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Such faith, conceived by truth-revealing trials
Would open up the way for sojourn hearts
Which, too long groaning, some contend the while
And fix not, pierced through with searing darts
Of cruel despite.  The back and not the front
Too much pursued, then turns away the thought
Which, rightly meek, could otherwise wax blunt
The plaint of sorrow, though not falsely wrought.
The vale they pass, and must, which set before
Is flood with tears of loss for grace remiss
Unkindly given, faithfully now born-
Both cheeks for smiting, doubly felt love's kiss.
Forbearing calls of tempted wrath, uncouth
They still the soul with love to love in truth.

Miners do not bemoan their lot or odds
Toiling amidst the mountains for the boon
Of rare and costly things, nor curse the gods
That one is later rich, one richer soon.
Attentiveness they hold who sooner reap
The treasure that's around them secret sown
While into every crevice careful peek
To pluck what heedless others pass unknown.
Life is not slack to proffer all the glee
Of finding underfoot their stainless wealth
If but the waking heart might, pious, see
The subtle vision slipped their soul in stealth.
A fool to Fortune's ways too tempted cling
As others own great price in common things.

What is a plowman’s good who does not know
To rend the fallow starts a noble work
And sluggard helper who rose not to sow
For early rains, and still the labor shirks?
All seasons come upon a certain time
Accounting naturally important ends
Then run together, pending to adjoin
And pass one into each toward that they tend.
So bides the heart, all dispositions moved
Proportionate to their respective toil
And meets the trials of reason, thorough proved
To blend experience for richer soil.
Such faithfulness lays hold upon the tares
And garners truth in joy of harvest tears.

The carpenters, with line and cornered rule
Perfect their plan, all purposes befitting;
Discerning every plane, they make it true
To need and art, nothing good omitting.
Time, space, and material, they well acquaint
To suit what in idea they have known
And do not reckon aimlessly to joint
The forms of care which discipline bestows.
Determining at first, their soul aspires
With upright means to prove a steady norm
In outward style, contracting the attire
To fit, more solid, ‘gainst the pending storms.
All ends appraised, no castle in the air
They raise integrity’s undoubted lair.

The shifting winds of glancing pride toss-on
The ship of fools ambition ere the port
Of youth is left, though life will not disport
With careless confidence and ****** throngs.
Awake you sleepers, grab onto the helm
Of discipline and keep a watchful eye
For them false prophets' quackery that o’er whelms
The halting reason; now, the trial draws nigh.
Set sail for deeper waters, brave the depths
Of judgment, yet retain a stern relief
'gainst piercing cynicism, which has cleft
Many strong hull upon the siren’s reef.
A hero braves the dark, where Dagon preys
To pluck the pearly gem from wisdom's lay.

Seeming and unseemly, like and dislike
The teeter and the totter is such play
Of mind and meaning, cause and mirrored sight
Which founding can confound the night with day.
The child is parent to the man while life
On loss is nourished; so a fusion rules
The universe inverse, returning strife
To compound allegory, deft endued.
Now what in words the wise of men contend
Consistent with or contra-wise contrived
Truth veers centripetal as spirit bends
The line’s division into circumscribed.
So Hermes’ message, as with salty might
Transforms the fixed in point of solving light.

The trials’ invocation always lends
Two ways to go, all faithless thoughts determined;
Another’s liberty of life extends
And once encompassed, all sure hope resounds.
What outward and destructive ways are there
In boasted things and ****** aspirations
Darkens careless souls that proudly bear
The cruelty of reckless estimations;
Though as an envoy of the light there’s one
That demonstrates a proven dignity
In all the world, illumined as the Sun
Their character’s sublime prosperity.
Such paragon of peace must ever live
In conquest of the other's death and sin.

As donning faces for the shift of things
Accommodation is the passing rite
That opens up upon the newest things
Where right or wrong, as given's, always nice.
What dogma won, in things of captured worth
Then fails for certain as both night and day
Impose fierce gauntlets which, ordained by birth
Initiates into humanity.
Whether comes fair or foul, truth ever is
Between what was, perhaps that which shall be
Where nothing good's received, nothing given
Except that proven by integrity.
More prudent hearts, in seeming-self discern
What loss to own, what gains to yet forgo.

