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Karijinbba Mar 29
His light house amidst
his mystic fog, signals belated
in triumphant decore,
Enamoured with ancient joy
of his blue green dreams
I chant.
“His rod and his staff
comfort me and all surrounding
gore departs.
I breathe in gasping
about my true love.
as he spots my battered
vessel into the wind sailing.
  Ecstasy twinkles his teary eye
   in the magic water dancing glare,
of our mystical full moon light.

For too long I've traveled
jeweled triumphant
yet unable to reach
his promised treasure vaults.

To the greed of legions on
treacherous paths all alone I wept,
through enemy's territories,
but all those from me have fled.

I roamed alone yester woods
I reach his safe private harbour
his peaceful shores.
As trustworthy jeweled queen
regardless of grave loss.

Willfully he reveals his home key
to come open up his door
as photographic memories
on new calming waters
get anchored deep.

At last I shall rest in love
on my bittersweet bed of roses
red, and flowers wild;
   white sad lilies on hand,
saluting my beloved glories
recaptured and retained.

Enduring rhythmic ways
with courage, heart
brain and hope and off my
survival modes into éasier dwelling
  into my grave but neither there
I shall trod alone no more.
~~~~~~
By Karijinbba
All rights.
https://youtu.be/rFEv_ZjCTuE
Thomas Steyer Jul 2021
In the night I wake up 'cos
the moon's shining on my face
I see it with closed eyes
as it glides along with grace.

I move my head to dodge the glare
and try once more to fall asleep
but now I toss and turn
counting far too many sheep.

At last I drift off into slumberland
the big yellow globe has passed
over to the other window
through which it hits me in full blast.

Now I'm beside myself with rage
even feel the urge to curse
then finally it comforts me
this moon has no reverse.
Diljeev Mar 2021
Stood by the window
in the heart of the glare,
her feet bare
on the cold floor,
with a much colder stare,
there she is.

never out of words
on days it's his breath
taken away,
what else is to expect
from someone right out of
a Shakespearean play,
there she is.

Dressed in blood red
one day she'll wed,
he hangs by a thread,
the clocks may run out
he'll never be done,
every thousandth look
is the same as the first one,
there she is.
dailythoughts Oct 2020
the moon burns brighter
glaring at me
shying away on your name

while I shamelessly
hide in my misery
of your poisoned
pillow talks  

but

                                                               ­                           the moon sees it all
                                                             ­                           even under my skin
                                                                ­                     even over my pretend
                                                         ­                                     truly wondering
                                                                ­                               how I am doing
I continue to pretend
Hermes Varini Jul 2020
Once across a Caledonia dreary, whose Echo,
Amid the Jötnar, was MAN, I wandered hurt and weary,
Until yon Glare, with deadly Rage flaming,
Lo! I beheld, next to the Iron Gates
Of a long-forgotten Ruin named still
After incorruptible Titanium.

A noble, finely engraved feudal Vest,
Under a Luminary invisible, implacable,
Shone thither with a Glare fiercer, methought,
Than that of the rubies at warlike Valhalla,
Amid Walls time-eaten, kingly Banners, and proud Towers,
And dwelt there in melting Titanium.

Deep memories of martial Woe
Like an arrow piercing my *****, and aimed
Thro' the Night with lethal Glare,
No barrier was there to be found
Between my Past yielding and this conquering Robe
With Runes marked deep in Titanium.

Thus I remembered having once graved,
In revered silence and solitary anger,
Into the Glare, within the Hills, upon the Dust,
The Emblem of the OVERMAN,
Which thou may again now see gleaming,
With pride Superhuman, o'er this garb of Titanium.

My Enemy Wraith haunting me no more,
Into a most profane dying hour,
I walked forth, to wear of the Armour of the Glare the worth,
And felt, intensely, from the Zenith of a most fiery Heaven,
The Rays from the Stars imbuing my Very Gore
With blinding, rageful Titanium.

Hereupon, with Cuirass thus worn, I bethought me of boldly ascending,
With heavy Claymore drawn, in a Guard of the Hawk,
At Ultima Thule, of the Bluish Glare, the Hidden Rock,
And at its scorching Crest, with Blade o'er me flashing, widened my gathering Breast,
The Largest Mirror, the Highest Beacon, aye,
Before the wild Blaze molten down in Titanium.
Of this narrative-philosophical poem of mine, as focusing on the dichotomy between man and the antithetical Overman, a semiotic variant exists. The narrator meets at length with a surpassing mirroring force.
Amanda Hawk Jun 2020
the sunlight
finds my
face

and I no
longer
can sleep

how rude
is the
sun

to force
me
to wake

a rowdy
child
tugging at me

so I can
come and play
with them
Gunnika Mehra Jun 2020
Sun
I rest, I rest,
Under the sun.
No way, no way,
It can't burn.
I look up,
It looks down.
The glare, the glare,
I speak out my prayer.
The sun, the sun,
I want to be there.
The grass silky beneath,
As I blindly stare.
Poetic T Apr 2020
Borderline hues shatter upon the
fragmentations
                        of sullen gullied pools..

Where the refraction of utopia shines,
  the *** is deceitful and tarnished.

As every prism of reverence disperses.
                    Heaven is a shard of falsehood
cutting into the sky...

Perceptions see an aura-borealis.
                 But woven with the beauty
is the curse of fallen angels..

For all who stared upon the glare
         were severed from sight...

Dilating upon the sorrow of
           written words etched in eyelids.

The world was beauty, and you blinded it..
       Now we will scratch every word inward.

See the error of your ways, and walk as before.
LC Apr 2020
my mind is the city
that never sleeps.
thoughts roam the streets -
some with circular commutes.
some glare at each other
some smile, uplifting everyone.
despite the chaotic rhythm,
the underlying beat of my heart
determines the pace of the city.
#escapril day 13!
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