#rib
i have a light in my ribcage
a home for the lost ones, the
distant sign to come on home
i shine it over every traveler
let them bask in the warmth, to
shake away the lurking shadows
but who watches the watcher?
who welcomes the host?
I didn't need to know
where home was, as
nowhere was home.
so I never knew this comfort
until someone else with a
ribcage of wisps found me
Home is not a place.
I found my home with you.
and I will follow that light until
the
very
end.
May 17
May 17, 2026 at 11:13 AM UTC
Take one rib from me
But you would never
Take the one that’s hurting me
Because you want a better one
Not only floating and lost
but painfully
Jul 18, 2025
Jul 18, 2025 at 11:52 PM UTC
You are bones of my bones,
Not in ownership,
In recognition.
What was a missing rib had come back whole.
Not taken to complete you,
But returned to walk beside you.
Your kindness is
Patient,
Long-suffering,
Unenvied—
It moves like light through stained glass.
You are my promised land,
Not perfect,
But flowing—
With milk and honey,
With the quiet richness of sweet moments,
Where peace is enough to make everything feel divine.
I’ve known the flood,
The wilderness,
The wandering—
But now I know the garden again.
In the way you say my name,
Standing beside you,
The missing rib finally returned.
And whole.
And if God is love,
Then loving you
Is worship,
And every moment with you
A kind of prayer
I never want to say “amen” to.
May 28, 2025
May 28, 2025 at 11:24 PM UTC
I touch your chest.
Scraping your skin off with my fingernails,
Layer by layer.
Meticulously.
I reach in.
Slowly snapping the bones back,
Rib by rib.
I watch you breathe.
This is the part I love,
Feeling your heartbeat.
It keeps perfect time.
The blood gushing, it's poetic even.
I take my finger, slightly pressed to the beat.
You're gorgeous like this.
Under the smallest push of my finger.
This won't be clean.
I wrap my hand around the source of it all.
I twist, tug, and pull. You love it.
I take you in the palm of my hand.
Still beating, still vibrant, so beautiful.
I bring you to my lips, and I kiss you one last time.
I swear I can taste you in between my teeth, raw still.
And this time you stain my lips red.
Oct 31, 2019
Oct 31, 2019 at 10:06 AM UTC
When there's so much
love locked in my ribcage
I only wish God
grants mercy
to those who shall receive it
For my tsunami of emotions
will shake
the loneliest of islands
an earthquake of beats
will beat life into the lifeless
and love.. oh love
will melt the
frost off
your
chest
and
the
dust
off
your
smile
Dec 18, 2018
Dec 18, 2018 at 8:52 AM UTC
God fashioned us with love and care,
HIS masterpiece.
HE chose a special bone that protects man's life,
The ribcage that protects the heart and lungs,
Man's heart, the centre of His being,
Man's lungs that hold the breadth of his life.
From the rib, HE lovingly and patiently shaped and modelled us.
Created us perfectly and beautifully,
Gave us the characteristics of the rib,
Strong, yet delicate and fragile.
HE chose well,
Not the bone from man's feet,
To be under him
Not the bone from the head,
To be above him,
But, from the bone beside him,
To be held close by his side,
And like the ribcage to protect and support him.
You are HIS perfect form,
HIS beloved Angel.
You are what Adam and man experience of HIM,
HIS holiness, strength,purity and love.
Man is HIS image,
You are HIS emotions,
Together man and woman are totality of HIM.
