Afoul poems on Hello Poetry

SøułSurvivør Jul 2015

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ironclad clouds
rain rust
roiling
on streets timorous
tired and torporous
turgid with wetness

windblown
fowl run afoul of
flights of fliers

a monsoon storm in the
desert southwest is an awesome
force. papers are sometimes carried
up into the thermals to be deposited
torn to shreds many miles away

#desert #alliteration #wind #monsoon #dustdevil

Cecil Miller Feb 2016

The Ballad of Sheila Carter

You wouldn't welsh on a bet with your ******,
And you wouldn't go to bed with the mob.
You wouldn't mess with a street gang ****,
No matter if he's crab, or slob.

You wouldn't backstab a man on death row,
Cause you know he just might **** ya.
If you've got the gumption.
You wouldn't have it long,
If you cross Evil Nurse Sheila.

You shouldn't be like the fool who tried
To play games with her heart.
She left him a crushed, empty man.
Well, he was doomed from the start.

Sheila isn't a ******,
And you'd better not let her hear
You snickering about her at the social club.
You might not have time to fear.

Sheila's makes the headlines
Each time she tries to settle down.
She plans to live a carefree life,
But soon she has to leave town.

Everything she does
Is warped, but in the name of love.
Except when she hates your guts,
When it's Sheila you've run afoul of.

If you've never heard her story.
You'd best take this advise.
If you cross her path just keep walking,
You best not look back twice.

Evil Nurse Sheila's got a heart of stone
That looks like a heart of gold.
If you are responsible for it's tarnish,
There's no hope to which you can hold.

Sheila takes no prisoners.
She don't take any guff.
If she thinks to give you a warning,
You'd better not call her bluff.

You wouldn't want to rouse her wrath,
Because her fury won't be tamed.
She's restless, bold and beautiful.
She cannot be contained.

It seems things have been quiet.
She's been off the grid some time.
If she thinks that you might suspect her,
You may be her next crime.

Sheila Carter was a soap opera villianess played by Kimberlin Beown on the sister soaps The Young and the Restless and The Bold and the Beautiful.
I am extremely pleased that my favorite soap actress, Kimberlin Brown, liked this poem after I shared this link to her facebook page.

fans know Sheila has been featured in the Bold and Beautiful episodes a lot in the last couple of months.

#love #poems #miller #soap #carter #opera #cecil #sheila

Robert C Howard Apr 2015

Harper's Ferry

A bell tolled
through the fog at dusk
to summon passage
across the roiling waters.

Through the mist
a ferry appeared
but not the same as called -
afoul with death and sorrow.

With dread our forefathers
boarded ship and listened through
that storm filled crossing
to howling wind sung requiems
echoing from distant fields at
Manassus - Shiloh - Gettysburg.

When the gales had spent their fury
they disembarked in a new land
with both far less and more
than they left on the opposite shore.

*March, 2008

Included in Unity Tree - Collected poems
pub. CreateSpace - Amazon.com

#war #battles #civil #reconciliation

Brian Pack Nov 2010

Burning Bridges

As another one falls apart
I regret the day I burnt those bridges
Destroying my way to get away
Destroying my way back home

Another one that didn’t work
And now I’m left with nothing more
Than the rubble that was left over
That which I have caused

Relationships fall apart
This I know far too well
All I want is one to work
But instead I burn bridges

Good times run afoul
Now that I have risen up
Make my mark upon this life
Burn that bridge to the ground

Love but only one time works
The lack of results far too great
All I want is to come back to you
But I’ve already burnt that bridge

Now I’m left with empty shells
That I must share with myself
Bricks that lay along the ground
But bridges, they won’t build

Now I lay on my lonely land
With no way in or out
Because I’ve burnt those bridges
Home with you I’ll never see

