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Javaria Waseem Feb 2015
Aur kitnay kaffan uthayein gay?
Aur kitnay bichar k jayein gay?
Aur kitnon ki qurbani dei
K ye sanehay khatam hojayein gay?

Aur kitna hum seh payein gay?
Aur kitna khoon bahayein gay?
Aur kitnon ko hum bhool jayein
Tou ye sanehay khatam hojayein gay?

Aur kitna sog manayein gay?
Aur kitnay ansoo bahaein gay?
Aur kitnon ko hum maaf karain
Tou ye sanehay khatam hojayein gay?

Kya hum bhi muskuraein gay?
Kya hum bhi zinda reh payein gay?
Ya hum bhi ab apni jaan de dein
Tou ye sanehay khatam hojayein gay?
Random lines that turned into a whole poem. First ever in urdu.
Dav Frayne  Feb 2010
Sog
Dav Frayne Feb 2010
Sog
In walked the manmade entirely of Graham Crackers."Get out," I said, "this is my room."But he wouldn't leave,So I threw the milk at him.
Liz  Apr 2014
A mood for sunsets
Liz Apr 2014
Golden shawls envelope
flushing, blending fabrics
which billow 
under the waxen blackbird's
silky braided feathers.
Heaven's vault, a celestial sphere of blue yonder,
a swirling palette of oils
suffusing and dancing,
wrapping their ringlets
into one thousand spirals
which signet shadows onto the 
slender impressions in the sog.
Illuminous, voluminous salmon
bleaches blushing black tissue
to pale primrose promising the cobalt then marrying to aquamarine.
Stained glass fingers barely protruding from aurelian pews.
Nemo Dec 2013
No one ever looks up
unless they're desperate for someone
to be looking down.
From a secular point of view,
the blue resembles passive disappointment,

while ******* clad oaks scream at business on the sidewalks.
Five-hundred dollar spectacles don't christen sin-wrought oxygen,
pure, spring water is perfect as the grey sog seeping from the seams,
benevolent ******* makes every trouble white sand
and iPhones can only do so much for a borrowed morality.
Bright eyes fade with the morning wind.
Rush, Rush!
Gunky plush bagog
Nugget sog
Peedle glog
Plundering down the boulevard
I saw what seemed to be a Schmagtap
Slukavard.
Under his  buttons, there grew his
Mutton.
Mutton branch, penal franch
Sogging down the grittle bog
And briggenfagig squeezing a bib,
Soaked in carrot juice frib
Muggafloo

Plubderp.

Schmubderp.
JParker Dec 2014
Yesterday,
I went for a jog,
in the fog.

It was there that I saw,
a man and his dog.
On the sand and sog,
through a natural smog,
hopping over a driftwood log.

A Lake Michigan wave
yes, it's those that I crave.
It's this moment now,
I'd like to save.
And I'm feeling so brave
just me and a wave.

A population of me,
and all I can see
is my feet
that beat
so quietly.

That's all that can be
my own little key
to simply
being
free.
If when the thistle wet drip on my log
If when I throw the stone down to flip on my pog
If do the wet log, sog, gets to the gog
Then the bog twist suckle nutted left on the bar

If a man is prized by the dead wind buttel
If it is a sprig of wheat tugging on the chug narg
Then flark my tizzle, wet the bed
Put the thick log on my head
I am not a sped
I just dread the nut
Put it on my fat leg
Put it on my fat one
Oh yes
Oh yes
Now drip the salt, salt my boney
Liam C Calhoun Jul 2015
I'd wanted to see the moon again –
Pockmarked and ivory, entering and
Innuendo, like crisp leaves under foot;
“Crunch, crunch, crunch,” and so went
The cereal before sog. Parallel, the same
Suffering’s smeared come my bones
Under foot, under cloud and ‘ever as I’d
wander empty if even with you. You've
Turned back and continue to study,
“Away.”

I'd wanted to see the moon again -
Come the scent of fried wantons and
Neon glance; “Crackle, crackle,
Crackle,” like hot dogs over fires, only
Hindered, the hiss of a boy’s tears atop
Flame, so long as I'd understand empty,
If only with you. But your two’s atop
His lips, a smear upon the line we call,
“Horizon,” and so continues, this study
Of, “away.”

And I'd never see the moon again – So
Silence became the sun, a blight, a
Bright, the, “shiny,” I'd wish banned;
Like the eerie, like the day dad’d packed
His bags or day he'd finally died; If only
To accept this solitude, miasma
Subtracted you, with everything else,
But emptied you. An impasse atop
Endeared eidetic, as I’ll try and I’ll
Recall and I’ll fail, this test to finally
Forget.

