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love is a pose of power
power is a pose of power
power poses power
love poses love
a pose of thinking is a pose of power
a pose of thinking is a pose of love
thinking is a pose of thinking

thinking is a pose of memory
memory poses memory
thinking poses thinking
memory is a pose of power
memory is a pose of love
memory is a pose of memory
love escape love

love escape a pose of love
love poses its escape
escape poses love
escape poses escape to its love
thinking escape thinking
power escape power
power poses love
my writing is called philosophical writing. i only uses middle ages words,words liked gracious,extravaganza,etc… this poem is about a thinking is a thinking of pose,power,and love. i don’t add capitalization’s on my writing.
from the pile of ashes
the figure arose
in a Phoenix
like pose

his wings were blackened
by the fire's torch
the feathers bore the marks
of an inferno's scorch

forever he'd wear
the burn's scarring
as a reminder
of his marring

from the pile of ashes
the figure arose
in a Phoenix
like pose

on spread wings
in the heavens
he again soars
ascending above
the flame's
raging roars

his being flying free
a mythical flight
rising to cast off
the searing's blight

from the pile of ashes
the figure arose
in a Phoenix
like pose
Born Aug 2017
Poem. Call me poetry
Debbie Jean Embrey  ***! how those words spoke to me! Very well done! I love the part about calling you 'Messenger.' Keep inking! :)

Poem. She's said II
Terry Jordan  Amazing piece, esp. "It is for us to wash away our painful confusion with tears...." I'm sending a sympathy card today to the mother of a former student of mine, so this really speaks to that most terrible loss that we have no word for it. TFS, Born

Poem. I won't forget that you liked my poetry
Mary-Elizabeth Cotton  Beautiful write! I especially love the lines "When I could barely form words,/that would impress my shadow."


Poem. I'm Born
Pradip Chattopadhyay  your words are fabulous

Poem. Hi(gh)
Kim Johanna  Baker  Great write Born...I must say, you are a great writer and enjoy very much your pieces...this is raw and gets the message across.. tyfs... kimx

Poem. If I told you my story
Law lith iminika Reading this was like observing a preview to a movie, but I didn't pay for it, instead showed up willingly. And I'm hungry for knowledge and inspiration because I was refused popcorn

Poem. Thank you Pamela Rae
Pamela Rae  Please know that you have such talent and your words not only touch me, but so many here--keep writing, expressing and touching our souls, dear Born. You are a gift to this world and deserve to find your way, to embrace peace and tranquility and it will come. Will be sending along good vibes, thoughts for peace and happiness and Room to breathe with ease... (((hugs)))

Poem. Hello poetry
Wolf spirit Wow ..is this a poem . Because Id rather read this than delve on eloquent flattery of wistful words . Honesty expressed with such brevity is still the best policy .


Poem. When my heart pounds a little bit more
Modern Serenity  very well executed! truly deserves to be the poem for atleast a week. freaking fantastic poem. well done. honestly totally jealous of your poem its truly amazing and well said.


Poem. Shantel
---  Superbly penned, echoes of the great Pablo Neruda

Poem. Here we are
K Balachandran  so peaceful and meditative
yet passion filled love and life
chiseled and beautiful...without hiding truth
you have eyes full of love and light
exquisite..
Bala

Poem. Virgo 
Star BG  And..... open gateway to healing the soul.you are such a master with words. Thank you

Poem. Dusty coin
Pax  there will always be hope, even just a spark, or one candle, it can do many things in the dark..

Poem. My deepest sympathies
South by Southwest  There are answers to every question you pose . Only by a lifetime of searching will you find them .

Poem. Muse dear daughter
Sylvia Frances Chan  A most divine poem, loving and caring words. I have enjoyed this poem very much. God's Blessings be upon thee. Thank you for sharing this divine piece.

Poem. Leonard Cohen
Lazhar Bouazzi  Ah! Wonderful poem about one of my favorite poets/composers/singers of all time! Thank you for sharing

Poem. This poem III
Wyatt  Such a harsh, blunt piece. It hit me right in the gut! Congrats on the daily!

