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Anna Sep 2018
Oh Sahara,
Our souls
are getting poorer
than your sand spreading wide.

What once was called ours,
Now is called as "mine".

Like a thirsty homeless
Crawling on your sand for a waterdrop,
Our soul is crawling on this world for hope;
While its hopeless scream doesn't stop.

Oh Sahara,
This world is becoming more like you,
There's no hope like there's no water,
Just mirage of fake hopes,
Like mirage of oasis,
Full of life and always blue.

The footprints on your sand
Are fading Sahara,
But the scares on my soul
Still are bleeding blood,
Still are bleeding pain.

Oh Sahara,
The granules of your sand
Are endless but not a lot
Compared to the pieces
of my poor broken soul.
We are not supposed to just sit here and wait for the change to happen, to wait for something beautiful to occur. We have to stand up now, and become the beautiful change this world's needing.
We are humans, a beautiful creation of God, and we are meant to spread love not hate, we are meant to make each-other happy, we are meant to bring the sun into each-other's soul,
we are supposed to have a shop and trade desserts not guns.
sunprincess Mar 2018
Today scorching hot,
Ants wearing siver spacesuits
traversing the dune
xoxo
AM May 2016
swing the magic wand, abracadabra
you appear like waterfall in Sahara

drop a penny into a wishing well
our hands touched and our hearts fell

boxes of questions, nothing seem true
yet when I choose one, I found you
SJ Sullivan Jan 2016
I wish we named every rainstorm.
Hurricanes get everything, but
It's easy to have everything when
All you do is take.

I used to think that falling
Asleep was the same feeling as
Earthquakes shaking the grounds.
Don't get stuck in the chasm.

Washed up memories, shoe box
Chachkis, left untouched through the
Eye of the storm. Who knew these
Relics would follow you here.

Crying as the pouring rain stops
Is impossible.
All of the tears have been taken.

But rippling water is overrated.
Have you ever seen sand slide through
The Sahara Desert.
I've been there. I've seen it.
I watched as each minuscule grain slid
Down the valley ridges built from years
Of wind storms making piles.
Piles idiosyncratically stretched across its reddened face,
Maybe modeled by the smoldering surface of mars.

Lay down and let it wash across your leathered skin.
Sensations spreading, each nerve on every centimeter of you
Lighting up, marquee, competing with the hot desert suns.
A million dandelion spores dancing ballet.
Tip top, tip toes to a tarantella timing.
Buried under dunes, only too soon to
Uncover you once again.

You wouldn't believe how something
Solid can so namelessly float across the land.
Äŧül Jan 2016
Land of the mummies,
Not at all the mothers,
The fabled dead people,
Draped in crepe bandages,
Appearing creepy to kids,
Ranging from Aegyptus,
To high above the Andes.
My HP Poem #967
©Atul Kaushal
Jasmine Martin Aug 2015
Hot desert winds’ve come up suddenly and
covered my reality with a blanket
of Sahara dust
obscuring the mountains
like fog in the fall

The view I so love is cast
in an eerie yellowish grey light
the endless horizon cut down to a fraction
of itself
surreal and unfamiliar

I’m feeling slightly schizophrenic

How can there be silence when
winds are howling and
why does my reality feel
so still
while everything’s clearly
in motion?
Sound in silence and movement in stillness
Blending dimensions are rattling
my mind as space and time
lose their meaning
for a while

Curiously detached from
what I observe yet
simultaneously
intensely involved I behold
these realities that are tumbling
in and out of each other

And I’m faintly aware of my leaden limbs

All the while
three little butterflies
gracefully defying gravity
are spiralling in an infinite dance around
my heavy form
inviting me to celebrate life
in the eye of
the storm

Mesmerized by this lightness of being
I contemplate my
quirky reality bubble
the appearance of which’d changed from
photoshop crispness to
confusing diffusion  
turning sparkling colors into
a blur of drab pastels

The meseta lays parched, silently hiding
in a cloud of sand and holding its breath
in this searing onslaught
no goats bells are ringing
or horses neighing
ev’n the cricket has ceased to sing

But undisturbed and unperturbed
the butterflies keep dancing


Then
from one instant to the next
the storm has drowned in a moment of
deafening silence
time’s standing still
neither sound nor movement until
a sudden cool breeze shivers me out of
my reverie

Now distant thunder in darkened skies  
is promising long awaited rain
and creation breathes out
in relief