Nov 16, 2018
Nov 16, 2018 at 3:46 AM UTC
poking at his rib cage
i thought of all of the wonderful times
ive spent with him
not knowing that this would be my last time poking his rib cage
i smiled and laughed in his face
he loved me the way i loved me
or so i thought
and the betrayal finally set in
when the messages stopped flowing in
and the block on all of social media shocked me as well
until my friend had shown that while you were studying abroad
you were going steady with a beautiful french girl
Oct 31, 2018
Oct 31, 2018 at 7:01 AM UTC
she is your silken stream of thought
a delicate knot braided firmly
around your side
never to be united
"she was made from your rib"
"she was made from your rib"
Sep 11, 2018
Sep 11, 2018 at 12:53 PM UTC
That dormant feeling of insecurity arose,
when travel journal got ****** adjacent
to my tattered (holey tattooed) clothes
while I knew with crossed eyes
aroused anger from peaceful doze
my younger sister felt about her
globe trotting exploits, an over expose
jour ever since voyaging out on her own
after graduating top of her class
where mine hatred glows
indirectly snidely sneering
at ma dough less brother hoboes
(a 1979 Methacton High School alumni),
unanimously chosen valedictorian
dressed in Calvin Klein
Harris tweed, couture
and silk ***** hose
like me prolonging, promoting
on par with quasi staff sergeant, who knows
artful disciplinarian gingerly launching
Cider House rules,
asper formerly commanding G.I. Joes
and pronouncing, predilection
exhaling natural highs no lows
traveling solo, with surviving Wilburys,
or just mows
zing nonchalantly
(though a foreigner) with swarthy skin color
easily camouflaging as civilian
all points on the compass,
where minute needle doth nose
upon returning home (being honorably feted
at once glorious estate of Glen Elm,
where she did propose
to the Lord Taylor (swiftly), which location
situated at 324 Level Road, Collegeville,
Pennsylvania 19426),
thence a great huzzah a rose
an immediate nauseousness welled
within from me head tummy smelly toes
I did not want to here, or see any details,
which would accentuate personal woes
popping, snapping, and smarting,
and slapping skin raw tib bits,
ache'n to yanked strings
of mama's heirloom yo-yos!
Poet Script:
trials and tribulations,
visited upon head of young
concocted ("FAKE") gusty and gutsy
kid sister enterprising ingenue,
christened easy on the tongue
Sharodd (not her real name),
to top off talents sung
like a professional opera singer, which rung
a shiver along small hairs of spine did tingle
heard all the way to Lake Woebegone
where bachelor farmers did mingle
every Christmas, a decreasing
number donned Kris Kringle
hit with blitzkrieg of yawping brats
hoof pranced to bell weather jingle!
Jun 24, 2018
Jun 24, 2018 at 1:33 AM UTC
It is as they say:
The heart was bigger than
it used to be; and the rib
that was taken away
is yet to be found.
iamthe_avatar ©2017
Mar 12, 2017
Mar 12, 2017 at 1:39 PM UTC
My breath is caught.
There's a reason they call it a rib cage.
Aug 28, 2016
Aug 28, 2016 at 10:22 PM UTC
If I ever forget to be afraid,
please break all my windows
and leave me behind,
in joyful sadness.
There’s no time
to plan our future!
the past really keeps us busy.
Please go!
Roll my head in duct tape and
take me to the natural park of your rib.
YOU gotta invent me now.
I think it’s only fair!
Just return the bible favor and let’s get it over with.
There’s no time to change our minds –
everything’s happenin’ so fast
and we fall in love with ourselves so **** slow.
I wanna run.
It seems that no one knows what they want,
Night becomes day and day becomes a monkey.
There’s nothing here for us anymore.
We used science to invent God and
God to invent hope
and even more science to fight God and
more gods to **** people's brains
and then more science and prayers and
miracles don’t exist anymore!
They’re only wars and
people running from people.
One might think that we just
don’t know what we want.
Oct 22, 2015
Oct 22, 2015 at 4:33 AM UTC
I'd be a butterfly,
For Heaven's sake.
The kind that Noah forgot to take.
But still survived The Flood...
In your eyes.
I'd build a boat.
Out of your ribcage,
To set the birds free.
You heard me!
Butterflies?
**** butterflies,
I got birds inside me.
No.
What I have to say,
comes from the rip chord
of my razor blades.
Waiting my whole life
for that rubber band
to snap back.
Thank God for my destruction.
Thank God for my ruble.
Because tree's
grow out of the sides
of stone cold mountains.
That have been blown up
by the rough hands
of people mining for gold.
And people set forest fires
on purpose.