Poem. I won't forget that you liked my poem
patty m  Comments are a wonderful gift. I love your poem and the emotions that surface you are truly gifted.
hugs

Sally A Bayan  So much truth in your wondeful, touching words, Born..
I keep coming back to this poem...just had to repost.
Thank you for sharing

Poem. Juliet
Jamie King  I like the flow here the transition from one imagery to the imagery while maintaining the same flow requires a certain degree of finesse. Excellently executed piece

Poem. Un(real) istic
Botan  A high tech emotional intelegence will take over while humans express thier feelings by emoji. good writing
Poem. Poetic flavor
SøułSurvivør An awesome tribute! You're one of the poets I would elect for showing the most growth of any on this site. My heart twinkle with happiness, TOO! Thanks for your heart, Born! ☆♡☆

Lori Jones McCaffery  You make exquisite use of the words you have captured, Born. Keep thirsting. Love

SøułSurvivør Awe! I'm so glad to encourage you... you have such a powerful way with words. An innate talent. I count you as one of my best friends here. Be blessed!

Poem. 5 million am not just a number
Corvus  Wonderfully compassionate. It's so easy to be kind and sympathetic to those on your doorstep. Those further away but in even greater need are often ignored. Brilliant write.
The most important part of posting a poem is the response you get, I'd love to appreciate every single one of  you for the words you offered. For those who didn't make the list, I still appreciate you.

This poem is coming from an emotional place, for the longest time I never believed in myself. But now I do, thanks a lot
Muyi Mar 2017
I'm in love with you n that's the reason why I runaway
I know it hurts u but I know that it'll **** u if I stay
So turn my back on everything n hope its for the best
All this love is from a kiss
Imagine if we added ***

Its a burden being right
Cuz the love we had was left
Know u crying 4 attention but my ears have fallen deaf
If I knew this was yo fate I would never speak a word
I ain't reap what I had sown
I ain't get what I deserve

Love ain't pose hurt
+
Souls ain't pose 2 bleed
+
U ain't pose 2 cry
+
I'm not pose 2 leave
+
I'm not pose 2 die
+
U not pose 2 grieve
+
I'm not spose 2 lie
+
U not spose 2 plead
+
They say that dreams r 4 the children n the truth is 4 the grown
I don't need u 2 b sad
I can wallow on my own
I can do just fine without u
Please don't try 2 call my phone
I don't need u 2 say sorry
I don't need u 2 atone

I
+
Curse the day I saw an angel in the rain
+
That's the day I learned the true meaning of pain
+
I cant help it if I sound a bit insane
+
Beg yo pardon
While I'm dying in the rain
+
(×2)
I will always love Star Carpenter
OnlyEggy  Apr 2011
Rain in Spain
OnlyEggy Apr 2011
They say, The rain in Spain falls mainly on the plain
But I blame, in vain, the rain for the insane, you see
This plain pain hasn't the same name, nor the same game
For the rain's pain is the same sane as they claim
And since the pain's shame resides mainly in Spain,
Neither the rain nor Spain is to blame for the insane, so now
This sane can claim the uneven plane's plain's the name to blame

But the strife of life is held under the knife of a wife
Where strife runs rife throughout the wife's life
The knife, learning from the fife, plays with the life
While the fife excites life, the knife excites strife
The wife with the knife is at fault, fact or fake?
Is the knife to blame for the strife of the wife's life?
Or the fife for teaching the knife to play with strife?

This just goes to show that no one knows the real rose
For the rose, in it's thorny clothes, just shows the nose
The smell, a pose, so close, tingles the nose till it glows
But the finger, too close, chose to trust the nose's prose
Blame the rose who proposed the show and showed the pose?
Or the nose, whose clothes glowed from the smell of the rose?
The finger couldn't 'ave known the true pose of prose from the rose to the nose.
Another Insomniac Poem
eileen mcgreevy Feb 2010
It's the pose that will set all the boys from the men,
When they shed all their clothes and you see them, and then,
One of two things will happen upon seeing this pose,
You could run like the devil, or shed all your clothes,
Now ladies, you will know what i mean when i say,
If you dont know him well, then you must run away,
As such a bold move can only be tried,
By a man that you love, and a will to be tied, ahem,
But if ,luckily,like me your man is **** Welsh and keen,
Then you must mount that great band wagon, if you know what i mean,
This bold pose known as "The Naked Man" is centuries old,
So lets keep it alive ladies, dare to be bold,
Let's encourage our men to ditch all their clothes,
So that we can enjoy the lovely naked man pose,
Standing tall, chest out and hands on his hips,
Telling you to come over without moving his lips,
You can feel that you're blushing, and your hearts beating fast,
Bravo, naked man pose, bashfullness is dead, AT LAST!!!!