No longer bothered in the waking hours
To vex the soul with thoughts of cruel reproof
They lighten every gloom with kinder bowers
And firm affections for shared primal youth.
Life’s promises they keep and sooner turn
On admiration of a sincere care
That judges not but, ever ready, learns-
What good or bad, by name, is common shared.
So being one within a true respect
They dare no more contend with right or wrong
Nor weary coming days with old regrets
But thank the night as harbinger of song.
At last to love in truth and constant live
By word of grace, their best of care to give!

Confessing nothing rash to vainly give
An estimation of life’s fleeting span
They overcome the world and constant live
In each, uniting, as is fit to stand.
Too soon, contesting banter comes about
On winds of contradiction, outward born
For inward wreck upon the teeth of doubt
As partial men from better self are shorn.
But owning what is due in right respect
Of station that sets all among the stars
So puny, comes a night to recollect
Those cares that found and folly each discharged.
Without more striving then, their way bestows
A humble truth, in love more plainly known.

So comes the proof upon transcendent will
To study every thought and whispered care
In what is sought and how may grace distill
The phantom soul; from private ways to bear
All things of good and evil in compound
As strange concoctions are at first the mead
Of sojourn ways, from ancient roots to bound
With vital links of continuity.
No star of vacant hope to glimpse at first
Where subtle intimations strike the mind
For sacred unction, urging on a birth
Through shadowed veils of self and misty kinds.
Once found in each, born by integrity
They compass perfect care to open up
The fount of golden youth while manhood’s key
Unlocks the treasures of salvific sup.
Such ripened grace of knowing, rightly heard
Stores up the nations, garnering the world.

A vision in the heart of Man, more true
To magnify the deed and, pure as gold
Proved equity of faith in each that holds
As dung all things which strife of pride once lured.
Allied and filling up the high measure
Of righteousness, with precepts born of love
It rectifies the will, drawing treasures
From Hade’s misty shrine and dank abode.
Thereby to light their lamps and truth reflect
The awesome wonder of life’s unity
While nothing of their tears to yet regret
Nor grant a loss to love's great sanctity.
Great mystery, though measured in the known
It rises, all in each and each in all!

Who knows what by this awful sight is spied
For proofs more sturdy, sought upon the word
To shape the justice of their dawning days
And lift to yet new life the palling world?
More subtle than the silent creep of time
It slips on by like whispers of a dream
To walk amidst the hustle and the grind
Of souls, too careless snared by cruel disdain.
Not here or there with proud insistency
Nor couched in dainty flirting of the mind-
A form of light and golden verity
Clothed in itself, itself a world sublime.
Substance of being, hope without a fear
This faith, indemnified by countless tears.

Ten thousand times ten thousand worlds employed
With weight and number, light and vast devoid
Before this fairest seat could faith enjoin
As heaven’s solar dame to the sublime.
Compressed within its bowels, the work's distress
From many tons of ore brings forth one stone
Which rare carbunculus the sage invest
With value, their beloved to adorn.
But this and all true wonder has not shown
What men and women may, in time, bequeath
As one pure breath of aurum spirit, born
To comprehend and compliment the rest.
Great agony has justified the odds
In consequence of Man, revealing God!
HA Oct 2013
peace is when you feel at ease,
within your skin, in your own body,
peace is when, you close your eyes,
and exhale out, all your worries,
peace is when, you hold your love,
against the cold, of the winter nights,
peace is when, you hear the song,
of crickets, in the otherwise silent air,
peace is when, you could sleep,
without the occurrence, of nightmares,
peace is when, you see a flower,
and analyze, the vibrancy of its colors,
peace is when, someone thanks you,
for you have been good to them,
peace is when, you genuinely smile,
without a care, of those glaring eyes,
peace is when, you greet a friend,
even though, you have quarreled,
peace is when, you invoke your soul,
to shed away, the weights it carry,
peace is when, you cook a stew or curry,
and its aroma wafts, into your nostrils,
peace is when … whenever
you feel at peace

peace is when, I look into the mirror,
without sneering, at my own reflection,
peace is when, I could do something,
get a feel of activity, in these stationary days,
peace is when, I get to go outside,
and breathe the same air, as others,
peace is when, I find a song, long lost,
with the voice of which, I adjoin my voice,
peace is when, I realize something,
a solution, though temporary, but there,
peace is when, I receive a message,
from some one across the ocean,
peace is when, that some one asks me,
how I am, even though we have never met,
peace is when I find a piece of art,
beckoning me, to gape at it,
peace is when, I solve a puzzle,
for I see myself, in a positive light,
peace is when, I read someone’s writing,
and get caught into, the web of those words,
peace is when, I write few letters and punctuation,
dissolving my entirety into them,
peace is when… whenever I
forget about this life

