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Malia Apr 22
I’ve got a friend who has
Words like a drum,
Words like a drum,
Words like a drum.

You’ll feel it pass through you
With a heart-beating thrum,
Raindrops’ pitter patter echo
All she has done.

I’ve got a friend who has
Words that come down,
Heavy like leaden-footed
Giants abound.

She’ll take your breath away
And you’ll feel it in your bones,
It shakes down the mountains
Wherever she goes.

I’ve got a friend whose words
Land like a punch.
Staccato but it always hurts
Far too much.

She fights every battle
Like it’ll make her enough
For words filled with love
While hers are cold to the touch.
Heidi Franke Apr 13
A mountain from a range,
Of such everlasting granite.
Carved over ages,
Shook from under footing
Like statues who will
Not wilt or crumble
Only to manifest
Into the space around it
Reminding me that as weak
As I feel, Inside of me is a similar
Persistence that won't be moved
By the capricious whim of man and imbecilic masses who follow.
I will seize your sharp shank and excavators trying to make me into something I am not.
I am a woman with equal rights
And dignity far beyond your pompous attempts to roil this robust range down. Your false statues will crumble when the mirror knocks at your midnight door. Here, look at yourself.
Abortion is healthcare. Women's rights are human rights. Keep abortion legal.

I hear the slow whisper of the air I breathe —
And then, I breathe in the Heaven’s atmosphere.
You call me in a different kind of peace,
An elevation where I had never climb up yet.

I see the beauty that I once forgotten —
Even the joy that sprouts within me…
The pressure of this world will no longer drag me
To the depths of where I’m not supposed to be.

I am more than myself
Coz there’s greatness in me.
And it’s You who see the value
Of my real identity.

You chose me
Even before I began to had my eyes on You —
That blazing fire that met the hunger of my soul,
And so I began to thirst for more of You.

You gave me purpose
In this dying generation…
My flesh decays with the worldly desire
And even my bones will not enter
The rest and the Place that my Spirit longs for.

There’s a gift You give —
A fresh start with Heaven’s dew.
As the rays of the sun kiss my skin,
And I will radiate as the morning does —
To radiate from inside out.
Waking up, there’s a Rhema in my head, “ New Dew.”

*It’s something resembling dew in purity, freshness, or power to refresh.

Hosea 13:3
Therefore they will be like the morning mist, and like the dew that passes away early, like the chaff that is driven with the whirlwind out of the threshing floor, and like the smoke out of the chimney.

The miraculously refreshing and reviving effect of dew upon the plants in the Holy Land prompted Isaiah to use it as a figure of resurrection (see Isaiah 26:19) and Hosea to use it as a figure of repentance (see Hosea 14:4–5).

Proverbs 3:19-20
The Lord by wisdom founded the earth,
By understanding He established the heavens.
By His knowledge the deeps were broken up
And the skies drip with dew.

Deuteronomy 32:2
“Let my teaching drop as the rain,
My speech distill as the dew,
As the droplets on the fresh grass
And as the showers on the herb.

Hosea 14:5
I will be like the dew to Israel;
He will blossom like the lily,
And he will take root like the cedars of Lebanon.

Psalm 110:3
Your people will volunteer freely in the day of Your power;
In holy array, from the womb of the dawn,
Your youth are to You as the dew.

Genesis 27:28
Now may God give you of the dew of heaven,
And of the fatness of the earth,
And an abundance of grain and new wine;
Josephine Wild Sep 2023
matter who
reaches the top
of the mountain first
because eventually we
will all be buried beneath it.
We're just racing towards death.
If you're always trying to reach the top,
you never really get there. There will always
be another peak to climb, and you can't stay above
tree line forever. Also, the hail storm in the valley won't
last forever. So you hunker down and ride it out. Finally, if the
journey is the destination, you'll always be on top of the mountain.
Reflection from mountain running and life.
halfmoonprxnce Jun 2023
Greenery full of life
sits atop hills
beneath a moody grey sky
lush shrubs, bushes, trees
a sight lusted over
by people like me
a guilty pleasure
for those from Michigan suburbs
stationery, observing humans
the fast moving traffic below
semis rushing to make deliveries
people getting to jobs they hate
or don't mind
in outfits they aren't comfortable wearing
road rage
accidents on the highway
houses sit atop them
steep backyards
even they wonder
why anyone would live there
people can fall into traffic
their steepness is not something they can help
flights flying overhead
humans making it to events
thinking they are so important
living a life of privilege and ability
nature is peaceful, kind
unbothered, it's number one hobby:
Meaning: While driving in California, I saw beautiful mountains. They're everywhere. Covered with trees, bushes, shrubs, dead grass or what looks like hay, steep peaks and deep dips. There is a specific beauty in mountains. We don't have any in the suburbs where I live, so it's a treat to see them every now and then. Mindfully watching nature is something that I have gotten myself accustomed to. There is something beautiful and peaceful about getting lost in observing nature; the colors, textures, shapes, plants... It is simply gorgeous. The word "scenic" is the most basic word you can use to describe it. It feels like you are lost in something else. A sight is more special to absorb through the eyes rather than take a picture or see through a screen. This piece of writing is about mountains and hills and their existence-- their observations of human activities while they remain stationery. It highlights how nature simply exists, while observing the hustle, bustle, and struggle that humans face in their day to day life.
Lit by nature,
a flame of beauty

burning fiery
in her eyes.

Glowing like
mountains sunrise.
and calm
like lilly of
the valley
beside spring.
Modeling silky
Making my bell 🛎 ring.
Rainbow 🌈 worship such allurment, can really
make carnivores
easily feed on grass.

Beautiful creature,
perfect nature.
Mystery girl intrigue
Zywa Feb 2023
High in the mountains:

the silence, the absence, most --

of all of myself.
Story "Edith Wengler" (2020, Jens Christian Grøndahl)

Collection "Inmost"
Michael R Burch Jan 2023
The Drawer of Mermaids
by Michael R. Burch

This poem is dedicated to Alina Karimova, who was born with severely deformed legs and five fingers missing. Alina loves to draw mermaids and believes her fingers will eventually grow out.

Although I am only four years old,
they say that I have an old soul.
I must have been born long, long ago,
here, where the eerie mountains glow
at night, in the Urals.

A madman named Geiger has cursed these slopes;
now, shut in at night, the emphatic ticking
fills us with dread.
(Still, my momma hopes
that I will soon walk with my new legs.)

It’s not so much legs as the fingers I miss,
drawing the mermaids under the ledges.
(Observing, Papa will kiss me
in all his distracted joy;
but why does he cry?)

And there is a boy
who whispers my name.
Then I am not lame;
for I leap, and I follow.
(G’amma brings a wiseman who says

our infirmities are ours, not God’s,
that someday a beautiful Child
will return from the stars,
and then my new fingers will grow
if only I trust Him; and so

I am preparing to meet Him, to go,
should He care to receive me.)

Keywords/Tags: mermaid, mermaids, child, children, childhood, Urals, Ural Mountains, soul, soulmate, radiation
nick armbrister Nov 2022
San Mateo ******* Dump
What was it like when the shooting started?
What was it really like?

How did it sound from where we were stood
Way back then now a ******* dump
But then hills valleys trees grass
Enemy positions a battle ground

Where such killing wounding history
How did it sound when the shooting started?
San Mateo Landfill atop Shotgun Road

Now full of ******* back then full of war
If we listen can we hear the shots shouts
Sounds of war killing death silence…
SELL OUT Nick Armbrister new book out soon
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