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Shofi Ahmed May 2017
Hidden within the earthy depth
only emerges with time
only dances in tangent
now slips out with the butterflies.  
Now the nightingales singing aloud!

One has spoken out, one blew
a kiss out off the dark seed.
Ah, what then broke through?
Up from the sky the blue-nymph  
dropped down on the scene!
One that hid blurring that's image
on the mirror is that now been seen?

Pouring rain singing down to primulas
paints it with all the colours of the wind
now the Spring picked up her paintbrush.

Rain some colour blow a kiss of the flower
paint it out of the mirror!
Kenya83 Feb 2017
I can't stop writing poems
Because I can't stop thinking of you
Poetry comes easy
when words and feelings are true
Like the sun does rise each day
and the birds do sing their tune
The words come fast and fluent
Just as night does bring its moon
There may be no rhyme or reason
To why my mind is stuck on you
But nature has a funny way
of knowing what is true
Muse
Jordan Rowan Nov 2015
The sun sets on dripping blood
Shed for love
And brought out from a gun
Elizabeth is close to death
Drawing final breaths
She was so fine and so young

Pedro runs across the barroom floor
Bursting through the door
On his way to the border by the sea
His hand is still hot from rage
There's nothing left to save
All he can do is flee

Now that heaven can finally breathe
Resting on the sea
While Pedro hides away from law
Elizabeth wore Pedro's golden ring
Along a silver string
Yet she moaned among the farmer's straw

Pedro shed the lonely tears
Of a love lost in years
He made a promise that he kept
As he read aloud the vows she wrote
With the heart she broke
The sun set as he wept
MeanAileen Mar 2017
Tell me that I'm beautiful,
say it aloud tonight.
Tell me I mean everything,
confess I am always right.
Say that I'm like magic,
treat me just as a queen.
Speak words I long to hear,
let me live in a dream....
Shower me with promises,
drown me in your desire.
Whisper sweet devotions,
tho I'll know you're a liar.
Tell me how much you love me,
say you will never leave...
Feed to me these little fibs
I want so much to believe~
One of my personal favorites...
FrankieM Jan 2018
21
After weeks spent parading around, letting everybody and their mother know the day is near, we are finally here. It’s the night of your 21st birthday. 3 shots, 2 beers, and a joint or four later, and I’m feeling pretty alright.
Your mother brings out your baby book, the entirety of your childhood life simplified into pictures and momentous small enough not to cause the pages to crease, meticulously placed between two hard covers.
She flips through the album, licking her fingertips between every other page and reading aloud the entries with the most significance to her. Suddenly she stops and points to a date.
January 19, 1997. The first time you smiled.
I look over at you and you smile back at me. A smile so radiant, there’s no need to explain the significance.
ogdiddynash Jul 2018
(thanx all for the great suggestions)

<!>
women who wink

drive men to drink

together, glasses clink

tattoos follow in ink

and that ain’t the only thing

~

the tiller tied & forgot,

the slip knot jinxed

the sailboat nearly sinks

~

he cries aloud “you minx!”

I’m all done in,

you’ve got me sminked,^

you winking whilst me sailing on the oceans brink

~

she smirked and laughed that slinky mink,

“clearly you are confused - I’m a lynx,

count to cinq, don’t overthink,

join me overboard into the ****,

I’ll finish you off in the the kitchen sink

where drowning possibilities are next to nothink

promise, we’ll be quite in sync”
^Smink/To smink/Sminking/Sminked...pretty much any context you want.

When you smoke (strictly ****) and drink (alcoholic beverage of you choice) at the same time. Together these two factors get you wicked f’d up and create a great sminked out atmosphere.
Savanna Feb 2013
I can tell the truth without speaking
I can admit without looking into saddened eyes
I can dream without sleeping
I can convey a tone with my lips closed in disguise

I can let it all spill out knowing I can hit delete
I can think aloud in silence
I can let out a frantic cry and remain completely discreet
I can interchangeably exercise conformity and defiance

I can turn a wish into a goal with strokes on the keyboard
I can tend to my own wounds
I can create my own articulated rewards
Writing poems keeps my thoughts from swirling into typhoons
Traveler Mar 2014
I dreamt you were still a child
As if time had just stood still
I was paralyzed in great despair
By your wounds I could not heal
I held you tight and cried aloud
To curse my wicked soul
For leaving you so far behind
So many years ago
Traveler Tim
Ode to my youngest.
re to 05-17 then 8-18
Seanathon Feb 2017
When I see this
When I hear that
And when I am most hallowed out
The arrogant side of me saunters in
And quietly says, something boisterous and aloud
“Let me show you just how I can be“
It says most confidently
And yet I wonder those words
And if my arrogance also says such things to me
Totally laughing at myself!
stopdoopy Jul 2018
(In a vacant church Little Girl and Big Man sit on a parish
a few feet apart, in between them lies a book titled"My Feelings".)

