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Jude kyrie Mar 2017
Anthem
By
Jude Kyrie

Take me back to where I belong
With a heart of joy and a soul of song.
Sing youths anthem from up on high
Let youthful passions rise and fly

On mountains peaks let eagles cry
Let young star-crossed lovers woo and sigh
Bring me back my departed friends.
In a place where sunlight never ends

There is a tiny hole in everything
It's where the darkness ends and light begins.
Bring me peace with fragrant springs
Let the light shine out from everything.
Just had a birthday, don't ask how many, too many to count.
I always get a bit reflective this time of the year
Sigh
Jude
G Valentine Mar 2017
"Who am I?" You ask.

I am the wind blown through the trees on a bitterly cold evening.

I am the shadow in the corner of the room, catching your eye for only a second.

I am the deja vu idea of something you feel like you're always forgetting.

I am nothingness yet I still appear before you.

Am I just your mind playing tricks, in an endless game of reality?

Or am I the myth of something not quite real, living in the limbo of life and death?
My first poem with out any attempt at rhyming. Any feedback is awesome!! Thanks!
Christian Bixler Feb 2017
The cup forgotten,
left, upon the rain-wet sill
will I drink tomorrow's dew?
Working Title; but judge it as you will.
eleanor prince Dec 2016
swirling wistful
whispering ridge

speaks to my blood
ancient refrain

stroking stealthy
passionate reach

leaves no freedom
coveting all

onwards stalking
urgently quiet

strikes when poise
drifts

apart
https://www.flickr.com/photos/92628403@N07/27310942001/in/faves-51029280@N05/
Leeann Oct 2016
A sonnet for the hopeful
where true love never dies
A sonnet for the truthful
where hatred never lies

A ballad for the beautiful
wherein sadness never cries
A ballad for the sorrowful
wherein happiness is full of sighs

An elegy for the successful
whenever they deign to speak
An elegy for the deceitful
whenever they choose to sneak

An anthem for the bountiful
whatever they may claim
An anthem for the dutiful
whatever they may maim

A symphony for the resentful
whoever they may see
A symphony for the respectful
whoever they may be
Tiffany Moton Oct 2016
on October mornings
when the world outside my window
is lost in a pale fog
& faint white light slips between
the spaces in my blinds but spares
me, cloaked in shade & free
to sleep a little longer (if i could)

when the cozy scent of coffee
drifts upstairs, through the chilly air
& kisses me awake
how to savor a stillness so delicate?
threatened by little more
than the **** creaky floor

on October mornings
born mild & undisturbed
i tiptoe through the quiet
vacant rooms that smell of
spice & stale smoke
all is as i left it.
(draped in loneliness)

when i've accidentally made
one too many pancakes
& the wind's whistle haunts me like
a distant friendly ghost
it seems to always be
on these October mornings
that i wish you were here

the most
Natsumi Nakai Aug 2016
When the world is still sleeping
And the rain tiptoes in the dawn
When the scented candles are burning
Or when I smell freshly cut grass in the lawn
I think of you, my sweet darling
Oh, how I think of you

I think of how you looked at me
No unnecessary words spoken
We bathed upon each other
And I caught your eyes
I remember them so clearly
They were the eyes of the broken

What have she done to you,
my sweet darling?
Oh, what have she done to you?

Your eyes used to be a jungle
With fields where the grass grows
And infinite rivers and meadows
But now they have become corpses
Ready and waiting to be sent back
to the ground
the ground of sorrows and the dead

And it pains me

Oh, nothing pains me more
than seeing you losing the war
nn Aug 2016
tosses around her words so she can watch them fall and make a dent in the earth, a dearth. she fills it up with water and prayers but she can never harvest anything except for love. that's where her body comes from - someone else's curves, brimming to the top & exploding  with doves.

if there was ever a volcano that erupted just to shower everyone with petals and pearls, it would be her. a curse she holds to be so tender.


but god, i wish i was her.
this is why friendships are always so dysfunctional for me i will never stop wishing i was her
Swanswart Aug 2016
She swam all over me
and I was fishing in her dreams
and I was fishing in her jeans
for change and sunken treasures

with her pale skin and scales
she sang of the primordial sea
and swelled of the deep
deep inside the levis thin
this leviathan
groaned with pants and moans

and I was finishing in her dreams
and I was finishing in her jeans
So I swam away from her
into the belly of the beast
and she sank
beneath the waves
and left me
in my wake
This poem may be the only time in my life I awoke from a dream and was able to write it down immediately, and leave it alone.
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