I wish a piece of peace, for me,
and some more for you
Filmore Townsend Feb 2013
standing the foot’s placement,
standing firm upon ground –
inner part of the firmament.
lasting two days, feet free’d in
levitating affects. mind, the
utter blank canvas. color
me complacent, color me adjacent,
color me a complete loss. irreparable.
two feet in place of a once four.
foundation, strength to build tall
some structure of love for my
blonde-hair’d beauty of the Midwest.
saw in ‘er somethin’, more nothin’
than anything. and this foundation’s
anchor stripped. two feet in place
of once four. irreconcilable, color me
a complete loss wanting all the
little honies, in the raw. healthier
that way, what with the better part
wanting no part. wise men, the one’s
seekin’ their own wisdom. their words
are ‘high-holy’, their ears catching err
syllables. feign deaf if their syllables
are not the ones being annunciated.
pushing past yesterday,
hoping this force can turn perpetual
motion, to the county line. away from
prying eyes with hundred reasons
to ****. don’t stop till the cops come
in, and don’t stop till the cops come
in.
–if you’re Jesus Christ, man,
  i’ll be the ******* anti-Christ.
then coffee nulling images of shotgun
splatter. trying to rise. blasting now to
obviate noise of the morning coming,
–came here looking to be a pastor.
  kinda fell off the deep end since.
right, right.
–zombies back into the picture.
  better by the side.
back into the picture with life, with love,
with an eighteen car garage. lonesome,
something like that. to be awake when
the sun rises again. rising to explain a
hipster’s crystal sky. the eyes never
lye, don’t forget what’s been done.
don’t defend the trailing fallacies or
absences. and we’ve become un-
welcome, become destined, being
unfriend’d. but even these cats may
look at a King, though they’re in
some disgusting race to the end.
cops comin’ in, cops ******’ on
everything adjoin’d the scene. truly,
they’re some different form of hipster.
hip sir?  nah, sir.  nothin’ at all, and
don’t get got. smash those erry day
low prices with a strange fascination
for fascism. play it, play from the
******* heart, play to tear the *******
sky apart. to set out in tearing to destroy
the welfare ghettos. true Americana,
this welfare culture. with powder’d
nose and quivering lungs. reflections in
the pupil, a vain mirror for the souls
of others. a feel of miles, a feel of being
lost as its own adventure. nothing more than
a kid from Califax, a kid pushing onlys,
a kid smoking Marlboros to cure
hangovers, a kid with enough life for
years worth of days.
anastasiad Jun 2016
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HerInMyHeart Apr 2015
An unspoken love luster in their eyes
As bodies, warm within a fiery heat
Where the magic of two, adjoin as one
In bonds of true love, melting together

As passions stimulate, burning desires
As unspoken love, luster in their eyes
Ardent, kisses with swirling sensations
To wet palate, like a fine wine to taste

With moving metaphor’s, loves poetry
Nestled in embrace, till sun awakens
An unspoken love, luster in their eyes
Intimate warming sensations, exposed

Within a wave of sighs, as we release
Oh sweet rhymes, hearts rapidly beat
One final time, eyes meet, in pleasure
An unspoken love, luster in their eyes
Ajay Seshadri Sep 2013
If you happen to be in the wild
You may roam for a while
Till you isolate a part that’s mild
And find solace in exile.

Far away from your essence
You see a broken road to the pie
You offer it resistance
But your heart craves for the sky.