To get rid of the dead stuff.
So new things can grow.
And Sometimes.
I pick the plants.
Just to see how much dead stuff
I can accumulate,
before I set myself on fire.
And when I do,
I swear to God.
I'll be an empty notebook.
So you can cover me with lines.
The good kind.
That come from your pencil.
Cause we don't have to roll up
dollar bills
to see the moon, anymore.
Aug 2, 2015
Aug 2, 2015 at 11:15 PM UTC
He sits under that apple tree
on gnarly knoll beside the glade.
He thinking, haven't I done well
with the decisions he had made.
The first I heard that male voice
just droning on about his Rib.
The thing is though if I complain
his face exudes a lamented jib.
He calls me Woe-Man just for fun
and reckons now his troubles start.
Thinks I have got it all my own
when all he does is Moan and ****
God told him I was called Woman
this name provides him with a joke
at my expense amusements aim.
Its aim to hurt and cause provoke.
His rib he gave with good intent,
perhaps he should of dwelt upon
the reasons for such hankerings.
I do believe a selfish one.
This man whom needed company,
so afraid of being alone
wanted something to rule upon.
Something to order and to own.
In his mind there was no doubt.
Sharing his home with such a one.
This Paradise that he calls home
will be so different when I’m done.
Expected handmaid I shall not
if he thinks this is what I be
a shock is coming so immense.
The man is blind but soon shall see.
Paradise they call this place.
I had no choice in coming here.
But now I am I make the most.
And certainly wont live in fear.
He’s quite attractive to the eye.
He makes his creator a good son.
There are many things I can improve
like make him put some trousers on.
I only ask him for one thing.
The smallest favour is all I ask.
In his deluded simple mind
he turns this into such a task.
That apple hanging true and bright
gleaming in the mid-day sun.
I yearn to taste a little bite
but he says No! and thinks he’s won.
He plies me with every other crop
but mind is set on other fruit
he tells me this is God’s demand
but in my mind I’m resolute.
I only have one friend in life.
Charming serpent of my acquaint.
Such an helpful companion
but evil is what my man must paint.
My serpent friend is always ready
to help me gain my aims in life.
Reminds me that my husband should
show some allegiance to his wife.
I wonder how, if I withdraw
with certain charms that I do hold.
This will change his manly mind
and leave him feeling that I'm cold.
I swoon around in tender pose,
temptation broiling in his mind.
Portraying naked silhouette
with glistening breast and smooth behind.
Positioned touch in private place
his temperature wont take much more,
he’ll soon pay with forbidden fruit.
The price he pays to bed his *****
Resolve is lessening by the hour,
too make sweet love will surely sway.
He’ll promise anything for this
a price that he shall dearly pay.
Eventually my way is won,
the fruit positioned at my feet.
I got my way his will undone
but apple tastes so far from sweet.
I know not where my friend has gone.
To lose a friend is far from good
then God turns up so far from pleased
and chases us from gardens wood.
Cast from Eden is our fate
our goods and home suddenly gone.
Evicted we pathetic pair
just us to walk this world alone.
Why didn’t I listen to that man
instead of taking serpents phrase.
Perhaps I may of listened more
if only he had shed some praise.
Is there a moral I can say
to help others if I can.
If only I had remained a rib
there'd never be another man.
Aug 28, 2014
Aug 28, 2014 at 6:15 PM UTC
Your words crawled through my auditory cortex like caterpillars, preventing me from hearing anything other than the inflection in your deep voice. As your body inched closer to mine, they took residence in my chest cavity, building chrysali that hung off of my ribs making it more and more difficult to inflate my heavy lungs. They cocooned themselves as I too wrapped myself up in you. Suddenly, your lips were on mine and your hands were counting the vertebrae down my back, scaring the insects from their resting place, resulting in chills up my spine. The newly emerged butterflies flew out of my sternum and up into my throat, longing to be closer to you. But then you pulled away and they instantly died, leaving me with a bitter taste in my mouth.
Aug 6, 2014
Aug 6, 2014 at 10:26 PM UTC