Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Rick O'Shell Jun 2020
" Dreammembering"
Awash in the 8th sea of prelimerence as endless as the ocean
Dreammembering a time of life defined by love's devotion
creating moments that feel as real as now yet out of reach
We held hands then and walked upon a perfect golden beach
Golden light on the curve of cheek and your mane's dark chocolate strands
We redefined "ourself" with loving eyes and touching hands
Thoughts between our heart-minds making promises unspoken
All our times of life on earth we hoped to share as one unbroken
Reality cleaves our dream's edge as consciousness reawakens
a sense of dread, the pang of loss, as love's left there forsaken
prelimerence merged low on Wildcat beach by high tide it's enthralled
We leave it weep-singing love's parting song like Alamere falls
Alamere Falls is a wilderness falls that empties a lake near a California coast that is accessible(Officially) only by a trail on Wildcat beach, that beach trail is submerged during high tide. It seems fitting the waterfall makes a weeping song, or the 8th sea would be of sea of pre-limerence and the freshwater mixing with the saltwater at the falls could weep a melody and the sound of parting  from the lake and merging with the ocean itself could cry as they do in the dream theme. Weep-singing seems fitting to me. I referenced the beach trail here in this poem as the symbolic shutting off ( submerging) of the dreaming-remembering love state when awakening. I invented some words and places here combining dream with remembering and the nonexistent 8th sea which I define as an almost subconscious “emotional sea of hearts waiting to fall in love=prelimerence..” The term pre-limerence I've tacked together to describe the state of being in love with the idea of being in love, the state people are in before finding someone to be in limerence with. "Ourself" as being two people defined as "Two combined consciousness's of one self" Heartminds refers to the neuronel cells in the heart that communicates with our minds, and I suspect other hearts and minds as well. leaving it here before I destroy it all with overthinking,
Aaron L Osgood Feb 2020
I was born from my mother yet I’m still self made.
I’m the way that i am now, today till my grave.
I can change my ways but my path is already paved
Life seems to be simple no need to explain.
Whatever is left it’s left to be remained.
February 9th I was born, so it’s my birthday!
No party for me just another work day.
The Adult Life! Bills must be First paid.
Before happiness and gifts are exchanged.
Life is sometimes sudden or prearranged.
Life is just full of abundance or it’s plain.
Yet I’m still me inside this brain.
So, I give God all the glory as he reigns.
My story is not over after the 9th more remains.
If you didn’t know Aaron L. Osgood is my name.
And February 9th 1986 is when I came!
Although in my mother’s womb is where I became.
ava Nov 2019
sometimes i think of the people i knew then
people who no longer think of me,
but i think of them
and those few experiences i had
with people and things
that changed my perspective on life
i remember feeling alone
as alone as i feel now?
that's something i can't answer
in 9th grade,
i wanted to be someone else
i always did
but then i met a girl
her name i'll not say
because then it will feel too real,
and it won't just be me glorifying the worst year of my life
into poetry
this girl will never be erased from my mind
she doesn't know the impact she had on me
she doesn't know how much i secretly
hated her
but i loved her, too
it was bittersweet
i had wanted to be her friend since the 7th grade
and then i was
and then i wasn't
i smoked my first cigarette with her
well, not really
i mean, i tried to
i felt awful
and a wannabe
then, in the sticky heat of june,
we smoked ****
i can still remember it so vividly
i remember
we got back to her house
and that's where things went downhill
i got paranoid and she started to ignore me
does she hate me?
and that was it
next morning, she didn't really talk to me
and then i left
that was the last time i saw her
i wasn't sad
but i realize now that
i'll never have a friend like her
ever again
and i'll never experience something like
9th grade
ever again
because now i am numb and
i just want to be a regular teen
go to parties,
have fun,
i don't know,
whatever happens in the movies
i guess
i want someone to love me
i want my first kiss
i want things i'm too embarrassed to say
and i will never get them
i'll never get them
goodbye 9th grade
i want to forget you
but i don't think i ever will
even though it was so long ago
all the experiences i had
that changed me forever
never again
and then i will leave this town
and never see anyone again
and it hurts to say
for some reason
all the people i used to know
our memories will stay with me
but i need to go,
i need to go
i will never forget any of this,
and the nostalgia of my entire life
will always stick with me
and it will be sad
sickeningly sad
because that's just me,
thinking of people who never think of me
Andy Oct 2019
If there are wonders of worlds unknown it wouldn’t be found in this missive. All ingenuity and innovation of tenders and obscure precarious peasants in town are forgotten. A tailor-made war machine ingenious to no purpose, but disassembling of pragmatic purpose driven people by torts in similitude to lay-flat bacon with no flavor. Style was not the first itinerary as well, as reason and intellection more likely found slung out a window in the dark grey burdensome MOCO morning clouds to dry than the vestige of its unrecognizable token. At the day of the making of the great ingenious monstrosity of marvel the crown and the crowd were all in awe, awhile the people gathered in the halls giving pittance and lamenting what they saw. They were counted with their many items that they made not similar to the machine that they stood in obeisance for.

