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Shane Leigh Apr 30
To create a new vision
one must stare into the dark.
Make out all the ticks,
Speckles of light that flash
with a quick blink of the eye.

It's the quiet working of the imagination.
tick tick tick

If you stare into the dark long enough,
you'll find more than the shadows
that you decided not to see.
This just kind of happened, not really sure what to title this lol I hope you enjoy (:
© Shane Leigh
Steve Page Apr 29
My kids, they prophecy daily,
young men recount their visions,
pensioners dream their dreams,
fired up for holy mission.

I wonder about those like me
caught in our middle ages.
What did Joel have in mind
for men in mid-life crises?

God tells me I'm still chosen,
I still do qualify
to bear ripe fruit, to share good gifts,
to live without compromise.

So as the last days come much nearer,
as our mission nears completion,
you'll find I pray more readily
to herald his coming kingdom.
Acts 2:17-18 quotes the prophet Joel:
17 “ ‘In the last days, God says,
I will pour out my Spirit on all people.
Your sons and daughters will prophesy,
your young men will see visions,
   your old men will dream dreams.
18 Even on my servants, both men and women,
I will pour out my Spirit in those days,
and they will prophesy.
In a quiet inn
         in an aching world
there was a boy with mind
body and strength
he had the talent
the unyielding bent
to wield his power
to unrelent
he was sometimes cruel
he was often sweet
he was sometimes gentle
his word carried heat
people loved him so
his poise and candor
his mind was a joy
his work was pure splendor

he was asked
         from time to time
if you could lead us
with your mind sublime
what would you do
where would we go?
         beyond, he'd say,
to the stars and depths
to the moons and mountains
to the planets and systems
how long,
         they'd say,
would you lead us, hence?
         "A thousand years and a thousand more
         a thousand thence and evermore."

his rise was swift
his patience deep
to the destitute, favor
to the broken, weep
his gifts were vast
his counsel practical
his word was bond
and ever magical
he trounced the greedy
imprisoned the malicious
righted all the wrongs
seldom vicious
and before long
his rule was secured
a man of justice and principle
tenets of cure
how long,
         they'd say,
will you lead us, hence?
         "A thousand years and a thousand more
         a thousand thence and evermore!"
we wish it so!

trouble gradually
like bubbles passively
breaking the surface
of his grand design
officials profited
underclass maligned
body for profit
"all are mine"
there was danger in the air
ripples in the well
poison in the minds
infirmity with no care
and sickness took hold
people lost their hope
they questioned Great Lord Marra,
how long,
          they'd say,
will you lead us, hence?
          "A thousand years and a thousand more
          don't ask me again
          or there will be

Chaos in the streets
desenters rounded
deserters uprooted
populace cowered
to the masses
knowledge of rights and potential
traded for respect of rule and power
hour by hour
day by day
toil was spilt
for the grand design
the work of tyranny
is cruel and violent
so was Grand Lord Marra
never certain
never quiet
         he would ask of his subjects,
         how long shall I rule?
they'd say,
         "A thousand years! A thousand years!"
"Never forget it!"
         we shant, our lord

Whispers arose
of a new power rising
someone true
someone firm
someone compassionate
someone alight
he roused the dreams in the soul
he broke the chains in the heart
he walked the roads that were barred
he climbed the mountain forbade
and slowly people turned to him
away from Grand Lord Marra
and that tyrannical father felt it
he felt the waning of his power

Like a dragon in the bowels
of our precious, sacred, love
Marra tightened around that
which the people ever adored
the grand design of toil
the great work of tyranny
the state paid for with blood
that whose edifice was a crypt for the innocent
and that someone who was hero
stepped up to that edifice
with chisel, hammer, pen, and passion,
he carved away that
which held the malice within
he let out all
of the death and destruction
that Grand Lord Marra
had caged in the people
the world played with their shadows
that had been nailed to the edifice and its steeple
and in time they shook free
of Grand Lord Marra's tyranny
for when they learned their freedom once more
the old lord looked old and feeble
not a thousand years
       nor a thousand years more
               nor a thousand years hence
                        and nevermore
just 66 years
it took to break free
of Grand Lord Marra
and his projected

The illness left them all
         breaths of relief swept the nation
and the hero who had come
         was crowned the king of freedom
and he taught all who followed
how to wield the power he knew
how to be free as well
and every dragon of delusion slew
        peace would not reign forever
        new chaos would come
stronger than the last
        strong as the world and its evolving sun
but in this age, there was peace
        joy like never before
                 and our hero's name was remembered
        he did not live a thousand years
but his stories certainly lived longer
in the hearts of the people
in the hearts that were won

Yet a strange thing occurred
       sure as night conquers day
Grand Marra's visions of the future
       did not decay
                 they became the bedrock
of future design
        for light rests on darkness
the grand design
        two sides of the coin
and mine

darkness for foundation
        light for revealing its depth
pathway into the future
        left and right steps...
Thank you for reading!!!
This was fun to write :)
I hope you enjoyed!

Sophie Mar 25
I sat at the edge
of the mountain

I looked out
at all the land

A winged creature
emerged from behind
the clouds

White feathered beauty,
delivering a message
from heaven.

