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Joy Ann Jones Sep 13
Asylum



In the madhouse
on beds of daggers
we slept like crickets
chirping to ourselves
while they tried their best
to make us cannibals.

The nuns were worse than
lawyers, praying like accordions,
tracking their sins into our soft
wax skulls, wheezing like roosters
when one of us cried, laying the greasy ribs
of Jesus on our plates.

They kept you behind
door number six. I'd go to you
with a stolen key, when the noon
smelled bright as carnations,
when the nights were
more purple than the jacarandas.

You spoke of your father
dead of snakebite,
a clockwork marvel with
his million-dollar suit of skin,
of your mother
with the viper between her lips.

I remember your kiss
astringent with reason
as bitter lemons, and the way
your hair blew back from
your dog-brown eyes like poisonous
smoke from the oleanders.

I thought these things
as beautiful as angels
whispering in the dahlias
when I was lost in the asylum,
when the doctors did all they could
to see that we ate each other
down to the bone.


April 2022
Inspired by the words of Federico Garcia Lorca, and a dream
Zywa Aug 6
In the dim twilight

of the temple my mind finds --


only emptiness.
Collection "web tissue"
In A Corner
Utterly mine, in the deep silence,
in a house of purest white,
On the cusp of a morning,
with my soul utterly serene.
In the garden of the soul,
among the butterflies,
softly fluttering,
gently whispering,
poems,
within me.
For me,
sighs,
tranquil and hushed,
from that weary breath,
that still persists,
whispering poems,
even as I drown,
in this life that is not mine.
While I await my flight,
to soar from my corner to another place.
That distant realm where the soul takes wing,
where peace knows no end,
where living no longer burdens,
where I shall never tire,
where all is beautiful,
on the very wings of God,
in my own place,
so far away.
Meanwhile,
time softly slips by,
and I still gaze out,
from this beautiful corner,
of a soul that has grown weary of living.

EN UN RINCON

Muy mío, en el silencio,

en una casa blanca pura,

Al borde de una mañana,

con mi alma sosegada.

En el jardín del alma,

entre mariposas,

revoloteando,

susurrando,

poemas,

en mí.

Para mí,

suspiros,

tranquilos,

de ese respirar,

cansado, que sigue,

susurrando poemas,

a pesar de ahogarme,

en esa vida que no es mía.

Mientras espero despegar,

y volar de mi rincón a otro lado.

Ese sitio lejano donde el alma vuela,

donde la paz nunca se acaba,

donde ya no cuesta vivir,

donde ya no me canse,

donde todo es bello,

en las alas de Dios,

en mi lugar,

lejano.

Mientras,

pasa el tiempo,

y yo me asomo aún,

en ese rincón tan hermoso,

de un alma que se cansa de vivir.
Lizzie Bevis Feb 12
Your voice shapes my name
like a prism of light,
your laughter warms me
through my core.
Each part of you looks
so right to me,
and every second
makes me yearn for more.

You are the caress
of a warming breeze,  
your touch ignites
the sky above,
and in the quiet moments
we dare to dream,  
as two souls,
completely in love.

I bask in the gentleness
of your smile,
I treasure every part
of you I see
and though life's storms
may rage sometimes,
you'll always find
your sanctuary in me.

©️Lizzie Bevis
showyoulove Nov 2024
Come enter into this sanctuary
Come to the place of bended knee
Approach the inner courts humbly
You come before the God the Lord of Host
Before Him who loved us the most
Come into the most sacred place
Where we meet Jesus face to face
The sanctuary is a safe place, a haven
A place to go when you need savin'
In the shadow of the cross
Life is found in what once was lost
In the shelter of His wings
We find peace, hope, and holy things
Come enter into the secret hideaway
Where all your troubles just melt away
Take a few minutes of each day
To enter the sanctuary, to stay and pray
showyoulove Nov 2024
There is something about a garden
Something so real and so divine
A secret place, a silent sanctuary
It is a feeling difficult to define

There is something about a garden
That leads my heart to prayer
A place of safety to where I run
And where I find hope in despair

There is something about a garden
And being surrounded by creation
Singing songs of praise to God
The creator and author of salvation

There is something about a garden
That feels like mercy's ocean
And like a crashing wave upon the shore
I'm swept away with great devotion

There is something about a garden
That fills me with such great delight
Filled with awe and greatest wonder
On the wings of the dawn my soul takes flight

There is something about a garden
That I can almost see the hand of God
The foretaste of Heaven on the Earth
We walk where the angels have trod
Odd Odyssey Poet Sep 2024
As you reflect on a promise of tender hands; tiny
tremors shake your will to hold yourself together-
Tethering lines of kisses guiding your eyes to a moon
as you are a bright smile of the day, and the cool
whisper of hope late by noon

We’ve been lost in the yesterday of a garden filled with
flowers, that grow brighter as I look at their hues- I’m giving
my affection by an attention to pick at some petals: darling we
Both grew into something special; through a dream bending
my will to ever say no to you

Sometimes I get it wrong- especially when it comes to the
unspoken language of your eyes, daring deep inside my soul
when we’re alone to our own thoughts on this long drive home
My aim was a bit off, off into the places I think helps me better
into seeing your pain- but I can’t read your brain, measure any
of your griefs, or attest to being able to share all that you have
experienced

Still, I can offer my very dreams as an escape
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