Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
 
Somewhere in a strange land
An unknown heart throbs for me
      Etching an amorous graffiti
On the blank walls of my mind
Where ever I am, I feel a pair of eyes
Fondly surveying and scanning me,
Speaking to me in silence
And keeps me awake in the night
I feel it all, I hear it all
Filling me with a sweet ache!

When night birds croon in the woods
And their mates answer the serenade,
When the moon begins her somnambulistic walk
And light beams percolate through pine needles,
When a hundred eyes open in the blue heights
To watch over the sleeping Earth,
When the whistle of a train is heard far away
And its music wanes into a monotonous drone,
When the rooster makes his first clarion call
Breaking the serene silence of the night,
When glow worms float in darkness
Like cruise ships over the sea,
When night gales shake the slender coniferous trees
And wind whistles among their leaves,
When sailing clouds blind the stars
And the night turns into an ebony shade,
When the opening Jasmine secretly exults
In her own exotic scent,

Sitting in my dimly lighted room
      I draft this message of love
      Pouring all my warmth into it
      Thus emptying my love laden heart
That blazes with the fire of love
And encode it in cryptic script
      To be mailed to you, my love!

Oh, it might take much time
Better it be a whispered endearment
Sent through this perfumed night breeze
That shall carry it from this end to that end

So kindly leave
your window open!
Nature has divine qualities
Beyond national divides
So heart enfold immortal love
Where one sees mountain dance and move

In this do love has no color
Skin pigment shouldn't be honor
For all bears reddish clot
As we tread on earth path

So soil of time embraces our body
As the enlived soul transpired to the sky
All become one in a starky heaven
Where no divide and rule leaven

Only unending peace it brings
Shrinking hearts with joy and unending smiles
As they commune in glows of divine instinct
For the greatest commandment is love

As bird fly above
So cloud of hate gives love as chance
Embracing one with will of divine
So our earth become an undying paradise

written by
Martin Ijir
I am a woman
And I make vulnerability
Unbeliveably pretty

I am a poet
And I can make you feel as if
Suddenly, you became perfect
As I write about you

I am flesh and bones
Flesh that makes you believe in love as it burns
Bones that keeps me strong when I walk away

I am intellect
I love to learn
And I can make you love to learn something
That you never cared about

I am blue
Blue ocean eyes
Blue crayon on this never-blank page

I am the door
Closing slowly in your face
As you don't see
How beautiful I was and still am
My feet may be stuck on earth,
but my mind is a realm of Eden:
the heavens’ wonder.

The sky is round,
fits around the earth,
with the sun swims
in the dew on the rose.
Still the giant earth falls short
to hold onto a man for good!

Not the sky nor the mundane
can encompass a man,
only fits within a man.
≈•≈•≈•≈•≈•≈•≈•≈•≈•≈•≈•≈•≈•≈•≈
People come and go;
Doors close, room remains empty.
All that's left is dust.
≈•≈•≈•≈•≈•≈•≈•≈•≈•≈•≈•≈•≈•≈•≈
 May 2017 Laura Slaathaug
Star BG
Poetry, is the music that tickles my ears inside a birds tune.
The wind that hugs a creative poets mind.
Poetry, is the sun at dawn, that graces sky to usher in morning thoughts.
A gift that becomes bridge as scribe is builder and reader can stroll.
Poetry, is the gift that illuminates ones passion,
to bring all closer inside oneness.
Inspired by a grand writer Jimmydon
The serpentine queue refused to budge.

It were the grown-ups that were stressed
the children babbled showing no unhappiness
with the pause offering so much more to do
and nothing that useful to look forward to.

Some faces looked as though made no sense
this waiting for mundane taxing patience
but were eyes that peered staunchly keen
as if the wait's end God would be seen.

Though lumps of time allowed break from the run
not one face showed up some feeling of the fun
anxious and jittery they smoked up the place
to my mind the children were only saving grace.
At the queue, March 2, 2017, 7 pm.
Next page