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It poured a heavenly rain today
The roads washed anew
Little streams danced and slid down the alleys to the music rains play

The Gulmohar petals in orange red hues
Lay strewn on the pavement grey
Perched atop the green leaves
Glorious they looked in the warm sun rays

A walk in the evening mellowed rains
The tiny raindrops fell gently upon my face And raincoat peach
Luminous  under the street lamps
Silvery Rain-beams dance
21st June - Rains
triztessa Jan 25
Someday we will get up from this mess
of stirred blankets and soiled laundry
living on piles of boxes and untouched documents
old unworn garments hanging on the curtain rod

The stench of manure and the old man’s unkept
bags carried over last night’s binge and false beliefs
with evidence of old computer notes
to pretend he’s making money
will someday be a memory

Baking tools and sundresses
will finally make it on today’s to do lists
black circles will not be hidden because
we were not made to be pulled apart like dolls

When the time comes
birds and the sound of leaves falling,
the loud bang of the overripe fruit atop
our heads echoing through the roof
like the sound of nature telling us

We are not frail for walking
on steel bridges bare foot
waiting for rain to fall
like dancing

Strongly the grip of the earth
and winds churning about this house
led us to these sights we cannot ignore
to leave this place
to start new maps with bare hands
Lexi Guffey Oct 2018
Recovery is supposed to be
synonymous with Renewal.
Rising from the ashes,
old flames re-lit,
persona rediscovered.
But what do you do
when there’s nothing to Recover,
the Before
up in flames and gone with smoke.
How do you start over
when you don’t know where to start
when you don’t know who you are
when you don’t want to be an also
a prop to someone else’s story
while yours is left unpenned
And within just a moment,
you are not Less,
but Different -
a shift that feels nothing but Empty,
a tear in the fabric of your soul
ripped by the slamming door;
a gap just wide enough
for salty tears to sting a freshly broken heart;
a laceration just deep enough
for time alone to heal.
Introspection and reflection
deftly weaving silken threads
to bring renewal and resilience
to a mending soul that is now stronger than before.
Filling the Empty
with purpose
instead of validation.
Not destroying the Before,
accepting the damage,
rising from the ashes not to relight but to renew,
beginning unhindered by the past -
letting sunlight stream in
through stained glass windows
formed as you made peace
with your broken pieces,
igniting beauty from destruction -
a fire all your own.
The Garden of Gethsemane takes many forms,
All different from our usual norms,
Reflecting was and what will be
As was and are translate to me.

Surrendering self on this sacred ground,
Is perhaps one step that I have found
Hard; to disengage the self that was
From the self that is before the cross.

Understanding helps us know
Humility, so that we can grow
To replace old ambitions
With new ones, in the same traditions.

The Garden allows the Revelations
That help us make these translations
From old to new, so that in repose
We hold true to purpose and resolve.


David Applin
August 2018
... recovery from unexpected misfortune.
Mark Boschi Apr 12
the secrets you want to keep veiled
the words you wish you had said
are hidden away in junk drawers, dusty cupboards, bulging closets

tell them that is safe here
tell them to step into the bright sun
tell them of the sanctuary that is a lover's gentle fold

we await them
day 12 - Spring Cleaning
Cné Mar 2016
Mentally beginning anew,
Shower and storms scramble,
A mind, a mess, stuck in the cold of blue,
Writhing in pain without preamble.

A season after the cries of winter,
The tears of petals shed,
Flows hope once more enter
Where a broken heart bleed.

Relief of breath ooze,
As fragile blooms of forgiveness peek,
Through darken days of self abuse,
To nurture the delicate emotional physique,

Healing in time blind,
Pure instinct survives,
An emotional breakdown of the mind.
Until finally, awaken spring arrives.
In winter, depression manages to take its strong grip on me, almost strangling me. Spring is a breath of fresh air to my mind, with its negative inner voice.
Mmmm, coffee is so good...
My coffee is black,
Like the color of my soul, or how I dress
Or the color of my grandfather.
*The oils & caffeine coat my tongue
and I am anew
My bowels  *turn

The bile  churns
and in ten minutes, I will have to poo.
Lewis Hyden Nov 2018
"Getting sick of married life?
Tired of your ageing wife?
Well, you can create her face anew
With plastic skin and pink tissue!"

"Yes, in only three short days,
She'll be worthy of your praise.
Just send a cheque to this address
And trust us, friend, we'll sort the rest!"

The bill-boards scream in the night
As wolves in the canopy.
Like lasers, they seethe and cut
Through the diamonds of your wet eyes,
Convincing you all too soon that
You are not already perfect.
A poem about impossible standards.
#4 in the Distant Dystopia anthology.