                                       (c) eileen mcgreevy 2010
Mateuš Conrad Oct 2018
you know, when you've just drank about *****...
you don a pair of sunglasses,
and you're listening
to marilyn manson's
long hard road out of hell:
mediating all the internet drama...
and then...
           your arms fold... at where forearm
meats the bicep / tricep...
on the elbow cusp...
        and the lower part of your
arms, rises stiff, dubious...
     and the whole partial-limb tightens
a grip on the existence of the shadow...
only with prolonged excesses of
ingesting ***** does this curiosity
arise...
the mantis pose...
              yum...
                   yummy yummy yum yum...
right on the cusp...
the hands turn into saber-tooth
hinge type of jaw-lines...
      shadows that growl, glow and
lament simultaneously...
           what?!
a mantis pose...
  you drink at much ***** as i have,
and for as long...
you too would find this automated
pose a Francis Bacon curiosity...
   groupies? no...
       i'm here for: shadow...
      always with the ******* *****,
the sunglasses, and the right volume
of the right music...
look... by comparison to the horrors
conjured in the 20th century paperback...
i'm a banality of expectation,
that... frankly... was never
suited for either fame,
or being the expected...
             i'm simply hier-           -sein...
          whatever "there" was,
is the "here" of, what here or there,
but became:               now...
   jetztsein...
               oh look... how spacing and timing
overtook the ontological certainty
to counter the *** space-time "continuum"...
well... if the Yids failed at anything
it was their overblown IQ...
sure as **** perfected their nationalism...
the Yids live in a perfecting
harmonization of Jude, as space...
and the time of Israel...

       if only Russia didn't interrupt
the integration of Ukraine...
and whatever happened to Turkey...
the lat segment of the dream of
Nebuchadnezzar II...

religiosity and all the tales,
is my second drinking part of intoxication...
i drink the wine of the ages,
or rather... i spice it up...
no ***** in the bible...
   but i feast on these written
catacombs...

       did i tell you about the mantis
pose?
         crux on the folded arms...
stiff upper bicep / tricep...
and a slightly lose lower arm...
with hands stretching into forceps
of shadow puppetry akin
to those expected from icebergs?!

*****, the night and sunglasses...
what  ****** combination;
as a wise woman once noted:
easier to be feared,
than to be loved.
Àŧùl Oct 2013
Whether it's her pose of Attention!
Or it is the pretty pose of her smiling,
Relaxed and casual and friendly informal,
I'm to see her polite face in each of the photos,
Innocence radiating from her young face,
She is an innocent Aphrodite smiling,
Waiting for her devotee patiently!
Her devotee in love here is none other than myself.

I imagined her with many faces; 'an innocent Aphrodite' is just one of those many moods and thereby according to me, 'an innocent Aphrodite' stands explained for.

She's even the cute Cupid's feminine version who struck me with her arrow.

My HP Poem #459
©Atul Kaushal
I.

Thou aged unreluctant earth who dost
with quivering continual thighs invite
the thrilling rain the slender paramour
to toy with thy extraordinary lust,
(the sinuous rain which rising from thy bed
steals to his wife the sky and hour by hour
wholly renews her pale flesh with delight)
—immortally whence are the high gods fled?

Speak elm eloquent pandar with thy nod
significant to the ecstatic earth
in token of his coming whom her soul
burns to embrace—and didst thou know the god
from but the imprint of whose cloven feet
the shrieking dryad sought her leafy goal,
at the mere echo of whose shining mirth
the furious hearts of mountains ceased to beat?

