Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
 
Gentle is the night
after a day's boiling over,
now bathed in small hours
drifting closer to morning.

Weight on my mind
falling softly on eyelids.
A passenger for a pillow
and a meal for the blankets.

...and gentle is the night
when no words are spoken,
for when day break calls,
you again will be broken.
It's important you know,
not to break bread with everyone.
Some are made of sour dough,
and some live just to make it.
 Nov 2015 Maha Salman
Robyn
I want to love you better now and love you better later.
I'm trying not to hate myself because I know you hate it.
If this is how I love you, I don't think I'm meant to love.
I miss the days when you could say you fit me like a glove.

I'll never know if I'm doing this right will I?
I'll never know if You approve, so what's the ******* point?
I miss that little happiness that felt so big inside of me.
I miss those little moments, where he could just belong to me.
I'll never miss, this broken aching stinging slicing tearing soul ******* ******* pain.
Never again.

God, find me in this hour, in this infinity.
Give me the tools to be who I need to be.
Show me what to do to, to honor You.
Show me how to love him in Your name.
Give me the strength to be who I want to be.
Give me the patience to see the way I'm supposed to see.
Lord, give him happiness, even if I cannot be a part.
No matter what, he will always keep and hold my heart.
 Nov 2015 Maha Salman
Robyn
That little metal heaven
Where I felt you near me
That little metal heaven
Where I speak - no one can hear me
 Nov 2015 Maha Salman
Robyn
You run your fingers
Through your wet hair
And bare your teeth
Like a feral animal
Ready to devour me
I watch your strong, sure footed walk
Heavy boots clanking like cinder blocks
You always know exactly where you're going
Even when you claim you're blind
Warm, calloused hands hang at your sides
Teasing me
Now you sit there, reading physics
As if your dripping hair
And your wide shoulders
And your sure walk
And your warm hands
And that ******* pink lipped smirk
Were not enough to make me feel like I
Am Orual begging Cupid for a kiss
Pleading to unbutton every scrap of clothing
To see that perfect face and body
Pleading for me too

But I'm no Psyche
And you're no idiot
I'll never be Psyche for you
 Nov 2015 Maha Salman
Robyn
Untitled
 Nov 2015 Maha Salman
Robyn
If I seemed quiet this morning
It's because every time you looked at me
I thought I might explode -
Overwhelmed with every inch of skin and skin and skin . . .
That curve of your forearm
And the smooth expanse of your collarbone
Your rough fingertips and your
Ankles as you rolled your wet jeans
I kept my mouth shut
So none of this **** slipped out my mouth
In the middle of school
How Many Calories in a Poem?


visualizing the invisible,
we deconstruct the content,
the in-titled label reviewed,
querying,
is this one worth the cost?

looking for true fiber,
then further inquire,
perchance,
are there grams of
kick-starting emotive proteins,
stored and lurking within,
homes for the cells
that will inspire, transform,
mere readers into mountainous writers

lean on those scripts,
injected with just hints,
resting ribbons of flavorful fat equipped,
for there will always be
the tyranny
of the those of the sparse faith,
those writers of haiku brevity,
believers that
fat free,
is the only,
but lonely,
bene of beauty

death from ignorance to those
who would poison the fruit
of the alphabet tree,
coat produce, with glossy chemicals,
that preserve the shiny exteriors,
cooking up false feasts interior,
saturating us with the trans-fats of trite,
oily verbosity and labels of organic,
that conceal the risks of
hyper-pretensivity

an every poem, seasoned for taste,
a dash of diamond sea salts,
scatter on pinches of pearls
of Caribbean cane sugar,
sprinkle human sins and cinnamon
for zest and tang,
for inspiration and flavoring,
for the souls tonguing tastebuds,
needy for reasons
to celebrate  commissioning
the enticing exhalations of appreciative
oohs and ahs!

Warning!
this poem was processed
in a old, out-of-date factory,
that is most assuredly not,
nat-nut free*

but even if allergic,
be unafraid to taste the acerbic,
for there are
poems
suited for everyones, even your
peculiarities

you want your essayed poems
to brim healthy caloric,
grow them as offshoots
of your very own organs

you need not seek anothers certification,
if filled they are
with the mettle of iron,
built to be
calcium-fortified structures,
with the perpetual strong bones
of rhyme and sonnet

let each worded edifice
be the food,
stored to be gifted
to our progeny,
by their ever living on,
marking us,
marking them

omit the trite,
we ken no need,
for it is the false emptiness of
misleading carbohydrates,
that only fatten,
for the briefest satisfaction,
purposed for the killing of fulfilling,
dulling that which only
a well prepared
dish poetic,
can bring to healthy enliven
the human spirit




Nov. 12, 2015
Aboard Delta #2499
5:10 pm
when you are trying to lose weight, you obsess about bad calories
in everything...
Next page