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Pinks and golds,
blues and purples,
So many colours
Of the sky I hadn’t noticed.

Clarity in chaos
Cold sunlight
Thundering silence
Absence of life

The endless days
The boring nights
Filled with meaningless chatter
And petty fights

Nothing matters
Not anymore
It’s just a matter of time
Until we’re all gone.

So take a deep breath
Sing another psalm
Who knows
It could be your swan song.

Or so the fortune tellers
And seers of the world
Would have us believe
When despair takes its toll
And gnaws at our grief.

Faith keeps us moving.
Faith brings us together.
Faith is enough for me to love.
It is enough for me to LIVE.
Nicholas Mar 4
Keeping my calm
like an Islamic
but I don’t read the psalms
I’m watching them drop bombs
like a repeat of Saddam
(a poem for Christina-Taylor Green, who
was born on September 11, 2001 and who
died at age nine, shot to death ...)

Child of 9-11, beloved,
I bring this lily, lay it down
here at your feet, and eiderdown,
and all soft things, for your gentle spirit.
I bring this psalm — I hope you hear it.

Much love I bring — I lay it down
here by your form, which is not you,
but what you left this shell-shocked world
to help us learn what we must do
to save another child like you.

Child of 9-11, I know
you are not here, but watch, afar
from distant stars, where angels rue
the evil things some mortals do.
I also watch; I also rue.

And so I make this pledge and vow:
though I may weep, I will not rest
nor will my pen fail heaven's test
till guns and wars and hate are banned
from every shore, from every land.

Child of 9-11, I grieve
your tender life, cut short ... bereaved,
what can I do, but pledge my life
to saving lives like yours? Belief
in your sweet worth has led me here ...

I give my all: my pen, this tear,
this lily and this eiderdown,
and all soft things my heart can bear;
I bring them to your final bier,
and leave them with my promise, here.


Published by The Flea, The Lyric, Copia Posterous, Elizabeth’s Ramblings, and Fullosia Press

Keywords/Tags: Child, beloved, lily, eiderdown, psalm, shooting, gun, violence, massacres, 9-11, evil, NRA, guns, war, wars, hate, hatred
Megan Hammer Feb 19
In the valley of darkness, I shall not want
Though a hole resides where the heartbeat should be
The vessels still do their work

My lungs decay, black and smoked out
And my organs dry up from strong rums
And the things I hold dear become a desert storm

But I shall not ask for the help of dying trees
Whose fruit, though ripe, would leave me with less leaves
Or perhaps with more than I could bear

No, I stand on the mountains
The mountains we lived in, where the church sits upon the hill
I stand on the mountains and call for him

I call for him
and I know - without science or senses -
That he is near
Tizzop Jan 31
...get between me and god.

Today is a good day.

Desmond Baker Sep 2019
Flooded by eyes of sky blue

Drowning in pleasure don’t attempt to rescue

Drenched by a tempestuous soul

I look for the sun to dry me quickly

But their beacon eyes close

Filling this space now a choking hue

Immortal gloom  

Thunder enables the clouds to release a flood

Drowning in sorrow

Those who were there to rescue have taken shelter

But only one promised to never forsake me

Faithful as he was before

Just as in the days of old

The same yesterday, today, and forevermore
lunademiere Sep 2019
Candle, candle, where you breathe,                                  
may this light of yours succeed.
Candle, candle, bright and pure,                                      
from the flames of hell return.
Candle, candle, where you breathe,                                  
may this flame of yours succeed,
Candle, candle, wise and strong,                                    
bring forth your heavenly perfumes,
cease the wars, cease the injustice,
vanish at once the filth of sinners.
Candle, candle, where you are,                                        
bring forth your light, let it increase.
Candle, candle, bright and strong,                                  
from the depths of hell return,
place the jewels of Heaven on the mouths of all sinners.
Candle, candle, deep allure,                                                  
may the flames of hell adorn,                                            
with the light of Heaven glows,                                        
with the piercing brightness flow.
Mustapha Olokun Jun 2019
I contemplated for minutes,
wondering if the calling was
for letters to, or
letters of.