Comes down like a hammer of hail
Or so it seems to your head
You get struck by the leopard’s tail
You hallucinate instead

You see the word and the coin
Pen verses out of strain
Seek the two to adjoin
Ending in sheer mess and pain

The authorities are mad
For they have made us see
That the word and the coin
Were never made for poetry!
Mateuš Conrad Jan 2017
suddenly... my skin
"feels" freckled,
or that ginger is abhorred,
or that orange is
queeny -
                 leisured at -
a bat-haven.
poetry is words
         philosophy
only punctuation -
take to fathom a Norwegian
acid bath...
               murmur of marrow -
then the chemicality of Hermes -
what exists:
globally under ****
sloth: lo
                          so
dough
                     cop
                                    eerie navy
and  nazal -
                              i,
am, centrist.
                   blister
scold...
                 b l i s t e r
s  c  o  l  d
     b   l    i   s   t   e   r
   scalp and the mustard:
  khaki khaki khaki!
coca cola khaki!
                      father says otherwise,
****** and puritan pirranha -
Warsaw subway girlen -
              frozen, minus bowtie + yurt dover -
         ****: closure and escapism
from war, entry point: *****, your culture.
as the joke goes:
   the jews spoke more zion than they spoke
yiddish: baalam - donkey-riddle -
but at least jesus entered jerusalem,ioe
or the tool-forge of alpha blo blo Indi.
Nikita...
                 cobbler smacker...
shoe fits fine...
                   now you juggle GDP
against cabbage... and horse-radish...
iron eagle no hail mary, no iron,
no golgotha... as intricate be:
american coca - lobside Xican milken -
NIKITA!
if i have my regrets... then i have my
love-letter... art... Juliet...
thus you have your politics....
   if i have my regrets i have a chasm
to overcome,
         in yawn as to conquer depth -
thus with wind, adjoin weaker slav -
german... german...
who said german inclusive anglican-sax
and svab-frank in Lorraine -
Iblis in Matador crimson quake,
numb Paris, numb Paris...
                          Elba...
               goat,
              geiß - gąś - goose - stratum!
           kindred SS man
or the ****** joke in Auschwitz -
100 years... then szkodliwych...
  rekindled... at least what took place
in Auschwitz was also said: Eva Braun...
5 years... not 100 years and fake,
and almond culprit...
    5 years and the gas,
a chemist suffices...
            100 years of ******...
the jokes coercing Auschwitz with Hastings
are but candle-glamour for what
nimble in wax, be turned to enshrined stone...
              memory: was never to be a Disney.
     i'd prefer the uncanny - Schubert bound
high-class death,
  that this horse-bound harking a phelgm
to no rebuilding founding:
Pilate washed his hands of Yehu
       Pilate washed his hands of Ishra;
                Solomon is
     placed  in the House of Saud -
                           and a quarter - toward the tumult
a desert of white fog,
                  a *** fetish...
   and you jogging after Honolulu in bone, gene
and lava...
                     sunken lung, shiva's "star" of anise -
that spoken of eye -
           said green, said envy,
said but once in absent-mindedness - an absinthe -
crystaline in milk -
                     heaving the ache of mind
and the heart as copper in a lacklustre of
former hope of nurtured hearts' gain:
with painter as kindred and unison with a plumber's
  to the death toll chime: an eon worthy
               a sneeze, if that be a sneeze to
rekindle colour in spring, and moor in auburn
   lazed...
                               and between extremes:
the two deserts -
    and that i be bound to the tomb
               and the stone,
and the fox tornado tango of the trial
that would never be a Friday of what would
always be: a revealing noon:
be it orb, or be it scythe -
                           be it Everest, or
be it the flute in the dough of Nepal as enshrined
                for the arithmetic of shadow:
pauper plato... pauper plato...
                                                       pauper
                                  one and all...
                     if we all but possessed the luxury
conversation...
                                    but none of us possess the
capacity to treat conversation as a luxury...
                          conversation will never be a luxury,
given the fact that we decided thinking to be primo,
the luxury... to re establish conversation as a luxury
we have to prevent thought from innovating...
from invigorating...
   but since conversation cannot achieve this paramount...
the only achievable parallel suggestion is to talk about nothing:
and think about everything;
likewise to think about everything:
and talk about nothing -
and as Heidegger expressed:
   we are non-being in number,
                               because nothing negates
a quantity -
                        how then to rainbow into a presitent
continuum? chameleon culprit?
    only via an elasticity of language...
             thus 10 am gives gallop toward horizon
and sun, and i am furthest from staging a continuum
of what i am an example of:
man, husband, father, partner, son, cohort, cohesion...
i feel no reference point in having to demand from a per se, the nearing-claimant pejorative antidote, other than the one i have aspired to as merely a sand-castle, rather than the bombastically-fuelled pyramid.
Anais Vionet Mar 15
“22½ euros for a Martini,” Peter remarked, when he first scanned the menu.
“It’s not like we aren’t going to get them,” I said, “we’re not going to cheap our way to abstinence." The waiter came and I gave him my card, “Put that table on this card too, please,” (pointing to Charles’s table).

