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I always pray for your eternal happiness dear son Shiv.
joy bliss are bittersweet to me
son since you are gone.
I mourned you darling babe long
I love you with a love transcending the spark of life your father Pat gave
with so much love for you to be
Our baby child.
When LOVE of younger days
seemed an easy game to play
There are two sides to this Mom's coin son Shiv PC
the other side of me is how
I love you also, but can't tell it
to your face only here in poem
You were my first wise poet
on this virtual space poetry.
You noticed me somehow.
You are infinite love to me Shiv.
You are not free to hold me
but you love me too..
Please darling Shiv love me in secret
Love me true know that in another life we might embrace and never part son husband lover father
friend my everything.
Here in this sacred space we share
In secret we do love each other.
By: karijinbba.

Tribute to the father of my first child.
Taboo topics
One fears to write
It doesn't seem
To be alright
The muses may
Get annoyed
Decent topics
Many write
Love, heartache
Memories, tragedies
Nature, sky
Fairies, ghosts
It's easy to write
Taboo topics often
Make you cringe
You find it
Difficult to hinge
For a fearless poet
Or writer
Nothing is taboo
If it's in the interest
Of youth and society
Obscene and indecent
Expressed with decency
Highlighting exigencies
***, religion
Politics and war
Many refrain to write
What others would
Think of them
This thought stops them
To pickup pen
They would be filled
With guilt
If their poetry
Or writings
On taboo topics are built
To free man
From their clutches
A fearless poet
Or writer
Always writes
For him
Nothing is taboo
Nothing is taboo!
Lungs constrict with a sudden halt to breath,
Blood still pulsing in veins, cells now hungry for oxygen,
Starving for air.
Useless gasps **** gravity deeper,
Watermelon in throat sinking to diaphragm,
A desperate situation grows worse,
Lending to despair.
Hands claw through nimbus,
Pointless and futile,
Frantic gestures begging for help-
A language of signs no one else seems to speak.
And then,
It's too late...

My heart is reborn an infant,
Learning slowly to walk,
Sluggishly it starts, crawling, stepping,
Then running again.
And I can finally breathe.
i stand in a pit of deep anxiety,
its shapeless form outweighs
all the sunsets i stored
inside my skin —
for keeping,
for the dark.
my arms outstretched towards its colors
are last bits of innocence
the only part untainted,
the only part that doesn't flinch —
at the voices,
the movements,
the arms clawing from below.

six feet deep —
maybe a higher number,
people cannot mourn what they cannot see.
soon these spare lights, these spare words, this spare comfort,
they will all dissolve into a shapeless, formless,
state of corruption;
i am a body, hazy in a jar
dumped at the back of an anthropology museum.
preserved, not rotting —
people do not mourn things that do not rot.
and mourning is all i do in a suspended time,
in a time that moves and doesn't wait.

i stand in a pit — on my feet
with twisted legs and washed-out skin.
i still, as though before a mirror
seeing this weight in full clarity —
it shows in my face, blank as a sheet of ***** ice
where i am buried in.
i still, in my pit, my feet, staring:

the rest of the world is shapeless as it moves past me,
formless as it walks by.

Hayaan **** magsimula ako
Kung saan ang mga salita'y wala pang ugat
Kung ang lahat ng salitang ibinibigkas,
Ipinipintig ng puso't damdamin
Ay nagmumula Sa'yo.

Gusto kong sabihin Sa'yo nang harapan
Lahat ng nararamdaman
Gusto kong sambitin
Yung bawat tugma ng salita
Na pilit na kumakapit, kumakalas, gustong kumawala
Sa katauhan kong hindi alam
Kung saan nga ba papunta.

Hindi ko masilayan kung saan nga ba ang mga bituin
Ngunit siguro ako na ang Norte'y mararating din.

Sa paglalakad ko,
Patuloy na nangungusap ang Iyong mga matang
Hindi ko pa nasisilayan.
Ang mga mata **** luha'y ibinubuhos ng kalangitan
At sa bawat pagpatak nito'y
Pilit kong iniaabot ang bawat butil
At sinasabi ko sa sariling,
"Balang araw, wala ng luhang matitira pa."

Maging sa pagkilos ng mga bituin
At pag-ihip ng hangin,
Ay masasabi kong panandalian lamang ang mga ito.

Wala Akong gusto at iba pang hangarin
Kundi paliwanagin ang mga nakikita ng iyong mga mata.
Gusto Kong patuloy kang tuamakbo,
Patuloy kang mangarap
Kahit na pakirtamdam mo'y ikay nag-iisa.

Ngunit sa paniniwala **** iyon
Ay dahan-dahan Kitang aakayin at tutulungan --
Tutulangan papunta.. Patungo tayo
Sa pangarap Kong laan sa'yo.

