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Julie S K Oct 16
Though they walk down every street
To people that you want to meet
And take you where you want to go
Running fast or walking slow
They never seem to get the love
That the face does up above
They never let you down
yet they're forgotten on the ground
So maybe once a little treat
For your tired weary feet
fun poem, we are always using creams and potions on our face but never really care for our feet
Paul Idiaghe Oct 12
show me how to wear diamond
dreams without trembling
beneath their weight.

I am a pebble, peeled off
from a peak, fraying and falling,
faltering at its feet. end up

locked between the lips of
married mountains; eyes
hinged to the sky, feet sinking

into earth, chest caving into
a coffin where my heart hides
its head. as despair crawls
in to devour the decay, I linger

between the decomposition, dead
to dust to soil—waiting
to bloom again.
Jordan Gee Oct 2
Hand motions in the pattern of a cross
and a baptism from a few yards away.
Early morning in a suggestive state and he was
honest about what he saw, and how he feels.

Traps laid in the ether
long - long ago.
the bread crumbs are the blades of
serrated knife edges if the red shroud is
allowed to veil our vision.

But it is not
for the garment is worn loose.
And before the children of God
discovered blue dye,
the sky was a searing violet.

Eyes to the east and the keys of
death and Hades hung from his tongue
as his face burned with the fire of 10,000 suns.
His flare for the drama is an American quality
and his feet were forged of bronze.
Late sep 2020
Paul Idiaghe Sep 24
as autumn plants her feet,
cities burst into smoke, shades
and silence, until I can only sit
& grieve as a ruby-dream fades

into the mist; tell me this is earth
breaking feasts to mark the birth
of our bond, tell me this remains
the season where hearts rain

like leaves as they, as we, fall
in love beneath golden trees
& we'll only need to loosen our all
to cling tighter than we please;

tell me that when the perils flee,
you'll return, arms open-- tell me.
Skyward Sep 6
The messenger must be ready
To pack his bags and leave.
He will not cling to useless weight,
His message is too sweet.
He will not stop to catch a breath,
He cares not for his needs.
He runs to tell of what he knows
— A poet with his feet.

The soldier stands in shining mail
And seems, of men, the best.
Because he stand on guard all night,
The citizens can rest.
He has no need to question if
He’ll pass the final test.
In bravery he'll meet the foe
— A poet with his chest.

The farmer tends his crops and reaps
The produce of the land.
He plows the field and tills the dirt
According to his plan.
His yield, year round, is sustenance
For animal and man.
He helps the tender seeds to grow
— A poet with his hands.

The scholar can by careful thought
Reveal the source of rain.
He takes a youth with passions wild
And makes him wise and tame.
O’er books and notes he slaves all night,
Our hearts and minds to train.
In gold he never found his wealth
— A poet with his brain.

The poet fills a simple verse
With wisdom to the brim.
He feels within his breast that beauty
Is his closest friend.
Where does the humble poet fit
Among these noble men?
The poet, with his measured words,
Is all these with a pen.
you are like a big toe
you're ugly and you smell funny
i really need you though
you balance me out
There lieth the one of marble limbs

with crystal sealed eyes

on the porphyry bed

with Syrian nard upon her feet

and pomegranate flowers in her hand

the queen of star land

in the House of Purple

the centuries grow on her back

with colours ever flowing

through her darling palace grotesque

where muddles the Form and Time

in exquisite shape she is there

the poppy queen

sweet tasting lover of the Death

with brittle passions she has build

the gardens of tusk like stalactite

in her ever jewelled chalice

the Sphinx drinks of Lethe's wine

and penetrates with odour

of the Acheron

in the purple corridors

there is joy of silk and pearl and azure

and moon marble monolith

she will kiss thy lips Adonis

in the rosewood path

she will milk thy heart Antinous

amongst the first  spring buds

she will drink your eyes Helen

in her waterlily bed

she will rip your body Daphne

in her night veiled labyrinth

the Land and Sea and their Lords all

have bowed their rose gentle heads

in her land of liquid

to the queen of New and Old
Nylee Jul 9
Cold feet.

Moving the feet
Left and right
Belief in belief

On this wintery night
Beneath the starlight
Looking at the dark blue

The racing in the head
All the things left unsaid
The messeges never sent

Non escapable, this
non answering pleas
No ease, no fire
all smoke, left cold

So making
Is breaking
Life is a lie

A ramble,
What a life

The cold feet,
A defeat,
Another repeat.
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