Hello Poetry is a poetry community that raises money by advertising to passing readers like yourself.

If you're into poetry and meeting other poets, join us to remove ads and share your poetry. It's totally free.
"When music fades, worlds live not long."

O'Bryan, Zacharias . Seven Poems and Songs from Spirit Thorn VeraVoz LLC. Kindle Edition.

Music suspended...
ether vibrates
melancholy lilting echo
notes strung together as beads on necklace

   sky to earth
Notes into raindrops
songs into dew
   fall on the grass and rose petals
   Look closely
   look again
   yes, again
     in that single fluid crystal drop
     hidden mysteries and revelation
   éclaircie - rendu plus clair
   (clarified made clearer)
     light through the prism
     golden ray passing through the single crystal drop bursting into color
     luminous fragments embedded as one filtered to reveal diversity
        So we as humans are
   one light
a thousand ray emanations particles
born of the            drifting,
falling to earth...

Ever changing yet part of the One
      that is ALWAYS
         the same
The last line to this just struck me...
''Come to the edge''.
''We can't. We're afraid''.

''Come to the edge''.
''We can't. We will fall''.

''Come to the edge''.
And they came.
And he pushed them.
And they flew.
Alone again,
Like how it was before I was found,
Before I could hear a sound.

My head has turned bleak.
Slowly approaching my peak,
I find it hard to find the words to speak.

And the shadows seep into my cracks
by your command
doubt and drought invade this fertile land
as my world regresses in a state of chaos
and loss
and confusion
with the fusion of hope and contempt
to my ignorance and to your method.

You held me in your palm
and hear my imperfect soul cry from across realms
that shield me from the truth.
I become sad...
Am I mad for wanting better for myself,
better than myself?
Make me better for you.
Spiritual starvation.
ómra 6d
last night, i had a dream
about a goddess
made inside of my bones.

she was green and gold and she told me
a secret: we have the universe flowing
through our blood.

she was me,
and she is you too.
ómra 7d
when i was twelve i met my goddess
in an old pine tree on a cliff
with nothing but sand below me.

she beckoned me close
and sat me on her roots
and she told me secrets that all women know.

she opened up my mouth
and checked my teeth like a horse at a show
and nodded to herself
and said that yes, i would do.

she pressed her thumbs
to my forehead and woke up
the second-self that all women have

and she helped it walk
and taught it how to talk.

her skin was peeling bark
and her fingers were needle-sharp
but her smile stole my breath
and she keeps it high up in her boughs
even now, seven years later.

every time i exhale i feel it
right underneath my ribs, right in the place
where i know my mother
and my mother’s mother and
all of the wise mothers before me
have felt their instincts at work
she was beautiful, and my trust in her is absolute
Il sottocodice delle farfalle.

La prima delle farfalle sogno
non cadde dal cielo
esiste sin dall’inizio
dell’acqua sulla terra.

parla delle farfalle
nella voce del futuro,
né nel deserto dei Tartari,
né tra la luna e i falò.

si schierano
ed è prospero il vento.

English translation

The language of butterflies.

The first of the wingéd dreams
did not fall from the sky
they witnessed the birth of water
upon the earth.

No one
speaks of butterflies
in the future tense,
swarming the Tartars in their desert,
strafing the moon and the harvest fires.

Even now
butterflies take flight
and good fortune rides the wind.
Per quelli che parlano italiano, e soprattutto chi ha studiato i prosatori del Novecento, chiedo umilmente scusa.
Serena Oct 9
I am not you
The voice that you are hearing this with

I am the essence
That carries you from place to place

I am the state of peace and clarity
That fills you with happiness

I am the all knowing
That reveals the truth

I am the most pure way of being
That teaches you the language of the Gods

I am not you
But you are me
Consider a bee
while the sunbeams dance on a bench in front of a melting clock
Consider a bee
while the cradling mankind sees a gun under the pillow and feels safe.
The dust of the soul,
the soul dusts away
The bee
Interrupts a series of copulations
and a run across the industrial lawn

The sacrifice
of a fat lobster named eternal consciousness
garlic sliced bread & a fear of a thing
as per the given prescription?
am I right?

I have no more time for such nonsense,
Consider a bee
5 more minutes, a 90-degree angle, you are dead.

- Samar Charulingah Godfrey
Bracelet Oct 6
You loved me thoroughly.
To your spine.
Mitochondria from my heart travelled each swirl
of your fingertips as they rest
on your sternum at night.

Your bluff and bluster roar their outrage.
My kiss meant nothing.
I would believe you
save for every graven image
that graced the pedestal
after me.

You loved me.
As completely
and as truthfully
as an amen.
Woke up from a nap with this story swirling in my head. :):)
I am only an ocean, a great rage and the ever-sinking sea
Lamenting every marred sailor forged in the waters of Galilee

No more shall sailors mourn a forgotten plea:
A ransom for ****, where devils run free

Forgive and forget
But never forget my eyes
The rage you lament
Remains lost to solemn lies

You are only now, only here, and solemnly mine,
For what is brimstone but ash beneath the dying brine?

You are my sword, my heart and my final lament and plea
Forget not my mind lost to ****’s every subtlety

There is only rage that awaits among this sea
Forever pining for a ransomed eternity.
"Deep calls to deep in the roar of your waterfalls; all your waves and breakers  have swept over me." -Psalm 42:7 (NIV)
Next page