It’s a cool night in Paris and doof-doof music’s slammin’ from a stack of Mackie DJs. It’s about 53°f, but they have those umbrella heaters at every table and other heaters that blew warmer air on the dance floor (maybe not a great idea). Peter and I have a table on the terrace, out under a muted, light polluted starfield.

We danced, we debated the issues of the day, like, when will Taylor dump Kelcie and what were the best Oscar movies? (We chose ‘Poor Things’ and ‘Past Lives’). We ate Steak au Poivre with Red Wine Sauce and then we danced some more. We were having fun.

But when a party turns into ***** mayhem it’s time to leave - or is it? Watching the shadowy edges of things, I asked Peter, “It’s getting CrAzY, wanna go?”
“It’s just getting interesting,” he answered.
I squinted at him, was he serious? I couldn’t tell - martinis scramble my amygdala.
I decided to flow with it. “Ok, freak, get me another then.” I said, calling his bluff, and sliding my glass his way.
As he left for the bar, I glanced at my watch, 2am. It felt like 10 pm to us American east-coasters.

I looked around and Charles and Chinthia (Mrs.Charles) were laughing and chatting away.
‘You GO, old people,’ I thought - not unkindly.
Peter came back, two martinis in one hand, snapping pics with the other.
“Stop!” I barked, holding my hands up like I was fighting off paparazzi, “stop!”
I’ve learned things, like how, in early pics, when we arrive at a party, I look like Mary Poppins - but in end-of-party pix l look like Norma Desmond. Peter doesn’t see it  - but I do.

I sipped at my new drink - It tasted sour and bitter as sin - I made a face. Peter cackled like a villain in a low budget flick. “It’s a Winston Churchill,” he reported knowingly, “they were out of vermouth.”

When the bar runs out of vermouth, it means something. I pressed the walkie-talkie app on my watch and asked Charles, “You guys ready to go?” He didn’t look around but gave me a thumbs-up just before they rose.

My mom and (step)dad have joined us, at Grandmère’s, for this vacation. I was gleeful, at first, but it’s like my mom hasn’t noticed I’m not in high school anymore - that I grew-up in their three-year absence. I get pressed when she thinks I’m slouching, rearranged when my hair’s out of place and shown a pained, icy face if I order a martini.

She’s piercing the membrane of my privacy and expecting obeisance! I tried to explain it, like an adult. “There are multiple value systems,” I gently reminded her. My Grandmère even suggested Peter move into his own room. Luckily, Peter and my rooms adjoin and she put my parents on another floor (in the suite she grew up in).

I’m secretly afraid they’ll be up when we get in, that it’s 10pm for them too and I’ll get ‘the face.’ I told Charles about my situation and he said, “Look, she’s missed you, she’s just lavishing you with attention, she’ll relax,” but his oceanic optimism seems.. hopeful. We’ll see ??
BLT Marriam Webster word of the day challenge: Obeisance: an acknowledgement of another’s superiority.

doof-doof = a type of ‘HardTrance’ music
Mackie DJs = a favorite brand of speakers used by party DJs

our cast
My Grandmère = grandmother (in French)

Peter, my bf, a physicist who works at CERN, in Geneva. His job’s to break things and see what happens. We’ve been ‘together’ for about 2 years - I use ‘together’ loosely because, well, Geneva and New Haven.

Step (Stepfather) is an invasive cardiologist, he and my mom have been married for eleven years. He’s my dad v2.0

My mom is an anesthesiologist - they tend to be perfectionists. She has three children - one is a surgeon (my sister Annick), one is in med-school (my brother Brice) and then there’s me - the weak link - she’s heavily ‘invested’ in my absolute everything.

Charles and Chinthia - Charles, a retired NYC cop, is my long time escort, driver and surrogate parent. Cynthia, his wife of six years, (also an ex-cop) is a VP for a cyber-security company.