  October 28th broke darkness to a drab MOCO morning as brilliant light gives way to long pale grey cloudy skies of foreboding obstruction. What has come to pass fills the streets with unfriendly noises. Obnoxious street sounds of trucks and rude commuters in the morning melting *** of the county seat steered a drab venture for the driven. For some, the events of the day couldn’t come too soon. A sober male erected himself in an uncomfortable bed, eyes raptured into a day fore lorn by prophets of paisley drapes and trinkets once despised. Little left to vacillate upon he strikes his life for the fare he will need for the day without a meal and those owed are far greater than he can afford to pay. He deserves far worse. He makes his early drink in one thousand ways and questions the preliminaries that compulsory routine has degraded to utilitarianism as he is burdened by health of the sort the homeless are afflicted.

    Sitting undisturbed, busy rifling through an ordinance of papers, the judge peered out over his bench checking occasionally to appear meticulous and still aware of off-guard court officers and clerks. It’s a wonder how influential the long satin Khaki painted walls aligned with disheveled faces of the father’s of the 9th District were in forming his disposition. It might not be obvious by the look of his sparse schlocky beard or furry eyebrows but, his portrait was as predestined as the grain on the gurney he rode in on. A paladin in white, a fury fine form, ready to leave his post modern imprint in-line with the greats. This wasn’t what he loved to do; this was what he was born for.

    The tight soldier-course front-line of blue and teal is disrupted by our pocky pitched Siren dousing more among the brown of cross wood than the grain that red oak can display. Cordial banter in the echoes of the hall were far off despite the close good mornings and whimsical felicitations exchanged wittily without regard to fairness. Framed words are hard to come by in the sentence seat of the unjust. The fake philanthropic mating calls our Siren sounds before the wind are so grotesque in full sight they are only left for a sailors burial song or dirges in the dark by wearisome travelers and laborers neglecting the fear of their next day as they did the day before. Singing is a requirement in the back minds of the proud. of the proud.
Mystic904 Nov 2017
Khudi ko kar buland itna ke har taqdeer sai pehlay
Khuda banday sai khud poochay bta teri raza kya hai

Raise yourself to such heights so before every destined act
God Himself asks His creation, what is it your desire

Kee Muhammad (S.A.W) sai wafa toonay to hum tairay hain
Ye jahan cheez hai kya loh o kalam tairay hain

If you are loyal to Muhammad (S.A.W) we are yours 
This universe is nothing, the Tablet and the Pen are yours

(Allama Iqbal)

May it be Saadi
Or may it be Sherazi
Mansur or Sachal Sarmast
May it be Rumi or Shams
Rabia Basri or Ganj Bakhsh
Bhatai or Baba Rehman
Ghani Khan or Allama Iqbal
All these God-gifted saints
went by giving the same message
Spreading the same thought
The one and unique
The message of the Truth
Under a million veils lie
The one and only
Somebody's Me Nov 2016
9 years ago, you were just a small bump in momma's belly
And now you've grown into a very charming little lady.

9 years of cuteness, love and just pure joy,
Cuddles, laughter and broken toys.

9 years ago, we just wanted you to be a good bubbly kid.
Now, you've become a daughter any parents love to have.

9 years ago, I didn't know I could love someone so much.
You are the love I knew even before I laid my eyes on you.

Today on your special day I dedicate this poem to you,
to let you know how much I LOVE YOU so.

Happy 9th Birthday MY DEAREST DAUGHTER
I LOVE YOU from 9 years ago and FOREVER

— The End —