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Kathleen M Jul 2016
Guthrie is a man made of garbage
His dreams they rot and leak
He has banana peel hair
Hes got old martini olive eyes
But did you see him before the light died
Years ago
Way back to a time when charm and wit flowed freely from his mouth
His tongue a silver spoon
His dealing hand like a golden talon
Tryna ***** the light out
His feet the vehicle taking him to paradise
He says "you only live once, better live the burning life."
Nelize Jun 2016
when they see this steadfast tree
rising up with strength and spree
trees that see this then realize
but choose to hush and wave their lies
with moving arms and gossip leaves
they choose to blind themselves with ease
but I, this steadfast tree, can not defy
the Blessing descending from the Sky
to honor loneliness and pain
and reward the life I gain
through perseverance and visions
purpose driven through regions.
The Olive tree is a remarkable symbol within the Bible. I made a painting and was inspired to write about it as well. How our lives and the perseverance we have will reward us and honor God one day!
Leal Knowone Apr 2016
Well oiled lamp shades
Whispering lust degrades
Frog legs & undesirables
Tree tops & mountain springs

I will get to enter you now
Finger tips brush olive skin
Wetting dry lips w/ moist tongues
Loom weaved young silk sin  

Carried away to a foreign place
Warmth & comfort known for style
Never a urge to alter this space
This blissful plain of existence

Well oiled I slip
I should have seen this
Crumbling beneath me
Pushed away lost grip

I will travel trough you soon
Blissful moon breaking into
I will travel through you soon
Was this always I wanted to do?

Slimy fingers grasping at altered existence
Persistence warmth longing stars from eyes
knuckles cracking down to get what they need
No resistance, it is done, what was replaced by lies?

Warm sweet clammy skin  
Was it really just a dream?
Did I flashblack from times mind
Screaming love, lust sins
Jellyfish Sep 2015
Why am I still thinking about this, mysterious boy?
Coming into the kitchen,
slightly beyond hungry,
tremendous, happy
excitement fills me.

There is still something
left in the house to eat.
Pasta.

Opening the fridge, the little
green army of boxes
smiles back at me.
"We're still here! And so are
the sea salt, and the olive oil,
and the peanut butter!"

Never had peanut butter pasta?
You're missing something!
(A sense of humour keeps me from taking my work, and my life, too seriously:)
©Elisa Maria Argiro
Àŧùl Jul 2015
I've had my breakfast,
Still I'm so much hungry,
Only 'cause of her, I guess!

I've not talked to her,
She's the only hunger I've,
Both in my days & my nights.

I've liked her flavour,
Flavoured it is like olives,
Her voice is my final dessert.
A morning poem for my enamorata.

My HP Poem #892
©Atul Kaushal
Luis Mdáhuar Jun 2015
She resembles a make believe song
As if my sorrow for the staircases
Of the ocean
Blue because the nymph stretches
Around the ring of perfection
When the world was as dull as a sink
When the sky looked like a pillow
Trembling behind the doors of ***
As if the leggs weren't enough
To ask for a second meal
Then
The hand cuts the melancholy pear
Swift and shinning pear
Before the branch broke in half
K Balachandran Mar 2015
An olive branch, hurriedly raised,
sparsely leaved, sans any grace
sadly a belated thought she had,
a wingless bird's attempt to soar,
a withered symbol of an inept pair's
egomaniacal overdrive, a betrayal
in the name of a love lost it's soul
prickly floats down, as he watches
it swirls and turns on the turgid flow
a storm water drain keeps no memories.

Along with it a love, utterly vapid
too goes down, breathing it's last.
Mohammad Skati Jan 2015
All olive trees are pretty ,great,and                                                                         Wonderful anywhere and everywhere ...                                                               We get green or black olives from that                                                                   That blessed tree anytime ...                                                                                    That long-lived tree symbolizes peace                                                                    And love ...                                                                                                                Deep-rooted olive-tree describes itself                                                                    By itself to us ...                                                                                                         Any olive-tree holds tightly in the ground                                                             Just to be only ....
She was in a panic; her husband was dead,
while the fear of dread had filled her head.

The local creditor wanted to enslave her sons;
she desired to keep her family from being undone.

She observed the seriousness of her situation
and sought the prophet for an inspired solution.

In their meeting, Elisha asked about her resources,
to determine a course of action, for him to endorse.

“With my spouse gone, my finances have been despoiled;
all that is left, is but a small container of oil.”

“Listen carefully my sister, and I’ll instruct you
with the needed wisdom, for your divine break-through.

Seek out your neighbors, for many, empty pots and jars;
be diligent in your search, with friends, near and far.

Once you have completed your first task of collection,
lock yourselves inside, with the jars in your possession.

Then take your original vial of olive oil and begin to pour,
filling each, empty vessel, behind the safety of your door.

For once you start, you will see the blessings of God flow,
according to your level of faith, His grace He will bestow.”

One at a time, she filled a cleaned vessel and set it aside;
when she was finished, her and her family were teary-eyed.

Upon further instruction, she sold the oil, paid her debts,
and was thankful, that their future needs were… completely met.
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Author Notes:

Loosely based on:
2 Kings 4:1-7

Learn more about me and my poetry at:
http://amzn.to/1ffo9YZ

By Joseph J. Breunig 3rd, © 2013, All rights reserved.

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