therefore arriving,
at the true conclusion,
that these experiences
dwell in the realm 'of'

'to', grants the recipients
attention, and fingers their
pool of uncertain interests,
and builds their vanity.

my story about love . .
is a deep fable,
a seemingly infinite path,
by waterfalls and erupting volcanoes.

the wind that came to fix,
the fragments of aqua.
shared the graces on my skin,
and satisfied me for a little.

then, uncertainty of the erupting tip,
makes the path unbalanced.
as treading near the base of its grip,
being burned of heated fragments

I could not go into the water in full,
as it would have drowned me.
and should I find the volcano awakened,
the end's good was unlikely.

I've had women,
charm like water fall drops,
for the same drop to be quenched
by their own eruptions.

I loved, as their love was never certain.
I did, and took the blows of unsatisfied women.
I cried, and wondered why I ever cried at all.
I shared, and was brought in the end, their true self.

The self, that exposes its reality,
when the damage is done.
The self, that gives,
so it can be given more.

I went only into 'her' knowing
the motion of a flutes wind,
the orchestras soft vocals,
and the beating drum.

satisfied her by the trinity.
in an art physically, mentally, and emotionally.
I opened her sacred door and entered in,
as she 'helled' my precious neck as I was within.

her morning's worry,
came before mine.
her lacking seeds,
I planted with love in a small garden.

the growth of a fruit bearing tree,
never came to display,
and what I sought to water in the garden,
she choice to wither away.

I've had women,
claim love on the first day.
I've had women,
take the pain from my heart  . .

and cast it to the brain,
cast it to the health,
cast it to the self,
the esteem, the confidence . .

or the bridge
that connected me to my wealth,
or the fountain,
where there, lied gratifying joy.

played, like with a toy,
and refusing the toy's story.
because I wanted my own,
I wanted the truth.

and the truth will always reveal itself.

of all that could have been,
the joy to have been at all is enough.
what could have been of all,
is much too tough to consider.

the toughness that drills into a soul,
sending them to the gate as
a ghost with a hole.
and what soul of this kind can proceed further?

and for what?
of what could have been?
if you could..
you would have been . . . .

on that path, it seemed infinite.
but evidence suggests nothing is forever.
infinite is the feeling of always,
infinite is the hopelessness, lack of belief in an end.

in that garden, eventually the tree will grow,
and the fruits will be born.
but for the one for which it was planted for,
there is no hope to reap.

and for the one who accepts the fruit,
it would have been so because
they HAVE been, when it was time to grow,
and when it was time to hold.

and from the tree that bore the fruit,
one leaf was taken, and a psalm written.
existing as a letter of what could have been,
to every woman that couldn't.
Corey Mar 2019

At night, my gaze is lifted to your grace.
I sink into my skin, relaxed upon the knowledge
that you are constant.  
Your quiet luminescence lights my way.
Your still movements sway in me,
like the ocean tides to your will.

And yet, when I fall I am not broken.
In me you will always stay.
And when I speak to you I have not spoken,
you know what I had meant to say.

At night, my gaze is lifted to your grace;
it holds me in its embrace.


For the nights that you've abandoned me,
I ask that you see my growing frustration.
My body becomes filled with a rage
that's fueled by an unhealthy obsession.

For in those nights I am weak, brittle;
feeling as if I've lost my balance.
In those nights I am broken, hurting;
on my knees sobbing in your absence.

And in those nights I search for you,
that you'll let your light seep in
But you show me that you never left,
I just chose not to see where you'd been.


You return like eyes opening;
the darkness parting to your beauty.

I'm reminded how well you know me
and that you always knew me.
You knew me when I was at my best,
and when I'd fallen to my worst.
You showed me there's safety in stars
and picked me up when my body was hurt.

I am thankful for your constant grace,
your willingness to effortlessly forgive;
your careful happiness that shines through me
and will continue to shine as long as I live.
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