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FC Azaele May 2021
Hunger eyes stared down at the rod,
                awaiting it's own ***** alee    
Laid on the satin sheets, arms entangled
                milky thighs spread apart
Hunger eyes too stared down at me
    laying in inescapable, trembling bondages
A heat burning through our hearts - through us:
                That was desire.

I love him like this -
       where stars align;
               Buttons undone. Eyes lit with a burning flame
waiting to engulf me whole.
Touching me here, there - everywhere
       tracing the freckles on my skin that lay like speckled stars
   to the lines on my palm. Memorising.
His mouth gilding across with a wicked purpose
      as urns of a thousand suns pour blazing down my throat
               Not us did the saint align and embrace our pure hearts
We were in the other's self the ruin
               of purity's gentle caress
where my hand rests at
               in between to ease the trembling core
our bodies lay in the dead of the night
           both of us searching for more
                to no one but him do I come to thee!
as a cry aches through the silence of the night
       our souls connect - one of each
lit for each other
        lost, weighed on each others palms;
      This was our desire
Devan Proctor Jul 2013
The opalescent fish,
a predator
measured in unconscious patience,
chooses his path
without choosing.

A dip down beneath a bowed plant
to tune alee from the drift
and a sudden twist up
for a sharp gulp of bubble matter,
all without a wanting mind.

As I bend to indulge in no-time
with my friend, the fish,
I can only feel ashamed,
as my back and forths are
scaled to moment,
and wholly, unforgivingly
considered by desires.

If only to conduct the self like the fish,
unassuming of any space,
without a knowledge of this wish,
and unaware of natural grace.
I'll tell you a tale
of our own Devil's Island
and the demonic crash
of the waves in a swell,
the smell and the taste
of the ball-breaking weather
the ghosts that deliver
poor sailors to Hell.

We were out in the water
amongst our Magdalens
the wind plucked the ropes
of our rigging at sea
we looked for a port
and saw many lights flashing
“that's old Devil's Island,”
said the skipper to me.

Ghosts began hurling
their fierce imprecations
to “come to the Island
safe landfall to thee”
but the skipper turned round
the ship with a vengeance
“that old Devil's Island
will never catch me.”

I thought he was mad
to be scared of a legend
it was my first time
in a storm on the sea
and two men washed over
to Davey Jone's Locker
“God bless 'em, they'll rest now”
the skip said to me.

Protesting the treatment
of two forlorn sailors
I said to the skipper
“It's not good to tell”
“It's better,” he said,
“that they're resting in Heaven
than entering into the portals of Hell.”

Winds lasted the night
then the voices did falter
the lights blinkered out
and I saw very well
so many rocks jagged
just waiting to smash us
The Devil's Isle gateways
await in the swell

If you're on a ship
and the voices of demons
come tell you it's safe
in their harbor alee
remember the shoreline
at old Devil's Island
then turn the ship seaward
and gracelessly flee.
heaven Oct 2014
ابن أبي داود السجستاني - حائية

تمسك بحبلِ الله وأتبعِ الهُدى ، ولا تكُ بدعيا لعلك تُفلحُ
Hold tightly to the rope of Allaah and the guidance,
And do not be an innovator, so that you might be successful.

ودنْ بكتابِ الله والسننِ التي ، أتت عنْ رسول الله تنجو وتربحُ
And practice your religion based on the Book of Allaah and the Sunan which
have come from the Messenger of Allaah so you will be saved and earn reward.

وقل غيرُ مخلوقٍ كلام مليكنا ، بذلك دان الـأتقياء , وأفصحوا
And say: Not a created thing is the Speech of our great King,
Such was the religious position of the pious ones (before us) who spoke well.

ولا تكُ في القرآن بالوقف قائلاً ، كما قال أتْباعٌ لجمٍ وأسححُوا
And do not be a person who takes no position on the Quran,
As did the followers of Jahm, and they had been too lax (to take the right position).

ولا تقل القرآن حلْقٌ قرأْتُهُ ، فإن كلام اللهِ باللفظ يُوضحُ
And do not say that the Quran is created, meaning: its recitation,
Since the Speech of Allaah, through its recitation, is made clear.

