Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Thomas Apr 2018
Minute after minute,
Time upon time...
Past loses weigh on my mind,
My only salvation is this pen on this line...

Raised to be strong,
To show not a fear...
Bury the pain,
Shed not a tear...

The soul aches with the burden,
My mind cries out for release...
But my face remains stoic,
The lips not a crease...

To scream with no voice,
This is my curse...
My only salvation,
This ink and this verse
BC Jaime Mar 2018
the lovely
                   vapour
around me

foliage
           trees
  sanctuary
                   among the tall grass

the breath          of universal
                     love
                sustains us

an eternity
                                 of bliss

heaven and earth
in my soul


[Note: This was originally a Blackout Poem written using the Blackout Bard poetry app. The original can be found here: https://www.instagram.com/p/Bf9g-moht36/]
© BC Jaime 2018 || IG: @B.C.Jaime

This work is licensed under the Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivatives 4.0 International License. To view a copy of this license, visit http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc-nd/4.0/.
Sabila Siddiqui Mar 2018
I love, when you unzip the layers of your personas,
letting me peek behind the mask
Revealing your raw edges
allowing me to be your haven from the world of facade.

I love, when you strip down your heart, 
unfold your thoughts, 
share your inner struggles
and pour your secrets into my ear
allowing me to be your sanctuary.

I love, when you lean your head on my shoulder
let my hands hold yours
and you let your tears flow
allowing me to be your solace.

I love, when you’re vulnerable and raw with me
making me one of the very few of those
who knows the darkest and brightest part of your mind,
and who are deeply embedded in your heart.
Briar Ren Jan 2018
I have built a nest in your heart,
made of down and daisies.

And you, in turn,
erected a temple
in mine.
harlon rivers Dec 2017
Gray Owl hearkens
the dappled daybreak knell
echoing through
the wildwood forest stand;
rock doves and frosty stones abide,
where a marooned heart doth dwell,
disrobed by the longest night's frigid touch

Timber stand grips tight
red clay and bedrock of ages,
postured tall and strong
as eagle's spirit throne

Pine cones hide
in the low drifting clouds,
ripe acorns tumble down alone
unto  a  windblown
shallow earthen grave,
hillocked  beneath
the sky-high canopy

Bones of branches,
furrowed bark from burled oak,
wood-grains of pith,
natural gnarled achings
peeled by the shivering
wind's breath

Paling autumn memories
grow dim as the receding sunlight,
recollections of ebbing Jasmine's
mellowing fragrant balm
waft aloft in a favorite fading fantasy,
the edge of winter metamorphosis
bears down with a prodigious weight
of a different kind of retreating light;

brindled Queen Anne's lace
hold sway across
the tawny frostbitten meadow
imbuing the poignantly
whetting breeze

The blink of an eye winks,
to catch sight of
an intimate glimpse,
an unspoken
solitude holds forth,
the mesmerizing coo of rock doves,
reverently mirroring
the sanctity of the forest wildwood
lingering amongst the frosty
ferns and stones

The harmony of tranquil silence wanders;
only the bowing resistance of the boughs
manifest the shapeless wind’s
whispered  breathe
swirling above the labyrinth threshold;

therein lies an unfractured fault line
rooted deeply beneath
the earth’s crust
like the sonorous heart
of a sanctuary hearthstone

Hence there is symmetry
felt in silence that only whispers
in the deep toned consonant
of our own harbored sighs

a holy human blood link
born of  heritage wilderness heartwood
beats keenly alive


written by:   harlon rivers ... December 2017
Notes: Midwinter orifice into the North-woods

Thank you for looking through a soul's portal at winter solstice
Fred Oct 2017
Shapes float

in the canvas

white as light

peers from behind

and draws shadows

on the mind


Light shines

outside linnen

white clouds

behind inner

sanctuary of

the mind
Ksjpari Aug 2017
Thor is a place with birds in a pond.
Many birds; some small, some blonde
Few birds come as the seasons demand.
Come and visit Thor with Sanket to remand
All the known and unknown birds beyond.

