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Jason May 2021
When one's life has hit rock bottom
At the ripe old age of nineteen
When the apple of life has gone rotten
And hopeful plans wither to faded dreams

When one's confidence is shot
And one's hope has slowly waned
When one's faith in love is all but lost
And one's self-esteem's been drained

When one's spent their life to overcome
The pain of losing their one true one
When one's reached out to touch only ice
To be judged and rejected once, twice, thrice

When one's messages are deleted unread
And pictures cannot fill the hole in one's heart
When the only chance to hear your voice is in one's head
One begins the onerous process of falling apart

When healing has begun and the dull throb doesn't beat one jaded
When the sunlight breaks the clouds for the first time in dark ages
When the black hole ***** a little less and the stars aren't so faded
One will still be here waiting to hear an answer sought by fools and sages

Some things you just never get over,
Even after all the stages of grief, and all the healing,
The simplest things can still smack you right out of your body,
A phone ringing, for example, why am I still waiting for that call?

© 05/07/21 Jason R. Michie All Rights Reserved
Philosophers and sages too
Enjoy the focused powers
And the mystic natural beauty
Of the early morning hours

I greet the sunrise with a smile
Each day this precious wonder
Displays for all, both small and great
For those who rise from slumber

The quiet of the peaceful morn
Engages all my senses
Provides me light and clarity
To cut through life’s pretenses

The morning hours bring inner joy
Rhythm matching Mother earth
True wealth imbues into my flesh
When I witness each day’s birth
This is Prosperity Poem 49 at ProsperityPoems.com and you can see it displayed on a beautiful background here (copy and paste the link). http://prosperitypoems.com/delivery49MorningHours.html. You can sign up for free weekly delivery of poems at Prosperity Poems (.com)

I've always loved being up in the morning hours. The calm and focus and perspective allow me to enjoy more of the day. I also appreciate the connection with nature by watching the sky slowly lighten into a beautiful sunrise.

Sages, saints, and philosophers the world over have praised the benefits of the morning hours. Read the poem below and gain the benefits of matching the rhythm of earth and sun.

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Christopher
Karijinbba Jun 2019
What we don't know will
harm us faster then we blink.
Whatever you do for pity's
sakes run if in danger call out "help" socorro, auxilio, ayuda
in any language needed!!
yell knock on doors
take on arms knife rock
defend your life but above all a childs life in danger
yours or not defend it
if you can pets lives matters too
love live constantly
in awarenes that not all is as it appears to be with others
theres meaning in everything
thats spoken or covertly done
pray unstapably day and night
rest vigilant until
you find safety but move put
ACTION VOICE SOUND
and then dance to the tune of freedoms peace
seek timely justice
of civil rights violations don't be naive too trusting too distrusting
see the clues of good or right
or bad and wrong in all carbon units at home and with
all strangers alike
test friends in the spirit
ask them many questions
bad entities aren't too clever
their clues of deceit are always in plain view if you are
aware
meditating with eyes
half open
half closed mind allert awake
you'll live like I did just for pity's sakes don't wait too long for weird elements to change
or grow a heart they won't
and you and your dear ones could be harmed irreparably
or perish loosing all other treasures if your spirit remains broken too long
If you lose accept defeat
triumph will arrive in another
wing
believe it and it will come.
~~~~~
Bt Karijinbba
Sometimes all we have left is knowing other many souls thirst for love
of friend mother brother sister
in the sages willing to offer it.
stay blessed always.
Ken Pepiton Jun 2019
The big ice is melting, you can't stop it.

It's not your fault. You did nothing. You were made for such a time.
You happened, to be live,
right.
Look, out o'body, like from the moon,

what part can we conntinue to ****? What part of
The earth, our spaceship spiraling through

the galaxy, you believe that, right? The galaxy,

one among, right, many many many galaxies, right? We know
somebody knows,

but me, do I know? You know, but me
the maker of this bubble

fractaling into
now.
All time in all place is now right now. Life the fool says has an end

thought speed. Time, endure in timeless thought

constant instant

----
cross di mention al for givin' me this opportunity
to compete
for your attention, in th enoise... e'therealorgnot

pause, plenty o' time, think about nothin'

Peace making is as intuitive as love making was when you...

did you ever, make
anything? Love as a word lacks the power folk claim it holds,

truth. There's the peacemaker's hammer, by god.
Truth.
Chains fallen from the oppressed,
captives all set free,

was that not the fast we fasted? What is this we see,
now?
******* mockin' wisdom of d'sages and richi-shitstictics
myst or mist
occlusin inclusion, bubble barrier, here

safe in no doubt, no fear, no lie, keep saying it,
till it's true,

or yu can imagine it is and see it was not due to you.
raw but timely, if y'ax me.
Ahmed Ali Nov 2017
Inside a room dark with  little moonlight
Peering over pages clear as white
With hair long seeming unkept to the sight
Scribbling words that common couldn't get right
Heart & mind together a tender thing in delight
Lost in ecstasy of his beloved's image upright..

"Dazzling with golden curls serpentine bright
The beauty that perceived through the orbs bright
And the pleasure of the beloved in clear sight
Beauty unexplained by tongues tight
And that none could put on paper nor write
Sages mentioning of it only in esoteric delight!"

Finally the pen scribes on the paper white
That the beauty of the beloved is itself a shield tight
Then the figure turns the head, just slight
And catches itself in silver of seeping moonlight
who is this being now that we can have the sight
Lo; it is none but the  mysterious poet.

(By: Khan, BA on Nov 1st, 2017)
The discription of the poet who  beholds  his beloved and trying to describe the beauty instead  comes to know that it is such that  no descrption  will do justice to the beauty of the beloved.
Ahmed Ali Sep 2017
Birds Chirp...

Birds Chirp...
For some it is chatter,
But the wise listen
To it as Music, not clatter.

The seasons change,
The leaves golden fall without any heft,
All say O' Autumn is come,
But for me, the Wise have left.

The winter is gone and the snow melts
The flowers bloom and the waters cascade
The people dance spring is come
And the wise are wiser, the slumber is at end.

The summer is hot and dust abound,
The road is long and without wend,
All take a siesta on the mound,
And the traveler lone, moves for the bend at the end.


(By: Khan, BA)

— The End —