Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Kenneth Gray Dec 2020
Bit by bit
I begin
  To understand it

  And piece by piece
I put the puzzle together,
  Ya see?

For each and every
  One of us are blessed
With life
With love
With blood
  With breath

And each and every
  One of us are stressed
With strife
With hate
With disease
  With death

But, nevertheless
We all have our individual
  calling
Yet some are blind
Some are deaf
Some are deceived
  And some are just stalling

All in all -
I find this spiritual plague
  Quite appalling

For each man
And each woman
Is quite aware
  Of God's longing
His plea
His cry
His desire
  His yearning

For His heart for you
  Is quite passionately burning

Therefore, each and every
One needs to let down their
Guards and open their hearts
Open their ears
Their mind
Their soul
And Their eyes

And submit themselves to the LORD
His plea
His desire
His longing
  His cries

And that's how ALL of us
  Should live our lives
Before we fall
Before we fail
Before we're deceived
  And before we die

This Is the plea
Of a lonely old man -  
  This is his cry
At the end of the day
  I just had to try
Now I bid you farewell,
My good friends
  Now it's time for goodbye

Signed,
A lonely old man
Something I came up with while thinking about stuff on the porch.
Zywa Oct 2020
Are there any saints?

Possibly, they always hide –


like the unicorns.
“Lament for Qu Yuan” (177 BC, Jia Yi)

Collection "Inmost"
Mystic Ink Plus Sep 2020
If I had created
God
I would have
Created One

Formless

Like Air
Like Fire
Like Water
Like Clouds
As above
So below

Vital
Genre: Abstract
Theme: Fundamental
Mystic Ink Plus Jan 2020
Mirage hope
Tears of sincerity
Kiss of death
Genre: Dark || Micro Verse
Theme: Nothing else
Mystic Ink Plus Aug 2019
Survive the time
You will witness
Everything

She sets fire to the rain
Crafts hope, out of scraps
Makes dead, alive

Awakens
The mind
The body
And the soul

If referred
Her deeds
It will be larger than life
And the story
Goes on
Genre: Observational
Theme: Miracle
Igor Goldkind Feb 2019
The measure of suffering is how distant you are from your own happiness.
There is no distance farther than that.
It’s a gap people carry around with them, sometimes oddly, with pride:
‘Look how long-suffering, look how hard working,
Look how good doing I am.’
Small wonder we’re exhausted all of the time.

Because there’s the whole of our lives to account for, to ourselves,
To the you who is listening to this.
Sure, it’s your hole and you’ll sink in it if you want to
But to me, it’s just another drain pipe, a wound for life to drip out of
Everyone can see right through you
Until you find a way to plug that hole yourself.
Marisa Lu Makil Feb 2019
//yoo-ni-verss//
Noun:

I. You are a wonder wrapped in a miracle. Every ebony gasp breeds holiness. Every tincture of time that you hold bursts into purple midnights. Every bright escape another release of your cosmic breath.

II. You rule with satin clouds and shining rain. Your every movement shakes time.

III. You know your greatest magic and will forever prove it to those who rest beneath your raven sky. You are power and grace entwined, you hold on your hands an eternity, and you fully know it's wretched destiny.
I'm trying one of these definition poem thingies. How'd I do?
Jo Swan Nov 2018
In my dreams,
I see a Prince,
His eyes gently glint.
Has his Holiness come?
I cry to him not all is well.
In my loneliness,
passion for life has languish.
Spirit tainted by sinful spell,
I’ve drank the cup of anguish?
Will the heart heal?
His calm silhouette-
caress me with warm zeal.
Heaven and Earth embrace as one.
In pain, I can survive.
Like the radiance of the Sun,
I feel my spirit revive.

With the wind,
the Prince disappears
like pollinated petals.
I implore him to reappear.
I’m a vulnerable child;
afraid to be back in the wild.
His voice whispers
that it is time to awake.
He will not forsake me.
One day when I’ve blossom,
I’m destine to meet him again.
With his holy army,
slanderous shadows will flee.
With the Prince of Peace,
Life’s lamenting will one day cease!

(c) Jo Swan
harley r noire Nov 2018
i see a long line
made of lunatic, inebriate saints—
chanting orisons
with their haloes and white robes—
racing to the sea
screaming and preaching—
exchanging blows
for the blood of the ******—
illuding one another
for the salvation they thirst—
saying, i am one
to ascend the divine nirvana.

am i now a heathen?
for orisons should not pierce the ears—
yet i am dead sick
thus i pray for and on my own—
for the guts to try
ending the hellish havoc.

and when i finally screamed
sets of vile eyes, fangs and weapons—
smiled at me.
this is what happened to my country right now. for this one has a sensitive theme to it, i'll leave it to your own interpretation. written for the first prompt 'Halo' of November Hall of Poetry challenge on LINE app.
Next page