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 Dec 2016 Pinkbun17
Sk Abdul Aziz
Love doesn't aim to control or curb or force...rather it encourages, supports and persuades..if it does the former...then it isn't and cannot be love.
 Dec 2016 Pinkbun17
Jeff Stier
A flight of three crows
added to
a dense grey day

Next add four
iconic conifers
as high as the sky
eternally ******* down

These things are
always in my sight
through my window
on this wet world

Multiply all of this
by a sweet daughter
who makes me proud
and raise the whole
to the power of a strong woman
who carries us all
on her back

The equation produces
a result that I am 95 percent certain
equals happiness
though the confidence interval
is wide

And this result
sweet as it is
and as uncertain as it is
will outlive me
leave a faint echo in time
an echo that will bounce off a star
and finally be found
gripped in my shriveled paw
long after the epiphany
nowhere near paradise
somewhere short of
the end of the line

This is a moment of happiness
stolen from time
hijacked by a fugitive
from civil society

I'll hold it close
until death pries it
without mercy
from my hand

Leaves it as a blessing
and a curse
for all who come after

Take the blessing.
Leave the curse.
That's the advice I give
with my dying breath.
And I leave this to you
from the generosity
of my heart.
With a nod to
the scant traces
of God's grace
that I find on these pathways
of travail.

Never lost.
Never found.
Always present
and generous
to all.

Be that.
I write from Western Oregon in a year that is wet even by Oregon standards.
 Dec 2016 Pinkbun17
SG Holter
This axe was made from
Oak and
Anger.
Forged in the fires that
Shaped my cardiac
Armour.

I'll never surrender to a
Woman
Who sees love as war
Ever again.
It's been a long,
Lonely time.

But I've seen peace.
Still sacrifice to the gods,
Praying for brief, cold
Winters; for all other
Seasons to be neither.
They all have room for a

Woman between them,
But my hatred for ego
Is a burning beacon of warning
Even I myself shun.
I just want the silence.
That deep, deep silence,

Whose last word will never be:  
"Me,"
But:
"... ... ..."
That, I can love.

This axe was made from
Oak and
Anger.
It beats paper; scissors; stone.
Sees me armed. And still
Alone.
 Dec 2016 Pinkbun17
Stephan


Here in this place where I once played,
midst memories now cast aside
The clouds my worthless life has made,
rain down in teardrops I have cried
Thank you to all of my friends here who have supported and encouraged me. I appreciate each and every one of you.  I hope I have shown you the same kindness you have always shown me. This will be my last for while, I need some time to figure out who I am and how I became that person. Thanks again.
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