© Lewis Hyden, 2018
English Jam May 2018
Drink to the woman who cared for others
Drink to the man who let her die in the gutter
Drink to those who think they have eternal youth
Drink to those who learn but don’t recognise truth
Drink to those who descend to the feet of Malkuth
Drink to those whose only wish is to hang from the roof
Drink to the liars whose only lie was that they were fine
Drink to the colours that dared to be vibrant and different from mine
Drink to the comedian whose pain is well nourished
Drink to the lover whose bruises have all flourished
Drink to the girl who doesn’t know what to believe
Drink to the guy who always feels like he has to leave
Drink to those who killed themselves to start anew
Drink to the crowd of many that thinks it’s a crowd of few
Drink to those who stand for themselves without any legs
Drink to the rich man who still stops and begs
Drink to those who worship God through death
Drink to those who don’t know they’re taking their final breath
Drink to the children who found guns way too early
Drink to the boy who was told he’s too girly
Drink to the saviour who taught peace and love
Drink to those who lived hatred to get above
Drink to the shadows who stayed carefully hidden
Drink to the people of whom the shadows were forbidden
Drink to the victims who were put into shame
Drink to the celebrities who forgot their own name
Drink to the singer who doesn’t know what the words mean
Drink to the speaker who tells stories of things he hasn’t seen
Drink to the majesties whose requests are over the top
Drink to the awkward kids who don’t know when to stop
Drink to the daydreamers lost in a drowse
Drink to the shimmering girl in a torn blouse
Drink to the society that discriminates anyone in its excess
Drink to the forgotten parade of losers, addicts and rejects
Drink to whoever sees love in the dark chapters of our books
Drink to those who are and aren’t obsessed with their looks
Drink to the new generation that abandoned its old pastiche
Drink to all who have and haven’t found their niche
Drink to the beach who had fresh scars each day
And drink to the ocean that washed the scars away

Drink, drink, drink, upon high
Raise your glass, raise your glass high

Cheers.
melody Sep 2018
my car broke down
and it made me think of how everything breaks and loses its place
only to be replaced
maybe that’s why it bothered me so much
i took it as a life lesson
but it still didn’t lessen the load
stress on my mind
anxiety for breakfast
i know it gets better from here
i always tell myself that anyway
all the old things fade not meant for you
and better things come along
those who come along make you anew too
i got a broke down car and i live pretty far
but my friends still love me
i’m trying my best to see the rest of the big picture
my car was smoking coming down the causeway
so i lit a blunt and smoked too
and told myself “this is it” everything is becoming anew
Daisy Marrow Oct 2013
Where are your wings now?
How can they save you now?
Left alone, barely able to stand on your own two feet.
You walk a thousand miles down a dirt road
finding hunger along the way.
You drink a gallon of water for the first time
so everything in the world stops and leaves you breathless.
You can't believe the feeling of pain and dwell in sorrow
over something, you can't control.
You set the world on fire but never knew how to use a match.
Now you're a nomad dreaming of meeting someone who will help you put out the flames
but instead, everyone glares at you while walking around in their ashes.

And if you knew what you know now nothing would have changed,
and everything would be in its place.
You wish to undo what has been done
but you have a heavy soul
surrounded by mountains and oceans.
So let the sun die down
and let the morning pour in hope of anew to come.

You used to be a beautiful angel
but now your grace has been ripped out.
Now you're a human
with ***** feet,
a hard soul,
broken wings,
and scarred and cut skin
you wish to just be left behind.
Let the wind take you and lead you
across the winding roads,
into the hands, you solely search for to help and to hold.
The only hands that can make you feel whole and holy,
even without a halo.
Castiel
Supernatural
2013
jane taylor May 2016
ancient tenets
turned to dust
gently blown away
by whispered gusts
of love’s rebirth

the rose bush
has lost its thorns
with growth anew
the blossoms form
a new earth

©2016janetaylor
My sister once told me
There was an immortal jellyfish
Turritopsis dohrnii,
Its Latin name if I recall it correctly.
They revert back to their polyp stage.
Their lives beginning all over
I often think to myself
Wouldn’t that be nice
To have the power of the jellyfish

A new life from beginning to end

To have learned from my past
To make it all last
To start anew
To let go grudges, and try something new
To jump off a plane
To go to the show
To date a boy, I barely know
To a spontaneous trip to the coast
To  say goodbye to who I loved most
To make mistakes I never did
Knowing that I could start again.
ryn Feb 2015
You are the light
That hides below the horizon
I await humbly for your rays
To illuminate this darkened season

