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Jakob A Frost Apr 26
The bright green vale & blue skies fade
As she blinds my eyes with silvery light
Like fireflies drifting by the glade
Her presence kindles the weary night
When gazing full she steals my breath
With those light eyes & short blonde hair
If I'm a frosty breeze, an omen of death
She's like spring; serene, a breath of fresh air
Beau Grey Mar 3
A gaze.
A silver line between
love
and terror.
A silver line of contentment,
of complacency,
of humdrum mediocrity.

A gaze,
too afraid to gaze
lest we acquaint ourselves
with gold
or bronze.
Too egocentric,
too self defeating.
A silver line of contentment,
of complacency,
of humdrum mediocrity.

A silver safety belt,
clip the lines,
halt the grinds,
lest we acquaint ourselves
with loving gold,
or terrifying bronze.
Lest we stray
from the silver line,
the safety belt,
of contentment,
of complacency,
of humdrum mediocrity.

Lest we stray,
forever shall we stay.
A silver gaze,
humdrum days.
Neither here, nor there,
forever
and perpetually,
'ere'.
A gaze.
Tanay Sengupta Dec 2021
A stormy night maybe dark
But it ends,
When the rays of sunshine
Pierce the clouds.
Dark days end with a moonlit night
When the pale moonlight
Turns sand into silver.
The starry night guides the sailors who are lost.
The bard may die
But his songs stay alive.
Tanay Sengupta, Copyright © 2021.
All Rights Reserved
Nat Sep 2021
On darkest nights, when full moons preside
Silver bullets are just the thing
When the howls are coming from inside
Silence with silver, gunshot ring

Gold grows tarnished and fractured, such fragile prizes
And bronze knights are forgotten soon as the sun rises
Leave nothing to mock, nothing to pilfer
Paint the walls cerebral and silver
WickedHope Sep 2021
They say girls like something shiny
And that may very well be true
Bigger is better but I'll take tiny
No matter the size I'll make do

Of course I have my favorites
Or those meant for special occasions
Getting dolled up I want to savor it
Adorning myself prematurely for my sins

Perhaps they get jealous of each other
So maybe I'll take them all out for display
They sparkle perfectly making me stutter
Stroking each longingly before we play
When I get this numb I know I'm supposed to be scared but I don't remember how.
Allesha Eman Aug 2021
You carry with you pick-pocketed fairytales
In hopes to find something close enough to home
That can fill your glass half-full
You sew yourself into white noise
Soak your hands in spring waters
That rush down memory lanes
Putting together a mosaic
of the greener grass you saw
On the other side
Stitching together fragments of light
From the end of the tunnel
Even bought yourself some rose coloured glasses
To see the silver lining of every cloud
But it all falls short
When the tree stops bearing lemons
So, what does life give now?
Besides some shade and something to laugh about...
Lola Jul 2021
The moonlight falls onto my skin,
Silver and rippling
And I feel a semblance of peace.
I close my eyes
To let it all in
And let it all go.
My eyes glisten
With the reflection
Or tears perhaps.
I find I don’t care which.
Because peace is precious,
Peace and a certain kind of silence.
Not the lonely kind,
The suffocating kind.
Just the silence of calm.
I allow myself hope for a moment
That everything could be ok,
That I might be ok.
Nat Lipstadt Jul 2021
But their idols are silver and gold, made by human hands. They have mouths, but cannot speak, eyes, but cannot see. They have ears, but cannot hear, noses, but cannot smell. They have hands, but cannot feel, feet, but cannot walk, nor can they utter a sound with their throats. Those who make them will be like them, and so will all who trust in them.”
Psalms:4-8



Who knows? Who knew?
Marched, dragged, ordered, bottom line, taken,
to the synagogue was I abducted, every Sabbath;
on the Festivals, this Psalm recited, catching the
child’s eye, the words symmetry, the conceptual
contained, struck and stuck, and seven fingered
decades, he stumbles once again upon it, this time
in his file of poems yet unwrit,
aging along with the poet,
for almost the last five years.

the prayer book, black covered, thumbed well worn,
by father-supplied, periodically page number is whispered,
my childlike eyes gravitate to the English translation,
though Hebrew versed too, the English verses whip my attention,
the concept of the Lords invisibility, a super power in my mind,
early taught by storied Abraham’s idol smashing,
and the futility of idolatry,
since invisible God is everywhere

these days of memes and trolls,
idol worshiping grows strong,
the fast thirst to recognize, admire,
yes,
to worship;
plaster, alabaster, clay, marble,
even gold & silver

pay them no mind,
trained early on to covet only
what we cannot see,
sources of the pieces within of the divine surreal
that perfect our flawed shapeliness,
the electric human touch,
the simple kindest gesture,
the tender embrace,
the ineffable softness of child’s cheek
an old man’s childish innocence,
the love of all carved-by-hand woodwork
for beauty only,
the artistry of good, mastery of emotion,
all to perfect your vision to witness
what only the heart can envision


You do not understand the contrast contradictory?

You will.







____

Silvio

Silver and gold
Won't buy back the beat of a heart grown cold
Silvio
I gotta go
Find out something only dead men know


      SILVIO: WRITTEN BY: BOB DYLAN AND ROBERT HUNTER
                                                        ­                                                                 ­                        <>

Said the shepherd boy
To the mighty king
Do you know what I know?
In you palace wall mighty king
Do you know what I know?
A child, a child
Shivers in the cold
Let us bring him
Silver and gold
Let us bring him
Silver and gold
Let us bring him
Silver and gold
Do you know what I know/
So you see what I see?
Do you hear what I hear?



“**DO YOU HEAR WHAT I HEAR?”
LYRICS LEONARD COHEN
§§§§§§§§§§
poem conceived on December 2016
in New York City;
completed July 2021,
Shelter Island, NY.
FunSlower Jul 2021
Oh werewolf with woollen wings,
Whimpering in the willows.
Thou vile voice a vice grip
Stuffed inside her pillows.
Yours is a violent cry for help
One should never have to hear.
So dare come near, just know it clear.
Your fleer; my leer. For tears, jeers and
Featherweight fears will never break weirs that
Forever fill wells deeper than the darkest hole
You gouged in the lightest soul.

Your sword; her shield. My words; wounds healed.
I’m ever bending moonlight to set it right.
Go haunt yourself through a never ending night!
A single silver bullet shimmers in her sunlight.
The same one you shot upright.
Falling fast into the broken bed you made.
Now let it embed deep in your head. Well played.
There once was a wolf who cried “boy”.
And once should have been enough.
It’s time to torment yourself instead.
Hurting her never made you tough.
Eloisa Jun 2021
I watched the sun touched the ocean today.
It brought its radiance to the water.
Then I saw the water played with colors.
Gold, aqua, green, orange, and blue,
so lovely in different hues.
The thoughts of the ocean reminded me of us.
Our sunny days and stormy skies.
Cries, dismays, laughters, dreams, and smiles.
Black and white,
dark and light.
Darkened days and silvery nights.
But love has always led,
lighting the pathways to understanding.
By loving with the fullness of our heart,
we found its bliss, its beauty, and its blessing deep within.
Let’s continue to live on dreams and hopes.
And together herald in the mystical wonders and joys,
where dayspring has no end,
where flowers burst in ever glory and splendor,
even years after we’ve lifted our first silver hair.
Written this poem long time ago after I had a wonderful discussion about “love” with my friend Peter. Just realized that it was not yet posted.
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