وقل يتجلى الله للخلقِ جهرةً ، كما البدر لا يخفى وربك أوضحُ
And say: Allaah will make himself visible to all the creation, openly,
Just as the full moon is not hard to see, and your Lord (will be seen) more clearly.


وليس بمولدٍ وليس بوالدٍ ، وليس له شِبْهٌ تعالى المُسبحُ
And He was not born, nor has He fathered anyone,
Nor is there anything similar to Him, exalted be the Glorified One.

وقد يُنكِر الجهمي هذا عندنا ، بمصداقِ ما قلنا حديثٌ مصرحُ
A Jahmee rejects this, however, we have
As a testimony to the truth of what we say – a hadeeth that clarifies it.

رواه جريرٌ عم مقالِ مُحمدٍ ، فقلُ مِثل ما قد قال ذاك تنْجحُ
Jareer narrated it, from the words of Muhammad,
So say what he said about that, and you will be successful.

وقد ينكرُ الجهمي أيضاً يمينهُ ، وكِلتا يديه بالفواضلِ تنْفحُ
And perhaps a Jahmee might deny His Right Hand as well,
While both of His Hands are giving out all kinds of bounties.

وقل ينزلُ الجبارُ في كلِّ ليلةٍ ، بر كيفَ جلَّ الواحدُ المُتمَدحُ
And say: The Ever-Compelling descends each night,
Without asking for exact details, magnificent is the One God and most worthy of praise.

إلى طبقِ الدنيا يمُنُّ بفضلهِ ، فتفرجُ أبواب السماءِ وتُفتحُ
Down to the lowest heaven, granting bounties from His Grace,
As the gates of the heavens are opened and spread widely.

يقولُ أَلا مُستغفرٌ يَلقَ غافراً ، ومُستمنحٌ خيراً ورِزْقاً فُمنحُ
He says: Is there anyone seeking forgiveness who would like to meet a Forgiver?
Or anyone seeking bounties of goodness and provisions, so he could be given (what he requests)?

روى ذاك قومٌ لا يردُّ حديثُهم ، ألا خابَ قومٌ كذبوهم وقُبِّحوا
A group have reported this whose reports are not to be rejected,
But sadly some have went wrong and did not believe them, marring themselves.

وقل: إنَّ خير النَّاسِ بعد محمَّدٍ ، وزيراهُ قدَماً ثم عثمانُ الارجَحُ
And say: Indeed the best of the people after Muhammad
Were his two deputies of old, and then ‘Uthmaan, according to the most correct position.

ورابعهُمْ خيرُ البريَّة بعدهُم ، عليٌّ حليفُ الخيرِ بالخيرِ مُنْجِحُ
And the fourth of them was the best of creation after them,
‘Alee, the companion of goodness, through goodness he was successful.

وإنَّهم للرَّهطُ لا ريبَ فيهمُ ، على نُجبِ الفردوسِ بالنُّور تَسرحُ
Those are the people, those who we have no doubt about,
Upon the great camels of Firdows, shining brightly and roaming about.

سعيدٌ وسعدٌ وابن عوفٍ وطلحةُ ، وعامرُ فهرٍ والزبيرُ الممدَّح
Sa’eed, Sa’d, Ibn ‘Awf, Talhah,
‘Aamir of Fihr, and Zubayr the praiseworthy.

وقل خيرض قولٍ في الصحابة كلِّهم ، ولا تك طعَّاناً تعيبُ وتجرحُ
And speak with the best terms about the Companions, all of them,
And do not be one who speaks ill of them, pointing out their faults and criticizing,

فقد نطقَ الوحيُ المبينث بفضلِهم ، وفي الفتح آيٌ للصَّحابةِ تمدحُ
Since the clear Revelation has spoke of their excellence,
And in (Soorah) al-Fat-h are verses about the Companions, praising them.

وبالقدرِ المقدورِ أيقِن فإنَّه ، دعامةُ عقدِ الدِّين ، والدِّينُ أفيحُ
And regarding the pre-ordained Qadr, be convinced, since it is
The pillar that combines many affairs of the Religion, and the Religion encompasses much.

