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When Buddha closed his eyes
He did not speak

Bystander tagged him
See what the attitude

The next moment
On opening his eyes
He got glow in his face
Got no words to say

Bowed their heads
Genre: Observational
Theme: Wisdom in silence
Star BG Jan 1
I shall live to type another day.
To ride with stallion of breath
and move on fields of verse.

To expand consciousness
jumping over huddles for freedom.

I shall live to embody my own divinity.
To touch others by reaching hand,
and dance inside dreams.

To expand consciousness
with source and receive wisdom.

Yes I shall. I will. I must,
give myself the gift of knowing who I be
To shed unwanted thoughts
and fly with etheric wings of a Pegasus.
Inspired by chat with Poet's Creek

Care to join me???
Beanie Dec 2018
oh, sinning girl,
bless me in your image,
cup my face in your hands,
pierce my soul with your eyes.

oh, sinning girl,
you put a spell on me,
took me into your charm,
wicked and sly.

oh, sinning girl,
i’m on my knees for you,
you’re holy to me,
more divine than heaven itself.

oh, sinning girl,
place your hands on mine,
they say palm to palm is a holy kiss,
and kissing you can’t be a sin.

oh, sinning girl,
you’re from the house of the rising sun,
deep down in New Orleans,
but girl you’re just a sunrise to me.

oh, sinning girl,
they’re after your head,
you aren’t holy to them,
you’re made of fire and brimstone.

oh, sinning girl,
touch me one last time,
let me remember your holiness,
oh, sinning girl.
message me if you know where the line "palm to palm is holy palmers kiss" comes from, it was the (obvious) inspiration for "they say palm to palm is a holy kiss"!
Calliope Dec 2018
Calla lilies bloomed in that field.
Each bud a was praise of emulation,
And each fallen petal was a baroque requiem.
Leon Dec 2018
Art was religion’s enemy, but nobody knew it.
Ignorance’s persecution and deception’s excommunication
are invisible marks stamped onto every wooden pallete.

What with the saints’ every feature executed with the finest human touches,
it’s divinity could not be more countoured and highlighted.
The bold kisses of sunlight onto the walls of the cathedrals
remind tense shoulders and pointed slippers how much they are adored by the universe..

while they, not as much so.

God’s fingerprints are engraved onto every human brain
for the mind is powerful enough to imagine
vast forests and fine cloth,
sweet wine and golden crusts of bread,
cherry lips and tamed silver hairs,
the softest pillows for varnished beds,
herds of sheep and gallops of mares.

The artist is glorified, admired and lusted for the deceptions it’s brushes could print onto textured paper.
Perhaps heaven’s mess sent graciously upon wiked ground,
unfertile for carrying the growth of who is gripping too lightly on the artist’s  border for beauty,
were the wrong tones of purple, blue, red, yellow, or brown.
Mystic Ink Plus Dec 2018
Most precious gift
Lord can grant
I wished for

A journey to future
Genre: Experimental
Theme: Living the Dream
Mystic Ink Plus Dec 2018
Imagine for a while
Who you could be

Spirituality is
A comfort zone
Resonating sympathy
Breathe in peace
Does it hurt?

No hypocrisy
Genre: Observational
Theme: Way of life
Star BG Nov 2018
Mirrors we are.
Mirrors we be.
Carrying grand divinity.

With light we create,
feeling that grow.
Drifting in peace.
In life we sow.

Seeds of a smile.
Seeds of real love.
Bowing I will
to fly like dove.

Now I will end,
my saga poem.
May you feel peaceful
where you roam.
Dedicated to Onoma who inspired this poem
Mr Uncanny Nov 2018
I kneel before her in respect
I gaze upon her in love
Observe the radiance of her skin
For she is the Goddess

Her movements of beauty and mysticism
The purity of her soul
The curls of her hair
The light shining from her eyes

She truly is the Goddess
For her beauty is not just on the surface
For it runs deep from within
The splendor of fire and divinity

As the Goddess she brings hope
As the Goddess she brings love
For she is my everything
And I will give my all
Breon Nov 2018
Splayed out atop the the table, stupefied,
Etherized, dreaming anything but excision,
Witness the specimen's unnatural habitat.
Life stains the whole of its existence -
See the sacrament of its entirety, its divinity,
Its flesh made manifest and merely flesh.
It mocks this menagerie with every breath
And, aping its peers, struggles, strives, dies
For the pittance this world lends it.
Confronted with the end, it spits derision.
Confronted with the start, it cries in awe!
What a nonsense of a creature we see here,
This enigma we recognize in ourselves:
The human, being.
If life is nothing but what we make of it, maybe we'll make something interesting for the next thing in like.
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