So I’d rest with an, “F,” he’d rest in
An urn and you’d rest, simply rest, at the
Top of your class, without fault, and a
Graduate, your study of, “away.”
MINESTRONE NIGHTS (on the summer of 2018)  
              
Deep in the incubus of fantasy
As torrid painter makes its art
Rips a flash of an epiphany
A plaintive whisper of the heart
Hobgoblin summer full of slobber
Beget febrile reveries unkind
As dance character’s macabre
A three-ring circus in my mind
Each minestrone moldy night
When body craves boreal slumbers
Akin cat on hot tin roof I fight
Dank sog my sleep encumbers
Comes morn aft time eternal
Half charged at start of day
Abscond sodden dreams infernal
Tormenting orb is up to play
I was hot before I even knew
Never really did cool down
Too warm again, for morning dew
Vague slumber’d avec frown
Haven't slept for an age or eon
Cadaver tacky to the tepid touch
Arise, trepid to perspire, like peon
Labour in this broil is just too much

©pofacedpoetry (Billy Reynard-Bowness 2018 – All rights reserved)
On the difficulty sleeping and torrid fantasy dreams which encumber during the heatwave summer of 2018.
Liz  May 2014
Autumn days
Liz May 2014
Autumn trudgings lurk the air
Searching for a soul to bare
Their weight upon, so heavy
They break from trees in heady
Harmony, brown and sog
Yet crisp in the fog
mist mornings which creep
Into road as an early sun peeps
Above our golden horizon folding into
Faded merry-go- round and blue.
Autumn days are fairly sad
As you wait for dormant trees to sag
And groan
As their coverlets are blown
Onto the soft down
Of concrete frown.
These are the autumn days to me
Brown, melancholy, mahogany.
oldbutnotwise Oct 2013
six a.m. her eyes popped wide open,
stretching her body, she closed her eyes for a a few minutes to
adjust her mind and prepare herself for another dreaded Wednesday working day:

"oh gosh, mid-week" she grumbled.

six thirty a.m. her kitchen was filled
with the smell of sweet honeyed french toast (with a slight smell of overcooked eggs).
she packs them nicely into her paper bag:

"hope it won't sog up fast" she thought.

six fifty-six a.m. her bus arrives promptly,
the commuters seemed oblivious to her
they start nudging and pushing their way up the bus:

"i'm in black and so i'm invisible?" she questioned.

seven o'one a.m. her seat has finally warmed up,
her hair was still damp from her morning shower,
and she looks to the front blankly:

"what's new" she mumbled.

n.y.
Alessander Jun 2015
“ash”

a swelling fills my chest
it sounds like heavy waves crashing
against jagged cliffs

     stars stars stars

silver spears descend
   i am pierced


        here

through my clavicle

the rain-swept streets waft with reminisces
  like stale perfume on a black wrinkled shirt

            my head half
submersed in water


                tickling my ear

        I can hear my nose breathing
                  heart pounding
                      throat gulping

body floating

                         dismembered
                  

                       in this liquid abyss


               like a spirit lost
                        in the neon-green ether
         of absinthe

                            lips
              press against my shivering skin

                 a warm palm plunges

                            clasps my numb hand

   a light delves

                            into the obsidian chasm

                   pallid faces

      innumerable

materialize

               from a cavernous distance      

fiery orbs combust

              crackling

                                like dry wood

                               in a snowy forest

smoke billows
                                     towards the fathomless night
                            
                             rising

                       rising

                rising

                   chest

swells
                      
waves

     crash
    

lungs

            bells
                          

eyes


ash...

II

“Shadow-Play”

The shadows in the corners of the room
whisper my name
they are the same shadows
by alley ways,
            behind tombstones
       beneath beds
inside my head

over the plains

the highest and whitest of clouds
cast darkest hues

the brightest of suns

i think of you

                         the whispers get louder
                         the curtains flutter
                         the air turns colder

somewhere a murmur

                         shhh

be still   be still  my dear

the rope hanging in the attic
                        the vague visions through the static
                                    the tremors of the addict

shhh
  be still
      my dear

                          love casts its pallor
                                blood on pale collar
                                  i hear you call her


                   by candle lights
                        as rain drops
                               and winds howl
                                       and wood creaks


      
               icy razors lay on warm tubs
                            guillotines fly through the air                
                    birds fall from thick heights
               like notes of despair


don't shake your head
it will all end
soon
in the corner of the room
There
where the shadows call out your name
like the wind sweeps the rain


               pull out a smoke
                    drag over a chair
                          sit by the window
                            and stare


there is the world    there is the world
   you are not a part of
                there is the world
            full of cruel love
        there the children laugh and play
like you never have
or ever could

   It’s understood

                  the rain floods into gutters
                       the once crisp leaves drift
                          they sog and they shudder
                          from spring-autumn skies
                                 down down sewage drains
                                     all truths mask in lies
                                          all love in pain      

shhh  shhh

the shadows the shadows

   they whisper my name

III

eternally…”

I see your spectral silhouette
   hovering on the sea's horizon
      at midnight

  as the surf struggles and collapses
     before my feet

    it's so **** cold
     my gut convulses
      my hands shake
        my being shivers

              your hair whips
                 the dark air
               like thunder

                           the wind lashes
                         my numbed skin with coarse sand


            and it's so dark

                    the moon oscillates wide rings
                            of pallid skeletal light

                               and you flutter there exactly
  where the sun set
       six hours ago

                                 when its afterglow
                    disintegrated
                             pixel x pixel
    

                               your shadowy figure
                                   now beckons

                                      join me
                                    this night
                                and every night

                                    hereafter

                                      love
                          
                              I close my eyes....

                                    ...

dancing and sweating

  we lay in my room

             under burgundy covers

                      reeking of cheap beer
                               and dirt

your ******* still slightly moist
    flung on my chair

  my sticky shirt still emanates smoke
     like an industrial factory

you arms wrap a

— The End —