There would be no
end to the
and suffering
that love
on earth
could cause me.

Its talons grazed
my papery skin,
which ripped open
so easily.

I was bleeding out
into the soil,
as the vision
of a beautiful
slowly flapped
its wings,
and flew
My Dear Poet Jan 7
A little green grew
in the grey and grey blue
in a world that was dusty and dark
in the form of a flower
with colours to devour
that could turn a city into a park
But the crowd passing by
in the black and black tie
hardly took the time or knew
through the crack in the strife
the hues and colours of life
blossoming beneath their shoe
yet stretching out its wild leaves
with a beauty to please
It was a sad, sad trample amidst the scuffle
the busy people passing by
who would not raise an eye
wondered “what scent was so, so wonderful?”
but the crushed fragrance blown
was all that was known
though they knew not what it was
for they’d never seen
that little, little green
it’s just the smell they now speak of
CarolineSD Jan 4
She strikes the keys with shaking hands
Letting the tears spill out
Trying to capture everything she is scared to lose;
To paint him
Or her
And this star-filled night
Before it dies
Before it dies
Before it dies

But, beautiful one,
The glory is not out there for you to grasp
Like sand through broken glass.
You are not subject to the magic of the muse
Or the heart-tones of his laugh.

Your magic enchants these forms against an ordinary
Gray horizon.

The light was always yours.

The exquisite power of your words is yours
And not ours to dictate,
Nor to own.

What we see bled across the paper
Isn't just the majesty of the things
You love,
But the beautiful mystery of your own, tremendous spirit and its
Giving capacity to love
Coloring an open tundra.

So write on, poets,
As you feel compelled by the music of your soul
Write on and never let anyone demean
Or control
The visions that are yours,
Built and translated through the glory of your own
I always thought the magic came from them, but suddenly, I realized,
it came from me.
A letter to myself
A letter to you, poets.
Tichozpytec Dec 2021
Opened eyes but she cannot see
Daydreaming about what will be
Her vision tinted with her inner darkness
Night beckons touting her wit sharpness
Tears are rolling from her eyes
Ears full of Shadows and nasty lies

I want to hug her
Tell Her, it's just lies
A treacherous demon in disguise
But I just can't
I can only see her with my mind and can't share her burden in real life
Maybe... When time will come... I will stumble upon her in my travels
And, with a couple of thrown pebbles, I'll make her open a window to her mind
And together, we'll leave our storms behind
Mose Dec 2021
My history doesn't define me.  
I write my past presently.
self present vision past history define affirmations thought time
Steve Page Nov 2021
I am a man
a man who writes poetry
that’s who I am.

Do you see?
Do you see what I see?
A different world
A gift of the future
where promise lies in a whisper
for whoever sees.
M Vogel Nov 2021

There is a love, deeply embedded  into

fear's reverence.. and what we fear most,
is the threat of annihilation..  yet,  is not
that, which is within the deep hooks  of
annihilation's looming leer, that which
is also the very seeds sown-- giving way
to the very firstfruits of Life-Anew..
within itself?

So then, is not death's very fear,  
in itself,  a conceding to the inevitability
of Love's unfolding conquer?
The condemnation-shadow, so unfairly
placed into you,  at such a tender
young age, has run amok for so many
unrestrained years  within your beautiful
spirit, and body..  is no longer
    an end-all..
    or catch-all,
But is now, but a spring-board;   albeit,
fear-driven.. into that (finally, Beautiful-one)
which brings Life.. directly out of death--
Not with the annihilation  of the very  Death..
(which gave you Magic) but through its own,
very power to draw us towards Love,
through its own, very fear (respect)  of that Love..
does not then, death.. through Love,  become upheld?

So how then can the condemnation within you, be bad
except that it be allowed to,  for life.. keep you
hidden in shadow? Is not then  Love's Light, the
very thing that creates Shadow's, shadow, therefore
exposing Shadow's nature by bringing forth,
its own shadow..  leaving the vulnerable rawness of
condemnation, exposed..
Hence, the horrendous sting of Love's truth.. yet also,
through the Faith-increasing training of experience  alone,
is the strengthening into resilience  the beautiful, war-torn
Spirit  that has become able to begin  to finally.. take in, Love.
This is where you are now at, beautiful girl. While under
condemnation's death-hold, you have hated me for so long
that the love.. mixed with fear.. became its own  natural
concession into Life, itself-- giving way to the Magical
falling-off  of the scales that have covered those beautiful
eyes of yours for so long

Bring your Death, beautiful-one. Through your Faith,  it is
established..  and then made, Complete. The giftedness, borne
from the deep, catacombs of Death's Unholy Hold, come forth
in fullness.. into fruition.. as you pass from Death, into Life--
right here.. in the land of the Living.
The Death you have known, does not fall off at the gate
as you pass through it.. but instead, through the newness
of your beautiful eye's, Life View..  Death's previous Unholiness
  becomes instantly, Holy.

I am in love with the death that is in you. From its hold,
were born every Magical gift that I love so much, in you..
and  while in your presence..  will forever
take my breath away.

Welcome to my life, Beautiful one.
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