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young  emotion
enclosed
in an inexperienced heart
enclosed
in a tired heart
with a  heartbeat
forever young
as a bud
forgot
hidden
in
a withered
fruit
love  and passion .... old people and young people...same feelings... the miracle of love
Christian Bixler Nov 2015
the hearth crackled, the flames spat.
Warmth came from its dancing recesses,
and with it light to greet the shadows.
I curled in front of this ancient thing,
yet newborn through the strength of my
will. And I dozed before the flickering flames,
courting shadows as well as light. And my
heart was glad.
The hearth is the home, the home is the hearth.
rsc Feb 2015
I like to
  kiss your
    liquid
      lovers
        lips
                       ­            dissolving sugar sweet majesty
                                                         ­                                      your highness
        kneeling to the
      queen of
    centuries

I live in first quarter of the moon
  mixing tapes
   to match
                                                           ­                the rhythms of the maiden
        with the
                                                             ­                    melodies of the mother

                                          I will love you in secret

Of it, the state must not know                      Out, the fire must not blow

do
  not
    let
      them
        burn
          me
    ­        alive


            I promise
          to keep
        my commitments
      cataloged and
    separate my
   chastity in one drawer
  my sensuality in
another

                                                     ­                                               I can be both

                                                           ­       I can be both

                                I can live on as an empire

and exist as the city in ruin

I will bear the sword and
  wear the heavy paws
    in the belly of the Colosseum
                                                       ­                             I will sit on the balcony
                                                         ­                         bored and eating grapes
                                                          ­                                               calling out
"Execution!"
Clay Feet Jan 2015
You are the glowing embers in a comforting hearth,
Set ablaze by the murmuring draft of
Caressed anticipation, freed to rise
By caring hands from the core of your flame
To ignite the girth of my imagination.
a warm place to gather
a place of safety
where you huddle
with those you love

i have built a hearth
around the fires of
my heart

i welcome you
in friendship and in love
i ask nothing in return
but merely that you
stay long enough
to rest your weary
heart
This is what I imagine Divine Love to be, an invitation that God makes to all of us.
Natalie Clark Aug 2014
I have lived my life
Trying only to do right.
Here, be home with me.
I am one to find life at the hearth
Hearth of assumed happiness, comfort too
Lost within a haven of all ease, gentle truth
Though I am aware of the consequence
That follows from refusing to truly live
I cannot apply the necessary, most certainly
But there is little in my life of blissful dimness
That would induce this shameful existence
To get out of the hearth, the sanctuary, asylum
Of hope without fear, shame, any living
With patient hands, and caring heart,

a mother's love was shown

in the tender, stubborn saplings,

she loved enough to grow.

She listened to their tearful woes,

she kissed their hurts away;

She offered up the best advice

and tried to show the way.

She taught them well,

and scolded when they failed;

She laughed with them and played with them

and watched them blaze a trail.

She let them fall, she let them choose,

she watched them from the dark;

for a mother's greatest heartache

is watching them depart.

If not for the strength of mothers,

if not for their watchful eyes

the saplings would have shriveled,

curled up,

and died.

So here is to the mothers.

the ones that try their best;

know that we saplings love you,

to this we can attest.

— The End —