And undisturbed and unperturbed
the butterflies keep dancing



©Jasmine, Vilacarillo, Spain, August 7, 2015
Observing my reality bubble from my hammock during siesta
ji Jul 2015
You are the grass of Spring, and loving you is like Fall. My heart is the leaves in golden blush, the hue of sunkissed skin in Summer; wrinkling, as if shy of the breeze, and softly toppling from boughs, avid to kiss the ground; and upon falling - shivering, as if caressed by the white dust of Winter.
Who would have thought loving could be so bemusing as this? Like the Sahara with snow, or getting seared in the heat of Alaska. It is only by loving that things don't go as to what they have been all along. Like seeing no sparkle in your eyes, but stolen auroras in all the skies. Beautiful. Rousing. Imspossibly possible.
I must report the passing of a dear old friend today
I'm not sure when it happened, but I felt I had to say
That the Vegas that's in movies, books, and on TV
Is not the one that you will find, it's not the one you'll see
I know your expectations are of glitter and of lights
Of singers in the lounges that play into the night
The lounges now are empty of the singers and the bands
Instead they're full of djs, and bad magicians badly tanned,
The song that was Las Vegas is not one thats in your head
The one you know with Elvis, is now gone, you see it's dead
The old hotels are gone now, It's not like it was before
The new buzzword in Vegas is now just, MORE, MORE, MORE
It's now a culture aimed at being bigger than the rest
For now it seems that bigger, means you're now known as the best
There's hotels full of bedbugs and the service is the *****
But, the casino doesn't care if there are people in the pits
The ***** is nearly two miles long, and almost half is blank
It's like the desert opened up and ten casinos sank
At one end is the Stratosphere, it's got a real cool view
But, because of it's location it's not easy to get to
The Sahara was next closest, but now the Lady's gone
And to walk from this tram stop at night, well I cannot say it's fun
It's dingy and it's ***** and it's not a place to be
I wouldn't recommend this part, it's not a place to see
Freemont Street, The Old Vegas is off the beaten path
It's an hour ride upon the bus, and a taxi...do the math
It's just a place to go to once, there's no reason to return
And if you ever visit here, I think that's what you'll learn
The middle part of the ***** is glitzy and spread out
It's kind of close to what Las Vegas is about
It's not all geared to people who have childeren all in tow
These ultra cool casinos is where you might just want to go
The other end is busy, but it's full of gloom and doom
And on every single corner, you can get girls to your room
There's people handing out small cards with women with a price
Who'll come up to your room and well....let's say they don't play dice
On every bridge across the *****, there's beggars and there's hawkers
They're selling everything from cds to bottled dollar water
It's tourist town, a fast food mess, it's Disneyland on *****
There's lots of things to do down here, but you must always watch your back
Did The Mirage **** it?, when Steve Wynn said let's go really huge
Hotels like this were ten times larger than the Moulin Rouge
It wasn't when Hughes came to town and bought the Desert Inn
You know the land that's now the new home of the casino known as Wynn?
It didn't die when Elvis left, it sill was full of life
But at someime since the town has died, it has fallen on the knife
The ***** itself is two miles long, but you know that that's not all
In the years since Elvis left, it's become a big ***** mall
There's stores here selling plastic , and the people shop in streams
I'm not sure, but to me NIKE is not the Vegas in my dreams
Rolling in their graves, I bet the stars who made this town
Are sitting in heaven or ****, saying when did it go down
There's more shows now of tribute acts and hypnotists galore
And you can find a Circus from Quebec through nearly every hotel door
At some point rigor mortis set into this old girl
I wish they could revive her, at least give it a whirl
There's buffets selling fried foods, obesity....my lord
And if you don't go out to Denny's, the restaurants you can't afford
My mind has got an image of Vegas that is cool
It involves going out late and spending daytime at the pool
You dress to go to dinner, maybe dancing and a show
And the concierge at the hotel is someone you should know
But now, you go out shopping to the outlet in the day
The casinos are all empty, since there's no one left to play
Getting dressed to go to dinner, means you switch from shorts to jeans
And the ways some people act now, well it's borders on obscene.
So, today I'd like to ask you all, for you may know more than I
But, can anybody tell me, just when did Vegas die?
Gynna Manel Jun 2015
I breathe you
like the lavender
so calm and relaxing
on a summer day

I breathe you
like the oasis
quenching my thirst
on the Sahara

I breathe you
like the apple
feeding my hunger
in the forrest

I breathe you
in my dreams
like the garden
of my imagination

I breathe you
like an oxygen
filling me with life
and air to live

I breathe you
like you are near
and though you're gone
I still breathe you...
06/01/2015
05:50 am
Ashley Somebody May 2014
You place a finger to my lips
To signify some change;
The wind outside the building shifts,
The curtains rearrange.
Questioning I glance at you:
Your eyes take in the problem
And deem that something is askew,
From top until the bottom.
And then they strike! the serpents
Who guarded tombs of old
Had sneakéd through the curtain
And crept across the floor.
We dash up to the rooftop
But this is in the desert;
Our path of flight, it must stop
That we may end this hurt.
You draw your saber, slowly
All others they gather round
Ev'ry wedding guest holding
To their host's every word
You tell them of the valor
That awaits a man alive
And that it's your desire
That everyone survive.
They arm themselves, bravely
And descend through the floor
To the storey down below me
And shutter the trapdoor.
The plan is simple: find one
And **** the serpent dead
As soon as youve slain it,
Deliver here its head.
The many serpents saw us
And, hissing, took their aim
But not a one escaped us
For our leader, host, the same
He led them without falter
Guiding without doubt
And when the last was severed
We gave a triumphant shout.
The feast continued, slowly
Just as it was before
But none thought little of the man
Who secured their lives once more.
Sometimes I write stories. Usually if they're poem form they stink. But I thought this was better than most attempts in the past. Wedding party in the Sahara gets attacked by a group of snakes, probably magical, and one man gives them the courage to fight. I have no idea where that came from. Probably too much TV ;D
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