Norma Desmond = faded star in “Sunset Boulevard' (a must see movie)
anastasiad Dec 2015
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jonathan valonis Jun 2010
Crap we buy,
**** we sell,
To get by,
What the point,
Don't ask why,
These actions adjoin,
Together a lie,
Collaborated by few,
Believed by many,
All is true,
To those blind,
How it happens,
Seems surreal sublime,
A fictional story,
With no hero,
But the glory,
Satisfaction is there,
Is a shame,
None can hear,
The screams everywhere,
Flooding the streets,
With no prayer,
Ever being heard,
On deaf ears,
Most outstandingly absurd,
Is their mind,
To really seeing,
The thin line,
Of quality equality,
Life of peace,
Not of brutality
In a clearing two eyes meet and Spring is born,
sparks of joy rise to flame and settle on rosen lips.

Unspoken words adjoin deep into hearts,
whose daylight bring everlasting hope.

Clouds part, rain gives way to sun, night to day,
Spring to Summer.

Laughter now sings from sunny appellations,
whose tiny voices sooth and console.

Hearts grow, spirits sing,
laughter and running feet tarry, then pass by.

Flowers that were once crisp and sharp,
now dry and crumble in the days heat left.

Night pulls its shade,
blinded eyes stumble and fall, looking for that which sleeps.

Unable to behold the quiescent voice within,
upheaval of the bulwark surely comes.

Altruism's nourishment grows scarce,
as Summers door closes.

The Fall winds blow.

Times were better when, the sun was easterly high,
eyes beheld precious states, and life’s melody was sweet.

Time, now the thief paints with a different brush.

The air grows cold now.

Trees that once stood
majestically green now change to cloaks of amber gold.

Soft whispers dull the once loud chimes of time,
bringing the stillness of age.

The cloaks of amber gold fall and wither,
beginning the journey’s end.

Laughter no longer echoes in the clearing, as
the cold winds of winter proclaim their arrival.

The footprints of joyful days lie frozen in time,
to be seen, but touched never again.

The cold snows of winter descend,
to cover the melodies of adoration past.

The satin cloth of passions sweet,
etched deep in stone now crack.

A cabin stands on a hill.

A shell, A keeper of time, and visions past.

The smoke of a fire no longer flies
from its pipe tall and black.

Starvation ceased the flame, remorseless as one blowing out a candle.
Written in my journal, Sunday, July 14, 1991 @15:04 hrs
Karijinbba Jul 2020
Neowise comet 07/2020 dearest
take me along with you to another world another galaxy.
Take my children and their kids on your brilliant geneologic vast RAIL.

I have sought thee with all my heart till my orbit yanks you in view
Oh Neowise what a ride that would be
Comet so intriguing beloved!
How I love your great long brilliant cool expanding vaporizing tail.