ولا تُنكِرَنْ جهلاً نكيراً ومُنكراً ، ولا الحوْضَ والِميزانَ انك تُنصحُ
And do not reject, out of ignorance, (belief in) Nakeer and Munkar,
Or the Pool or the Scales, surely you are being advised sincerely.

وقُلْ يُخرجُ اللهُ الْعظيمُ بِفَضلِهِ ، مِنَ النارِ أجْساداً مِنَ الفَحْمِ تُطرحُ
And say: Allaah, the Great, will remove, from of His Grace,
Out of the Fire, people, burned severely, who will then be tossed.

عَلى النهرِ في الفِرْدوسِ تَحْيَا بِمَائِهِ ، كَحِبِّ حَمِيلِ السَّيْلِ إذْ جَاءَ يَطْفَحُ
Into the river in Firdows, wherein they will regain life by its water,
Like a seed taken by a flood that comes and wipes things away with its abundant water.

وإن رَسُولَ اللهِ للخَلْقِ شَافِعٌ ، وقُلْ في عَذابِ القَبْرِ حَقّ موَُضحُ
And surely, the Messenger of Allaah will intercede,
And speak about the punishment of the grave, that it is the truth, made clear.

ولاَ تُكْفِرنْ أَهلَ الصلاةِ وإِنْ عَصَوْا ، فَكُلهُمُ يَعْصِي وذُو العَرشِ يَصفَحُ
And do not make takfeer of those who pray, even if they commit sins,
Since all of them commits sins, while the Owner of the Throne forgives graciously.

ولَا تَعتقِدْ رأيَ الْخَوَارجِ إِنهُ ، مقَالٌ لَمنْ يَهواهُ يُردي ويَفْضَحُ
And do not hold a belief like that of the Khawaarij, for it is
A position held by only those who desire it, and it is destructive and disgraceful.

ولا تكُ مُرْجيًّا لَعُوبا بدينهِ ، ألاَ إِنمَا المُرْجِي بِالدينِ يَمْزحُ
And do not be a Murji’, one who plays games with his religion,
Surely, the Murji’ is joking about the religion (ie. not taking it seriously).

وقلْ : إنمَا الإِيمانُ : قولٌ ونِيةٌ ، وفعلٌ عَلَى قولِ النبِي مُصَرحُ
And say: Eemaan (faith) consists of statements, intentions,
And Actions, according to the explicit statement of the Prophet.

ويَنْقُصُ طوراً بالمَعَاصِي وتَارةً ، بِطَاعَتِهِ يَمْنَي وفي الوَزْنِ يَرْجَحُ
And it decreases sometimes, due to disobedience, and sometimes
Because of obedience it grows, and on the Scale it will outweigh (other things).

ودعْ عَنْكَ آراءَ الرجالِ وقَوْلَهُمْ ، فقولُ رسولِ اللهِ أزكَى وأَشْرحُ
And keep yourself from the opinions of people and their stances,
Since the stance of the Messenger of Allaah is more befitting and easier on one’s chest.

ولا تَكُ مِن قوْمٍ تلهوْا بدينِهِمْ ، فَتَطْعَنَ في أهلِ الحَديثِ وتقدحُ
And do not be from those who play games with their religion,
Attacking the people of hadeeth and reviling them.

إِذَا مَا اعْتقدْت الدهْرَ يا صَاحِ هذهِ ، فأَنْت عَلَى خَيْرٍ تبيتُ وتُصْبِحُ
If you keep this belief all your life, O holder of this (poem),
You will be upon goodness, day and night.
Al-haa iyyah
by Ibn Abi Dawud Assijistanee
Peter Farsje Feb 2020
Beware young and old alike
for the place that is a scary sight.
Its the Pirate's Cove
sure enough, by jove.

Protected by Sunset Reef,
raiders there will come to grief.

There amongst the shoals
many here have lost their souls.

Daring ones who venture
there by skiff,
often fail to spy their shack,
under the cliff.

The shack is there
though hard to see.
Tattered and weathered
and leaning alee.

Their fighting ship
is hard to seek,
for its hidden well up
the nearby creek.