Hope you enjoy

Joseph Preston Kirk Apr 2013

True Love to Shine

Let thine mind not hinder the heart,
nor the heart stutter to pollute the mind,
Admit obstructions though they be never vast,
for true love hinders nether the first nor the latter of last,
may we never falter when it alteration finds,
nor sway as the reeds wildly upon the wind in time,
never! No! shall we betray the truest of friends,
gaze now upon the world in all its vanity oh how it bends,
be never shaken or weaved upon its web of instabilities,
be it as it may the light for one wandering in the dark searching out tranquility,
follow me away now for the hell hounds hear them bark,
for only the foolish of heart wanders out to prowl lost in the dark,
let us not be lured into such things as such running afoul,
lead my heart as my compass with your love as it's light,
guide me always clearly through even the darkest of night,
Love fails not standing firm trapped in a timeless moment in a lifetime of endless moments,
bleeding always for that required component,
though not desire, wanton or lust,
but weaved together one as true love must.

~J.P.K. 04-04-2013

Absent Minded Dec 2009

A Girl And Her Fool

Guilty of being callous and lazy with a precious thing.

Oh the fool, oh the man.

Why has the lovely garden grown afoul?

Selfish and indulgent, fully aware yet off the pace.

Oh the fool, oh the man.

Why has the flock flown north in summer?

Decadent and narcissistic an inch from degenerate ways.

Oh the fool, oh the man.

Why has the water not fallen from the sky?

Simple and elegant, flower from the stone.

Oh the girl, oh the lady

What can these eyes not see?

Desirous and intelligent, sheathed as a Nile Queen.

Oh the girl, oh the lady.

Why hasn't the bee found rest?

Long and flowing, like night with a pinch of day

Oh the girl, oh the lady.

Which of these words will bid you good night?

Timothy Brown Nov 2013

Ghost (11)

Smoke leaving my lungs
is an excellent simile
expressing what this journey has become.
Benighted by forked tongues;
the whispers of the world mismatch
the ****** expressions I catch.
Trying to ****** a batch of moments
worthy of gloating to my opponents.
Enticing movement in their bowls
as their smiles turn to scowls.
Exhaling the growls of satisfaction
from a triple black hood.
Their actions run afoul of the good
in my soul, truth be told.
My mind is too cold.
My heart is too bold.
My being can't be controlled
by nonfactual statements.
I am standing adjacent to greatness
with no patience for the aimless.
My genius is hungry and their life is the waitress.
So gracious I'm weightless
with words that are heinous, outrageous and shameless.
Yes, I'm saying it. I said it and I'll say it again.
I am the paper, the ink, the words and the pen.
You can't best this style unless your right within.
I'm alright whether I'm left in
My, your or their skin.
Lurking through dreams as if they were my possessions.
Haunting poetry globally with a potency that leaves
minds convulsing and hearts slain.
Be forewarned; The Ghost has returned again.

Been perfecting my style.
© November 26th, 2013 by Timothy Brown. All rights reserved.

Barry Andrew Pietrantonio May 2013

Feeding the Fire

The chilling snow storm winds howl,
a cry heard around the town.
The neighborhood dogs run afoul,
not even the frostbit air can hold them down.

The streets are deserted, desolate,
street light flicker on and off.
We try to make the best of it,
a storm which we've all had enough of.

The floor creaks,
beneath my feet,
as I make my way into the den.

The walls creak,
and sound weak,
just like everything built by men.

I pick up my book,
"The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn",
the perfect read,
for when snowed in.

The time on the clock ticks,
and ticks,
and ticks,
and even clicks.

Time wasting away,
on a snowy winter day.

The cabin I'm in,
is full of sin,
lust, ******,
and even some mahogany.

I live in a house of hate,
a cesspool of lies.
All of which,
I will not deny.

And I will admit,
I really do miss,
your beautiful smile,
oh, it drove me wild.

But I failed you,
and you have the right to leave.
Chew me up and spit me out,
like your average *******.

So I will sit here,
in this raging winter storm,
and feed the fire more,
feed the fire more.

