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Maria Etre Dec 2018
When there's so much
love locked in my ribcage
I only wish God
grants mercy
to those who shall receive it

For my tsunami of emotions
will shake
the loneliest of islands
an earthquake of beats
will beat life into the lifeless
and love.. oh love
will melt the
frost off
your
chest
and
the
dust
off
your
smile
Salmabanu Hatim Nov 2018
God fashioned us with love and care,
HIS masterpiece.
HE chose a  special bone that protects man's life,
The ribcage that protects the heart and lungs,
Man's heart, the centre of His being,
Man's lungs that hold the breadth of his life.
From the rib, HE lovingly and patiently shaped and modelled us.
Created us perfectly and beautifully,
Gave us the characteristics of the rib,
Strong, yet delicate and fragile.
HE chose well,
Not the bone from man's feet,
To be under him
Not the bone from the head,
To be above him,
But, from the bone beside him,
To be held close by his side,
And like the ribcage to protect and support him.
You are HIS perfect form,
HIS beloved Angel.
You are what Adam and man experience of HIM,
HIS holiness, strength,purity and love.
Man is HIS image,
You are HIS emotions,
Together man and woman are totality of HIM.
Kee Oct 2018
poking at his rib cage
i thought of all of the wonderful times
ive spent with him
not knowing that this would be my last time poking his rib cage
i smiled and laughed in his face
he loved me the way i loved me
or so i thought
and the betrayal finally set in
when the messages stopped flowing in
and the block on all of social media shocked me as well
until my friend had shown that while you were studying abroad
you were going steady with a beautiful french girl
MawaLin Sep 2018
she is your silken stream of thought
a delicate knot braided firmly
around your side
never to be united

"she was made from your rib"
"she was made from your rib"
That dormant feeling of insecurity arose,
when travel journal got ****** adjacent
     to my tattered (holey tattooed) clothes
while I knew with crossed eyes

     aroused anger from peaceful doze
my younger sister felt about her
     globe trotting exploits, an over expose
jour ever since voyaging out on her own

     after graduating top of her class
     where mine hatred glows
indirectly snidely sneering
     at ma dough less brother hoboes

(a 1979 Methacton High School alumni),
     unanimously chosen valedictorian
     dressed in Calvin Klein
     Harris tweed, couture

     and silk ***** hose
like me prolonging, promoting
     on par with quasi staff sergeant, who knows
artful disciplinarian gingerly launching
     Cider House rules,

     asper formerly commanding G.I. Joes
     and pronouncing, predilection
     exhaling natural highs no lows
traveling solo, with surviving Wilburys,

     or just mows
zing nonchalantly
     (though a foreigner) with swarthy skin color
     easily camouflaging as civilian
     all points on the compass,

     where minute needle doth nose
upon returning home (being honorably feted
     at once glorious estate of Glen Elm,
     where she did propose

to the Lord Taylor (swiftly), which location
     situated at 324 Level Road, Collegeville,
     Pennsylvania 19426),
     thence a great huzzah a rose

an immediate nauseousness welled
     within from me head tummy smelly toes
I did not want to here, or see any details,
     which would accentuate personal woes

popping, snapping, and smarting,
     and slapping skin raw tib bits,
     ache'n to yanked strings
     of mama's heirloom yo-yos!

Poet Script:

trials and tribulations,
     visited upon head of young
concocted ("FAKE") gusty and gutsy
     kid sister enterprising ingenue,

     christened easy on the tongue
Sharodd (not her real name),
     to top off talents sung
like a professional opera singer, which rung

a shiver along small hairs of spine did tingle
heard all the way to Lake Woebegone
where bachelor farmers did mingle

every Christmas, a decreasing
     number donned Kris Kringle
hit with blitzkrieg of yawping brats
     hoof pranced to bell weather jingle!
iamtheavatar Mar 2017
It is as they say:
The heart was bigger than
it used to be; and the rib
that was taken away
is yet to be found.

**iamthe_avatar ©2017
A poem for love.
Made with Creative Writer app.
AfterImage Aug 2016
My breath is caught.
There's a reason they call it a rib cage.
reply to Sophia The Local Dream's "My bones" http://hellopoetry.com/poem/1747078/my-bones/
SassyJ Mar 2016
Here is my rib have it and hold it
Close by the bench on the river way
Embrace it in your silenced thoughts

Revolve with it in your wonders
Your wanderings beautifully stroked
A ****** mesmerising my insides

An exquisite calm seed contemplating
A leap to a spring, the oozing elixir
Drink the portion of life and inspiration

Ohh ....your lips, they drool with honey
Your mouth sealed on our magical kiss
My all on yours, my waves voyaging

The trajectory of longevity, away and near
Within the casted redemption of heroes
A  halo, an awe standing in brilliant beauty
Miss Clofullia Oct 2015
If I ever forget to be afraid,
please break all my windows
and leave me behind,
in joyful sadness.

There’s no time
to plan our future!
the past really keeps us busy.
Please go!

Roll my head in duct tape and
take me to the natural park of your rib.
YOU gotta invent me now.
I think it’s only fair!
Just return the bible favor and let’s get it over with.

There’s no time to change our minds –
everything’s happenin’ so fast
and we fall in love with ourselves so **** slow.
I wanna run.

It seems that no one knows what they want,
Night becomes day and day becomes a monkey.
There’s nothing here for us anymore.
We used science to invent God and
God to invent hope
and even more science to fight God and
more gods to **** people's brains
and then more science and prayers and
miracles don’t exist anymore!

They’re only wars and
people running from people.

One might think that we just
don’t know what we want.
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