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Lady Ravenhill Dec 2016
One day, I will live there
and bathe in the shadow of a mountain
with the magic of universe
to rinse the grime of my fears
from my naked skin
Leaving only the crystal clear thoughts
Of chirping birds after a spring rain
And the feeling of belonging
To the divinity of this natural heaven
@ladyofravenhill 12/1/16
Lady Ravenhill Nov 2016
Love is touching souls
I am certain this is true
Scaling snowcapped peaks
Through the blackest ocean trench
To caress the one they seek
I am sure that this is true
For my soul won’t let go of you.
@LadyofRavenhill 11/22/16
Awesome Annie Mar 2015
I feel my clothes catch on jagged rocks, but I mustn't slow my pace. Hands from limbs of unseen trees, slap me in the face.

Exhausted and worn I carry on, boots kick up dirt and mud. Thirsty lips that long for dreams, onward must I trudge.

I have hope tucked in my pocket, and luck strapped to my back. I'm bent yet never broken, no time to count the things I lack.

Monstrous rocks that block my way, they will move to my command. I'm pure strength and determination, in this shell they call a man.
Amanda Patrina Dec 2014
As i run through the mountians
I have nothing on my mind
I close my eyes and breathe in
Feelings the fresh air enter my lungs
The pain and hurt slowly fades away

For nature calms the anxiety
As the sunlight reaches my face
The glow warms my whole body
I have found my nirvana

On a mountain near a waterfall
I watch the water crash against the rocks
It reminds me of all my anguish  
It come slowly but falls fast and hits hard

I close my eyes and feel the wind
It blows against my face
Sending chills down my spine
For I have found my nirvana
And I do not wish to leave
Asa D Bruss Oct 2014
In fields where roses fade as finite flowers should
He watches from his mountain; mindfully morose.
Full of sound and fury; sad and surley.
As if made of wood.
He moveth not as a man might move
rather he gather a stretch of wind
and with it work a while, that he may prove.
He is free and clear, he has not sinned.
Yet lost to in trepidation
and filled for five years or more
he is. The child of every nation,
being but a borrower among the poor.
Carry no comforts nor glee
while whistling workers are whimpering;
their pain, an ease to see.
The game is paved with suffering
and always played so thoughtlessly.
Luke 10
Poetic T Aug 2014
I wept and tears fell on The mountains below,
I cried for what seemed an infinity
What once was barren rock
Over time with each tear that fell,
What was with out, now flowed
Tears became
That was once with out, flourished
From waters first life,
In the oceans, upon land
It grew,
Flew high,
Tears fell upon the land
Nourished life, watched evolve,
What was tears of sadness
Now tears of joy,
For tears had brought forth life
on this planet, we know call earth
precarious words Jun 2014
4 seasons

drops of salt water found their way into our crevices,
you were my best friend
and we forgot the stars,
instead counting every grain of sand on that beach strand.

when it was time for me to leave,
you sang with the waves as back up vocals,
they would bare their teeth every time you uttered the word 'love.'
it was a protest to age but you and i knew
youth had nothing to do with it.

a subtle color change in the foliage appeared
and as the leaves fall,
they made the music of our matrimony.

it was all good and well
but your failures latched on to me
and god, i was 22-
carrying the burden of a 22 year old and your latest tragedies-

the leaves still turned from lush green
to cinnabar and vermillion and ochre and the more brilliant
they became the closer to death they succumbed
following a paradigm resembling our relationship.

when the snow touches the ground
everything is pure- the cold woke me up.
it woke me up as you held me
pinned down
in your luxurious apartment hallway,
where two weeks before i mistook money for monogamy.

and i've never wished fatality on anyone
but i hope you freeze to death.

i met you in the spring,
and here we are, two springs later.
we are watching one another bloom,
we are the honeysuckles, the poppies,
we are reconfiguring ourselves for a season
of growth and renewel,
of quiet grace and goodness.

— The End —