Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Gabriel Apr 28
i've always liked space.
the idea of exploring
the final frontier; beyond
and into everything.
when i was in university
i wanted to be an astronaut
with a literature degree—
i thought hey,
why take maths and science
up there, but not language?
not poetry?

it's all well and good if we meet aliens,
but what will they know of us
without first knowing how we love?
i would bring a book of love poems
to the extra-terrestrials
and explain that the finest human condition
is one of devotion.
science got us upwards,
but love gave us the idea.

i'll never be an astronaut.
i think some people are destined
to become the dust that made us;
that shaped us. some of us
are our mother's children,
born on earth to die here too,
but we dream. what are we
if not made of dreams?

at night, i look at the moon.
sometimes, it is so big and full
that my heart swells with it.
my chest bursts like i've stepped
into the light of a space station
without a space suit.
that tiny little moment before death,
in which i am one with the universe,
and it makes me so small.

but, oh. out—
out into the glow of a thousand suns.
little poet in the wide universe,
loving his way upwards.
loving someone so much
that he understands
what it feels like to take
such a great leap.

with her, i know the stars.
i asked my girlfriend what her fav space thing was and she said she liked jupiter. it's a fitting title because this is for and about her
Nigdaw Apr 7
I occupy this space
unconquered
unclaimed
just a matter of existence

this is where I shall begin
in this pool of life
displaced by so many others
until it is overflowing

I am beyond the gates of birth
released to a wild horizon
don't tame me
I'm exactly who I should be
Snipes Apr 3
Maybe these late nights will sleep for me
Maybe God has a plan for me
I haven’t slept good since my last confession
Allow me to reveal my forreal…



FEEL MY LOVE
RECEIVE MY CARE
DON’T REMEMBER ME
ALLOW ME TO ESCAPE
GOD IS MY UNIVERSE
I AM THE LORDS REVELATION

                         DEATH COMES IN PLENTY
                        WARS CATASTROPHIC FIRE
                        FAMINES TIME IS PATIENTS
                        PESTILENCE SPREADS ILLU

          Bible verses illustrations is space  
                 phenomenons illusions

as it is written
as it is said
so shall it live

                                                         as it is light
                                                         as it is dark
                                              so shall it balance

                microscopic or tele-scoped
                screen names scream shots

          I live with the alive
          I believe in the why
I pray in the space & time

I am alive, in soul & body as balanced
oni Apr 2
when i am alone
i stand firm in myself
like a boulder in the ocean

but when i love
the tide is too strong
and i am too often swept away

why do i try so hard
to formulate my own center of gravity
if i so easily let someone else
become the moon around which i orbit

if i am a planet
with my own biome
why do i let someone else
control the weather

i am growing older
and i cannot flourish
without letting someone else
come along and destroy my garden
i am writing again because i am hurting again.
Keen Apr 2
I miss you,
but I need to use
this space
to create
love
and
acceptance
for myself.
Zywa Mar 31
The buzz of the guests

on the patio lets me --


snoop around freely.
"Vissoep" ("Fish-soup", 2016, Mustafa Kör)

Collection "Shelter"
Rama Krsna Mar 27
even
the beads of your sweat
warp
from the intense gravity
of those dense but sensuous orbs,
making a gentle detour
like a river,
before flowing into the whorl
of your beautifully chiseled navel

© 2022
was asked to write a poem where I was given three words that I should use. The worlds were sweat, gravity and navel.
In the brooding light, you were formed.
You were born in clouds and dust, and you grew up in the luminous sky.
You were scattered throughout the different parts of the galaxy.
You are trillions of miles away,
yet still visible to the naked eye.

As the star gradually evolves and forms
into different entities,
it is either a planet, an asteroid, or a nebula —
or even just a speck of dust and never formed.

It is also the start of your
long, deep slumber.
While in the intergalactic space in your eyes,
gravity pulls back the gas and forms another one. And the galaxy is bathed in gas.

While you were out of breath, I talked to you.
So you can hear your friend in the dark.
Your death is also the birth of another celestial space.
Between the illustrious energy and gravity's back-and-forth,
recycling gases and turning them into a new form of galaxy,
it is like the way you breathe in and out —
while your eyes are closed.

Did you wear an evening gown?
While the patients here wear something ridiculous, you can't stand it.
So you wore a red dress in your deep, restless sleep.

Tonight, I looked over the moon and remembered you.
They called upon the universe and they gave you space.
You were there, starlike.
I gave you one last message before I turned my back.

I will always put my faith in the phenomenon of celestial space.

Then you held my hand, so slow and weak.

You told me, and I smiled, "In the chaos of everything, I heard you."

And another star exploded, but you lived.
Letting go of old things. I’m back :)
Sally A Bayan Mar 24
It's a space within a space, where
all are transparent...i am myself.

On two layers of shelves on a wall,
a dictionary and a thesaurus,
share space with what seems like
an heirloom of books, old and new:
Gibran, Dylan Thomas, Dickinson,
Bronte, P. B. Shelley, Jane Eyre,
Hosseini, few Ludlum oldies, etc...

Here, a blending of the tangible and
the intangible is present, like habits
and thoughts that don't, and can't die,
stuffs that've endured the years: old
unposted poems with scribbled notes,
faded photos in sepia...faded jeans;
a bed that awaits fatigued body and
mind on toxic days, and becomes a
desk to write on...when needed.

It's not as though nothing's awry,
imperfections are seen by the eyes,
some details may not be precise
in this accepted clutter of daily goings-
on...of feelings...of some undoings
that interrupt and are mingling
with enigmas flashing up the ceiling;
lost shoe-laces wander, and go hiding
among indispensable habits and things,
kept...retained, like a hanging purse,
grabbed, when a sudden trip occurs.

It's hot and cold in this ***** place,
it's cozy, my neatly-cluttered space.



sally b

Rosalia Rosrio A. Bayan
March 24, 2022
Next page