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Mohamed Nasir Mar 2018
I'm ice

I melt in the face

of catastrophe

I melt in the polar

of calamity

of treasures I hide

chastity *****

by avarice

in a warming globe

I'm ice

the suffering ice.
Scientist report ice is melting at an alarming rate in the Arctic region due to heat waves from the Arctic ocean. It records the lowest maximum on March 17 of this year. The lost ice covers an area the size of Texas and California combined. They fear of easy accessibility to oil and minerals hidden beneath the area.
Mary-Rose H Mar 2018
I don't travel much,
but when I do,
the absence of
omnipresent,
immovable
mountain ranges
always
disturbs
me.
I miss the
calming, cool blues and greens
that frame
my world,
and feel
e   x   p   o   s   e   d
without them.
But they welcome me
home
with
a sure embrace
each time.
I became exposed
the moment we met,

though I still encourage
you to undress me.
awknight Mar 2018
Running from the
chipped paint and
peeling wallpaper.
The exposure.
The naked vulnerability.
Chasing dreams
that scare me
only to find grounding
in fear.

The dripping faucet
was acid on my skin
in streams down my face.
A feeling of warmth
that burned.
Scarred.
A sudden change.
Please, not again.

The ceiling caves in —

I can never show anything
but the reflection of a life
that is broken.
No matter how the claws
shred me
from underneath my
own skin…

Trapped in escape.
who knows what this pile of **** is -- it just happens sometimes
Jessie Schwartz Feb 2018
The Poet’s Soul…by Jessie 12/05

The poem is the poet’s soul
Deepest, darkest thoughts
Vulnerable and exposed
Expressions, like tasted wine
Sipped and swirled
Bouquets of overpowering aromas
Fruity, nutty flavors
Then spit onto the opaque page
Pallet cleansed, a release of tormented visions let go
Let go for now, but captured for eternity
For those still to come
For those willing to explore and satiate their cravings to know
There are those, content with the time a clock tells
Look close, for a clock is more than the time
Delicate mechanisms, intricate and complex
See past the surface, there is a world deep below
The poem is the staircase leading down
On my path of Christianity,
shall I be a fool exposed…
with these words of poetry?
Or have I been transposed

into the servant that God
witnessed, before my birth?
Even though I remain flawed,
in Christ, I find my worth.

By His Spirit, my confidence
is shown in eloquent verse;
with this divine cognizance,
my contentment is immersed

in my identity with Christ.
Inspired by:
Jer 1:5; John 1:12; Eph 1:5;
1 Cor 6:17

Learn more about me and my poetry at: amazon (dot) com

By Joseph J. Breunig 3rd, © 2017, All rights reserved.
Mister J Jan 2018
I once surrounded myself
With emotional walls and checks
Hiding behind my insecurities
Shielding myself from all responsibility

It came to a point when
It grew completely out of control
It left me isolated in my own world
It left me disconnected from reality

But then you came
You
Who went in with a wrecking ball
Smashing all those stone and iron walls
Peeling layer by layer of me
Leaving me exposed to vulnerability

For the first time in my life
A whole new world opened for me
You took my hand by surprise
And led me out of my cage
You removed all my shackles
Destroyed all my chains
You flipped my world upside down
And loved me in all my nakedness

You
Whose love showed me a new paradise
By leading me out of my comfort zone
Who made my heartbeats go wild
And boosts my adrenaline every single second of my life

You
You are the sunshine
To my cold life
The weakness in my veins
And the strength in my muscles
You are the air in my lungs
The reason I wake up each morning
The reason I sleep soundly at night
The courage in my heart
And the reason in my mind
You are a whole new world for me
Whom I want to share my own world with too
You are the world that I never knew
And the world that I want to keep on exploring every single second of the day

I love you
Thanks for reading. :)
George Krokos Jan 2018
Hey you there, oh thou drooping rose
what are you trying to disclose?
It seems that time has passed quickly
and left you now looking sickly.
You once were so bright and fragrant
but now you are like a vagrant;
shedding down all those body parts
before the expected end starts.
Was it because of your placement
in front of a sheer glass casement
on that window sill sun-exposed
and in midday hours being closed?
My sympathy for you dear friend
it looks as if you're near the end.
_____
Written late Nov.2017.
Inspired by actual matter of fact events as penned in the poem after placing a cut rose in a small vase with water on the window sill in the kitchen.
mythie Dec 2017
[ Caution ]
[ Fragile ]

Our legs tangle together beneath tables.
Our smiles complete each other.
Your eyes are crystal blue.
Mine are a crimson red.

You reach over and caress my hand.
It feels good when you rub my knuckles.
You place a kiss.
It feels good.

But,
uneasy.

I love when you hold my waist.
We ballroom dance in the small kitchen space.
You rest your head on my thighs.
It feels nice.

You pull open my skin to look at my heart.
Your mouth gapes open.
Are you surprised to see it shattered apart?
It wasn't my choice, however.

Not mine,
not at all.

You hold red glass, cutting your skin.
Hurriedly you try to put them together.
I've been hurt before.
What's a little more?

Two pieces connect at the hip.
You smile through bloodied hands.
The pieces shiver in your touch.
You caress them with such compassion.

It stings,
but in a good way.

Slowly but surely, the pieces stick together.
A glass heart, torn at the seems.
You place it back, and stitch me up.
You smile at me, though your hands are scratched.

I kiss your wounds.
You cry for me.
I never believed in true love.
But this time, I'll give it a shot.
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