~~
Please ride me along on your diamond dust trail n tail, let my Aries fire adjoin to your fire ball head's glare!
O what a ride indeed dear
O rescue me and loved ones along
drop us all off into your peaceful galaxy world O graceful heir!
~~~~~
I can't wait 6,800 years for your return Neowise mystery ancient traveler.

Oh sweep me of my feet accept my tender warm wise song
for truth and grace define me alone
ever so strong
~~
" I dreamt that I was a Photon of light streaming through space."
~~~~~~'
By: Karijinbba
07/23/20.
In memory of a great true love best father best husband best lover best friend (JPCRzk.in 1974-75-1995.)
~~~~~~
Despite its age, scientists discovered Neowise commet only very recently. NASA astronomers detected the snowball on March 27 using a space telescope, also called NEOWISE,
the comet's namesake.
(The name stands for Near-Earth Object Wide-field Infrared Survey Explorer.Jul 19, 2020.
Great name.
chulisnaqui Sep 2015
Fantasy turned reality
Lost souls adjoin
Sounds of rain on a tin roof
Thunder and lightning please my spirit
Devoted to destiny
Needing to savor every moment
SassyJ Oct 2017
I have travelled and dodged the bullets
dragged the leaded knees on casted iron
covered with clay on my bear bosoms*
felt your depth in my search ohh my love
and as I lay caressing your feet unhurriedly  
I feast in your unknown moistured touch
tongue on tongue preaching gospels unheard
travelling on transverse unmet peregrinations
hoping to thread at the core where we adjoin
learning again how to heave against the gradient
on paralleled transgressions exploring propagations
breaking walls and decoding the remissions
delegating preliminary positions to submission
feverish ardour of anticipation and langour
*I long for you sweet valentine, comeby on board
For my future wherever he is......
Rohit Mane Mar 2020
I can hear the whispers
That echo from the
Crevices of your broken heart
And I hope you hear mine too.

I can see you're crippled
From the bludgeon of treachery
So am I
Only my crippledness engenders from
The emptiness of my soul
That has relinquished its everything
To someone who didn't return it.

I can sense your breath
That still reeks
With the smell of the abyss you've seen
But can you discern
The wrinkles on my skin too
Which conceal the tales of the depths
That I also had drowned in once.

I can decipher the fear
That emanates from the tremble in your touch
Somehow I can overhear the cacophony of your thoughts
That run wild inside your mind,
And I can also discern the silence
That lingers on your lips.
But do you see the swellings
Beneath my eyes
Which bulge from the accumulation of unpoured tears.

No need to vocalise your grief
Or substantiate your pain.
For I too have had the misfortune
To know these maligns
And I know how much they can deprive us
Of happiness and joy.

When we stumbled into each other
On the same path
That we both were trudging
In this forest of lost souls.
It seemed like I finally
Felt the warmth of the fire
When your eyes clashed with mine.

It seemed like a tempest
Had pierced
The layers of loneliness and desolation
That were bedaubed over my skin
With time.

I wondered at the sorcery of your smile
That occupies such a little space
On your countenance
But still outshines the elegance of the moon.

Let's be the hands that eternally hold each other
Let's be the legs that walk all the miles together
Let yourself be the shelter of a boat
And let me be the lighthouse that exudes a ray of hope.

Let's adjoin our firmaments that is filled with myriad of stars,
Let's sit beneath it and deduce constellations out of our erratic thoughts.
Let's help each other in gathering the pieces of our shattered hearts
Let's build a heart filled with love and care and begin from the start.

---------------------------------------------------------­--------------------------------
I wrote this poem about someone whom I cared deeply about and loved truly but unfortunately my feelings were not reciprocated and all of my efforts went in vain. That person pushed me out of their life without even realising how their actions are going to affect me. Now that person is not a part of my life anymore but what I cherish the most about that phase of my life is how much it has nurtured me as a writer, as a poet. I did not find love but I did find the poet within me.
P.S: I'd like to dedicate this poem to all of those folks out there who've been through unrequited love. Stay strong, stay blessed and stay healthy; our void will be filled by someone better. :)
Rohan P Dec 2017
AVA
hands and bones
disjoint and adjoin these
prefixes, for the hills of your
monoliths align with the lighting of the
north; and over and circular you
descend and ascend, feeling the blue of the water
and the paleness of the sky—and in
night, hanging softly, shrouding, impenetrable
valleys, immutable in their perception of your
calm, longing for the adoration of
feeling.
Nat Lipstadt Aug 7
unbeknownst
to the human race,
every year the free trees,
those of the forest, the great gardens,
have an annual convocation, a solemn communion and a
delicate conversation

the gathering is attended by insects and avians,
for theirs is the heavy responsibility,
that which the trees cannot do,
they must do, i.e. move, be agents
of pollination

Trees gather, the sequoias officiate,
for they the elders, are wise in the
rings of history that tells of ritual,
sacred sayings, the reasoning,
the young ones don’t full  comprehend

“Who shall give aid and comfort to the human dead?”

Who shall give of their seed