Copyright Barry Pietrantonio

S Immele May 2012

Mariner’s Wonderland

If you go chasing rabbits
Or shooting albatross
Expect to run afoul
Of queens and gambling loss

When you ignore the cat
You might just lose your head
You should have stayed home sailor
Safe and in your bed

Don’t try cheating fate
Or wasting time on tea
Death always catches up
He’s never late you see

Listen to the hatter
He’s sure to drive you mad
Now go tell your tale
Bemoan the woes you’ve had

Sit and watch the hours
With a watch that doesn’t work
Whispers from the sea
Forever will they lurk

F White Aug 2013

Alphanaut- A Song

D is for dinosaur who walks in the rain
C is for canary. she'll never be the same
E is for eskimo

F is for functional - she feels quite insane
G is for girlfriend who is never to blame
B is for backboard I should have never came

M is for meeting he couldn't postpone
L is for license, or rent to own
P is for pretty

All of your Alphabet stepped out of line
couldn't arrange them, there just wasn't time
instead they're all jumbled- but it's gonna be fine
oh oh oh

So if you're spelling with plenty of vowels
means the wind's still blowing in, something's afoul
you're late to the blackboard, best just throw in the towel

School's almost over, this isn't a start
we've all got you, this won't stop your heart
Fall back and trust me, you won't come apart.

XY and W just weren't the same
after they learned that Q had stolen her name
the rest of the letters just did not care
That's why we're ending- so I'll just stop you there.

copyright fhw, 2013

AN: not actually a poem, but a song that's still in the early stages. not really my usual style. I generally feel uneasy rhyming but it flows well when sung.

glenn martin Jun 2015

the 1% neanderthal winnings

WE need to come to terms....
war is an occupation of neanderthals
the love of oil and flame afoul residue
hiding the crimes burying the victims
remorse the oceans depth squandered
the forest shrinking the oxygen 40%
of each breath the rest the 1% pollution
the eminent camouflage of male genitalia
the middle class you have maligned
the human race set male fashion
holding the weapons to our head
Our bodys soar the living of life
yet you have grounded us to the life
of a caveman not a human .....
You makers of government that have concealed
democracy within your paychecks big smiles
developing the 1% riches wealth in Senate
and House of Representative to ensure
the millennium of status quo for you 1%
Earth the planet reaction will **** you
your crimes of treason not be hidden here
WE the people slaughtered with in the crimes
the ****** the 1% henchmen ruling feudalistic
regime waging war against the beloved humanity
open borders to weaken democracy
stifle  education allow cheap labor cave men
the Evangelical consortium world wide
man made 6th extinction of Earth under way
WHO will ride out the apostolic  2100 century
all humanity's taxes  to rule the Earth with weapons
no survivors to further education humanity
a forgotten dream the 1% the survivor
using out dated technologies to keep the profits
will the people  rise again to defend
my voice above the **** of mind
tell me Earth people how do we survive
to stop the making of weapons
the pumping of fossil fuels
tell me Earth people how do we survive
the false god of christianity the muslim devil
Earth is a paradise of living star dust creation
WE live in the womb of mother earth
breath thru your nose draw in a full breath  relax
fill your body with oxygen
breath with me in and out
relax let the truth lead you
to where you go next....gjmars  6/22/15

Katie Mora May 2011

a december evening wherein we read too much and absorb too little

I write an evening by the
waterfront with candlelight
Freemasons paving the
boardwalk. In the
morning the newspaper
prints my biography and
I laugh cacophonously.
I stand in my treehouse
and scream a note of
finality. I learn how to
synchronize and mispronounce
waning and soon I
realize.
I have left my voicebox
in my other pants.
Ulysses sang the blues today
but the sirens had more soul.
"So wrap your head in a scarf,"
I say! "Paint your house grey
and your churches red."
Jesus sang the blues today
but the sinners had more heart.
Dare ye burn a cross or
run afoul or sob for the mountain?
Then name yourself an apostle
and head for the hills of your
heaven above.
I sang the blues today
but the liars-
The plane lands with a thunk.
I roll my window shade up.
Sand turns to grain and
rainbows to tornadoes.
I have arrived.
I go to the gun shop and empty
the cash register before it is
too late. My uncle calls from
prison to wish me a happy
Boxing Day. I rent an apartment,
a car, a television, a diploma.
My thoughts are scattered and
my words ring through my head,
but these blues shan't get to
me any longer.
The truth, I decide, is overrated.
I study metaphysics, pataphysics,
and I am going to be sick. Our
hero reads Hopkins and takes
another shot.
Today I stay in bed
and count the cracks
in the ceiling.

