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Maria Mitea Jul 2023
a voice whispers:  write, make peace,

writing is the weapon of peace,

face to face, i sit down, i close my eyes as if i am in a duel,
to see nothing, i check
and stretch out my hands, fumble,
i take the pencil as if  pulling the trigger,
i  realize that i could **** myself with it, or resurrect,
fall in love,
i also  can bring  flowers on my grave,

my mother always told us: for everything you want to do and  say in life, you need to trust
you are born because someone trusts you to be born,
you take the  breast in your mouth, you **** milk because someone trusts you to touch the breast,
you start humming, crawling on all fours because you saw the cat, and the cat
trusts you,
you jump with your neck down from the bed, you hit yourself, and you cry but you
say it doesn't hurt because you trust the floor, the mother kisses your bubu,
instantly the river of trust-flows through the blood,
you walk, you run after sparrows, you feel like the biggest man on earth,
and you fly,
fly, like an eagle,
you have so much trust that you start giving it away, on the  left and on the
right, and you don't feel poor, you don't feel stupid either,
the world looks at you, admires you, and wonders how you are so clever and

but, there might come a day when you want to write a poem as if you are
and you don't care, you walk like a blind man forward,
you move,
you do what you have to do,

you cross the street
Sharon Talbot Jun 2023
She ran a boarding house in Boston,
But they used her size to terrorize men
And lead them to the lock-holes.
Or was she a lady clad in black ruffles,
Presented to the Queen in 1844?
Perhaps she was a racehorse
Foaled in Harlem and won a prize.
She had peddled drugs and run a gang
In the chaos of Civil War,
Black Mariah escaped from the darkness
Of Edison’s studio to roam the world,
But in it found herself re-imagined.
They named police wagons after her
It’s said, but no one knows the truth.
Did she cross the battle lines again,
To tread on civil rights?
Or swing the batons in Chicago
And fire rifles at Kent State?
She seems to take time out to charm
Gruff-voiced men who sing her praise.
She prowled the streets of Brixton,
In 1983, with truncheons at her side.
Through gas clouds, dragging men to jail.
Black Mariah is with us still,
Helping to create tyrants and traitors,
To stop the mouths of those who defy
She’s an accessory to the killing.
A riff taken from the slang name for police vans in certain times and areas, especially featured in The Clash song "Guns of Brixton", and alternate meanings, such as a lady who wore black gowns, a racehorse, a boarding house owner. Really a hodge-podge of meangs with emphasis on civil rights violations. I spelled it "Mariah" so it would not be pronounced "Ma-ree-ah"!
Joseph C Ogbonna Jun 2023
Oh sweet Maria, thou art fair;
from thy feet's sole to thy hair.
Nature flawlessly carved thy frame
like a dame of mythical fame.

Let me to thee my will submit,
whilst our magnetic gazes meet.
Let me a sweet serenade sing,
as I to thee fair roses bring.
Maria Mitea Jan 2023
you write and write until you take off onto your own orbit to await your birth,
or love
- face your gods,
obey like a blind man & say your prayer:
thank you, God, thank you for being so good to me
and blessing me with a certain degree of forgetfulness & ignorance
Jim Marchel Dec 2021
Enamorándome de ti
Fue el mejor momento de mi vida
Mejor que cuando nací
Ahora mi alma esta perdida

Eres una suave brisa cálida
¿Quien no te amaria?
Mi vida siempre sera fria
Sin Maria

Estoy aqui ahora
Mi corazón esta roto
Te ves tan increible
A mi lado en esta foto

Mis recuerdos de ti
Arderá brillante
Me enamoré de ti demasiado rápido
Lo siento
Falling for You
It was the best time of my life
Better than when I was born
Now my soul is lost

You are a gentle warm breeze
Who wouldn't love you?
My life will always be cold
Without Maria

I'm here now
My heart is broken
You look so amazing
Next to me in this photo

My memories of you
Will burn bright
I fell in love with you too fast
I'm sorry
She changed the way I see the world. I am still in love with her.

My first try at a poem in another language.
derblue Oct 2021
I  fell with the most unexpected person
I was in awe by the thought of her
I felt giddy and my inner child was giggling
There were freaking dinosaurs in my stomach doing somersaults
Is this what it feels like to be in love and be loved? If not, then I don't want this to end.
For a short period of time that I have been with her still I couldn't mentally grasp why I fell for her. Still looking for reasons but naaah, I mean yeah it would've been nice to know why, but this feeling/s that I have for her right now, I am contented with it and planning to lengthen this, I wouldn't trade this for anything else.
gypssywind Feb 2021
I found myself waiting
for love i already own.
Found myself in every reflection.
No recollection of home.
My heart called my name and this time I recognized.
heavy rains of mother earth
washed away my masks
so i bear no disguise.
ancestors became clearer when i looked inside the mirror
i remember my true beauty
reflecting so pure
i see nothing clearer .
i love myself...
i am love
i am light
i am energy so free and abundant
i am cosmic
i am source
divine creation of masculine and feminine combined
infinite intelligence
wonder and wisdom.
everlasting love, companion to life itself.
"break free, my child"
intuition whispers to me
voice as soft and sweet as sugar cane
no longer a victim of ILLusion and strife
i root myself deep and call back in all my power
so my friend, as you read this, consider it your final hour
what will your bring with you into this new earth?
wake up.
wake up.
wake up.
basil Feb 2021
your mother tongue never needed to distinguish between
house and home
i miss you every day, maria </3
PorcelainTears Jan 2021
my sister—
your love was as soft
as the morning rain,
our conversations
too innocent not to be beautiful
and when we locked our arms
and pressed our ankles together
to walk through a river of puddles,
the world was right,
our dreams, tranquil and endless

PorcelainTears [Anna-Maria]
November 7, 2020
Michael R Burch Feb 2020
Liebes-Lied (“Love Song”)
by Rainer Maria Rilke
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

How can I withhold my soul so that it doesn’t touch yours?
How can I lift mine gently to higher things, alone?
Oh, I would gladly find something lost in the dark
in that inert space that fails to resonate until you vibrate.
There everything that moves us, draws us together like a bow
enticing two taut strings to sing together with a simultaneous voice.
Whose instrument are we becoming together?
Whose, the hands that excite us?
Ah, sweet song!

Original text:


Wie soll ich meine Seele halten, daß
sie nicht an deine rührt? Wie soll ich sie
hinheben über dich zu andern Dingen?
Ach gerne möcht ich sie bei irgendwas
Verlorenem im Dunkel unterbringen
an einer fremden stillen Stelle, die
nicht weiterschwingt, wenn deine Tiefen schwingen.
Doch alles, was uns anrührt, dich und mich,
nimmt uns zusammen wie ein Bogenstrich,
der aus zwei Saiten eine Stimme zieht.
Auf welches Instrument sind wir gespannt?
Und welcher Geiger hat uns in der Hand?
O süßes Lied.

Keywords/Tags: German, translation, Rainer Maria Rilke, love, song, music, soul, vibrate, vibration, dark, space, darkness, instrument, bow, strings, hands, voice
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