(The curtain opens. Little Girl sits staring at Big Man. Big Man gets up and goes to the statue of himself in front of them for a closer look.)

Big Man: Will talking in person really make a difference?

Little Girl: I like to think it does.

Big Man:  (turns to look at her incredulously.) What wishful thinking, you're so naïve.

(Little Girl opens her book and starts to read aloud.)

(Big Man cuts her off with a noise every time she starts to say something until she falls silent.)

Big Man: Just as I thought, it doesn't change anything.

Little Girl: But you don't-

Big Man: (cuts her off again.) You just can't let things go, that's your problem. I told you I didn't want to do this, yet you dragged me out here. It didn't accomplish anything!

Little Girl: That's because you don't even want to listen or try to talk, you just want to yell and blame me!

Big Man: That's enough, this conversation is over. (Walks off stage right.)

(Little Girl screams in anger and throws "My Feelings" at the Big Man Statue.)

(The Curtain closes.)
I wanted to try something a little different! I've never written stage directions or a play before but I thought this would be a nice change. I didn't really convey the raw anger or passion, nor was it the scene what I originally wanted but maybe it's a step in the right direction. Trying out different styles is neat. Not happy with this piece though but... oh well.
Mark Upright Aug 2018
|“lead into gold, good into dear, mortal into immortal”
(where poems come from)”
|


you charged me
with crimes three times three,
sorcery and witchcraft and doing god’s work

plead guilty three times three
not that I was successful,
but a complex, candied marvelous failure

not in my possession, the sorcerers spell,
my dross and wordy dregs all sit sidelined,
perchance perhaps,
if you search with a leaden patience inhuman,
you might just find a minuscule golden vein there’d unmined

turning good into dear, an “anyone can do it” miracle,
when you whisper with just one kiss those forever words,
don’t be afraid, say it low and slow, I love you,
and
“I only want to be with you”
and dare it to be become dear

mortal into immortal, an order tall, for one knows his
hiding places for all too human pockmarked weak,
but having been charged and found in guilt,
no one proffered evidence but they wanted a unambiguous
unanimous verdict and proof is such an old fashioned truth notion

happy accept your accusations and since confession is
the best soul medicine, with glee, here and now reveal
how immortality is achievable


breathe poems  constantly instantly throughout
the orifices in the skin cells and
pore’d orifices you were god given;
it is how we immortals communicate
with what cannot be seen,
yet drunken heard when spoke aloud

taste the poems in and on tongues you can’t comprehend,
the sounds fly skyward after infiltrating your eyes,
then you can see your own immortality anointed rising

all nonsense you plead,
indeed,
only immortals truly cherish and envy the
human ability to create
nonsense, the place
where poems come from

*******
Cassia Jul 2018
Do you see that girl with the silver eyes
Who walks that hallowed road?
She loves to speak her softened words
And knows she's not alone

Do you see that girl with the emerald eyes
That are bright despite her pain?
With a darling smile upon her face
She dances in the rain

Do you see that girl with the hazel eyes
That loves to write her words?
With a forgotten smile on her lips
She dwells on other worlds

Do you see that girl with the steel blue eyes
That conquers all she sees?
She has her friends all standing by
What a lovely sight, indeed

Do you see that girl with the chestnut eyes?
That ignite with passion's flames?
She sings aloud her hopeful song
And her heart never complains
Seanathon Mar 2017
I feel so tired
I can barely breathe
My chest is concave
Like the narrow dell
Soaking up the rain
And pulling in the leaves

And though I’m not hollow
I am not whole
And though I’m weary
It is not my soul
Which cries aloud
Unto the the trees

Except for your sound
The sound that is
Of when you sing
And walk beneath
This canvas of leaves
Free as your feet

But the soles of my shoes
And the lids of my eyes
Are now heavy
As my head it lulls
And wants to roll
Back to the ground

So my pillow now
Is underneath
The hooded wood
And as the world
Slowly closes round
It’s you I see

Within the leaves
Beneath the trees
Looking up. Looking down. At you. At me.
Brody Blue Aug 2017
I gazed into his eyes like beads of sweat
Blacker than the empty spacious depths
Around the little bridge-like tiny speck,
An ember on His hearth
We only think is worth
Its broken wharfs

He said to me: "Son, don't fear empty bluffs
They may be steep but they're not steep enough."
And judging by the scar beneath his cuff,
I knew he would be true
And his tale would be true too
About the wharfs

"Throughout the many vicious centuries
The motor of it always seems to freeze
Until the kindled flame does hit the breeze
And thaws its frostbit joints
And burns the hand that points
Out from the wharf."

