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thispanman Nov 2
I held this thought
Most find troubled
I yelled and fought
The pain only doubled

I held this ideal
That I could love
I fear it never was real
As I push and shove

I held this dream
That I can be happy
Thoughts run like a stream
How life's only ******

I held these close
My heart thumping madly
The pain only rose
I tell, just and sadly
I just want to be held
To be loved
And cherished
I just don't want to be alone anymore
CarolineSD Oct 7
Holiness is there where the druidic
Shadows of the pines rise straight and tall and dark against
The languishing light of day

Fire streaked across the sky
And all the peaks beneath
Graying into the silence of the night

Treading the needles underneath
And how the orange-red remnants of the sun push through the
Empty spaces recessed within the forest's soul,
Motionless bodies of the conifers solemn like
The standing stones of old

And dusk comes in quiet through the timber now

And there is no more hiding,
No more striving and trying,
Just the gentle truth that

We are all dying

And this forest,
Climbing wide across the ravines into the mountains
Holds me without possession

And it would let me go
Like the yellowed leaves that scatter on the earthen floor
Like the last glow of the evening sun
Touching canopies of crimson and gold

And there is this letting go that feels like home.

Like I could reach across this void and hold my mother’s hand
Like these cliffs might drop to the open moorland of the Isles

Where the ghost of my father stands

Like I am pulled back to where I began,

Like the way that it feels

Each time I lay down in your arms.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xaAW75FhDeI
CarolineSD Jul 8
I like to still my heart in the lake,

Turn my face to the turquoise sky
And let each mountain rise along the shorelines and I am

Suspended in weightless space;
A resting place between sunlight and a blacker deep.

I turn my cheek to the caress of the water's
Firm hands that
Permeate my heart with love.  

A wild, alpine forest rises above

And

You are the only one

Whose arms

Around my soul

Will ever  be

Enough.
I love the idea of being held,
The thought of a man wrapping his arms around me,
Protecting me from the world,
The thought that I don't have to do this on my own,
But here I am, on my own.

Not that any of the guys I've dated have been like that,
I was a safe harbor for them,
Them less so for me,
I tried to take care of them,
But I never was a priority,
Never quite important enough to be put first.

All I want is to feel important,
Like I am all he needs,
Like I'm his entire universe,
Like I am all he sees,
And I know that's a lot to ask for,
Unrealistic, really.

Is it unrealistic to ask for flowers?
For no other reason than because he cares,
For him to open doors for me,
To run his fingers through my hair,
For him to kiss me in public,
'Cause I'm his and he's mine,
For him to tell me that he loves me,
And for me to see it in his eyes,
For him to remember little things about me,
Like the story behind my name,
Or for him to open up to me,
So that I can share his pain.

Is it unrealistic to want him to hold me?
And tell me that everything will be alright,
To have a safe harbor that's wholly and completely mine,
For him to be reliable,
My rock in a stormy sea,
For him to be strong,
For him to be strong for me.

Is it unrealistic to want to feel important,
All the time?
To feel safe, and loved, and unafraid,
To stop re-breaking this heart of mine.

All I want, when he wraps his arms around me,
Is to feel like I am home,
To feel like I can face anything,
Cause I'm not facing it alone.

I'm tired of having to be strong,
Tired of feeling so weak,
I need him to be strong,
To be strong for me,
Not all the time,
Just when I'm splintering.

I want him to wrap me in his arms,
And bury his face in my hair,
To hold me in his arms,
Like he needs me the way I need to be there.

I love the idea of being held.
Quarantine has got me touch starved and lonely.
I wanna be held

I wanna be loved

But all I get is silence

And falling stars crashing to the surface
This poem is about wanting love, but getting hurt instead. Hope you guys like it❤️
Bubble
by Michael R. Burch

                Love—
          fragile,    elusive—
     ­ if held         too closely
    cannot              withstand
  the inter                    ruption
of its                              bright,
  unmalleable           ­   tension
    and breaks, disintegrates,
       at the              touch of
           an undiscerning
                   hand.

Originally published by Neovictorian/Cochlea. I believe this is my only "shape" or "shaped" poem. Keywords/Tags: Love, fragile, delicate, bubble, tension, held, breaks, pops, disintegrates, explodes, implodes, hand, touch, harsh, ungentle
I need to be touched and held.
As a human, I need that like
I need oxygen, food and poetry.
It's not ******; it has nothing to
do with a relationship, it just has
to be someone I've known for
a long time and we care about
each other.
I don't want to be accosted or
held by a stranger.
I boxed for a few years, and it
wouldn't bode well for that individual.
This world is brutal, we are dealing
with a pandemic.
Life can be cruel beyond belief.
I need to be touched and held.
I need to feel a heartbeat next to mine.
This life is so fleeting, one minute I'm
five years old burying my goldfish in
the backyard, crying because I don't
understand death and the next
minute 48 years have passed by.
I've buried my Mom, Dad, two
brothers, and over 20 of my
close friends.

When I'm holding someone,
and someone is holding me,
I feel alive and I'm pretty
sure they do too.
As a poet, my senses are
on high alert:
touch, taste, smell etc...
I need to taste the salt from
a gentle kiss on her forehead.
I need to feel the smoothness of
her cheek on my shoulder as we
watch a movie or talk about
distant memories.
I need to feel her smooth feet when
I rub them after she's had a
tumultuous day at work.
This ******* Coronavirus has
got everyone so afraid of
contact and I get it.
But if I die as a direct result of
touching or being touched by
someone that I love...
I can think of much worse
ways to go.
Gitanjali 35
by Rabindranath Tagore
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Where the mind is without fear and the head is held high;
Where knowledge is free;
Where the world has not been divided by narrow domestic walls;
Where words emerge from the depths of truth;
Where tireless striving stretches its arms towards perfection;
Where the clear stream of reason has not been lost amid the dreary desert sands of dead habit;
Where the mind is led forward into ever-widening thought and action;
Into that heaven of freedom, my Father, let my country awake.

Keywords/Tags: Tagore, translation, Hindi, mind, fear, head, held, high, knowledge, free, world, narrow, walls, words, depths, truth, perfection, reason, habit, thought, action, heaven, Father, awake, mrburdu
Dez Mar 30
Kissing girls
Is like diving for pearls.
Some times when you reach for one
They hold on and your done
So much for kissing a girl
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