sometime in 2008

duane hall May 2019

Ode to Shannon and Diane

The predator was hungry, he was on the prowl
No one would suspect that something was afoul
Could it be he was abused as a young  child
Or maybe as he grew his brain became defiled
He wasn't on the radar, he didn't fit the profile
He could melt a young girl's heart with his boyish smile
But behind his façade and his mask of deception
He expertly concealed  his incurable infection
His brain's on fire,  he's  got snakes in his head
If you fall for his treachery you're gonna wind up dead
It's not just the young women who are his only prey
It's the relatives and friends that deal with the tragedy
How does society deal with such a deranged psychopath
And the carnage created by his insatiable bloodbath
The death sentence was created precisely for such monsters
This is a matter that should be taken up with Congress
I won't apologize not even a little bit
The Ted Bundy's of this world are psychological ****.

This poem is dedicated to Shannon and Diane(s) Three local girls who died at the hands of a local serial killer.

Flawless Contradictions Mar 2014

Vestige

Secrets dance across the horizons
Spiraling and writhing with afoul intentions
Unhealed lovers whimpering in the valley of dreams
A whirlwind of provocative skies expanding and gliding
Hushed woes ancient and burned with wonder

NeroameeAlucard Nov 2015

Vendetta Mask

So i read a book
Can you guess the name?
V for Vendetta
This title's to blame
For this anarchic writing
In my head, not the wall
I'd just like to know,
How far, as humans we can fall
Not much from reality
I was stolen by fate
Writing of mortality
Making my head ache
Taking drugs as aspirins
Figuring out what living means
Stolen by Fate and triggered by time
It's ****** up like a pink truck and slithering into my sick mind
A painted red soul ran afoul of God forbid individuality
Only to have your mind crushed by reality
No im not going in
I refuse to think of timing and pain
Left home as a better writer to leave the game
Putting guns to my head
Thinking im mislead
Being a fool and too selfish
To realise im sane
Remember remember
The fifth of November
The day the voices began to plot
I see know reason why high
Mental treason should ever be forgot
So now walk with me
Ill make you all see
That circles are redder than triangles
As the sea of memories tangles

this was a collab with myself and my sis ducky

#life #dark #kindasad #vforvendetta #rememberrememberthefifthofnovember

Stephanie Roe Mar 2012

Dreams In My Hand

The smoke curls its way around my head
Like the ivy on the south side.
It’s my secret I didn’t expect to keep
but it calms the disasters in my mind.

Looking up at the night sky stained dark blue,
flecked with stars and swirled with wisps,
I take it in
and exhale slowly,
like I’m trying to hang on to my final breath.

Its summer nights like these that make up my philosophy.
Summer nights that are chilled like crisp champagne
and bubble in your brain.

Sitting back and watching the night sky dance,
I let my mind wander and roam the world.

It’s true.

I want nothing less than the world.

Every flaw and every beauty.
Hold it in my pocket and take it out a a few times an hour.
Discover something new every time i fish it out.
And even though I take it out so often and behold the wonder,
I’ll never know all the secrets of my little treasure.

Oh, if only it was me instead of my dreams
Running afoul in these played out scenes
To live and breathe in a creation made up of good intentions
and filled with even more mistakes and tragedies.

And it may be selfish and a simple
wile of a fantasy,
but it’s innocent and still has hope.
In my hand, it still breathes because I breathe,
feeding off opportunitys made and chances taken.

