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Joseph Gassmann May 2021
Rebels in the night immersed in the glow of the bright neon light

Surrender to the Night

For we do not know where to go but we trust in the night that everything shall be alright

The rain begins to pour
the air so crisp

If only the world could cease to exist
And leave you and I in this night of bliss.
It still tastes the same.
When I saw the sun,that rose in thy's eyes
Brimming with a passionate love in disguise.
I danced and whirled in my ballet shoes;
Completely abided of what I chose .

I sat at the dawn to count the dews.
It held my hand and dyed me in thy eternal hues.
I sat in the night, with an utmost fright .
The moon whispered the stars to ignite me with a hope of delight.

The colors in me , intensified,
In pain to paradise.
A wound hard to describe.

I crossed thy's path to meet its mornings,
Until I burned my own night.
I defaced my veil of disgrace,
to adore the light.

I fell head over heels in love with thy's scars.
Also Ask the falling star- "How distressed you are?"
"I take pride in my ambit.
I rode ,to fall in thy's tide."
That night,all the other stars cried.

The night light stroked me with an agony of lie.
I tried to rip myself until ,
I knew I was an anchoress to thy.
And I became homeless,
Again,but
In devotion ,
To its illusion.

Perhaps, I came a long way to ask myself - "what do I see for this is surreal?"
A puff of air whispered - "Open your eyes and feel,
It still tastes the same in Real."
Memories,Scars,Pride,Pain,Surrender.
Glenn Currier Apr 2021
I got to wondering today
if I am an old dog
who can’t be taught new tricks
if that windmill going round and round
catching the wind between the blades
is really who I am,
if the universe surges
into the spaces still left in me,
if it is trying to wake the music
yet alive inside
in the curves of my heart,
if the blood pulsing there refuses to go down
in one grave path
and insists on a symphony of swerve
an inclination in a new direction.
If that breeze is really grace
then maybe I am being reborn
a puppy full of life
eager to be all the dog it can be.
I recently saw two movies both of which touched me to tears. They were movies about believing and about dramatic changes, even miracles. I don't know exactly why they touched me so, except that they might have had a message for me, a message about changes I need to make, about a slightly new direction, a swerve away from what is expected, away from the exact trajectory my life has been taking. Also in this poem is the idea of swerve, a philosophy that some believe sparked the modern age.
Hera Apr 2021
Come to me,
and
I promise you
to only feel
eternity.
Where do I find someone exactly like in my poem? :')
annh Mar 2021
...back broken...
...divinely kneeling...
...mending reflections...

...feeling the delusion...
...waging a war...
...fuelled by resentment...

...old wounds distance me...
...soft tissue...
...neatly hidden...
...from mothering...




...withdrawing criticism...
...that’s all it takes...
...without shame...
...of surrender...

...open the door...
...feel the longing...
...take the brave step...

...with you unafraid...
...all my intricate defences...
...would be taken away...

An experiment: pick a book, open it at a random page, close your eyes and see where your finger lands. Repeat steps two through four until the novelty wears off. Shuffle and compose. Omit the unintelligible. ;)

‘It starts off like climbing a tree or solving a puzzle - poetry, if nothing else, is just fun to write.’
- Criss Jami, Killosophy
Sharon Thomas Mar 2021
What's it gonna take?
For me to enter your mind,
I've heard of a universe;
That you try so hard to confine.

What's it gonna take;
For me to make you smile
The crinkle in your eyes is enough;
To make anyone go wild

What's it gonna take;
For your eyes to meet mine;
There is serenity in them
That I cannot fathom;

What's it gonna take;
For you to whisper my name;
My heart would burst into a thousand flames
And most willingly;
Abdicate.
Carlo C Gomez Mar 2021
~
This level crossing--

stick,
sand,
and broken glass,

from naming to numbering,
names tend to define,
numbers are neutral,

they count the roads, follow their failings--

flow,
force,
and absorb,

dictated by a headlight,
I feel nearer to the surface of us,

motion made of visible memories, arrested in space,

mere unorganized explosions of random energy,
and therefore meaningless--

to fall in love with our progress,
and yet be outgrown by it.

~
Sabika Feb 2021
A pink sunset
Shines it’s rays over a purple, calm ocean.
The gold of the sun
Shimmers like sparkling fairy dust
Over its tiny ripples.
Cumulous clouds
Express themselves as they sing
Stories of the past in all different colours.
And I stand in joyous sadness,
With a sense of helplessness,
As I surrender to the sheer beauty,
Surrender to the Almighty.
Absorb yourself in serenity, and begin to sing
an ode to the things undone
and the absence of light below the sun

Surrender to guilt, and from your quaver I percieve
the ode to the things undone
and the absence of light above the sun

Rinse us
Rinse us
Rinse us
Rinse us

Rinse us
Rinse us
Rinse us
Rinse us
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