Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
 
 Jun 2020 S Olson
ryn
Disrepair
 Jun 2020 S Olson
ryn
Words from the maker,
we hardly could ever hear,

Bereft of love and attention,
we see the diminishing concern and care.

We still pour our hearts
into this bastion we’ve held so dear.

But, alas, the kingdom and subjects,
have fallen into neglect and disrepair.
When did HP become a broken shell, a faint ghost of what it once was?
 Jun 2020 S Olson
Bijan Rabiee
Glory to craftsmanship
That endures the wrath of time
Artisans vanish one by one
As is Nature's custom
But their inner beauty
Remains in their labored art.
A masterful stroke of hand
Guided by divine volition
Engages thought's flight
To spheres unknown
Where true art gives birth
To creativity's genius.
Art imparts mystical light
Upon envisioned designs
Shaped by hand, heart and spirit
A poem, a painting, a silver cup
Is brought to life
For the pure joy of creation.
O' masters of the wind
Hearken the hopes of craftsmen
And steer their zing heavenward
They are the symbol of plastic arts
A manifestation of wizardry
Toiling in labyrinth of formation.
this poem is published
The wind dancers, green
Painted toes brown, dainty feet
Planted in the mud
Came across this word “wind dancers”
found it interesting and hence using the same  :)
 Jun 2020 S Olson
Jayne E
some days
I feel like I've
lived
a thousand
life times
run
a thousand
marathons
back to back
not slumbered
deeply
for 1000 years

some days
I feel like
I get younger
with each breath
walking
on air
butterflies
in swarm
the sun
setting over the ocean
fill me
with wide eyed wonder
as if seen
for the first time

every day
spent
in the embrace
of your love
fills me
with joy anew
the stars
all burn brighter
you are
warm sun rays
upon my face
my heart soars
weightless
pure with
lightness of being
the one you love.

© J.C.
 Jun 2020 S Olson
Carlo C Gomez
I. The Boy With The Cuckoo Clock Heart

Born with a frozen heart,
abandoned in
Edinburgh.

One kind physician
laid her hands upon him,
in a bit of medicinal salvation,
by placing a cuckoo clock
inside his chest.

Now an orphan,
among peculiar friends:
tear-filled flasks,
eggs containing memories,
and a man with a musical spine.

There's but one catch
for this boy:
his heart is fragile,
he must never, ever
fall in love.

Existence is undoubted.
But without this one emotion,
can he really live?

Love is a bitter token.


II. The Girl With Glass Feet

"It was a humid night,
later to become a hated night."

Upon an island sound,
feet first, she is slowing turning
into glass.

By sheer happenstance,
she meets a shy boy
who lives there
with an extreme fear
of being touched.

As she slowly disappears,
she untethers herself
from self-pity,
by teaching the boy the value
of interaction.

Inchmeal, he begins to reach out
and feels everything
she has lost to the night.

Love is a bitter token.


III. The Snow Child

"November was here."

A married couple,
in Alaskan remote,
suffering from one great sadness:
no child of their own
and unable to talk of it.

He's buried by
the weight of the outer ice,
she's crumbling
from inner despair.

And so on a rare
friendly day trek,
they built a child out of snow,
outfitted with mittens and scarf.

A day later it is gone,
remembered only in absentia,
yet there appears
a beautifully arrayed
creature of winter,
a little, lissome girl in the woods,
hunting with the red fox.

In wishing to understand
these encounters,
the couple come to love the child
as their very own daughter.

Yet will she ever accept them
as they do her?

Or see them
merely as snowdrops?

Figurines frosted over by
the harsh landscape
they each wander?

Love is a bitter token.
BLT's continued challenge - to write a poem using the Merriam-Webster word of the day, lissome. It's in there somewhere.
ta ma a la a na
my love for you is forever

tassa na aa aa aa ai ah
a sea that the storm starts to sway


ta ma nee a ma na sa ma nee
my eyes the colour of storm rose

ta stata ma no al la nee
my lips pink like a peony


ta ma ar aa aa aa ma ma
and as my eyes start to flutter

ta ma na da la oo ah la nah
the clouds all soft like the mist


ta ma na ah la na ah la me
i laugh at the song of your kisses

da sa ma ah la
surrender to bliss.
Next page