Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Khoisan Apr 2021
Brushes softly stroked
no anger only patience
love gentle as a dove
His lover has the saddest eyes
A misty grey under a heavy blue
And he’ll see her again at sunrise.

Their love some seem to despise
Thinking of it as a ****** taboo
His lover has the saddest eyes

Though no one seems to empathize
No one’s aware of their little rendezvous
And he’ll see her again at sunrise.

He knows she’ll be hidden under a clever disguise
But he won’t confuse her with just another heart’s statue
His lover has the saddest eyes.

You couldn't convince him of your lies
Of his leman his desire you could not subdue
And he’ll see her again at sunrise.

Love her until their hellos become goodbyes
From the moment he’d set eyes on her to his final adieu
His lover has the saddest eyes
And see her again at sunrise
I got a B-, it was too long.
Kuzhur Wilson Mar 2021
A 22 ct poem on gold



Dear gold



In the body of a woman

you attain elegance

lying chained to the hip

fatigue like



Endless are the times

when earlobes and foot

seduced me without you



Mere threads of yellow

will do better than you



There's a cuteness

seeing you

swing from a single ear



Nose studs, with a stare

have stung me sleepless.

The ones made of rolled

gold too



But, dear gold

You become gold

when you are pawned



Like the revolutionary

who becomes more revolutionary

when hanged



Like the soldier

who gets shot and becomes

a soldier even more



Dear gold in the pawn shop

My gold, dear gold





Translated by Binu Karunakaran
Translated by Binu Karunakaran
Clive Saffron Mar 2021
A poem to celebrate a marriage

A wonderful and beautiful story is about to unfold,
Celebrating the marriage of two hearts into one.
Each turning page shall be illustrated in vibrant colour
And follow the path of true love that’s just begun.

This, your Wedding Day, marks a new chapter,
Where, as a couple, you’ll learn what love truly means.
May you laugh together, comfort and forgive each other
And share all your hopes, aspirations and dreams.

As in fairy-tales, dance freely in each other’s arms
And smile with your eyes, come rain, wind or shine.
May you bring music to each other’s lives,
As your souls sing from now ‘til the end of time.

A deep well of happiness is wished for you,
Overflowing with blessings and filling your cup.
May the warm rays of the sun fall upon you
And bring you energy to lift each other up.

As you walk this journey from beginning to end,
Sharing your lives as the years come and go,
May you surrender your hearts to each other always,
For the sweetest love comes from the seeds you sow.

Through good times and bad, for better or for worse,
Be there for each other always, to have and to hold.
Rejoice in your love, side by side, through all eternity,
Creating memories and the greatest story ever told.
Jonathan Moya Jan 2021
The not not bird
listens to its not not song
in the not not tree
near my not not door.

And in its song it hears
something not not grand
compared to all the other
not not birds
in all the other not not lands.

The not not bird
doesn’t know
all the not not things
it’s suppose not to know.

It sees not the not not leaves
written in this poetry.
Smells not the not not flowers
swaying not in the not not breeze.
Hears not the buzzing of not not wings
of all the yellow not not bees
supping on all this wondrous not not majesty.

For this not not door of mine
is neither not not open
nor not not close.
For that is not the not not providence
of this not not poem to define.

I choose wether or not
all this not not nonsense
shall be or not not be
in some future not not prosody.

For those who beg to decline
I privy thee to write
your own **** not not rhyme!

At times doing nothing
Is doing it all
The sun is up, warm and bright
Spreading light
The birds, fly up together
And come down
The works of nature, clockwork
In nature
Every day has a night
To replace
Every day

🌿🌿
Bardo Nov 2020
As a little child you used dread going up there on your own... to bed
Climbing those stairs all alone, all the time getting further away from the light down in the hall
With every step it was like your fear would increase tenfold
You could hear your little heart beating, pounding away inside
Beyond the bright hall light's promise of safety
Beyond there... lay danger... the darkness
The Darkness at the top of the stairs.

For you knew they were waiting there for you
Hidden a little way back in the shadows, on the landing
Evil elves and goblins, cruel giants, trolls, wicked witches and fairies... the Wolfman
They held nets ready to catch you in
And sacks slung over their backs, to bundle you into
Ready to steal you away from your family,
Like the Ice Queen on her sleigh
Ready to spirit you away to some Ice Palace faraway
To a world all frozen, turned to cold
A great prize was a human child.

