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Rekha Nur Alisha Oct 2017
After wandering cities
chasing rainbows
stargazing galaxies
and running away
Let's head home

Okay.
I start feeling cold and hurting
oh how is this possible
how can one human make me feel this way
my heart does burn, but my mind is cold

I don't want to be touched by no one
my own will stop any indecent proposals
shield by the light of my sweet gods
I will not buckle and stay steadfast  

Miss me when I am gone
for it will not be too long
so whilst I still dwell in this mire
know for perfection I aspire

No man or woman will stop me
for my God is Poetry
you try to and know fury
as this angel has no mercy

Heading to winters realms
clutching on to my love
Poetry poetry poetry
I love thee to my death


By Christos Andreas Kourtis aka NeonSolaris
Woody Jun 2018
I still dream of my father
crossing the pastures
on his one-eyed tractor
mowing acres of sorrow
heading east of a moon
that'll be gone tomorrow
turning one last time as
if to say: so long my son
there’s going to be days
of sunshine and plenty
more of rain as he went
along his way, and my
sadness waved back like
grain in fields of long past
summers and summers
before that, so long a time
ago I can remember only
on lonely nights of heat
lightning and the low
rumble of distant thunder.
A nice surprise on this Monday evening.  Thank you all very much for your reading and very nice comments. Please know that I appreciate all of you and your kind words. Thank you.

* To Ravinder Kumar Soni: Opinion entitled to and noted. Thanks for taking the time to read.
Bruce Demos Sep 3
One two one two melatonin pieces will do
In my warm cocoon
A bumbling butterfly
Stumbling through the night
In search of warm dreams
Can't find them anywhere
No matter how hard I try to fall fast asleep
Johnny walker Nov 2018
Hope my darling where
ever you are you sleep
well at night safe In those
dreams of our days we
had together as I do In
mine, ln dreams of you

I know you'd tell me to
find someone else but my
darling, there was only
you that how It will always
be, together forever
remember that what we
always told each other
Hope my Helen made It to where she was
Heading when last saw her Heaven bound
island poet May 2018
“Moby ****,”  Herman Melville

<•>

~for the lost at sea~

after a year of saltwater absence and abstinence,
return to the island caught between two land forks
surrounded by river-heading flows
bound for the ocean great joining

the Atlantic welcomes the fresh water fools,
bringing with them hopefully, but hopeless gifts of obeisances,
peace-offerings endeavoring to keep their infinite souls

sea accepts them then drowns the
warm newcomers in the unaccustomed
deep cold salinity, which
sometimes erodes
sometimes preserving
their former freshwater cold originality

I’m called to depart my beach shoreline  unarmed,
no kayak, sunfish or glass bottomed boat needed,
walk on water and my toes, ten eyes to see the bottom,
no depth perception limitation,
reading the floor’s topography,
millions of minion’s stories infinite,
many Munch screaming

god’s foot, heavy upon my shoulders,
a daytime travel guide, hired for me,
not a friendly travel companion,  nope,
God a pusher showing off a drug called deep water salvation,
designated for the masses, can handle large parties

my in-camera brain  eyes,
record everything for playback -
the lost and unburied, bone crossword puzzles

walk shore to ship, on soles to souls,
is this my new-summer nature welcome back greeting?

puzzled at the awesomeness of vastness,
conclude this clarification for me of the occluded-deep,
is a stern reminder of my insignificant existence,
my requirement to walk humbly, spare my sin of vanity, and
forgive my trespasses upon the lives of others

perhaps then the infinite of my soul perchance restored,
older visions clarified and future poems
will write themselves
and sea to it my predecessors
be better remembered

Memorial Day 2018
Yenson Sep 2018
Woof.....woof.....woof...woof....woof....wooof

Some Red setters dogs are eating Jewish people
in England
But why, do call them off, they are british people,
The are hard working, Industrious, Entrepreneurs,
Professors, Doctors, Lawyers, Bankers, Entertainers
Scientists, Writers, eminent Surgeons, Artists, these
are nice Britons....stop the dogs, stop the dogs.....