A sharp wind snaps me back to place
where reality borders imagination.
Taking me in his grasp, he shakes me,
as a shiver rips through my body.

All that champagne is getting to my head,
making me tipsy and in the mood for an easy touch.

In my hand resides the tail end of my cigarette
that settled the exhausted nerve.

I take the final draw.

I hope to live so that my imagination runs out of ideas,
Filled it up with moments never imagined possible,

for that is truly living.

Exhaling, I let the thought weave its way up
into the night sky,
where it can play with the wisps
of other midnight cigarettes.

Stamping out whats left,
I whisper to whatever will listen,

“We are all ****** by our own desires. God love the man who wants nothing.”

ione Feb 2014

tragic

you watch these people fall
but you help not, and just hold it all
you ran to the wall of darkness
thinking of yourself as being fearless
but this wall, is where you slip an fall
you try to get a grip on this lifeless edge
and you look overhead
and only see the dead
you cant take much more of the madness
and your state of fearlessness becomes one of sadness
you began to panic
and stat to lose your gripp
until I came here and rescued you
but as I rescued you I saw the desperate few
looking at me with despair
and in my mine I knew this wasn't fair
but when you looked at me
you left me breathless
and in my heart I felt helpless
I saw the madness with no end
and I was left with words that can not defend
when I pulled you into safety
my soul left me
and my soul left me because
bang bang
you shot me down
bang bang
I hit the ground
bang bang
that afoul sound
bang bang
my baby shot me down

matthew scott harris Feb 2018

addictive ampoules annihilate after alluring

awesome apothecary addressed as Agamemnon
alleviates anxiety, and alimentary aggravation
anodyne appeasement arrests ailment
amphetamines acquaintanceship assuages
agonizing aches also advocates amorousness

assiduously activating admiration
aggressive attacks assault air afoul
affable affinity affects adumbration
anatomical accidental addiction attested as academic,

although afterward abnegation absolutely arduous,
affianced attired apparently as an anomaly
Ares and Abyssinian Astarte admixture
acquiescence affliction affected adroitly,

and abruptly abends accessible
altruistic alms axed
albeit admonishing, alluding,
and attributing authored

autonomous anonymous adroit arriviste agents
accompanying as accomplished accomplices
accredited ace advertisers
applaud ascendent assaults amidst agonizing appeals

acting all acrimoniously apropos
avowedly ardently, and antagonistically, agitating
appositely advocating ancillary assistance
addict adrift afloat anchors away

assails along, among, and an alias archenemy -
adorned abominable assassin alters ambition
adroitly, aggressively, absolutely
addict announces asseveration

against avid admonishment
alarmingly annulling authentic affiliation
anew anonymous ability acclaims alignment
aegis actually adversarial abetting attrition appetite

acceleration ascendent after aplenty anesthetization
additionally activating arced analogous arrow
advancing added abdominal and arterial agony
abject ambivalence arrests accomplishments attainable

any artistic avocation absconded
asper auditorial approbation, animadversion
artificial aggrandizement abrogates astuteness
appropriate adjudication affronted

alternative afforded amnesty about acing audioslave
as aerosmith ambition assumes arriviste affectation
already appalling alacrity awakens amendment
although Awol administration adamant

acrimonious affront agonizingly attributable
announces another afterworld
apparent ailing apparition
ardent allegiance asking anyone appreciable affix
apathy abounds attending apriorism allotment.

#as #apparent #aye #adore #***

Jackman May 2015

Expression

Gathered around the fireless pit,
The birds rejoicing to the songs;
Of easing melodies and mellow winds - no one sings along.

Tranquil, spontaneous and dynamic
is this place - we are pondering like Owls;
I wish I could sing aloud and be free, but I just sit there afoul.