Even when you'd got to bed, you'd hide your little head under the covers
Listening fearfully for their murmurs
You knew like in Dr. Who the Daleks they were coming
They were just in your wardrobe waiting,
And underneath your bed, silver Cybermen too
With their cold expressionless inhuman metallic faces
You'd lie there shivering, your little heart turned sideways in fear
You were just a little child drowning, drowning in a sea, a sea of monsters.

                            II

Looking back on it now, looking back
The Darkness, it was innocent, completely innocent
It held no danger, no fear and no monsters either
It was only the world that had coloured it so
Painted them on the screen of your imagination
All those scary TV shows, those dark fairytales and religious stories  
Yea, it was only the world that painted it so
A world so ignorant of the inner life of a little child...a little boy
A world obsessed, a world in love with... with Monsters.

But why then...why did you beg to be let stay up late with them, to watch those scary shows
Knowing you'd later have to face that lonely walk of fear up to your bed upstairs
Probably accompanied by some new monster, some new terror gleaned from that night's show
To add to your burgeoning collection
Why? Why this fascination with scaring yourself, with hurting, damaging yourself ?
Why did you want that for yourself ?
You wanted to be like them, didn't you, the grown ups, the older ones,
This is what they did and this is what you thought you had to do as well
You looked up to them, these were the people you loved, that you aspired to be like one day
So you had to do what they did too,
You wanted into their world and to do this you had to like the things they liked too.

And so, your innocence as a child was overthrown, denied
It was something to be ashamed of,
Something to be reviled and ridiculed and hated
It was pilloried in the marketplace
And all the monsters instead, they were installed.

                       III

I remember as a little child when watching TV if you thought something scary was coming up
You'd rise and say "I don't think I want to see this bit"
And you'd go and hide behind the chair, occasionally peeping out, waiting for the 'bad bit' to be over so you could return.
I remember too when very little, the first time I seen a Halloween mask, a witch's mask my brother put on
How I cried in terror, I was terrified every time he put it on
I thought he'd been suddenly transformed, that some dark kind of magic had been performed
That he'd changed into a witch, that reality had become distorted into something grotesque and ugly and evil
How scared I was.

Just imagine that.. imagine a being so little, so fragile, so sensitive...so pure of heart
That the slightest aberration, the slightest thought could hurt it
(Could this be where we went wrong...the lonely god).

Way up on his pulpit, a ranting preacher raves
About devils and demons and dark things everywhere
"It's the truth, it's the truth", he shouts, " it's in the book, it's in the book!!! "
Before him his poor congregation lies, all numbed and terrorised,
And no god whatsoever, no god at all to be seen
Only maybe a God of Terror, another monster.

                         IV

So, will you not come back then, back to the Old House
And amid all the dust and the cobwebs, find me again... still there,  all alone
Will you not dare lift this veil, this veil of shame
And look again upon my face
That which the world so greatly despises
This terrible terrible innocence
Do you not remember me, once, once upon a time
Am I not fair of face...not lovely... a thing beautiful to behold.

Is there not one who would do battle for me, champion me
Like St. George and his dragon
Shield me from the fiery onslaughts of this world
Is there not one who would come
Is there not one.
This was written after reading some cases in the newspaper about young school kids who just dropped dead while playing their weekend football game. I think they have a name for it, Sudden Child Death Syndrome or something. I do paintings sometimes of my past and I can remember the very real fear I felt as a kid going to bed on my own after viewing scary shows and scary ideas. The thing is the shows & films they have now are a hundred times more scary than the ones we had, our shows would be like comedies compared to what goes now, the more hideous and gory and shock inducing the better. Different times but a child's heart remains the same.
Jonathan Moya Nov 2020
On the 11th month,
the 11th day,
at the 11th hour,
Meagan wore her poppy
on the right side
at 11 O’clock,
just like her father,
John McCain
taught her.
Holding her
newborn girl Liberty
close to her—
and taking care
not to disturb
the many small flags
proudly fluttering—
she placed
another exactly
the same way
on his grave
just kissing the
white granite words
PRISONER OF WAR
LOVING HUSBAND
FATHER AND POPPA.
David P Carroll Nov 2020
I need you by my side
Day and night
My beautiful bride
So take my hands and
Let me take you for a ride and
We'll fall in love under
The moonlight watching the
Star's shining so bright and
I'll love you until forever
So take my hands and
My beautiful bride
The time is now or never...
True Love ❤️❣️
Next page