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Like Aphrodite
Her beauty blinds me
And I shutter at her insecurities
It's an unjust world
If a girl like her
Can look in the mirror and not see
All the beauty on the earth
blushing through her cheeks
She misses the moments
Relentless currents
That stop me in my tracks
Fingers through hair
I can't help but stare
And thank the Lord for where I'm at
Toe to toe chest to chest
With nature at its best
How can she not see
The divinity
That hides behind her smile?
~

bits and pieces,
lines and creases,
dusty shelves
of storied past;
where could-haves
turned should-haves,
make half-lives gone by.
haunt in our reticence,
expressed in our sigh;
they hide in our silence,
betrayed by our tears,
from missed opportunities
     down through the years.

this is no stroll
o’er memory’s lane,
but a ***-holed, hard-roll
on a boulevard unnamed,
     where deepest regrets
          must defend against shame.

~

i make my peace
by drawing a line,
before it can fade
shifting with time.
i say “enough!
this far and no more!”

i give it my heel
and walk out that door.
past the garden,
past the fences,
to the edge of my mind,
resolve saying, “goodbye”  
      to this pain i have known.

then for reasons unfathomed
i turn at the bend,
to see what i'll miss
as if that place were my friend,
yet that house where i lived
so long and knew well,
was standing no longer,
up in smoke, gone in flames,
     now just ashes and bricks
          are all that remained.

~

so homeless i felt,
with no place to return.
no basement to bury
the ghosts of my past;
no attic to wander,
no hallways to creep,
no corners to ponder,
no front porch to weep,
lost without home,
     now no pillow to sleep.

“please turn around,”
spoke, a voice on the breeze
“there's a new life ahead”
and then, to my relief,
“you're not homeless, my son;
you’ve a new windowed view!
square your shoulders
to the pathway,
see the journey anew!
in promising thoughts
so hopefully wrought
of brand new can-be’s
that only dreamers can see
these, are your new life
you're not abandoned, but free.
     let regrets turn to fuel
          build steam from this fire.”


~

as i turned back to thank
the voice offering these words
i found no sage of advice
but here’s what i heard.
"offer thanks to your own heart,
to strength buried within.
the matches lay dormant
’til your heart found its stremgth.
the mere act of leaving
was the spark for your fire;
     for in striking your new path
          your past built your pyre.”


~

*post script.

after much stirring, much wrestling, we are now with anticipations imagining what will change as we light the fire.  i’m excited about the possibilities as we let go.
 Jan 2016 Joe Adomavicia
Kari
21.1
 Jan 2016 Joe Adomavicia
Kari
I still remember the first day I saw you
Tucked in the embrace of mediocrity
Pulsating with colour, reverberating enigma
You were the manifestation of a fantastical wonder, a trip down an abyssal Zion
Enthralled, I swooned, rendered insensible
Solace you promised but royally robed with animosity
Like moth attracted to lighted objects, I mustered strength and toiled on
How am I to deduce you?
A wise lady should've warned me just as she did the great hero, 'Hardship does so soon age it's men'
My heart like wax, deteriorated from your scorching insolence
Sagacious men with a time bomb vault.
Knitted the world a beautiful creation from the fabrics of their life.
Why is every poem a puzzle?
Old men drowned in their pool of reflections and many years later, I am here trying to understand their words.

she's always walked underneath that exact same sky
where later on their hearts met for the very first time
he never stopped believin' in the beauty of the moon
for the dance beneath shinin' lights to be theirs soon

forever she wondered what those stars really meant
by the unknown paths upon which their rays're sent
he thought of all of those promises that're ever made
by the past wretched words upon him bein' displayed

but when the occasion 'n' that auspicious day came by
when a birth of true love started comin' out its cocoon
just then nothin' 'tween an earth 'n' heaven could bend
their union becomin' a fact as faith for them has layed

for that magic moment their bein' rejoiced as occurs
when his eyes got caught by the sight of eyes of hers


*..love always...


عرفان بن يوسف © AH 18/04/1437

'a (freestyle meter) Sonnet'
 Jan 2016 Joe Adomavicia
- rs
I am tired
I am done
I am broke
No matter how many times I say this
Or how many times I plea
I will hear the echo of my own voice
When there's no one soothing my pain
Then why do I choose to live in their way
Sun
Sinking
Nearer To
Earth's Rosy
Cheek
It
Ushers
The Starlight
With A Tender
Kiss
Red
Begins
To Bleed From
Bruised Ledges Of
Sky
Flushed
Pigments
Beckon Night
From Its Hiding
Place
Thought I Should Get Back To Writing. Hope You Enjoyed This Neat Style Of Poetry! Try It Out :)
“I am not going to be the person
I am expected to be anymore”

I heard this thought and was
Kind of blown away
Making me question
All sorts of things
Like…

Who do I expect me to be?
Who do others expect me to be?
Am I
Daughter
Wife
Lover
Do I even care?
What do these labels even mean?
Why can’t I label me Friend?
Is there anything expected of
An acquaintance?
I am trying on new labels

Poet
Writer

Whatever the label
Poet, daughter, wife, maybe even friend
These masks sit a little uncomfortably upon me
And…

What of the unspoken and often unseen labels

Broken
Weird
Crazy

Do these fit me any better?

I don’t think I have ever been
The person others expected

Certainly not myself!

How extraordinary!
“I’m not going to be the person
I am expected to be anymore”

Kelly Rose
9/19/2014

Heard this in a commercial and it hit a nerve  
Someone asked me to post an old poem and I give others the option of posting an older poem that touched them - it is a lovely experience
Respectful disagreement
is much more compassionate than
disrespectful agreement*
could ever even hope to be.
Who would Jesus ****
to spread the good word?

Who would Jesus silence
that he may be heard?

To whom would Jesus feign alliance
that he may gain vain status
within a vapid heard?

See what I'm sayin'?

I'm no Christian,
but I respect the mythology of Christ.
He's quite the selfless archetype.
God in Man's clothing;
better **** it
before it makes us look bad
thus making us look bad,
but oh well. Who's keeping score?
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