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Sky Moede Mar 14
Drum thum, beat in my head of my heart
as I recite the commandment given to me
by the saint and by the one who came before, my Lord
Christ. Do not love the world,

but you are the world,
my desire of the flesh,
the thorn in my side.
You plague me day and night
in **** for you. You are darkness smothering me

in my unbelief, not trusting in Him but in you.
I find relief in temporary removal of pain.
Explain this to me. I pray
to walk in Him on Sundays surrounded

by others, but after slamming of stained doors
I walk in you. The love of the Father is not in me.
You are relief founded in unbelief.
ColtonC Mar 4
Valleys cut deep
across the pale planes
and shimmering sand
A lamb is
lost, drifting over the dunes
A marigold petal floats to the ground
wilting in the smouldering wind

"Sacrifice" they whisper,
As a blistering blade
Dances across
your skin.
Written 04/03/2019
Up until now it seemed really difficult to condense my ideas into fewer lines, but after reading my original notes for this poem, I realised I stopped liking it after the first two stanzas haha. Also, I finally wrote one without having the title be the last line. Big milestone right there.
Ronnie Feb 22
In the beginning, God created the heavens and the earth

or so I was told at the humble age
of seven years old. I did not ask
and I did not question.
I saw that it was good. Or did I?
It was only the beginning
but what of the rising action
what of the darkness growing
over the surface of the deep?
I was yet to learn for sure
the conflicting nature of faith
or the meaning behind every rosary bead.
Thrown in at the deep end
I stared into the void. A vault
between the waters, or perhaps
an endless sky covered in stars
a ceiling in my bedroom
yet another thing I did not question.
Thus no answer came.
How was I to know the darkness
if not for the light of day?
I waited days and years
until the night came again
and for the first time in forever
I asked myself why
do I truly seek forgiveness
or salvation? Could I be
reborn into a creature
of fire and vengeance
or a winged bird blessed
with the gift of flight
and a lack of conscience?
Perhaps I could have been
state of the art
a true reflection
instead of this serpentine twist
somewhere deep within me
grinding, nesting
in the manner of a deadly disease
clouding my vision
and numbing my senses
taking away any certainty.
The very nature of existence
is to learn its meaning
is to doubt the ideal masters
and their conjured ideas of freedom
infinitive and infinite.
I do not have the answers
but I ask the questions. I am
in control of my own fate
I rise above the darkness
I am the master of the seas
the shepherdess of my own herds
I see all that I make of my life
and I see it is good.

Thus the heavens and the earth are completed in all their vast array.
Another poem I wrote for a class. This one had a straightforward prompt, "faith".
serpentinium Jan 17
i am an animal,
a thing once born
in a Garden,
hissing at this
bronze statue of you,
my venom dripping
down pierced palms.

i am an animal
searching in the
wilderness for you,
hungry, half-mad,
walking to-and-fro,
wondering if my blistered
feet mean anything to you.

i am an animal
drunk on the
blood of you.
i drink up your essence,
the taste of smoke &
honey clinging to my tongue
even as i choke on your name.

i am an animal,
but i still pray to you &
your empty shrines;
a habit, a ritual, i say
to no one in particular; somewhere,
a bird caws three times.
“liar, liar, liar.”

i am an animal
& i rest in the shade of a
white broom tree waiting for
the sound of wings. i awaken
at sunrise to feathers in my
hair, hunger and thirst
gone from me. i weep.
2019 has begun in grief, but i still hold out hope in what lies beyond me.
Arianna Jan 2
And the lion shall
Lie down with the unicorn,
Led as one by Love.
A short tribute to one of my favorite works of art, not only for the beauty and craftsmanship of the tapestries, but for the labyrinth of imagery and symbolism contained in each piece. :-)
Kate Dec 2018
Take my gold and frisk my crown
          Pull jewels from my neck and scrub the expensive oils from my skin
          Burn the fine linens and ***** me of my silks
I have no need for such trivialities.

     Turn your face from me and harden your heart
           Cast me out from my home, my sanctuary
           I shall die in a shelter rather than a palace, but all the same,
I shall be just as dead here as there.

     Lose me my birthright, my title and my throne
           Change the name on the scroll of the fate I was born for
           Sell your right-hand seat to the prettiest bidder
I will die knowing I would not sell out.

     You, the one I held in my foolish heart so dear,
          Can take away from me everything I gave you
          But you cannot take the strength with which I was born, for
I represent the one virtue you cannot own.

     Replace me if you must but know that I will lie in peace
           Forget me if your heart allows it, but never forget
           That I-- the woman who dares defy the king--
I hold more power in my will than you have in your court.
Esther 1:2-21
Skyler Dec 2018
bad men doing bad things
that’s common; ordinary

it’s when good men
do evil deeds
that the devil smiles.
There is a barber shop built on the ashes of Babylon,
where men lose their ******* with shame that skip to the fourth kid,

There once was place where Samson's hairstyle was a treasure map.
A place where lost man travel
Where David found no stone
where Noah built an Ark but storm never came.

When we pass through that place even the stars we use for direction disappear.
Pauper of Prose Nov 2018
Amongst the broken ships
I see thy standing upon a sinking deck
No chains bound her in place
The glare of sunlight shields her face
Then swans and sparrows come in pairs
Settling upon her feet
Pecking and prodding with cooing sounds
Their music a masterful soothing score
That drowns out the brutish ocean’s roar
So that a new sea of melody floods the world
Then all these notes flow into the girl
Resting within her once rigid heart
Which has now become a sacred Ark
IrieSide Sep 2018
Think and appeal to the masses,
drink and sin
to further dilude
your clouded minds

break free if you dare
become my god
my object of reflection

connect my mind
far into the past,
let me channel the greats
so their advice
I can take

Call Solomon,

let me learn his ways
of wicked poetry

A pipe of
ancient texture
found smoking on his grave

Take a chocolate ride into realms of thought where barriers of self consciousness no longer exist. Find yourself soaring, far above the atmosphere, where angels and demons co-ignite into bursting electric energy. A head in the clouds where things rarely get along. Trees of sin and shrubs of guilt, whatta’ garden this has become.
Oregon inspires me.
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