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PiLomus Jul 2018
Identifying this domain, naming it life,
Thinking am I the main, just hiding in disguise,
Exploring the world gaining in size,
Singing endless stories to my side,
Working for the day when answer will become one,

Myriad possibilities are there to come,
Questioning is this the one or someone else has to hum,

The dreams becoming reality,
when life will be calling and acceptance will come.
All will fathom one and one will fathom all.
A journey will welcome a journey in rise.
One will start understanding the blunder,
And never will the veracity of a dream be in plunder,
A proliferating uncovering will arise,
And Sapiens will ask Is this world suffice?
Life is full of possibilities if you are possible.
Joseph Miller Oct 2017
dreams come true
when you get real
with a heart for any fate
find the answers
there is strength in knowing
everything is connected
see the universe
with eyes that see yourself
changing for good
in every moment
the power of spirit matters
Äŧül Sep 2017
You ask me a query,
You ask, "Where Are You, Honey?"

I have an answer for you,
I say, "I'm inside your heart, honey."

You let it extend, your doubt,
You implore, "But why is it so hazy?"

I fire a ******* in response,
I say, "It's hazy because you're lazy!"

You smile but get perplexed by now,
You ask, "Will you stay if moving on I fail to?"

I am mature and couth,
I say, "I find no reason good enough to not to."

You wonder to yourself,
You ask, "Where from I got you?"

I remind you that I came back,
I say, "I consider it my responsibility to imbue your life with the brightness,
The light lacking in your life,
And to provide you with warmth,
So that you are free from your shivers,
And so that you can be my wife,
I want to fill that void in your day,
Maybe I was sent back only for you,
On your mother's recommendation,
And so wise was her receptivity,
I know that I am a man of my words,
Surely I will make it large for us,
And you are such a hardworking lady,
Our children will have it healthy,
And they will surely have it wealthy,
The wealth won't just be material,
But they will be taught fine civility."


You now ask me your final query,
You ask, "Who will be their tutor?"

I smile and simply end this discussion,
I say, "Obviously, me and you."

Even you are satisfied by now,
You smile & say, "I love you, honey."

I hear what I have been longing to,
I say with a broad smile, "I love you too, honey."
∆∆∆∆∆∆∆
Another response to the poem by Pooja Shah: https://hellopoetry.com/poem/2075638/where-are-you-honey/

My HP Poem #1664
©Atul Kaushal
ryn Sep 2014
What's my worth?
Am I worth a second glance?
Till present, from birth
Am I deserving of chance?

What's my value?
Am I worth time spent?
What did I do?
Did I squander the life lent?

What are my virtues?
Do they even shine through?
Do I put them to good use?
Or useless like a pair less shoe?

What defines me?
Is it the words that write?
Or work I do diligently?
Could it be my punches in a fight?

What have I done?
Take your time to think
Did I do it with a loaded gun?
Must've done something; must've missed the link

What am I good for?
Important work or menial labour
Could have I done more?
Achieved alone or together

Do I think differently?
Indulge in fairytale notions
Is it sheer folly?
To believe in magic potions

Am I just silly?
Do I dream too much?
Accept reality
Am I capable of such?

Do I shirk what I carry?
Should I have said no?
Did I delay and tarry?
Have I nothing to show?

Am I wrong to feel?
Is it foolish to want?
When it all is real
Now bearing the brunt

Do I wear you weary?
With my endless stupor
Why can't I bury?
Before we expire

Why do I wallow?
Wading through eye puddles
Should I just burrow?
Deep into these riddles

Why do I falter?
Why can't I heal and rise?
Why do I break and shatter?
How do I stop my eyes?

What is this dense forest?
Must everything be obscure?
Can I not be honest?
Can I not be insecure?

Could I be any more random?
Asking as they come to mind
Have I compromised my decorum?
Have I been blind?

Should I delve even deeper?
May I go on and ask?
Am I worthy of an answer?
Or should I just don my mask?

Gargantuan was my crime
Thick was its girth
Absolution this time?
Of it am I worth?
You hid pieces of yourself,
In places you would never look.
Hidden within those inner landscapes;
Unable to remember their names.
Em Aug 2016
The rain pitter pattering on my window.
The strings underneath my fingers, making that beautiful pastel sound,
from my ukulele.
This is what it's like to feel alive.

The warmth of the house,
The coziness of my clothes.
This is what it's like to feel alive.

Times can be tough,
Being alive can hurt,
But that pain that I feel,
Is one of the things that make me human.

Hot tea,
The effects it can have,
Make me feel like I will never
Need to feel the pain I have felt.

A sip,
Letting the tea sit on you're tongue,
The so wonderful burning sensation,
Until it's cooled,
And is gone.

This is the beauty of being **alive
veritas Aug 2018
red stains, fading, cracked, scented

     if i kissed your prints, would they kiss me back?

sighs, thoughts, spaces between prints

     spaces between words, between parted lips and floating thoughts the world! is so crowded with space but yours is the one i want to fill .

     but where are the lines? lines of loss, lines of lawns, lines of ink and rips and more stains and letters, in the hands and on the pavement

where are the lines?

why won't you go there?

why do you hover in these foul, indomitable spaces? why do you seek that which you should not?

     if the shadow of lines slinks in your quiet expression, then why are you still here?

     if the echo of your soft face lingers in my hands, if the whisper of your breath and the heat of your skin still singes my own, then why do you disappear?

lovely wraith, lovely memory of a thing that once was, why do you sit so alone?

because i am coming to your space, and if you can see me, of shadow and fog, then i will meet you there,

     on a line of our own.