You are the beacon
That would build me anew
Equip me with newfound notions
When dreams and hopes are far and few

You are the air
Of a fresh new start
Allowing this body another chance
At retrieving a brand new heart

You are the opportunity
Held my breath for far too long
Soon be granted to live again
And choose the right from the wrong

You are the day
Like many have too often said
Due to arrive after tonight
And embrace me as I laid in bed

You are the tomorrow
The promise of my brand new day
But there have been many tomorrows
That have come and gone away

You are my tomorrow
My future, bearing much needed balm
Maybe tomorrow I may finally realise
**That you would never ever come
Natalie Sep 2018
Clouds of ambrosia, food of the gods,
Glow pink in this evening light—
Sweet against a velvet blue;
The sun burns the air in fiery orange,
Deeply luminescent like hot metal,
Iron cast ablaze.
I stare at it in awe until my vision goes
Spotted black and green, colors born anew
With each dark
Blink.
jane taylor May 2016
running by your side
divinity colliding
sparks my soul anew

©2016janetaylor
Show me the tear, show me anew.
Confined to what has never bloomed to seasons of perpetual difference.
Fought against what I always knew.
If love sought so well, then why this baffling feud?
If I am sown to you in proof, then why the tear within?
Oh tear my heart and show me anew.
Friend you are, friend you were,  Dr. Jackal and Mr. Hyde could not surmise.
So, truth is gone and lies arise, tear me one anew
See that I run, hide and then collide.
Would it be for you? Dr. Jackal and Mr. Hyde could not surmise.
The mystery there, the questions daunting in the essence of darkness.
Oh I lay in bed with my heart torn waiting for something anew.
Did I not ask you to tear my heart and show me anew.
Look someone has done this for you, for only me? Hello friend!
Show me anew.


Signature:
G.S.VK.P.12142017
Eric Dec 2018
When those who put us down , we shine.
When we forget ourselves, we shine.
We , us , our lives are a must .
We can't lose touch , we shine .
We show all those who don't feel, feel how blinding our beauty can be . We shine . Further then any star , we shine . So much beauty in so much insanity , we keep going , we shine .
Kolour Fabriken Apr 2018
it’s hardly unmanly
how readily I'd kneel
that I would beg
please, please, please

but what I want?
need?

when you look at me
the supplication of my desire
an unneccesary question

you’re an altar
I’m commanded to drop like Islam
issue forth in tongues
mad verse, tooth and claw

i’ve dreamed you wild
are you?

i’ve dream’t your thighs boxing my ears
your ******* proffering wine
the skin of thy peach, breached
your lips i’ve kissed all summer

I’ve dreamed you a Queen
and the First Woman

and now you’ve grown thorns
you think that gives you an edge

but maybe I want you to stick to my skin
Adrian Betz Jun 2018
Tell them soon I won’t be home this night
And relieve me of the burden, the bitter farewell
Comfort them, a calming voice such as yours
Will be all it needs to keep sorrows away

Tenderest tides, so timelessly fleeting
A yearning verse with an endless story to tell
Purple moonlight, the shores of a cleansed sea
Woeful the sighs sung to the horizons afar

Eternal solstice
Harbor of the distant, pale blue sight
Come under this softest blanket there to see
Where the tale of the first scribe came to be


Separate seams holding the same cloth
Then I saw my closest company wake
Fear not, still, before you I will hold my world
Hand in hand with my messenger, my friend

Snow-white stairs, a valley of figurantes
A stellar choir with the quietest piece to play
Come now the breath of a warmly greeting fall
Inviting me to witness the cycle begin anew

Eternal solstice
Harbor of the distant, pale blue sight
Come under this softest blanket there to see
Where the tale of the first scribe came to be


Sing me to sleep with peaceful times
Another one then might finally begin

Eternal solstice
Harbor of the distant, pale blue sight
Come under this softest blanket there to see
Where the tale of the first scribe came to be




©2018, Adrian Betz
jane taylor Jun 2016
waves of peace

flow gently over me

and fill me

ground to dust

then born anew

life glistens

©2016janetaylor
As a Poet,
  I don’t have to prove what I mean

Or reveal the pigmentation
  of colors that gleam

Or the height of an Angel,
  compared to a Man

Or whether the Devil,
  cannot or then can

As a Poet,
  I don’t even have to explain

The temperature of a sunrise,
  or a sorrow unplained

Or the width of my paper,
  the length of my pen

The fact that I’m sitting here,
  tautologies end

And thus as a Poet,
  I’m free to espouse

The beauty around me,
  without saying how

The magic that marvels,
  never revealing its trick

The hat with the rabbit,
  the joy in the mix

All Poetry a lens,
  through which others can view

Life’s focus e’er changing
  —each moment anew

(Villanova Pennsylvania: April, 2019)
Shofi Ahmed Nov 2018
There is a six seasonal turf on earth.
it isn't an acre of Moon truly an earthly Skookum.
A land so unique is written in stone
as if the enduring heavenly dew
streamed down on this patch of land!

