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Blessings from above* Transformed lust to love* Delusion to illumination* Earth-heaven bilocation
                             

Heavenly Manna poured into our hearts like fine husked wheat
He makes sure we are always well fed and have enough to eat

Transforming lust to love, the pliable body learns with time
that the best kind of love is love agape, always close Divine

From false beliefs comes delusion, from delusion comes lies
only God can remove our blinders and open wide our eyes  

Earth to heaven, as we stand outside ourselves we enter into ecstasy
propelling the soul forward and negating all things that lead to heresy.
With Highway One almost completely to myself
North of San Simeon
I find a pristine ocean on my left
Green covered hillsides on my right,
And a warm sun in a light blue sky above.
The stresses of the city and my topsy-turvy life
Begin to fall away as I relax and revel in it,
All alone here in my faithful Jetta.
This was a road trip I took a while ago.
 Jul 2024 Bardo
Francie Lynch
Words won't die,
But worders do;
The turned phrase stays
Young as you.

Where do these pangs go?
Dying elephants don't know.
Old Hollywood shows,
Brigadoon and El Dorado.
At the bottom of a *** of gold,
Beneath double rainbows.

I read Chaucer
When he was young,
And Emily too,
And Rev. John Donne.
Batter my heart...
Yet feeds
Mine
As I read it once again.
Batter My Heart reference to poem by John Donne.
 Jul 2024 Bardo
WILLIAM WORTHLESS
i love it the garden on summers day
tending to the flowers passing time away
taking out the weeds tidying around
growing so much better now they have more ground

trimming up the hedges keep them nice and neat
getting out the mower to give the grass a treat
passing on the time beneath the summer sun
gardening away having lots of fun
 Jul 2024 Bardo
Donall Dempsey
I FEEL PRETTY...OH SO...PRETTY!

I a...
...wake

covered in glorious glitter
smelling strongly of PVA glue

sticking to my cheek
very

hung
over

& covered in blueorange
yellowred feathers

a bubble
recently blown

perched upon
my nose

I...still....half coma...tose

tiny bubbles travel
amongst my curls

as through
a bigger bubble brightly

nestling neatly
over my right eye

I observe
my tiny daughter

purse her lips
& kiss

more bubbles
into being.

“Till...y! ”

I force my lips
(still frozen in sleep)

to some
how speak:

“What...you...do? ”

(even my syntax and sentence structuring is shot)

She smiles sweetly: “I’m
...pretty-ing you! ”
 Jul 2024 Bardo
Thomas W Case
Hobbled by the
sun, and laid
prostrate by
days of
degenerate
behavior.
Days of
nothingness,
and worse.
Only writing
could save me.

Poor and lonely.
No warm woman to
hold.
No *****.
No home.
But, I had my
writing.
It let the light in,
and buffered me from
the crowds of
scarecrows with sewn
on smiles.

Writing keeps me
immortal and kills
the pain.
It soothes the
mice lost in
the maze, and
brings the stray cat
home to a house where
he's safe.
Writing is the
pillow that keeps
my head up, and
my heart engaged.
Here is a link to my you tube channel where I read from my book, Seedy Town Blues Collected Poems.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KjeCroHYQxU
I also have a brand new limited edition book, Rise Up Collected Poems and Short Stories, available on Booksie
 Jul 2024 Bardo
Stephen E Yocum
As wee kittens she and her brother
were gifted to us from a neighboring
farm up the hill, a pair from a litter of
feral felines, welcomed on our place
as mousers and ratters.

Mostly they lived around the barn,
strolled and policed the property as
their domain. The male was always
by his disposition aloof, had no need
of close human contact, content to be
independent and on his own.

His sister was more inclined to draw
nearer, curious and at times amenable
to a pat on the head, or a small dish of
cat food. And the bearer of gifts in the
form of parts of the remains of her kills
deposited on my porch door threshold.
Proof I suppose of her doing her job,
or in gratitude for my feeding her.

One day her brother was predator taken,
though she stayed on her job, she became
a more frequent visitor to my porch, with
her litter mate gone perhaps she had become
lonely and needed companionship.

It has been a few years since the loss of
her brother and now she comes everyday
morning and evening, or whenever I call
her in. Running full speed to eagerly rub
against my legs, or flop down atop my feet,
wanting a belly rub, purring and ever so
glad to see me. For all her given affection,
she is not a fan of being picked up and held.
It offends, maybe threatens her half wild nature.

No where to be seen, yet when I go out to the
road to get the mail, to the barn or orchard
before I walk 30 feet, there she is running close
behind me, as if she had been waiting just for
that very occasion.

She is over ten now getting old like me,
she is around my inner yard or the porch
most of the time, I even let her inside the
house from now and then, she and my
inside cat, get along fine. Drink from the
same water bowl, eat side by side. They
enjoy playing together, I think he is even
smitten by her as only a neutered male cat
can be.

But always at some point, as if she hears
a distant calling, she goes to the door and
let's me know she is ready to return to her
life outside. Instincts are difficult to ignore.
She is no less my friend than my inside
house cat, companions both, one day
when I call her name, she will not come
running, like her brother she will just
disappear, and I shall sincerely miss her.
 Jul 2024 Bardo
Ashly Kocher
She picks up the broken pieces, scattered all around at her feet
The failures
The hurt
The pain
The deceit
Collecting them one by one overtime
Slowly building another mountain to climb
Piece by piece
Layer by layer
Collecting those fragmented bits of the past
Only to build something stronger than the last
You will still feel hurt
You may still fail
Pain will always be there
But if you rebuild what was once crumbling down
You will, once again, walk upon solid ground
 Jul 2024 Bardo
Stephen E Yocum
I worship the stars, the moon,
the sun, this earth I stand upon.
Nature and all the peaceful
living breathing creatures that
share this space, the rivers that
course, the oceans that ebb and
flow. The rains that keep us green
the fields that keep us fed.
The ancient tribal people knew
this and put their faith in nature
and the celestial universe and they
thrived for thousands of years.
Some of my modern fellow humans
don't seem to understand, that all
this we already have is truly our
Heaven on Earth.
Better to pay homage to Mother
Earth, she is the god we need, if
she, the moon and or sun go, we
all go, and nothing will remain.
1965
she was 15
and I was 5

The reclining sun tanned her face
her eyes hidden in 60s goggles
and the vast wheat field behind
colored her brown.

Can't remember if it was Agfa or Orwo
the tint was of distant land
and Virginia came to mind.

It wasn't the girl
standing on a rice field
eyes lowered blushing
the colours of her glass bangles
irrecognizable in black and white
that I could easily fall in love with.

But I cried to be with the Virginia Girl
and I was only 5.

She is still 15 in the timeless print
and I'm 5.
Originally unwritten in 1965, now given the light of words.
If alive, she would be 73.
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