Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Eloisa Jun 12
She drowned herself
in the magical depths of silence.
finding her missing essence.
A much needed retreat to her sanctuary
to find herself!
Black Petal Mar 19
Among the Cypress
Portal to an untouched world
Where life reigns Supreme
Black Petal Mar 14
No matter what comes
I'm making it beautiful
Here in this refuge
Payton Feb 24
The snow drifts were
       quite high, piling up into the
northern sky, burying
      towns and trees and the poor souls who
    had fallen asleep on the grass
and had awoken with shivers as snowflakes
left little kisses on their eyelids.
    Except that, it was never grass. There was never any grass to begin with. There was no grass
      or spring
             or sun
                  or summer
                            or birds.
There was only winter and snow.
And the blinding, white terrain had become both a place of         desolation and
        s a n c t u a r y.
The Aroura Borealis danced like a beautiful blue fire across the night sky. Stars blinked in and out of existence.
And somehow, the halls always remained.
The blue halls.  
             Imagine, if you will, the Colosseum cut into halves and shaped like an elbow macaroni.  Drop it out in the middle of an arctic wasteland and wash it in the blue glow of the northern, night sky.
A bright yellow light poured out of the windows and onto the snow, but no one was ever inside.
Some say it's the doorway to heaven.
Others say it's the gates of hell.
And then there are the strangers. Strangers who wear their lavender, silk headscarves and avoid the rumors of such an exquisite and eclectic piece of architecture.
Others like myself.
"If there is no one inside, then where is the music coming from?" He asked me, his blue eyes shining as blue as the heavenly hues against the midnight clouds.
" The halls will hum if the wind passes through them just so."
We listened to them once more. A low and ancient hum emanated from the structure. It was an old sound that resonated within me-unnerved me.
The mysterious blue halls were not a simple door to some glorious silver city or the passageway to a fiery lake.
The halls were the most beautiful and interesting instrument the universe has even known.
"It's the harmonica of the gods!"
Perhaps one of them
dropped it.
Perhaps it was a flaw in design.
Perhaps it was meant to be silent and with one teensy miscalculation, an entire orchestra of notes were born by the wind.
Perhaps it is telling me to tell you that you should look not towards all that makes you perfect, but the imperfections because that is where true beauty rests.
And you are so beautiful.  The kind of beauty that doesn't know it's own beauty. Like when you are sleeping, and the moon washes over your face. I like when you are sleeping, for you are so beautiful, yet so unaware.
This poem was based off of a dream I had years ago. It was written in 2016. You can find an image that looks similar to the structure in the poem here:
KHY Feb 11
the waterfall pours from my eyes
pedals fall underneath the guise
stunting growth, lethargic dope
cogs and knots, perched atop  
Frozen locks, offset and lost
denial of fact, unravelling fiction
dine in solitude, reset and listen
Sa lawas ng
ko isusulat
ang libo-libong tula
at mula sa mga himig
ng alon sa laot,
doon ako huhugot
ng mga tayutay
at saknong na
may lantay at tugma.
I find sanctuary in the wet, green moss on the shady north side of the trail
The floor that skitters with the movement of life
The sunshine that scatters through the canopy of pine needles

The forest works alive with motion
And yet there is calm in the silence of the wood
All playing their part in peaceful existence, mostly

The give and take of rotting matter feeding the cycle of new growth
Some flourish while others adapt to the discomfort
Growing where they’re planted and healing the wounds of their lot

Nature finds a way to survive the violence of drought, wind, fire, or flood
And the seeds of resilience live on in the next generation
Stronger, wiser
Norman Crane Oct 2020
riverside dusk
      daylight's pale remains
a sanctuary
Chaliced Heart Aug 2020
I wanted more of music to compare as violently caused a wish to tail an entrance
of well
the shooting star of course
jazz as I wanted to con your mint leaf to satisfy my laugh
to begin as rain
quietly tilting the passing bang of my head
to you this rein of space as I notice rings of glass after glass in your sanctuary
to take jazz into universes of violence as it makes you compare to my heart
leaving more of you gone and lost
Next page