Bloodthirsty pirates
ready to take your life,
to poke you or stab you
with their long, sharp knife.

In the early morning
they may be snoring,
after a wild night
of drinking and sporting.

Pray not wake them
or you risk your life,
by tasting the
bite of their trusty knife.

Seeking their chests
filled with gold
may land you down
in the depths so cold.

So lads and lasses
stay away
and live to see
another day.
(Land that doth marry mother lode
of sublime earthen land and sea).

Age of exploration
   ushered cruel fate
   against “red” men living
   in bliss by agents

   patch of eden north
   o Mason Dixon line
   latitude: 39.64839
   longitude: -75.95591 alee

perchance designed
   by divine providence
   with dyslexic humorous bents
   Cecil county Maryland

   lies like plump backward letter “e”
witnessed topographic erosion
   pocked imprimatur marked
   meteorological dents

   thru inundation of
   oceanographic propensities
   melding coastline like Galilee
in particular by Chesapeake Bay,

   that body of water
   abutting like natural fence
   first witnessed by captain
   John Smith in 1608

   mistaking himself tong tied
   in sole of Italy
learned faux pas, when crossing paths
   with Susquehannas hence,

   offered tobacco sticks to natives
   while recovering
   from injured wounded knee
said other sundry tribes curiously eyed
then (I utilized poetic license)
took smoke from packet of Kents
   which twist on actual
   historical facts manipulated by me
but more truthful account awash
   and replete with more

   than interspersed nonsense
   and incorporates tract situated
   in so called Fertile Crescent – see
settled by Europeans of English stock,

   who emigrated with nary a pence
   “taming” shrew like “noble savages”
    plied Leviathan sized ukuleles
whose might exploited for felling forests,
   which timber built cabins with vents.
Onboard a band of blue Bermuda latitude
Some sapphire map of liquid globe that rolls
Where wash machine confusion waves unfold
The ship a hammock o're this watery tomb

1000 white capped crashes surface wreck
But swell my limpet heart like seaweed blooms
The sky is overcast in concrete hues
And only those with courage go on deck

Under my palms the varnished railing sweats
A kiss of mist blown spray from open sea
Strange urge to jump and tack life's helm alee
And merge our shaking breaths in a duet

Written by Sara Fielder © Dec 2015
Lemonade Jun 2018
There's this guy I call my best friend,
He is sweet and sound.
Yes, we complete each other's sentences.
Calling him just a 'friend' would be a disgrace.
He is more of a diary for me.
Deliberately, he listens to my pointless thoughts
with his stillness, softly pardoning me,
connecting the dots,
he smoothly stirs my soul with indulgence.
letting our smiles exchange their scents.
Yes, I know he does his job too perfectly.
You would say he is just a fantasy,
right?
But trust me, he holds true.

There's this guy I call my best friend,
My constant companion,
he helps me untangle my obstructions,
just the way you untwine your hair,
and let it spare.
He is like coffee,
in the mornings that aren't glee.
His eyes proclaiming that it's a good day alee,
as that smile reaches his ears,
letting my heart sing a happy song,
all day long.

There's this guy I call my best friend,
Some of you may think, this is again someone friend zoned.
But no, this is someone I have owned.
He is more of a family to me,
who never lets down to me.
He touches like a happy pill,
he is the Jack to my Jill.
He is more than just a poem to me.
I hope, together we blaze,
forever and always.
asea,
tangled web
of complexity

raging rapids
hasten
mortality

albatross
lingers
over me

stiffen bones
death's
rigidity

spare the
beacon's search
for me

alas
my life may
no longer be

battered and
bruised I
was left alee
I comport myself with quiet pridefulness,
plus intellectual whimsy
aware that "FAKE" pretentiousness,
could be mistaken foreign egotistical vitae
furthering, feathering and figuratively
undermining jestingly,

poetically, and zealously
oozing, gushing, bubbling over
with faux snobbish suave re:
pulse sieve literary fatuous
haughtiness, and ludicrous narcissistic pre
ning all the while chuckling to me