He cleared his throat and then he said aloud:
"Is piety reaped from fertile ground?
Or by the planter's hand is it endowed?
The answer lies in strife
So mount the throne of life
Far from the wharf."
A song about an improver.
cleo Feb 2017
i don’t count aloud anymore
i can't stand to hear your name,
such a common word
it doesn't matter the context
i still go quiet every time

i used to pick up pennies, called them lucky
i remember picking up a few
on our way back to your place.
nowadays i don't give them a second glance
it's not their worth i've forgotten

they say one is the loneliest number
is that why you did it?
because you felt you’d earned it
after all this time being by yourself--
that you deserved it?
what about me,
did i?

i remember exactly what i wore that day:
short shorts, a baggy t shirt
i haven't worn those shoes since (and i so loved them)
they were these expensive purple velvet platforms;
i actually had to beg my mother to buy them for me.
"you better wear them", she warned.
that day i went home with you was
the first time i'd ever worn those shoes,
and the last
sorry mom
multi sumus Aug 2018
Hollow shoes in hallowed halls
This sunswept maze where shadows fall
upon the stones which lie beneath my feet

Through the doorway thresh is held
By bated breath
and faith dispelled
my faculties restrained i do entreat

For many a moon has passed since last ive cast mine eye upon that has such beauty uncompared to any other

Chaos thought
A thousand dream
With hastened heart
Although it seems
i seek not her a Love
but yet a Lover

          They began to whisper...

   Which shall speak that her gaze may fall upon Us?
   And to what voice heard will her hand reach forth?

   Be it by pillowed tone her heart be swooned?

   Nay, But with intellect and eloquence shall she be found appeased

   And what of charm found south with a hint of gentleman drawl?

   Or does she desire a tumble and rough to take hold and charge her?

   Perhaps raw and silent with mystery air, allowing her curiosity to draw her near Hahaha!

Ahh humor, Yes a quick travel in, entertain her that she may be...Tickled


Cease this banter
Silence
Still
Strength within
Bend
Break i will not
follow in Your footsteps any longer!

Now bold am i
Through time and times
With patience prayer
and then i find
That that which destroys not    
just makes me stronger

So with humble speech and subtle grin
Repore is built
Then questioning
"Opportunity may i have to call upon you?"

Refuse me not
My dear i pray thee
Words amassed
Forgive and let be
known they're spoken only unto few


And within the shadow They murmured
Each by Their turn...

   Bound by silken thread and silent tongue?

   Nay, By soft and sweetened lips shall We speak unto her flesh
Be not word nor sound that echoes in those ears but merely whispers to her soul

   Mmm, inch by inch shall she be ravished, Savoring every delicate morsel, And feasting upon her succulence shall We find solace

   Oh! That We be granted leave to bestow upon her such pleasures

   Pleasures yes! And through pain she will know them!

   Release Us That We may consume!

Deny Us not for We hunger!


NAY! the scream
though not aloud
Consent withheld
within a shroud of
mystery to why the unacception

So unto the lock
the bars do hold
These "demons" kept  
since times of old
speech silent to avoid any detection.
The peacocks dance and trees sway to the sweet songs of the birds that playfully fly away,
The woods speckled with the golden , summer blooms.
The fresh green carpet takes away the glooms.
Reminiscing in the beauty of the clear water streams ,
Nature is at play creating picturesque dreams.

Sweet Nector on the dew dropped poppies,
Buzz of the bees and the charm of the humming birds nesting in style .
Oh! Nature is at play all the while.

Sunray's penetrating through dark clouds ,
Colourful little birdies , chirpy , synchronised , repetative and aloud .
Crispy mornings under clear blue skies , Nature is at play as the time flies.

Basking in the beauty of God's creations is a life full of positive aspirations ,
Lo ! behold ! Do we notice the nature's beauty , as we go on in life performing our duty ?
Take a pause !
While you remember your purpose and cause.
Breathe in the fresh air ,
Admire the surroundings,
Sit back ,Relax and smile ,
As nature is at play all the while .

© Mrunalini .D. Nimbalkar
Nature #beauty #environment #birds#play .15.1.2019
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