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stillhuman Dec 2020
I wish it would cry
Keep company
To this lonely soul

And match its whining
In the obscure void
All surrounding

Water fresh
kissing the soil
Petrichor breathing
through heavy clouds
into flesh
Lungs opening to new air

Souls let the thunder
Speak for them
And they become silent
Diksha Prashar Aug 2020
Don’t want to hear
Them anymore
Whispering of bad odes,
Crushing the positive oath
To live healthy,
Away from all the
Evil belonging,
Follow me
Everywhere I go,
Persuading to lead
The old road,
Self destruction, oblivion
To self love,
Chiming vile verses
Demons lurking
To abduct
My trust
Not free falling,
Old chains rattling
My nerves,
Don’t want to hear
Them anymore
Whispering of bad odes

do read the story from above link and i really hope you guys will show me the same love and support on my blog as I'm provided her.
DET Dec 2019
Rather thee are composed or not
I shall script all the odes....
Because this poet is tie by the tides of hourglass...
And thee under no circumstances wither
For thee carry on my legacy
In that is thee, the ode thee are
So, as a poet I must script....
So, instead of flowers being thrown in my coffin
It shall be odes stumbling down towards my coffin....
December 1, 2019
Copyright © 2019 D.E.T.
All Rights Reserved
valentina Jan 2019
My bed has known
Me in all of my states.
Nobody knows me more than this ship of mine
Where I’ve lied, unclean and unholy
Where I’ve witnessed the violent truths regarding my past my present and my future
Where I would lie awake at the coldest hour
Blankly facing the ceiling
Nobody knows how you comforted me
Oh home of mine
Nobody knows of the times you have wanted me to rest
From violence and kindness coming from the outside
Nobody knows how I have bled on you night after night
How I have given you everything and you have taken everything away from me
Oh peaceful dog,
You licked the tears from my face, unknowing of what you were doing
Not even the guests I have invited to lie on you
To be with me on you
Know the pain I have felt beside you
The faces you gave me as I lie awake in the morning
Feeling dark and hot
Nobody has looked over me the way that you have
Oh mighty circle
Nobody knows it like you do
The feeling of having a tainted soul
How it feels to know you are ****** to hell.
My priest only knows
How it feels to want so bad
Oh dear how I have imagined
To belong to a world that only you and I exist in
With nothing else but me and my ship
Flying aimlessly with no fear
Of death
Or of life
My dear bed
Nobody knows me like you have
I wrote this for my poetry class and it just kind of poured out of me it rly surprised me and might be one of my favorite poems ive written idk
Hannah Beasley Jan 2018
Dear rainbows,
Thank you.
Thank you for showing that out of every storm comes
something so inexplicably beautiful that we often stop all that we are doing to admire you.
Thank you for being a bright light at the end of every struggle.
The day that you don’t shine after a terrible storm is the day that I give up.
Thank you For your every hue.
Larger than life, your bright colors streaming across the sky,
Thank you for being a beacon to all of our allies.
I reach for you and your beauty.
Thank you for being the symbol of an identity I hold so dear
For your colored stripes are ever so often my only hope.
Thank you for giving me strength when I need it most
You tell us, not to give up when life is unfair, to not succumb to our despair
Thank you for being this, Mirage of heaven
The prettiest woman, a reborn Marilyn Monroe
Thank You For I can feel your hands guiding me
Down every bumpy road
Thank you for standing tall
Like paint trickling down from the sky
Thank you for being the bay and meadow
While the clouds fly high above your head
Thank you, for defining all my colors
All the colors of my rainbow eyes
Thank you for your rare kind of beauty
For, heckling the rain
Thank you, for brightening the sky
The vibrant shades of the world
Thank you for cheering me up
Even on the darkest of days
Thank you, because after the world glistens with rain
It's fun to explore what lies beyond your end
b Nov 2017
All things considered
I'm not too big a fan
Of the state I'm in.
Considering I always skip over
The denial part.
I've been at bat for too long
To not know when to take a pitch
And when to take one in the ribs.
Francie Lynch Jan 2017
O indiginous tuber to Peru,
Now in nations' daily stews,
From the Polar South to Timbuktu,
Ranked with rice, wheat and maize,
Oh staple potatoe
You grace our table.

We plant seed spuds,
Red, yellow or brown,
Harvest the new ones,
The remainder mound
To thrive in leisure,
As buried treasure.

Heel the spud *****,
Unearth your trove,
A gatherer's surprise
To woo true love.

We slice, dice and mash,
Roast, deep-fry and bake.
It's not an egg,
It'll never break.

     Medium-rare, please.
     And make mine a baked.
     Oh, and don't forget the butter,
     Oh, and sour-cream, just in case.”

It hasn't got *** appeal,
What you see is true,
But make no mistake,
I swear by what's holy in taste,
It only has eyes for you.

It soothes,
Burns, itches, puffy eyes,
Migraines and headaches.

Make a stamp,
Make silver shine,
Clean your windows with its brine.
And potatoe muffins are simply divine.

When blight strikes,
When crops don't thrive,
Many starve,
Many have died.

So, I raise this toast
To the lofty Tuber,
And I dedicate this Ode,
To the one,
The only:
*Mr. Potatoe,
This bud's for you.
If an urn, why not a potatoe.
A little known potatoe trait, labourers scheduled tater breaks.
I take antimony from your black eyes to write love odes
It makes me to appreciate beauty with all its beauty codes
My life is nothing , it is what helps me to write episodes
Love is in alluring mood to portray its wonderful modes

My love let me take you in eyes to sleep under eyebrows
Your enchanting beauty touches my heart in love rows
Let us sail to eternity with open mast and with all prows
My heart is always busy with you and it never ever avows

Let us be on the road of progress just to be hand in hand
Let me collect all colors of flowers to make sweet garland
My love has its own trend while your beauty its own brand
The moment your beauty has touched me I am not on land

Col Muhammad Khalid Khan
Copyright 2016 Golden Glow
Chara-Ruth Ward Sep 2016
What is it that makes you stand out from the others,
What makes you come before your brothers.
Yellow, green and Blue,
Seem like nothing compared to you.
You tell me when to stop and where to exit.
I use you to highlight things so I don’t forget them.
My school colors are your crimson.
Your color makes my backpack glisten.
How would I live if you were taken away!
No more Red Delicious apples or Red paint!
The world would be bland if you went missing.
So for you to never leave is what I’m wishing.
By Chara Ward ©
Scarlet McCall Sep 2016
Like water, like flowing rivulets,
notes fly from fingers fast on frets.
Slippery sinuous shimmering tones
(complemented by brash bluesy Bones).
Like storm’s thunder and lightning a chord
brings the sky to us on earth—
or is it that we fly , then die until the rebirth
in gentle reverb of a note two octaves higher?
Strange how rain coexists with fire.
Drench us in the cascade born from your desire.
Jeff Beck has a new album out with the British band "Bones."
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