#englishclass

Scott F Hemingway Apr 2017

Cogwheel Memory

I once threw a cowl
that wrung upon my shoe
while it vegged but flew afoul
so truant like a kite
knew my carbazole as a butterfly in flight
this quasi-stellar garment
whet these galaxies afar
with their assertions I jogged
a dwarf star scoped such constellation
with incredible clarity unblemished again.

#quasar #deep #space #black #hole #astronomy

Melody Mann Apr 2021

Darkened Doorstep

It was a somber retreat that walk home,
The streetlights beckoned her every step,
A haze of doubt and suspicion lingered in every corner,
Guilt climbed her spine and caused her to shudder and pine,
An endless agony of mistakes foregone,
Perched upon the darkened doorstep she now steadies herself,
Bracing the confession afoul.

#doorstep #guilt #shame #solitude

Mydriasis Aletheia Oct 2016

Mal Inveterate

Say what ye will about nicotine,
Alcohol's our neurotoxic queen;
God love the Irish, we just want
to "forget
all the hurt
and pain in life". The legacy left us
by imperialism, the colonial mindset,
The abject hate of our own system, sure
they built it and we just plough on, brush
over the fact that this 'system' is ours; watch
us **** it up, 'cause we just love to get ******
up. This penchant of ours toward getting
Hurricane Drunk, we found a way
to banish it, blow everything away,
Drown in it, "'cause we can do this
until we pass out." Submerge both
of us, we'll give in
to thy accursed thirst and let loose
this loquacious cannon upon the world
'til the liquid disinhibition hath run afoul
of us, fearful and mordant mornings become
of us and we realize that last night hath ran amok.
Tell me, what d'you think we do this for? D'you think
this craic is fun?
Are you wrong?

Quote:
-Lines Four, Five and Six from Human Traffic (1999), "What Was I Talking About?" monologue.
-Line Thirteen references the Florence + The Machine song.
-Line Fifteen and Sixteen from Pass Out by Tinie Tempah

Fish The Pig Oct 2016

Who?

slowly
the notifications ease to none
Inbox (1)
midnight advances
lovers drift from romances
I still stand-
though the web I spun spanned
-alone,
watching drifters drift home
no one left to speak
isolated feels the freak
I'm still awake
my leg begins to shake
I wait
I know it's late
but I still post
ask the server host
is anybody out there
breathing internet air
who else sees night and is alive
Friends Online (5)
I become the owl
responding to the wolf howl
our communication afoul
"Hoo?"

Chad Young Jan 2021

Hunchback of Fairfield

Oh eye, of a day gone by in ease
How I used to radiate light, now you are a messenger of gray.
You have a face of winter winds.
You never stay too long in the lighted center.
Don't you remember the dreams we've had?
In the world beyond the dust?
No, light does not come often from the lawful self, but is rather from knowledge or wisdom met with a hundred mercies.
My spirit is too diverse in colors to be seen as one light.
My creation does not lie in the fixation of a white or golden light, rather its creativity is seen in how I design.
My beauty is more than a point, it is as a flower held in front of a point. Only by its being there does the point recognize the flower's value.
How I wish to be blessed with the point that my flower can hold it.
Hardly a petal is accepted, what an aged face I've become.
My own inner spirit must combine with my body to make beauty, which then must pass through my own acceptance - how hard it is.
Something's always afoul.
I should give up and say there's no such thing as beauty in an eye.
I am to be the saddest face if I behold your seas of bliss repeatedly.
A true smile comes from the Earth beneath me.
With enough shaking, it turns my heart to joy.
But it doesn't show on my skin.
There is no beauty in men.

Meditate

#artifact #beauty #beholder #men #light #acceptance

Rachel Dyer Apr 2017

Lie?

She was brand new, just learning to cry.
Nestled in the nook of my arm she lets out a contented sigh.
I can see you in her, in her tiny little nose, in the color of her eye.
She is yours and she is mine and my love for her passes the sky.
She was your gift to me from on high.
But now I suppose I must watch her die,
Because I can no longer tell truth from lie.