Wind beautifully who wanderest
over smooth pages of forgotten joy
proving the peaceful theorems of the flowers
—didst e’er depart upon more exquisite quest?
and did thy fortunate fingers sometime dwell
(within a greener shadow of secret bowers)
among the curves of that delicious boy
whose serious grace one goddess loved too well?

Chryselephantine Zeus Olympian
sceptred colossus of the Pheidian soul
whose eagle frights creation,in whose palm
Nike presents the crown sweetest to man,
whose lilied robe the sun’s white hands emboss,
betwixt whose absolute feet anoint with calm
of intent stars circling the acerb pole
poises,smiling,the diadumenos

in whose young chiseled eyes the people saw
their once again victorious Pantarkes
(whose grace the prince of artists made him bold
to imitate between the feet of awe),
thunderer whose omnipotent brow showers
its curls of unendured eternal gold
over the infinite breast in bright degrees,
whose pillow is the graces and the hours,

father of gods and men whose subtle throne
twain sphinxes bear each with a writhing youth
caught to her brazen *******,whose foot-stool tells
how fought the looser of the warlike zone
of her that brought forth tall Hippolytus,
lord on whose pedestal the deep expels
(over Selene’s car closing uncouth)
of Helios the sweet wheels tremulous—

are there no kings in Argos,that the song
is silent,of the steep unspeaking tower
within whose brightening strictness Danae
saw the night severed and the glowing throng
descend,felt on her flesh the amorous strain
of gradual hands and yielding to that fee
her eager body’s unimmortal flower
knew in the darkness a more burning rain?

                    2.

And still the mad magnificent herald Spring
assembles beauty from forgetfulness
with the wild trump of April:witchery
of sound and odour drives the wingless thing
man forth in the bright air,for now the red
leaps in the maple’s cheek,and suddenly
by shining hordes in sweet unserious dress
ascends the golden crocus from the dead.

On dappled dawn forth rides the pungent sun
with hooded day preening upon his hand
followed by gay untimid final flowers
(which dressed in various tremulous armor stun
the eyes of ragged earth who sees them pass)
while hunted from his kingdom winter cowers,
seeing green armies steadily expand
hearing the spear-song of the marching grass.

A silver sudden parody of snow
tickles the air to golden tears,and hark!
the flicker’s laughing yet,while on the hills
the pines deepen to whispers primeval and throw
backward their foreheads to the barbarous bright
sky,and suddenly from the valley thrills
the unimaginable upward lark
and drowns the earth and passes into light

(slowly in life’s serene perpetual round
a pale world gathers comfort to her soul,
hope richly scattered by the abundant sun
invades the new mosaic of the ground
—let but the incurious curtaining dusk be drawn
surpassing nets are sedulously spun
to snare the brutal dew,—the authentic scroll
of fairie hands and vanishing with the dawn).

Spring,that omits no mention of desire
in every curved and curling thing,yet holds
continuous *******—through skies and trees
the lilac’s smoke the poppy’s pompous fire
the *****’s purple patience and the grave
frailty of daises—by what rare unease
revealed of teasingly transparent folds—
with man’s poor soul superlatively brave.

Surely from robes of particoloured peace
with mouth flower-faint and undiscovered eyes
and dim slow perfect body amorous
(whiter than lilies which are born and cease
for being whiter than this world)exhales
the hovering high perfume curious
of that one month for whom the whole years dies,
risen at length from palpitating veils.

O still miraculous May!O shining girl
of time untarnished!O small intimate
gently primeval hands,frivolous feet
divine!O singular and breathless pearl!
O indefinable frail ultimate pose!
O visible beatitude sweet sweet
intolerable!silence immaculate
of god’s evasive audible great rose!

                    3.

Lover,lead forth thy love unto that bed
prepared by whitest hands of waiting years,
curtained with wordless worship absolute,
unto the certain altar at whose head
stands that clear candle whose expecting breath
exults upon the tongue of flame half-mute,
(haste ere some thrush with silver several tears
complete the perfumed paraphrase of death).

