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Where Shelter Jun 12
majestic adjectives
of contrary harmonies,
adverbs in adversity
that modify our satisfactions,
gut punch our eyes,
scramble the taste buds,
now inoperable,
incapacitated to distinguish
what is disturbed -
what is sweet -
what is impossible.
my days ending is
nearer to my god than thee,
the crumblings of
what I’ve got left

stale panko crumbs,
here come they in
1000 radium-tipped
projectiles of
serious humorous
self-destruction,
gifted to you!
my few
itinerant followers
peddlers brave enough
to offer shelter,
to follow me
into the deeps of
radioactive incomprehension,
of no particular disorders
a thousand times

bless you
richly, eachly,
name announced, pronounced,
we are all proper nouns.
Lance-Lot
by Michael R. Burch

Preposterous bird!
Inelegant! Absurd!

Until the great & mighty heron
brandishes his fearsome sword.

I wrote this poem for a great blue heron who visits a pond that I pass on my daily walks — a truly majestic bird and the ultimate spear-fisher.
Euphrosyne Mar 3
Look at the beauty in her eyes,
a glow that shines like the sunrise.
Her smile opens up the cloudy skies,
her laughter delights butterflies.
The ocean greets her as she passes by.
Her gorgeous toes leave their mark, saying goodbye.

Gentle breeze through her hair,
she walks elegantly while astonished eyes all stare.
Rosy cheeks cover her face.
A flower-child blossoms, kindly accepting embrace.
She is a thorn-less rose without compare.
She is the love my heart will forever endear.
No words for explanation because you're majestic and I expressed well for me why you are majestic. Hope you understand. Again, this is for you Diane.
Aneesh H Jan 31
Be like the Ocean - majestic, serene, resilient;
Accepting all, rejecting none.

Calm, Vast, Ageless, Timeless, Guileless:
Unto that source where all rivers become One.
The majesty and calm of the ocean has had a humbling effect on me,  each time I witnessed the ocean.  

It is said that the ocean is the true source of all rivers.  All major human settlements right from Egyptian, Indus Valley Civilization were borne on river banks. Thus,  rivers have sustained humanity since forever.

The source of all rivers,  it is said by the learned, in reality,  is the ocean: the ocean might also be their destination.  

I dream of a day when our hearts become as large as that of the ocean,  free of discrimination and deceit,  full of acceptance with no exception.
Aneesh H Jan 31
What unspoken grief
Have you hid in your depths?
What reply do you seek
That, you visit the shore
as a recurrent wave, incessantly?

What is it that you look for?
Bowing down your mighty self
To a shallow wave that wets my feet
And the sand underneath

You roar in fulsome furore
Yet grieve in silence
I cannot fathom
The depth of thy grief-
You are borne out of your own tears
The ocean is majestic, serene. It is also deep that we don't truly know what it has hid in its depths. Metaphorically, I imagined the sea (or ocean, I am using it interchangeably) to be a living organism, nurturing numerous beings, and one without bounds. But, what feelings would an ocean or a sea have. Did it hold a lot of anguish inside, or was calm on the inside as it did show outside? Would an ocean cry to show its grief? Would its tears be distinguishable from its being? Would we be able to see, if it cries?
n jacob Sep 2019
Have you ever had that moment?
You’re standing on the mountain peak, for that one moment.

For that one moment, I can almost hear angels singing,
I can see the true beauty.

And it isn’t just the vast sky above me dotted with clouds,
It isn’t just a waterfall, or a desert scene of hot white rock,
Or majestic tress standing tall as to say, “I am”.
Or the stars coming together with their mother moon to almost dance in the twilight,
And say, “I am here, and so are you, and this is IT.”

It isn’t just as if I’m walking, down a long dirt path,
Lined with fireflies, and the sweet breeze accompanying me like
An old friend that I never met but somehow know.

It’s something to do with the birds chatter, and the child’s laugh,
The bliss of some sort of innocence, a lack of need for things
That I can have, but don’t bring me above the mortal, material, mundane.

No real understandable words, nothing really sets it off,
But it goes, as a shooting, pure assemblage
But its followed by deep chills, and some surrenderance upward.
Some serene, almost lonesomeness,
Yet accompanied by all the souls of the world.

I’m not self, but everything,
For one fraction of timelessness

and it’s almost like it all makes sense
It's set off by the scene of nature, and brings a split second of chills and unified peace.
Lu Aug 2019
Poets are people,
who can express their thoughts and emotions,
through words, in the most beautiful way.
ogdiddynash Jul 2019
preface.  
majestic adjectives of contrary harmonies,
adverbs in adversity that modify our satisfactions,
gut punch our eyes, scramble the taste buds,
now inoperable, incapacitated to distinguish
what is disturbed - what is sweet - what is impossible.
my days ending is nearer to my god than thee,
the crumblings of what I’ve got left,
stale panko crumbs,
here come they in 1000 radium-tipped projectiles of
serious humorous self-destruction,
gifted to you few itinerant followers
brave enough to follow me into the deeps of
radioactive incomprehension,
in no particular disorders
a thousand times
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