that will be carried by our friends,
they may be scattered planted,
in the graveyards where
those that tended and
sheltered us,  
lie buried,
and the living
who tend to
their ancestral,
will adjoin, all
in need of shade and
comforting song?

there is great rustling of the wind,
the most honored,
query those attendees,
why must we choose?

let each of us contribute
according to their needs,
let the randomized
scattering by our winded
and flighted avian friends
best express our gratitude…

thus forests, parks, great gardens,
and yes, the cemeteries of mankind,
ALL
were seeded, deeded and refreshed,
and the world was cleansed,
commended, interdependented,
defended and extended…

Wed Aug 7 2024
even I write nonsense when no sense
is available
Cynical- Apr 2018
Aloft a bay and swift to wonder,
With thoughts to swirl a mind in which refute its sunder;
As sentiments of contemplation adjoin their trail,
Sanctions of mind with no clear avail -
In which taunt a certain truth,
Ample with results ensured by fail;
For truth-value was not of concern,
As living these dreams were impossible to discern -
With a relative validity they sat behind,
Distorted of image and left undefined.

Truth is, one might ever know,
Perhaps it is attachment or a wilting care;
Perhaps it is an unrequited or envisioned affair;
Perhaps the past person in which offer solace;
Or perhaps a valueless teem of needless embolus -
To convey to mind that it is but nothing,
Nothing alas, no more than something.

And yet i sit, dreaming dreams of the past.
Dreaming of you, standing here steadfast.
These thoughts to ponder as they float along,
Conjure themselves together and play an endless song;
Which teethe and breathe with heartfelt rhythm.
It gripes at my mind, and yet i still go with 'em.
In eerie desire of a defined remedy;
That goes without saying an undefined extremity.

So last I speak,
From thought to thought,
As this sheltered mind is to leak.
Hereby night's gleaning ember -
Heart beating with thoughts as far as I remember,
Our peak in history at status of friend,
Mutuality clear, no ties to amend.


Nothing more and nothing less.

So why is it I dream of you?
I must profess.
Yes it is true, yes indeed I do.
Explicit visions of something more -
Something that we've never even considered to open a door.
And here at it I confess,
That of attraction in an altered fictitious state of mind;
Yet here I am,
Continuing to look behind,
Here in this reality, with my eyes distinctly open,
Reliving these dreams dreamt in the past,
With deeper connections -
Connections that realistically never sought chance to last.

They never even existed with such say,
So why in my sleep
I
See
You
This
Way?
I've been dreaming of a past close friend, one that I've since moved far away from. And yet I dream of something more. And I've been asking myself why? For what reason? I had never seen her that way before. So why in my dreams I see her this way now?

Dreams truly are something to ponder.
Nikita Tshawe Dec 2019
Let me in,
I want to touch the deep depths of your soul.
These are but words on paper, like broken glass in a bowl.
Yet I desire to graze upon your mortal essence,
Show me the path to your very substance.
Let me wine and dine in your consciousness.
Let me in,
I want to feel you, not physically.
Spiritually.
Emotionally.
Let me in.
I want to see the magnitude of your core.
Caress your heart like never before.
Let me into your personal atmosphere.
Show me who you hold dear.
Show me what you fear.
Show me the burden you bear.
Let me in,
Let me hold you in my arms with nothing but my words.
Let us adjoin from our different worlds.
Let down your guards.
Let me in.
What moves you?
What behooves you?
Let me see it in your eyes as I speak.
Show me what it is you truly seek.
What really gets you to break?
Let me in.
Briscoe Aug 2019
To me you are the all new pop single.
Who I find everywhere I go and
Fills my heart with starlight when we mingle.
Although whenever others did demand
To know what I felt for you, I said such
That I can't stand your perpetual presence.
But this is pretense. You do touch me much
That when you pass, secretly I sway, dance
And feel your rhythm or I hum along.
Remembering your every word and simply
Enjoying to adjoin joyously note
For note and meet our meanings' harmony.
You, simple jingle, sweet pop single, float,
Brightening my feeble mind. Years may go
With a dying fall, but I will still say so.
OJ Anuy Sep 2020
This road we’re on it started then
Two college kids, way back when

We started walking down the road
Together, but not getting too close
But as we moved along the trail
We inched closer with a brave exhale

The road ahead was really tough
Full of hills and turns and lots of bumps
But we carried on, walking in line
And eventually, your hand in mine

The bumps and hills, they came and went
And each incline followed by descent
Until we reached a fork in the road
A blind turn ahead, no future showed

You said “let's take the path to the left”
But the ears that it fell on had simply gone deaf
So I went right and was all alone
Staring into the great unknown

I ran back to the fork we had passed
And yelled your name and screamed and asked
“Can I still come and take your trail?!”
I heard only silence, to no avail

So back to my path I have to go
What is in store, I do not know
I wish I had followed you before
Together this, we could explore

Looking back as I walk alone
Thinking back to how we’ve grown
With each step I hope and I pray
Our paths to reunite and adjoin one day

— The End —