self, and indifferent if
some anonymous browser
with Dutchman's breeches rolled up
upon cresting wave over Zyder Zee
disparages mine harmless
badinage, hence if ye

might qualify as such nitpicker,
who doth cavil - dee
crying wading thru
quagmire of verbiage,
a gentle reply to thee
might be more wise to turn energy

toward, how in many another country
the village people haint so free
spouting, sporting, and spoiling,
vis a vis intellectual sparring
(albeit innocent) black
barbs hatch chee

ving, and raising urgent
attention against he
(who **** squelching
constitutional rights) re:
pressing, rescinding, reviling,
et cetera access toward key

underpinnings within these fifty
constituent United States
of America beckon alacrity
for obliging citizens across
all points of the compass to alee

v8 his indiscriminate flee
sing, sans bedrock nation could tee
tear on the brink of calamity,
which political plug quite inadequate

to staunch hemorrhaging, viz upending
many a sacred liberty,
and foo to you reprimanding
against any agree
gee us objection to pen about polly lee
ticks and/or religion!
Attuned and listening closely
     when this bag
     o' bones needs to dial z's
else...lack of requisite rest,
     could find this ole
(of lix orbits) to wheeze
finds me recollecting one unique
     (Harriet Harris) quaint aphorism

     uttered by said
     late mum her ashes
     long since scattered
     among incorporated Arcola trees
such as no reason
     to call doctor
     for every **** and sneeze,
thus moost recent 'bout

     feeling physically
     unwell, dis please
zing me Matthew Scott Harris
     to heal mine
     (sic), feeling unwell
     spending no monies
disinclined to contact
     white coated Jeez

hiss Bus driver
     never finds himself
     linkedin with golly
ma free trappings
     constituting sterile medical
     community, but dee
pends on ambient latent healing
     power within self

     which rest and writing
     poetry moost times alee
vee eights, thus bringing
     an unexpected conclusion
     (with...maybe a
     skull king minor
     hemorrhaging concussion)
to this dollop dosage

     viz literary purgative
which vitality restoration
     via resting asper more
      exhaustion than usual
     quality sleep a guarantor to live.
BTW Dec 2021
Dec 29 2021

Each waking morning I celebrate you.
You are my earthly love, passioned true.
In the cold of winter, the promise of spring,
You are my gift, always giving right living.

In the darkness of forever lasting,
I will dream of your touch, your laughing.
In the pain of loss, the thief of grief,
I have found you, Hallelujah. All relief.

Stay. Keep heart warm and free.
As you travel, cantor our soul alee.
Distance, an illusion of this world.
Beside you, hear my songs dance, twirl.
,
Softly, tenderly, I whisper your ear.
You are safe. I am here.
Hold eternal our bands, our hands.
In this ever strange, hungry, neverland.

Hallelujah.
I celebrate you.
BTW Jan 2023
See each other
31 December 2022

We don’t see life, all the same way.
We live in worlds, different each day.    
Stress falls to ground, seeding our stay.

We aspire, our world is good,
To make ours, your neighbourhood.
I see you far, try our best.
Together, we pass to west.

Sail to wind, each storm alee.
Sight rest, on peaceful sea.
Care to each other.
Safe and free.
BTW Apr 2021
Up All Night
26 April 2021

Surrounded by lack of light,
Where is the boundary?
Sudden spirit in flight,
Where will I roam?
Walls have no home.
Child runs alee.
Is that the devil I see?
Who set me free?
TheConcretePoet Dec 2019
---------------

like a tree,

     i have

        lost all

   of my

          leaves.

but,

     as the snow

        dresses me,

    i realize that

       i am not dead

           but rather,

   i am simply, free.

        free to

    stand against

        every gale,

every breeze,

            never alee.

and i will,

     because even

         goliath - the giant he,

          was fell by

      by a mortal

         named David,

just like me.
TheConcretePoet Nov 2019
my crutch,
it got me
once again
this week.

the pain
left for
a day but,
at the bottom
of those
bottles were not
the answers
that I seek.

the one
person that
I feel could
relate,
could understand...

they'd rather
be angry
without
understanding
that,

I am just
a man.

the years of
torment that
I was put
through without
making them
feel like a
monster of
some kind

but whatever,
I have come
to accept my
unhappiness
and simply endure
this life until
God tells me
to leave it
behind.