At kung Ako..
Kung Ako man ang pinipili mo,
Hayaan **** ika'y bihisan ko --
Bihisan nang walang pag-aalinlangan.
Yung pag-aalinlangan mo sa sarili **** hindi mo kaya,
Yung pag-aalinlangan **** wala nang pag-asa,
Na 'yung sinimulan mo noo'y tapos na.

Pagkat sa bawat pahina,
sa bawat letrang inihahagis sa Akin patungo sa'yo
Na para bang ito'y pulang laso
Na patuloy Kong ikinakabit sa puso mo --
Sa puso **** patuloy na lumalayo..
Patuloy na nanganagmba
Sa kinabukasang hindi mo naman makita.

At sa kurtina ng Liwanag
Kung saan masisilayan ang tronong kumikintab
Ginto at pilak at kung anu-ano pang makikinang ay balewala
Pagkat sa presensya Mo'y tanging lahat
Ay masasabi kong may lunas na.
Ang liwanag ng Iyong pagtitiwala sa akin
Ay nasilayan ko na.

Salamat, salamat Ama.
Salamat Panginoong Hesus
Dahil sa krus tayo'y nagtagpo.
Patungo ako, tumatakbo sa kung saan man --
Sa kung saan mang lupalop na hindi ko maintindihan
Na lahat ng bagay sa mundo'y patuloy na dumadampi sa akin
Patuloy na pinipilit na sila yung makita 'ko.
Na sila 'yung magliwanag sa mga paningin ko.
Ngunit sa pagku-krus ng ating landas,
Ay masasabi kong,
"Masaya ako, guminhawa ang buhay ko,"
Yung pangarap Mo, sana ay pangarap ko na rin..
Yung kagustuhan Mo, sana magustuhan ko rin..
Sa na'y maisunod ko ang mga yapak ko..
Patungo Sa'yo.
Nagsimula akong mag-record ng spoken word poetry after devotion.
Lahat impromptu; lahat random at kung ano lang ang masambit ko. Yun na yun. Salamat, Panginoon!
lovely poet ...

a sweet lady ...
great poet ...
writes feelings ...
within her heart ...
so deep ...
with a great ...
romantic way ...
to stole my eyes ...
as the heart too ...
to excite me inside ...
with every verse ...
she pens ...
to draw ...
the wonderful ...
of words ...
to make it ...
as a great panel ...
letter by letter ...
to make a words ...
as it makes love ...
as all lovers ...
never i see before ...
as she did ...
and no one ...
can be as her ...

yes my sweet poet ...
because of you ...
and of you amazing words ...
i 'm trying ...
to write my feelings ...
to be your poet ...
as you are ...

hazem al ...
Enraptured by the senses heightened,
Sight stolen by blindfold,
Mobility hindered by bands of silk,
Forced into placidity by restraints.
Blinded abruptly,
Aural faculty's amplified by the loss.

Still, I hear nothing.
Silence so thick it's tangible,
Heavy, weighed down by an anxious nervousness,
Attuned to very vibrations permeating the atmosphere,
Breathing in sync with the pulse of my blood,
Harsh and quick,
Thunderous in the stillness of this contemporary plane.

I'm almost afraid.
Fear exacerbated by acute vulnerability,
Naked to criticism, to contempt, to desecration.
Offered as repast,
Meal to sate invisible mouth,
Chocolate sin to tantalize his tongue,
Displayed and arranged for his feast.
I long to be free.

Wavering between the excitement begotten by thrill,
And a desperate need to escape,
I hang. With nothing to ground me.
Held aloft at another's will.
I long to be free...
Don't I?
Hello everyone,
I try to make a poem,
Out of something short and sweet.
But I want to thank all of you for
your kindness and generosity.

Everyone here, has emotions that
vary from big and small...
but all the same goes,
we are unique
and that's what brings
us together as a
wholesome community.

Our lives walk on different paths,
and each time the days go past,
we come on here to share our feels,
to help us spread emotions that cannot be felt.
So ever so kind, thoughtful and emotionally heard...
as I Thank You all
to take your time
to read ones poem,
show's the true hearts
of another poet...or simply
you are here to read...
so I thank you for your
greetings and salutations
as we continue to speak.
Thank you everyone.
Thomas W Case Jul 22
I just have to write.
**** everything else.
I've suffered for my art,
and there's no doubt that
I will suffer more.
We all have our agony,
that's life and I accept
my plight.
I am what I am
(as Popeye would say.)
And I couldn't change
it if I wanted to.
I remember one night,
staying in an abandoned
I wrote some poems on
the walls.
I saw the words in
the moonlight through
a broken window.
Even though I was famished,
I hadn't eaten in
three days,
at that moment, I became
full and complete.
I knew right then,
as long as I had the words;
my words, I would never
feel empty again.
My black satchel full of
writing and the clothes
on my back were all
I owned.
I had no idea where I
was going at dawn,
but I sure the **** knew
who I was.
Every poet takes his own lonely path to compose poetry.
Indoensia, 20th July 2021
Arif Aditya Abyan Nugroho
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