Meet here the open future shows up at the earth's
hub-moon's anew rallying to the untouching-sea
the Indian subcontinent's corner to the ancient wind!

Naturally a hidden gem its in her element.
Her very soil the complete colour wheel matches
The birthplace of the great prophet Muhammad (PBUH)!
Destined to be the golden cut above the rest.
Amusing the heaps of the mindful minds
Sylhet stands on cloud nine eye to eye with
the pivotal soil of Makkah the centre of the earth!

Ah, the deep footed earth how mystique black
beneath it every morning the sun off the heaven’s hill
spreads a new diaphanous gold-light-rug, yet to paint
a footprint, a colourless magic, let alone the centrepiece!
Listen to the morning birds sing here deep in the midst
mellifluous-shrills fill the air unveiling the dream scenes!

The times anew numerating the bounties of our land.
Craving to sip in a dew-potion on our blossoming rose
cirrus clouds dancing over the seven seas here they drop!
Banish the midday blues singing the deep sea’s song.

Nestled amidst the Rivers Surma, Kushiara and Monu
Perched on the shades of the trees each one is a canvas.
Glows with changing Bangladesh's unique six seasons
as they swing and leap in the branches of the trees
and murmur with the upstream and the autumnal breeze.

Stunned angels on their way heaven taking one more
sunset potted in the starry bowl look back at the wee hours.
They can hear pianissimo on this shrouded perennial land.
It never falls asleep is awake with a numerically perfect
circle of 360 spiritual dynamos from the centre they hailed
with a handful of earth and lived here as it matched.    

A deep seeded truth, rock solid Shilahatta in Sanskrit.
Clothed in an enduring vesture minted Sylhet loops in
with the Hebrew Bible’s Shalet, a ruler, a shield!  

The ****** earth sways moulds into a mole.
Ah, the little drops make the mighty ocean.
And with a single word on the lips
the maestros’ great epics begin to be told.
Just with a mundane handful of earth
Primed Sylhet masterpiece begins to unfold.
Keeping you on board with the whole ball of wax
lo, it unveils the mirror of the face of the earth!

Plopped still in the inside track amidst the full show
with the whole nine yards on her least hold!
Believe it or not Sylhet is cherry-picked chosen by God!
The subject matter is about a land possessing a deeply seeded truth. The prime significance of which is its scattered afar but matches the pivotal soil of the centre of the earth!
Ella Aug 2017
You held
my hand
I fell asleep
I woke with the Lord
my soul to keep
In the Book of Life
tis writen that
perfect day
After all,
we were never meant
to stay
Born anew
I look forward
to seeing you
At Heaven's pearly gates
Jesus awaits
like a
father
I never knew
I'm at complete rest
in my Savior's
arms
Completely healed from
all of life's
perils  
and harm
I send peace on the wings
of
a Dove
Knowing full well I have been truly
Loved.
Iska Nov 2017
My dear,
they say that a poem is a work of art.
they say that It is emotion,
pouring from your bleeding heart.
and I find that to be quite true,
but not every emotion is happiness anew.
the sadness the anger and pain and fear,
they each have a place to reside in here.
for such raw emotion does set the tide
for the torrent of words
that in a poem, does reside.
Yaser Nov 2017
On an odd and restless night
when the stars were all but gone
I lay my head in search of sleep
and sought to see the dawn
I closed my eyes
awaiting dreams
but far from me they fled
and faces born of fleeting thoughts
stirred strange within my head

Then I heard it sure enough
my name out of the dark
It found its way into my soul
and there it left its mark

My eyes flickered hastily
and I rushed out of the door
Oh! How I wished to hear that voice -
to hear that voice once more!

A breath of wind did bid my leave
from my chamber nigh
A breath of wind that called my name
with a silent sigh

I walked beneath an empty sea
hidden to my eyes
For not a light hung in that sky
Not a light hung in that sky

I stood there then with open ear
'pon firm and lifeless ground
I stood there, still to hear it clear
That endless swirl of sound

Oh how it howled
and stirred about
that strange and eerie hour!
I knew it then that I'd stood before
an eve of rouse'd power

She sung to me
She sung to me
her silent lullaby
and with each verse
she birthed anew
the stars within the sky...
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