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Steve Page Apr 23
Saint George is an englishman
Who never came to England
Born in ancient Turkey
Fighting for the Romans

Saint George is an englishman
Who never met a dragon
Willing to be martyred
Killed for saintly passions

Saint George is an englishman
Adopted as our own
Our nation full of mongrels
Imports a classic hero
It's St George's Day in England today.
selina Feb 28
i wince because you wanted me
to love you tenderly and tirelessly,
but tragically for you, all you ever did

was waste my precious time. so, sure,
you can twist my words, do it for
your own self-assurance, but i will

note yours down accurately, for my
own sanity and art; i can handle being
publicly contempted, but we both know,

deep down, you are still attempting
to be something you are so clearly not
live love diss poems
Anais Vionet Feb 23
Saint Tropez is a summer town.
Smaller than it ought to be, really.
Like when you realize the French quarter,
in New Orleans, is just three blocks wide and long.

In the fall, there’s a feeling of disuse in Saint Tropez.
A turquoise bike leans haggard against a stone pine,
and summer leaves gather in gutters like trash.

Your appearance in a bar is treated like a surprise.
The wait staff gathers, like they might take your picture
and not your order - one brings napkins another the menu.

Summer memories are indistinct now, from disuse.
You aren’t sedated by sunlight and warm ocean airs.

Was summer some French, romantic, cinematic fantasy,
like "La Belle et la Bête" or "And God Created Woman"?
Or was it deliciously bright, seductive and real.

You find yourself saying, “In the summer, when the thyme,
lavender, rosemary, citrus and jasmine bloom, the aromas
are strong, actually physical, like going into an Ulta store,
where a thousand delicate perfumes vie for attention.”

But it’s like describing ghosts or deserts under glass.
You search for the words, like a poet or an actress, unable
to remember her lines - lines that would make it real,
invoke it, precious and immediate - like a spell.

The Saint Tropez of summer.
BLT Marriam Webster word of the day challenge: Haggard: tired, disheveled and abandoned
Zywa Jan 27
Too bad, he only

does his duty, I would like --

him to be a saint.
Novel "Buitenstaanders" ("Outsiders", 1983, Renate Dorrestein), § 3

Collection "No wonder"
Zywa Apr 2023
I can be a saint

in helping people, I should --

try that out to know.
Novel "The time of the angels" (1966, Iris Murdoch), § 8

Collection "Unspoken"

You aren't born to please anyone, neither accepted by everybody.

But your purpose is to make sure you live good making better thangs, making thangs better.

Spreading love across to each and every one wisely. You're born to rule not ruled. Everyone is meant to live fee free. But it takes bravery to make a living, on the field of struggle, busting and jostling, in search for fortune, get yours, I'd get mine. living in dreams,

getting goals accomplished unyielding. Thinking of living again tomorrow,

when we hadn't none reaped ou'ta momentum.  Is there future promised to us at all.?

When we had spent perhaps even the half of our lifetime , achieving nothang.

Stagnated, disdained, and denounced crazy sage, labeled mad. Does it not mean we were plagued? God forbid! Sango in the altar.

History's mystery new testament era. Jesus is Lord a slain Saint sent from above.

Make a melody 🎶 sing to the world, lengthening fasting season.

Faithful journey  along with Supreme omniscient ghost. Awe! - C9fm
Ameliorate May 2021
First kiss at the psych ward, strap me to the gurney
Deliver me from evil, tempt me eternally
Lucifer’s hellhound is space bound like my mentality- Venus.
To be great like em-inem I bet he has a big (rocket ship)

Alliteration, pronunciation like Smash Pan-
Alley where we used to fight about it.
Drinking king cans by the river
A blimp of a memory drifting endlessly

Listen to your voice emanate synchronicities
Haunting me vocally as I condemn myself to his servitude, I’m holy
Saint of the church like Mother Theresa, pray with my rosary
For forgiveness.

Undress me slowly, ripe for the picking
A flower blooming seductively under duress of the past atrocities committed upon me
by trauma
I own that ****, I’m a sinner.

Repentance for misdirected animosity
Be who you are
And love endlessly.  

Eric Mar 2021
Mom , in a world full of dismay , the only thing you can do is hold strength in yourself . Be as it ,you are a saint and I thank you for every service you have done for me as a human .the teachings you have gave me to love the world as it is and only hope for a ending better then the beginning . Many people fall short of gods eyes , but yet not forgotten . Even in the most disturbing of times . It'll only gets worse , I know that . But yet to live a life believing things are for the best . Well yea, for the best they shall get according to the woke humans .  Many are slaves to the unknown demon that is constantly nagging their neck . But yet we let these figures of physicality become the waking moments of our own reality . I'm over stressing , I'm over believing in a god that is misinterpreted into many forms . Really only you can open the door way to heaven . Self worth is humility , humility is self giving . To who you truly should be in this world of dismay . Only believe in yourself.
Karijinbba Mar 2021
If I wasn't so hungry
I would take you up on
some perverse suggestions
this charmed midnight.
I guess I just have to settle
for a nut and Jelly sandwich
for my hunger,
And a banana for my thirst.
again in memory of you
grass happer mine.
Happy Saint Patrick day
Karijinbba 03/ 17/2021.
Happy belated Valentine's day too.
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