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Ethereal echoes
Emerald seas
Nacarat skies
Misty breeze

Mellifluous is her melody
Majestic every scene
Serenity of Serena
Allure of Ausrine

I tilt my head in ecstasy
My thoughts begin to cease
Sand beneath my hands
Cold, calming waters,
Languidly caress my feet

And like a child running around
And like a child who knows no bound
At the end, is enervated
I lay utterly still,
In her embrace,
Yet satiated

Satiated by her healing warmth
Satiated by her meliorating touch
Satiated so much,
I wonder,
If my heart could hold so much of love.
Chase Pamplin Jul 30
Soothing sounds from the crashing waves my soul is at ease loving these peaceful days.  So please may I have another? This boat is rocking me to sleep like a new born in the arms of his mother. Time is a factor but I don’t pay attention to the clock, water is a whole entire energy and I love the way she talks. The moon is shining from the stillness of her body, she can’t be recreated, she can’t be carbon copied. Rejuvenate the soil from these manmade spoils, you are damaged with trash, sewage, and oils. Wrap me up like a coil, I won’t try to fight back, instead of going with the flow I’ll work on what my character truly lacks.

Listen to her speak. She will guide you.
Tickles of the straw fingers,
it will be alright they say.
Wave of the centre wind,
the saint’s at rest on the air’s kisses.
Join us they exclaim.

The scarlet macaw on her acclaimed throne,
art of ranking colours,
colours of a warrior’s triumph.
Rejoice in her name.

Bush deer content with the sound of emptiness,
the wolfs an ancient myth.
Bumbles bees retreating from the flowers,
along the yellow brick road.

The sky will never shed a tear
Next week.
Next month.
Next year.
In life.

Gabriel meadow. You are filled with my prospective destiny.
God bless you.

Justine Louisy
Copyright ©Justine Louisy 2016
All Rights Reserved
Something soothing to start off a Thursday morning... enjoy 😊
Kairosclere Jun 12
I reach my hands
Yearning for a soothing presence
And find my eyes
Looking back at me
Because I’m truly alone
But not lonely.
Nathalie Jun 5
I inhaled the invigorating
scent of mint leaves and
felt the day's tension simply
melt away
I cocooned in a warm
blanket and gently
stretched out on the couch
I was lulled by the soothing
sound of the waterfall
and flute playing in
the background
I relaxed into serenity
and slowly drifted
off to the land of dreams

Child of my spirit, why do you cry?
My arms will enfold you as you tell me why.
Share all your dreams, your hopes and your fears,
As my love is the tissue to dry all your tears.

Child of my spirit, it’s time to heal.
Know that you’re loved and that love is real.
Let go of the doubts that you’ve carried since birth,
And know that you’re precious as gold in your worth.

Child of my spirit, it’s time to shine.
Open your heart and all will be fine.
Trust that your path is steady and true
And know The Divine will always love you.

© Victor Fuhrman
Just channeled this poem to soothe our inner children who may be struggling at this time.
Amna Khan Apr 25
Under the serene starry sky
lay a  hushed beating heart
In a field as far as the horizon offered
always allured by God's majestic art

Two glistening eyes on Draco fixated
Orion seemed the epitome of delight
Deciphering the secrets the cosmos held
in awe of the gloom broken by celestial light

Almost as if the stars were reaching out too
cradling the little one in their truths
unraveling their mysteries to the heart of the wild
in their lullaby, ease and soothe

The galaxies above used their magic to fill
the obscure heart with emotions aplenty
and all that chained it to the insipid earth
were mundane realities and gravity
Constructive criticism is welcome.
I raise the pick-axe high up above my head.
I bring it back down with all my might.
I hear an audible thud at it pierces into the ground.

I change my grip.

The soil turns over as I pry it out of the ground.
I smile to myself in satisfaction at the sight of the churning soil.
It is a calm, soothing sight, worth the magnitude of the effort required to produce it.

I change grips as I ready myself and raise the pick-axe high up above my head once more.

I am the artist,
the Earth my canvas.
The pick-axe is my brush,
the chaos my muse.

Seeds will be sown
and vegetation will be grown.
Spoils will be shared
and cheer will be spread.

But for all the good that is done,
I am the one having all the fun,
for this sight is for me,
this art is my own.
Digging the ground is surprisingly soothing. And extremely tiring. But worth the effort, all the same.
Demi Apr 14
Tune in to clouds
Between thunder static,
devastating news
white cotton noise,
you’ll find soothing hymn.

Find the station
lift your head high
enough, just for now.
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