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Ikigai Poet Aug 2019
Awe
I am still in awe..
How could a heart as small as
Our own fist,
Can provide love
To the world which is so big.
-Ikigai Poet
Berenice Jul 2019
to A.

Mythical creature
Feather on fire
Half-bird, half-women
Born is desire

Fireworks of feelings
Awe and thrill
Heartbeat stopping wonder
Love and fear

Watching from distance
you can admire
How it flies closer
And then again higher

Don't try to catch it
Lock it in a cage
It will break free
Or else it will rage
After the storm pass
She will just smolder
Suffer in silence
Tired and older

If her fire is what you want to keep
Show her your love
True and deep
Tell her she can always fly
Just on her own
In the sky
That you will wait for her
Guarding her nest
Being the earth for her
When she needs rest

7.7.2019 Prague
written by Olga, known as Swan.
Shiloh Grey Jul 2019
You are the
First and last
thought of mine
When I enter and leave
this realm of time
I'm
Hoping my dream comes to life
To how it appears within my mind
Simply
You and I
within a lucid thought
that continues to fast forward and rewind
Re-playing the highs and lows
Where eventually we find that our home
Is being at each other's side
...
We pause
Look at each other direct
To reflect
On the time spent as we
and
All the events that made us believe
That true love was actually something
That could be achieved
When two individuals have
A true understanding
of
one another
Never in wonder
Just in awe
That we're lucky enough to have created such a bond
This is my first poem, that I am publishing. Let me know what you think. -S.G.
M Solav Jul 2019
There is form. And there is force.
Lightning blazes the sky with frightening might
Which bursts and dissipates in arteries of light
How it animates the living,
With its thundering displays!
How it penetrates us with awe,
And fills darkness with stories
And that is what we call the Force.

There is form. And there is force.
Gushes of wind brush the once austere surface
Which rises and resonates in hills that interlace
How it fuels our imagination
With its frenetic waltz!
How hypnotic its furious motion
And the flow of its assaults
And that is what we call the Force.

There is form. And there is force.
Mountains spring from seas and glide down the coast
Which is where we have crawled and now thrive the most
How it shapes the current world
With us barely noticing!
How volatile all our endeavors
And at the mercy of its whim.
And that is what we call the Force.
Written in June 2019 - for an exhibition in Peking.


— Copyright © M. Solav —
www.msolav.com

This work may not be used in entirety or in part without the prior approval of its author. Please contact marsolav@outlook.com for usage requests. Thank you.
__________
Laure Winkelmans May 2019
Resting calmly, on a bed of gliding green accupunture,
a limitless blue surface invites you to listen to its ouverture.

You wonder if there's more to the simple game,
played in that far-away frame,

more than a yellow ball surrounded by contenders white and grey.

You keep staring at the clouds,
pondering if they too are overrun with crowds.

Losing yourself completely,
in the miraculous spectacle never quite revealing its true way.
©Laure Winkelmans
Sevki May 2019
Starlight,
always & forever~
Oskar Roux May 2019
To captivate someone the way
You do
Is an art form many never learn to master.
With eyes deeper than the Marianas trench
Your being
Just draws me like a moth to a flame.
To make someone feel the way
You make me feel
Makes me wonder how many ages
You've experienced.

A soul so ablaze no person would know you and not be warm.
The strength of nations upon nations
To carry the weight of the world and
You still grow.
The confidence and grace that
You move
With, can't even be challenged by Aphrodite herself.
With cheeks if crimson and eyes of ice
Your joy
Makes the rest of life seem baron.
Leaving me
wanting
Craving
Thirsty
Starved
And lucky
To know a woman of your sheer
Prowess.
A poem for my wife
Justus May 2019
The embodiment of the sun is a woman
Her hair like Rapunzel
Long, and a beautiful golden blonde
Her spirit was dragged through mud by the rabble
but when it rose again through the Will of Grace
it shined as though it had never been tested
She carries herself with pride, which resonates
with me
Even when her conversation turns crude, and she
bellows and burps:
she maintains her class and loveliness
Daisies grow in the wake of her steps
She is the embodiment of the sun
and I have become pious
In the dawn of days, dwells the awe of reverence.
In the thought of dwellers, can the awe be thread.

Within the small things, herein lies the pieces.
The pieces that make-up the direction of things that exist.

For the boulders at a mountain's mighty face, are no more important than the stones that form the base.
For it is in the reverence that we craft love from awe.

Blessed are those who sit and watch, for they are the architects of reverence - the constructors of awe.
Inspired from my pondering of the importance of reverence.
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