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Martin Boško Apr 13
Sometimes it is good
To sit around, do nothing
Clear your busy mind
Pining to be loved
I sought asylum within these pages
Every line, every word, every rhyme
Was a reflection of the sorrow that ruminated
Beyond the looking glass.
Yes, I fathomed I was alone without a
Guiding star, without a lodestar to lead the way, O, but now I am liberated
By The Sovereign of Songbirds
Who solaces me by his mellifluous musicality.
(Yes, I am free)

Soaring beneath the stratosphere, thermosphere, mesosphere, and exosphere
I saw all the suffering underneath the sun
And remembered what it was like to slumber.
Rest is something I took for granted
Feeling it was only forged to flee lament; oh, but that is only half the freedom
Of truth: Yes, we are reborn when we slumber.
So lull me and lead the way; furthermore, I am liberated.
The Sovereign of Songbirds enspirits me
By the clairron lullaby, by His voice.
(O, I am free)

Dreaming, I lost sight of all that made me human;
Limitations forgotten, I drifted heavensward. I forsook
All I held beloved.
Why must phantasy mean sacrifice? Must the fantast
Be sundered in order to claim transcendence, ascendence?
Yes, I was burned by The Incendiary Sun but
My heart has survived. It leads the way to liberty.
I am risen by The Sovereign of Songbirds who resurrects me.
I am summoned from the ashes like a Phoenix Rising.
(O, I am free)

(Se’ lah)
Excelsior Forevermore,

Sanders Maurice Foulke III

SomaSonata Mar 27
Left me high and dry
With no room to spare inside
Consolation prize

There's no end in sight
Your favorite *******
Returns the favor

Supernova explodes
Into a spectrum of light
The colors bleeding

Gone without a trace
Absorbed into outer space
Totally consumed

Beings of light
Trapped in material form
Roses which adorn

Untapped potential
Systematically reformed
Maria Mitea Feb 4
that I've died so many times
my body has forgotten how is to be ash,
ordinary mortals fill me with jealousy (of the gods
and those who were trying to test the hemispheres of death
they couldn't find out much,
they failed,
accusing me of being a fanatic captivated by the talent of dying,
- a madwoman running after extinctions,

I recognize,
death seems to be a joke that you cannot compare with the ecstasy in the ***** of love, nor with the light on the buds of the *******,

rounded ivory *******,
lips salty as tears,
everything burns
It burns in the fire,
It burns until you start breathing;
in you, in others, in the first cry, kiss,…
breathing  until you wake up,

in death,
as in life, we ​​are so visible,
and so invisible
since we were born,
and since we died,
our body moves through other bodies,
as the green moves through the leaves of a forest
and I breathe you like a green,

when I last died all that was left was one breath
which in the absence of a body infiltrates inside other bodies,

Indeed, when you breathe the walls of the heart emit light signals,
  I breathe you carefully, like a newborn
on whose face radiates a playful laugh,
apply small prana breathing techniques
(I hope you don't mind)

the entrances and exits of your chest are green paths,
without a way in or a way out to allow promises in the movement of love,
you talk about standing fixed in love, why? love is movement,
frozen love  is not even death, but a wall waiting to be torn down
even after a thousand years of waiting

I breathe through your blood; with thought, with soul, with eyes, with hands,
I run with my lips, I breathe you,
It's the unthought that breathes you in abundance
and above love, and that which I think.
I wrote this in Romanian. It is a translation. If something feels weird or doesnțt make sense, please let me know. I would appreciate it. So I can improve it. :)
preston Jan 30

Johnny in black
a girl's heart attack--
his perfect-guitarred-croon
made all them girls swoon

and for her...
              her name was June

A stint in prison
for freedom-- the reason
dude learned his lesson
came back to sing-them

and brought along a girl
                                 named June

A ring of fire
his heart's desire
no line to walk
when you walk the talk

Johnny simply had a thing
                                       for June.

And through his heart
though worlds apart
she saw what was true
and it carried them through--

that beautiful view of Johnny
                                              in June.
there was hurt in it too
all things-- covered
    in blue

all because Johnny
                    loved June

there's somethin about a man in black..

Erik Luo Nov 2020
The bell rings at the wake of dawn
Singing the echo of that holy song
Where in this moment we shall sit
And await the presence of next gong

The wind is howling about a secret
Of the magical beauty in the now
As it flew, it kissed my skin
And took away all my wrongs

The drum beating in my chest
Speaking the words of divine love
Where no mind nor thoughts,
Can disturb this song

I am...

Nothing more
preston Sep 2020

A funny thing about forever..
--it never, ever ends..

and so   neither will we.

The spirit is free from
all of this-- it will  always
remain lit..

only the flesh goes dark  
as we  leave  its earth-laden husk, behind..

But the core-heart of Love's true ache  will always,
always Remain.

In the calling out to one another
of the lovers up and down the strand
In the sound of the waves and the cries
of the seagulls, circling the sand
In the fragments of the songs
carried down the wind from some radio
In the murmuring of the city in the distance
ominous and low..

I hear the sound of the world  where we played
And the far too simple beauty of the promises we made

If you ever need holding
call my name, and I'll be there
If you ever need holding
and no holding back,  I'll see you through-

Sky, blue and black
Billie Marie Sep 2020
All things are passing
let them pass
all feelings and thoughts
let them pass
and when the time comes
same thing
the pain the sensations
the thoughts rushing over
let it all pass
see it flow by
it’s only a thing
like a cloud in your sky
it’s only just like
each wise one may say
and when the time comes
it is just like today
all things are passing
watch each one flow away
all things are passing
let each one pass away
Dante Rocío Aug 2020
What wonder with
Poetry in Prose,
Prose in Poetry,
those two together
made at

what Art is that
whilst those
trespass borders
of what’s cognitive and not,
my true form of wording
and existing
as that!

That is a feat,
mingle those two together,
make one fluent into train of events
by the other
and the other make
the former
an extravagance
that should reign
on us!
The most forming way
of expression verbally
and not!

And what experience would that be
if we took under account again
the spaces
the “Enter” key
between verses
in a classic poem structure,
to think how that changes
everything and what
respect it demands
in each line
The creation of a person made both
From the flesh, the Yin, as Prose,
From the essence, the Yang, as Poetry
Is the greatest feat
Which bears translucent
Survival of perfect Life of an Apprehension
In a beaten-up reality
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