I have never
run away
from
responsibility
of any kind

I go to work,
I pay my bills,
I stumble
sometimes.

I'm just
a man....

I wish...
eh,
maybe I
don't care
if you
understand.

What will be
will be

and one day
soon I hope,
of all of this
wretched life....
I will soon
be free.

Eventual
happiness
does await
me...

with Jesus and
nary a soul
to judge me.

out...
and
free,

at long last,
alee.
Prone to bloviation pure and simple
rides on figurative high horse,
which doubles up as my Plymouth Duster
analogous to General George Armstrong Custer
(blowing his i.e. mine little big horn)
anonymous readers I unwittingly fluster
poetic patina an artificial, superficial,
yet beneficial ego boosting luster
one mister re: man can muster.

I (no surprise) become
self absorbed with my own palaver drum
ming across the screen written from
me, (an average happy go lucky)
goose stepping honk
king Crimson and clover Caucasian man hum
bull despite being imagine
an infinite string of superlative adjectives jum

bull ling together to accentuate Lum
burr jack ambitions comfortably numb
when modest male
just another brick in the wall
scores of decades during plum
years of mein kampf
watching favorite television programs
in boyhood living ***
while bobbing like a sponge
(donned in square pants)
sprawled on my washboard tum.

No inflated cheekiness for logophile
renown throughout the webbed wide world
for his pro licks
regarding poetic shenanigans ad nauseum.

I comport myself with quiet pridefulness,
misinterpreted as snobbery
plus intellectual whimsy
aware that "FAKE" pretentiousness,
could be mistaken foreign egotistical vitae
furthering, feathering and figuratively
undermining jestingly,

poetically, and zealously
oozing, gushing, bubbling over
with faux snobbish suave re:
pulse sieve literary fatuous
haughtiness, and ludicrous narcissistic pre
ning all the while chuckling to me

self, and indifferent if
some anonymous browser
with Dutchman's breeches rolled up
upon cresting wave over Zyder Zee
disparages mine harmless
badinage, hence if ye

might qualify as such nitpicker,
who doth cavil - dee
crying wading thru
quagmire of verbiage,
a gentle reply to thee
might be more wise to turn energy

toward, how in many another country
the village people haint so free
spouting, sporting, and spoiling,
vis a vis intellectual sparring
(albeit innocent) black
barbs hatch chee

ving, and raising urgent
attention against he
(who **** squelching
constitutional rights) re:
pressing, rescinding, reviling,
et cetera access toward key

underpinnings within these fifty
constituent United States
of America beckon alacrity
for obliging citizens across
all points of the compass to alee
v8 his indiscriminate flee
sing, sans bedrock nation could tee
tear on the brink of calamity,
which political plug quite inadequate

to staunch hemorrhaging, viz upending
many a sacred liberty,
and foo to you reprimanding
against any agree
gee us objection to pen about polly lee
ticks and/or religion!
BTW Sep 2021
Hope

24 September 2021



I wish you joy, new days to thrive on earth.

Love’s richest purse, styled in tender verse.
Life free of pain, happiness profound,

Sun matched treasure patch, I have found.

Moon, southern breeze,  charmed morning free. 

Gentle skies, greenest leaf, high on every tree.

Past tests were set uphill, sweated every day.


Search hours spent, ungentle sway.

Others felt your smile of angel salve,

For them, lives grateful had.

You were levered promise, tomorrow's ever gift,

Ode of poetry song, spirit slow, swift.



Karma dressed others less than we,

Others broke, lost and toked for calmer seas.

Memory, hard times, failed to sail alee.

No sweet honey, sour cease to please.


I wish bold hours, trouble to the past,
Lifelong comforts, you deserve at last.

No wants left me drown.  Wept, I found you.

Whole, kind, soul filled. Sweet and true.

Struggle never leaves, you bequeath your strength,

Amazed, grateful wonder, fate still bent,

To spend my life, new with you.
Heaven hope's scent.

— The End —