>because it's a death premeditated and i can see it unfolding,

     sharp wounding painful

and the discourse in the sky is telling me so, yet why do i keep walking west?
lots of questions (this isn't a poem of answers. don't look for one).
Neharika Dec 2017
I slept for so long
Dylan lent me his dreams
Now, I wait for the wind.
noren Nov 2018
The posers won't cease
to nag you
And the answers
will not be forthcoming.

Let the endless questions
catch your conscience
and let the answers
remain elusive.

It is in these whirlwinds of thoughts
that you will finally realise
the necessity to forget the unknown future
and the futility to remember the harboured past.
Karijinbba Apr 20
Mountains conquest
become insurmountable obstacles
as impatience
endeavour ill.
~~~~
By: Karijinbba
All rights reserved.
understanding answers arrives
when experience discloses
friends heros from foes
innocent victims, from unsets
Alyssa Underwood Jun 2016
O darkest night, what are you for?
Sometimes to wrestle, sometimes to rest
But always to cling to Jesus more

Though senses are dulled, desires awaken
Aching grows stronger, inhibitions are taken
Less seeing, less hearing, more hunger, more longing
Answers are dimming while questions are thronging

More drilling, more filling
The canyons of my soul
More boring, more pouring
Himself into the hole
More stretching, more catching
Away my gasping breath
More tearing, more sharing
In the union of His death
"But whatever was to my profit I now consider loss for the sake of Christ. What is more, I consider everything a loss compared to the surpassing greatness of knowing Christ Jesus my Lord, for whose sake I have lost all things. I consider them *******, that I may gain Christ and be found in Him, not having a righteousness of my own that comes from the law, but that which is through faith in Christ--the righteousness that comes from God and is by faith. I want to know Christ and the power of His resurrection and the fellowship of sharing in His sufferings, becoming like Him in His death, and so, somehow, to attain to the resurrection from the dead.

"Not that I have already obtained all this, or have already arrived at my goal, but I press on to take hold of that for which Christ Jesus took hold of me. Brothers and sisters, I do not consider myself yet to have taken hold of it. But one thing I do: Forgetting what is behind and straining toward what is ahead, I press on toward the goal to win the prize for which God has called me heavenward in Christ Jesus."  
~ Philippians 3:7-14

~~~
Kenya83 Oct 2018
Eternal tug of war will come what may
Non-religious, I pray, for the comfort of day
Then hope for night to take the pain away
Fear holds me paralysed
Stuck in the mud of yesterday, today
Weight of the worlds contradictions fall
What if it’s my own heart I betray?
Amanda Noel Jul 6
There are answers
To questions
We scream in the rain,
Then bottle inside
To watch float downstream.

There are treasures
Holding extinct memories,
Thoughts and ideas
Not part of history.
  
There are lessons
Where language is no barrier,
Through crystal waters
One thing's clear,
Anything can be a predator.
Kevin J Taylor Dec 2018
It seems the walls that block my vision
were once my wishes, my decisions.

Lives seem built upon themselves and where
we are, who knows—which floor? How high above,
how far below how many more?

And every ceiling thwarts ascent—
each one a floor auparavant.
.
Auparavant: a French word meaning "previously".
.
Not all poems survive. I've lost a few and let others go. My current collection of poems is available on Kindle and in paperback. It is called "3201 e's" (that is approximately how many e's are in the manuscript which is a very unpoetic title but a reflection on the creation of poetry by common means.)
.
Robin Lemmen Nov 2018
The silence is loud
It speaks words to me
Clear as day
With the ghost of your body
Here, laying so close next to me
Empty promises, lost hopes
And I don't think there ever was
Anything more to it
But still, I look for meaning
Regardless I look for answers
In the silence, you left me with
And all that you never did say
JMRS Nov 2018
Why is it so easy to write about pain & heartbreak
Rather than happiness
Well when im in pain I  feel it
When I’m happy I  also feel it
But above all
Im  so busy living it and expressing
The way I feel through actions
There’s no need to express myself on paper
When im in pain I feel it
Heartbreak, I feel it
Rather than making tracks on my wrists
I create beautiful tracks on paper  
The words become my savior
Cutting thin powerful lines into my wide ruled composition book
Filling it with new cuts
Looking back at old scars
That’s the beauty of pain
I look back and all I see is
Growth
Nat Lipstadt Mar 24
-for Zukiswa Mvunguse~
and for
~ Jul,
who once again,
loved each line best~


having already deduced that:

“the unplanned is his plan,
it’s his faceted flaws
that refract his coloratura”^

the titled alliteration teases him into thinking
there, is more to be said,
more to be prayed,
the unplanned lesser lesson is as-of-the-yet unlearned,
and the sunburst of a full fledged
lying-in-bed born from a static spark of kinetic energy,
awaking in an unfamiliar bed
or a too familiar state of mind,
begs for birth and vainglorious death-by-anon/amity
of another poem  

I have written poems commissioned,
“write about suicide,” asked a friend,
“take this word and artfully knead it,” once, was once an oft request,
twisty manipulate your scheming resources into
finely assaying a field rock raw,
laboratory mind-mine it into an essay that delve dives
where you fear to treacherous tread,
resultant, an awkward prayer, now, a valued mineral

no poem is truly planned and no prayer ever truly answered,
but as you compose, pushing the last, next word
ever farther to the right,
you self-confess, expecting no absolution, that the poem,
this one as well,
and the next, and the next, and the next

has always been planned since your inception,
always a prayer asked, and in creation conception,
answered even if not directly answered,
for
in the bare minimum asking,
is the answering,
is the planning,
is the poem and the prayer,
is his owned
alliteration
spontaneously born at 7:57am on
Sunday, March 24, 2019
^ https://hellopoetry.com/poem/3021583/being-a-poet-is-not-planned/

read her poems. https://hellopoetry.com/Zig1/
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