Thor is a place with birds in a pond.
Let it be cashew or nut or almond,
Bring any thing for birds with monde
And see many types of birds beyond
The island, colours that birds donned.

Thor is a place with birds in a pond.
Few birds are black, and few blonde;
Canteen ready with food on demand,
Garden with plants having leaves frond,
Pond with birds different on demand.

Thor is a place with birds in a pond.
Security guards allow us, on demand,
To take cameras to view and shoot monde
Of varied birds here and beyond.
So, visit Thor with Pari Style in a pond.
I am developing a new style of writing poetry where ending words of a line rhyme with one another, at least in last sound. I named it Pari Style. Hope readers will like it. Thanks to those invisible hands and fingers which supported and inspired me to continue my efforts in my new, creative, artistic and innovative “Pari” style. Thanks for your inspiring, kind, soft fingers.
They say all you need
to make a place holy is a
sacrifice and a prayer,
so here we are in the field.

I've brought you grass.
I've brought you sun and earth.
I've laid my very soul here.

I may have stumbled through
the rosary, but I think we have
a chance.

We're in the middle of it.
We're right in the middle of it,
the field, on our backs while
the sun sends our skin tingling.

The dragonflies, the faraway birds,
the little specks of dusty dirt floating
in the light.

I don't know if any of it is real, but
just let me have this. Let me have just
one moment of reverence, of peace.

This is how a soft spot materializes.
This is how we find our way at the
end. I looked over at you and saw
the eyelashes tickling your cheek.

I saw hands smoothing over the grass
and angels pouring across the milk-
blue sky. I said,

I want to be buried here. You said,
Let's be alive first.

*I still call you *darling in my head. It took me a long time to learn that covenants and siren songs aren't much different at all.
Ili Norizan Feb 2017
I love how the buildings bathe in the morning sun,
The gold and glimmer of hope,
The shimmer and ray of what could,
And in the mirrored reflection,
Caught on windows and thresholds,
I saw myself smiling,
Like the bright-eyed child,
Full of promise and trust,
Not quite naïve but innocent,
Curious like a kitten,
Looking for a distraction,
In the forms of many kinds of fun,
Even if to others it was a bore of a chore,
For I was that girl who loved routine,
Knowing everything and that sense of the familiar,
Where nothing could surprise me,
And I would not be easily offended,
Taken aback was something I only started doing,
At the age of twenty-one,
Or was it really when I was so done,
With the fact that leaving high school,
Meant leaving the physical place in which I learned,
For the jocks and snobs and nerds and pretty girls,
They grew up too like me going on into reality,
Of the concrete jungle in the big city,
The capital of money and sobriety,
Where it's glitz and glam in grids on the Gram,
But the twittering said otherwise,
Oh how were we so blinded by the rise,
Of growing pains and pangs,
Falling in and out of love with ourselves,
As much as we crush upon potential lovers,
None of whom were suitors,
Just mere flings to keep us company,
While we ourselves figured out an escape,
For there's nothing more that we despise,
Than that of the lies, we keep telling ourselves,
That this life is the best,
That I'm happy where I'm at,
In this career or otherwise,
But still, we cry ourselves to sleep at night,
Sometimes sobbing during the day,
In bathroom stalls like ghouls,
Thinking what could've possibly gone wrong,
What'd I do to deserve such a test,
And how could I a top scoring geek fail miserably at best,
Yet we see it again this endless cycle,
As the sun paints a masterpiece in the sky,
Melting away all the tension of the day,
As it slowly dims then darken your way,
Telling you to go back to sleep,
To keep the dream alive,
For I do love how the sun paints the town gold,
Early in the morning,
When all is quiet and lonely,
A kind of peace that feels like it's not all bad,
This life could really be a sanctuary, maybe.

@byizn
Next page