I must wake from this dream.
She isn't in my arms, she's only as real as a sun beam.
And the sadness of my non loss makes me want to scream.
Fighting back tears like swimming upstream.

You gave her to me, through the joining of our mind.
You penetrated deeply into my soul and left our future there to find.
But now I see you've sold it, gone when on the line you signed.
How could you act so quickly, so coldly, so unkind.

My mind is a trap now, unordered and alone.
So I'm working on my show face, a performance I must hone.
But sometimes the pain doubles me over with a moan.
The loss of her, the loss of you chilling to the bone.

My soul wanders back to the cliffs of Dover, where a promise you did make.
The memory of the nest we made there I cannot shake.
Or the gardens at Hever where we made love by a swan filled lake.
My prison I suppose a thirst for love I cannot slake.

My dreams have run afoul.
And deep within, from the pain, comes a growl.
Because I am stuck here on the moon...waiting for a howl.

Jeremy Bean Mar 2017

The Only Luck I Have

I enjoy
a certain air of uncertainty.
Those who think
they have it all determined
and figured out,
are often disappointed
when things go afoul.
Unlike me,
who is pleasantly surprised
with the smallest of victories.

Blue Flask Nov 2015

Doubt fills the air

Streets glowing in the dark mist
Raining for weeks
People say God himself is crying
Some great travesty of the human race
The streets are being filled with repentance
Thinking they are running out of time
They want to leave with a clear conscience
As the streets run afoul with paranoia striking deep
The jokers laugh at the greatest joke of all
Leaving a live free of doubt

Dave Scott Dec 2016

Waiting

Tic Toc
Time Goes
Drip Drop
Water Flows
Gravity pulls my feet on the Ground
A Weight on my shoulders, feel each single Pound

Why Am I Here
What is to do Now
Is the end Near
The beginning seems Afoul

But adversity is a challenge that refuses to die
I am waiting for something new to happen
But with mindless blindness, I know what to Imagine
Inspiration is a fantasy like heavens in the sky

Or maybe I need to look in my mind
Internal peace knows what is my kind
Subconscious wisdom waiting to be unlocked
All I need is an open mind, desperate for shock

#scared #time #hopeful #water #wonder #question #waiting

Melody Mann Mar 2021

Strangers Again

A stranger amid a room of familiars stumbles upon her in the path,
She resonates with life on a continuum,
As he beats freely to a vibration he strums,
Acquainted by unprecedented occurrences they muddle among the mix,
Gaining comfort and solace in the energy exchanged.

A union of continuous vibrations orchestrate their story unfolding,
Painting glories and wonders defying logic and time,
In colors unseen and promises refined,
All to abruptly halt steadfast and still,
This departure creates distance and barriers afoul,
Sentenced as strangers staggering aside to tread their own courses, Echoing of an ache still.

#distance #barriers #broken #solitude

TP123456789 Apr 2015

Untitled

Here I take a hand,
I lead it down past glass walls,
on a stone worn stair,
past women in grey shawls.

As a face looks in fear,
I squeeze more tightly now,
leading them further down,
past stenches and tastes afoul.

By pale figurines,
that watch our fluid step,
tracking every sway,
counting every story swept.

As we descend,
down into the dungeon,
down into the lightless shadows,
down away from friends,
down away from them,
into the depths,
where we can be alone,
in this lonely sept.

hfallahpour Jul 2016

Muddy thinking

I'm stuck in Strings of thoughs
which ran afoul of each other
I'm between the devil and deep blue sea
that's what I despise
I should vent out this thoughts spiral
although it's tough row to ***
I should do it.

Jezre Berdecía Jan 2017

My poem

My poem
My existence
My wrath
My pain

The songs of whispers
of love given in vain
The verses of bleeding
The prose of the chains

My poem
My spirit
My breath
My soul

The force of life liveth
and suffered afoul
The struggle of catching
a runaway goal

My poem
My battle
My strength
My need

Missing till crying
Loving till dying
Searching till finding
you back, in me...

— The End —