coz he too doesn’t know he’s the prey!

The Big Bad Wolf seemed nice,
They say he’s like a sheep too.
But how foolish are the beholder of those eyes!
For he doesn’t realize even the time of his death!
 Oct 2023
Mitch Prax
When people of
our past speak of us,
they speak of a person
they do not know anymore
and that no longer exists.
 Aug 2023
the social pace manic in its self-absortion, possession facing possession and what if
the world risks collapsing under the weight of its own irony:
a hedonic frame of mind so devoid of the ******* of life
the tyranny of desire is teaching **** to the naked eyes
a culture stops breathing if it can't let go of its desires to find them again
nothing to be destroyed cause everything is dismantling slowly

going right or left it's the same but not in any corner of the world
the leftovers of God, tautologies in a straightjacket,
cause one has meetings all day but no sleep all night
He/She/They colonize you with the scripture of profit
everything has its price on the expence of being enlivened
some don't have water, others too much of an illusion
some don't have peace, others have haute couture
some haven't eaten, others have molecular cuisine
some have the shelter of the sky, others listen to the echo of Big Bang
this logic of contrast is dreaming of the creativity of decay and
what if politics has become a narcosis, a  drunkenness of words,
while the wisdom of trauma is hidden in billboards,
the text says Politics of Happiness or Diserotica

the depressive society fools itself with the financial ****** of disconnected bodies in search of the last noise of the day
the space of the mind  broken by narrow horizons
the flesh and bone might turn into a virtual dimension

the soul of the world flickers, it covers its solar plexus until we meet again as brothers and sisters of the trees
just because you feel good doesn't mean that
the world feels good too
For me, to think and feel, to understand and suffer are one and the same thing.
Vissarion Belinsky

Is a life happy  when one’s whole being can enjoy life that is “good,”; by doing good?
 Jul 2023
Francie Lynch
For decades now
We have serenely, blandly,
Had the Huron horizons
To the North.
All colours of clouds,
Bringing shade or rain,
Snow and flora;
And all the shapes of Noah's zoo,
Morph approaching our soft shores
Of sandcastles and tendered fires,
Those milestone from our youth.
Our fresh waters have given much,
And taken more with wailing
For the never returners.
For mothers with terror splashing
Over  faces and maligned hearts and spirits.
The alone times of punishing memories.
Everything but...
 Feb 2023
my lips feel ****
I a bit vile
I feel decisive
I'm burning down
the my oh my
Van Gogh's turquoise
self portrait in the wild:
a woman loves to
toast to cloudburst

I think I might
recycle the devil
for poetry's sake,
tonight it smells
of cinnamon,
of flemish paintings
 Jun 2022
mark john junor
My know it all grin
plastered on the pavement
as I'm given the boot from another
home sweet home
"not so fast, slick..."
should have heard it
should have known it
but pride and folly are my calling cards...
now I must gather up my gear
and flee on down the road
eviction notice pinned on my ***...
they are gonna laugh
probably throw a party
done given me the boot
good and hard
shake me loose from my tree...
should have heard it
should have known it
but pride and folly
are my calling cards...
so wish me luck on down the road
I'm gonna need it
with that dumb
know it all grin of mine
plastered on the pavement
 Mar 2022
Seranaea Jones

all my mistakes in life
add weight to a scale
of self-judgement–

so far i sense
a balance—

yet it feels to me like
i've let so much ballast
get washed overboard...

s jones

Next page