Woof....woof....woof.....woof.....woof...woof woof

Some Red Setters dogs are eating and biting some
Labour MPs all over the country

But why, do call off the dogs, No! we have a list and this list,  highlighted the behaviour of a number of Left MPs, including Jess Phillips for telling Corbyn’s ally Diane Abbott to “*******”, John Woodcock for dismissing the party leader as a “******* disaster” and Tristram Hunt for describing Labour as “in the ****”
and all the other hard working Moderate MPs who dared protest at Anti-Semitic stance or supported the Jews .

Woof.....woof....woof....woof.....woof.....woof...woof

Some Red Setters dogs are devouring some minor
Royal from Africa

But why, do call off the dogs. No that ****** has a big ****, he's
Charismatic, intelligent, wholesome, has good work ethics, polite,
wise, charming, generous, witty and a ****** good lover and to top it all he's Royal. Now that's ******* GREEDY, how much can a
******* man have. NO! he's a goner. He is too perfect, he must be hounded and persecuted to death.

Woof....woof....woof.....woof.....woof.....woof.......woof
Grrr­.....woof.....Grrrrr....woof...wooof...Grrrr....wooof

Congratula­tions People, we have got rid of them all
we now have real democracy, we have a real society now
Get in the dogs ... And all you useless ******* people shut up!
And report to the Labor Camps 7:30a.m. tomorrow
You're Working Class and now you ****** have to work!
Chuka Umunna says Labour has become an institutionally racist organisation as evident from those MPs and members forced out of Labour under Jeremy Corbyn, and he urged the leader to “call off the dogs”.

This coup
A new nation
Loyal dedication
Its classification

‘Species procreation’
Prevents us from facing
A human cessation
selective mutation
Gestation
Creation

It may help explaining
The reasons
Behaving
But not the foundation
Or actions
We’re basing


A simplification
is “continuation”
A checkbox
left vacant
Fulfillment
We’re chasing


We sweat
Eyes are gazing
A slight
palpitation
In need of hydration
Complete excitation
Without
hesitation
Intense stimulation
Deep urges
Heart racing

Driven
By sensations


Unbounded fixation
Pelvic
Undulations
Clothing
Perforations
Time no longer wasting

This capitulation
a Sanctification
****** gyrations
Hint of *******


The bedroom
Safe haven
For what
we are craving
Once out
and displaying

It all had been taken
Before
Feeling vacant
Freed imagination
A resuscitation
Indulged depravation

A rhythm
we’re setting
The giving and getting
Destroying
the bedding

All else I’m forgetting
Entwined
with each other
Like entangled netting
Both
on the same trip
In a unified heading


Now comes
the summation
A true
Revelation
Final
culmination
Smash all expectations
Volcanic
eruption

That lasts the duration
Loud gasp
We unlock

Filled with gratification
Written: July 8, 2018

All rights reserved.
Making the most of my day
Riding back and fourth from station's
139 poems wrote
But the route never changes
Blasting pop punk anthems to get me by
Instead of dwelling in my room furthering connection with the outside
On mission with no destination
To find the people or place that feels like home
A community found when the lights go down and the band  starts to play
My 140th poem wrote on the same bus heading the opposite way
Slightly less lost
Pagan Paul Jan 14
.
Midnight sees a chain
of lights,
heading into the forest
so dark.

Follow the Will-O the Wisp
at night,
walk with the lone wolf
that barks.

Take that step into the unknown, the path that leads to me,
and I'll be waiting there somewhere, deep within the trees.

So walk that long path
in peace,
follow your dream as
it winds.

Keep purpose in plain sight
to release,
love that is not left
behind.



© Pagan Paul (13/01/19)
.
ymmiJ May 24
your pearl colored heart
matches your porcelain glow
now sun kissed, shaded pink
golden hued nose, matching cheeks
carolina summer fun
Jesse stillwater Apr 2018
The midnight sun is heading north

These bags are packed with dreams
and the memories of who I’ve been;
To scatter forth like gathered seeds
on fallow hope,
strewn at the mercy of the winds

The genesis of spring unravels
the knotted darkness
Another winter’s aftermath
hidden back on the back shelf
The distance between back then
and now,  is widening
each  Dawn  to  Dusk

A  gust  of  sunlight
plashes ripples
across the still waters
of  depthless  peace

and,
my hands are no longer tied
behind  my  back
by winter's grasp

Seasons  oft  do  change
perennial  as  the  tides

But I don’t want to see
another ocean runaway;
I don’t want to know how
another fleeting moment
ends


Jesse Stillwater
7th  April  2018
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