Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Lauramihaela Oct 11
I’m not more grateful
For the nurturing warmth of the sun
After a long winter
Than I am for the soothing shade
On a scorching day.
I love the yin and yang-
There is no good and bad
But thinking that makes it so.
Arisa Oct 9
the night air is cold on my back; naked
white, glistening in moon's light
the glint of her silver combs my hair
caresses the cheek of all who dare gaze beyond
her lustrous face.

dotted by pearl freckles that pale her complexion,
brings beauty to nightfall.

o blissful treasure,
take me in my ascent
to your humble home
of crag and dust.

my celestial shore rests on the lunar frontier;
tucked in the embrace of space.
Another poem about my muse.
Steve Page May 10
Yin
I need a strong yin
to rein me in
to be by my side
kicking my shin
when I need to restrain
my under their skin
to pull me out of my dive
and control my fast spin

it's then that my watson,
my bucky, my tonto
comes into their own
and suppresses my ego
So don't go when I strut
when I trigger disgust
just stand by my yang
and balance me up
Thank you radio 4 for a short about side kicks
Lillian May May 23
I'm torn (apart)
between
loving the big blue and green eyes that go on for miles when I look into them and the way you look at me with them in all their different flavors like curiosity and soft fondness and fire-like intensity and the way you smile with your one dimple and the way that smile tastes when you pull me in with your strong arms that I know won't let me go because under your breath you say 'mine' as you squeeze me tighter and the feeling of that breath on my skin as we sink deeper into a state of cloudy hysteria and everything in the world feels perfectly in tune as my head is on your chest and your heartbeat is the pentameter of it all.
im torn between that and
this old feeling of dread that as soon as you slip away from me I won't see you or hear your voice and yet you'll be trapped in my thoughts like a favorite song and no matter how hard I try I can't help but feeling like the tune is off somehow and I've forgotten some words but I can't think of which ones but the worst part is I feel like all this noise in my head won't be mirrored in yours and you won't hear the tune or appreciate the melody.

im torn (apart)
between
this harmony of yin and yang and you give me a head and I give you a heart and how you say "id be a cold-hearted sonofabitch without you" and when I ask if you're proud of me you say "Its rare that im not proud of you" and when I cry you look into my eyes like a blanket on an oil fire calming me down and reminding me where the ground is and you hold my hand when I'm scared and tell me "fear means youre growing, when its over you'll be glad you did it" and you push me to be bold and when you smile and tell me I slow the world down for you and that you like when I stroke your hair because you feel safe for once and how we even each other out softening rigid edges and sharpening dull blades
im torn between that and
knowing that when the harmony is askew we duel with those swords but not with each other, with our respective selves and I start wishing I wasn't too much and you beat yourself up for thinking you aren't enough and the air fills with a solid stench of resentment and confusion and im grasping frantically for answers and bandages as we both sit on the floor hemorrhaging.

I'm.
torn (apart).
between
loving you and knowing there are so many beautiful ways we're good for each other
torn between that and
wondering if that's enough to make up for the ways that we ruin the other.
and then I ask "what is love without ruin?" and "love is enough right?"
but im just
torn apart
George Krokos Mar 19
Embrace tiger, return to mountain
and get refreshment at a fountain.
In solitude and meditation
doubts are cleared by realisation.

The cares of the world are so many
one can't afford to bring back any;
although they help when called to do so
with what for others they have to know.

As yin and yang play their parts so well
those stories of the old one's do tell.
They're never alone in this struggle
and must also know how to juggle.

Advance and retreat each time they go
to share that knowledge of the Tao.
____
Written early in 2017. Based on my study and thoughts about Taoism.
Then I heard, "We've met before. I believe countless times in innumerable lifetimes." She looked at me and said, "Boy, we have already done this. Don't you remember?" And the girl in my dreams said to look inside her eyes but not at her eyes. "There is a way out. I can show you if only you believe me. We can be free," she stated. Can the patterns really ever be broken? "You want temporary pleasure for permanent damage. This will **** you," she said. "Your mental imprisonment is an endless cycle, you broken record," she furiously lamented. "There is pain in everything. Pain in pleasure but pleasure in pain. What is growth without death? What is progress in happiness without change? The ultimate comfort is unknowingly repeating the same cycles over and over again. To enter the uncomfort zone is ultimate freedom." A beautiful dream just a brutal nightmare disguised that replays real events of the past in the mind until I wake up to realize they are no longer mine.

I sit still and she whispers for me to look down as she offers me a hot cup of tea. There is a South Korean woman in a red dress in my tea. She wears a lavender rose through her hair while looking at me. The ocean current pushes the waves to the surface of my mouth. She holds my hand softly, then gives a firm grip.


I am alone in a bedroom and there is a beautiful, but haunting Gregorian chant. I go out to the garden to pick foreign fruit from fences near an old church. I eat the fruit and she tells me to watch her hand. She draws three circles in the air. The first circle is small, the second is slightly bigger, and the third is much larger. "What is this?" I asked her with confusion in my voice. "Chaos," she said in an assuring manner. The circles followed each other surrounding me and going up and down. "But...can you see the order?" she asked me. I just watched them. "To understand the meaning is futile. It is beyond your comprehension. Things happen, you see. Maybe you think they are good or bad. It is just nature. Go with it and allow it. There you will become truth."


This woman wore black, she had pale skin, seductive emerald-green eyes, long and straight black hair, with a face so beautiful is was beyond reason. I could not look away. She directed me with her finger to come with her. We were naked and she kissed me in a dark room with the moonlight striking her body from the window of her bedroom. I closed my eyes and I heard her say, "Now try to find me." I opened my eyes and she was gone. As euphoric as I felt, I wondered where she had gone and if I would ever see her again.


I awoke to the oppressing sunlight burning my eyes. I felt an emptiness like never before. I searched lifetimes looking for her, only to receive hints of her echo. Every time it feels for sure I will meet her, I open the door to the beginning again. So I run and run in dreams. My mind is exhausted.


There she is. I have found her. I wait for her to look at me and recognize me, but she never does. She sits alone crying. I wait and then I leave. Something is wrong. Which is worse, I thought: To be rejected by the most important thing you have ever known or for it to disappear forever from your grasp and live each day and night yearning for it again? If only there was a cure for the mind's obsessions.


I woke up with no recollection of anything or who I even was. My phone was near my head ringing. I looked and it said, "Unknown Caller". Usually I never answer, but something told me to pick up and my curiosity got the best of me. I answered but said nothing. I listened and she said, "I found you," then asked, "What are we when our story ends?" There was nothing but pure silence until she responded with the question, "Now are you ready to be free?" I confirmed and followed her into the darkness.
Fallen Feb 12
Horses chase the wind—
shamanic drumbeats of hooves
shake our bones with love.

Here we remember
what it is for Mother Earth
to reach out to Sky.

Beneath crashing hooves,
she flings to freedom's embrace—
Mother and Father.

In this holy kiss
Freedom and Nurture unite—
the Way of the Horse.
the waking hours can be chaotic,

like being in the eye of the storm

I see the destruction around me,

hear the deafening sounds of the winds,

and i'm not sure which way to go,

if I was to run away

but after it dissipates, the days return

to a peaceful, harmonious state

and nights with her are calm and tranquil
all things in balance
Next page