Now is the time when all occasional things
close into silence,only one tree,one
svelte translation of eternity
unto the pale meaning of heaven clings,
(whose million leaves in winsome indolence
simmer upon thinking twilight momently)
as down the oblivious west’s numerous dun
magnificence conquers magnificence.

In heaven’s intolerable athanor
inimitably tortured the base day
utters at length her soft intrinsic hour,
and from those tenuous fires which more and more
sink and are lost the divine alchemist,
the magus of creation,lifts a flower—
whence is the world’s insufferable clay
clothed with incognizable amethyst.

Lady at whose imperishable smile
the amazed doves flicker upon sunny wings
as if in terror of eternity,
(or seeming that they would mistrust a while
the moving of beauteous dead mouths throughout
that very proud transparent company
of quivering ghosts-of-love which scarcely sings
drifting in slow diaphanous faint rout),

queen in the inconceivable embrace
of whose tremendous hair that blossom stands
whereof is most desire,yet less than those
twain perfect roses whose ambrosial grace,
goddess,thy crippled thunder-forging groom
or the loud lord of skipping maenads knows,—
having Discordia’s apple in thy hands,
which the scared shepherd gave thee for his doom—

O thou within the chancel of whose charms
the tall boy god of everlasting war
received the shuddering sacrament of sleep,
betwixt whose cool incorrigible arms
impaled upon delicious mystery,
with gaunt limbs reeking of the whispered deep,
deliberate groping ocean fondled o’er
the warm long flower of unchastity,

imperial Cytherea,from frail foam
sprung with irrevocable nakedness
to strike the young world into smoking song—
as the first star perfects the sensual dome
of darkness,and the sweet strong final bird
transcends the sight,O thou to whom belong
th ehearts of lovers!—I beseech thee bless
thy suppliant singer and his wandering word.
Safana Apr 14
Strike the pose, the call is here,  
Memz Pose Day, let’s make it clear.  
For men’s health, both strong and whole,  
This is the day to reach the soul.

It’s time to talk, it’s time to care,  
To show the world we’re always there.  
From body to mind, from heart to soul,  
Holistic health—it’s our shared goal.

Through silence, struggles often hide,  
But today, let’s stand with pride.  
Lift them up, the fathers, sons,  
A message for all, not just for some.

International voices blend as one,  
A rising cause, the work’s begun.  
Together we cheer, together we fight,  
For men’s wellness, shining bright.

Memz Pose speaks, a global name,  
A spark of hope, a healing flame.  
So join the movement, strike the way,  
On Memz Pose Awareness Day.

Memz Pose International Awareness Day, September 2025.
K Balachandran Mar 2015
She is a succulent bunch,let me be helpful,
if you don't get the complex chemical scent,
I call her ,"a girl of unpredictable
meeting places"inotropic, is her effect,
She sends heartbeats way up.
Delectable too, she was, every time
I tasted certain parts of her.
Her avatars are numerous, like Hindu Gods
With specific  intention for each incarnation
Onee will be pushed in to neurosis,
if doesn't completely relish her infinite variety.
She is a cryptic mystic,
for a while  from signals
I discerned and firmly believed
Or is she just a  creature mysterious
Doubt raises it's head, like a lotus
From slushy pond
My eyes met her at the level of  her eyes first,
the rest in a haze to me was invisible,
Then my heart sends a message
"Right now, I missed a beat here"
Heart then recites a poem,
tells me, it is all her making
"Don't fall in love" heart's advice,
"Go, dissolve in her completely"
Even my own heart has crossed sides,
or is it truly an advice for my sake?
Love is a hallucinogen, get it?
she whistles like wind at bamboo groves
from within sings like a thrush,
she is a magpie, or is she a koel?
Nocturnal animal, in need of mating,
making calls, frantic SMS, incessant.
She is wind and water, elements
that make one burn and drown
She spreads her yoga mat on the floor,
asks me to sit cross legged Indian style,
I am already for that in my mind,
So I spread eagle in corpse pose, indicating, "All through my life", mother earth gives me warmth.
          Shanti,   Shanti,   shanti

— The End —