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Alyssa Underwood Nov 2015
It is out of the heart’s cavernous longing and furious search
for love, significance, acceptance, approval, identity, security,
freedom, belonging, innocence, intimacy and transcendence—
out of its primordial memory of what was lost to us in the Garden—
that we begin to ***** idols for ourselves.

Unconsciously we hope they might restore to us a taste of paradise,
taking away our fear and shame and isolation.
We yearn to go back but, alas, we cannot get in from there.
We ache to connect to beauty, to be desired by it as much as we desire it,
and Jesus is the only door by which we may enter.
He is the Beauty, and all the rest are simply there like pealing bells
to arouse our hearts to Him and tell us that He is coming for us.

Still, as if we haven’t quite yet heard and believed the message, we keep
aimlessly trying to forge a false righteousness through our false gods.
When they are lost or the dreams of them unrealized we are devastated,
for the shadows, echoes and reflections we had supposed would finally
make us feel good about ourselves have been exposed as frauds,
and once again we are left to feel naked but without fig leaves to cover us.

It is at these precise moments, when the bottom of our false hope falls out,
that we are best prepared to encounter Christ in His intimate fullness
and most apt to recognize at last that He alone is everything
we have been so desperately wanting.
It is our boiling point, where the unbearable weight
of failed expectation so crashes in on us that we are finally
begging God to lift our idols off of us and deliver us from them,
pleading with Him to come and capture us,
crying out to Him to possess us fully.
~~~
ThePoet Jul 2016
I walked once
through this door

But the door
remains never open

I felt belonging
here once before

But the before
remains now broken
Juhlhaus Jan 16
Sipping the air of a city night
So heady in the cold
On the move under static lights
Little worlds about
To collide

Gravity frivolity
Draw broken hearts like earth bound stars
As the pull of every
Small storied point holds others back
From abysses beneath
Dark waters

Lone souls each
And all compose this metropolis
Joy is to be
Discovered in insignificance
Where together
We belong
Three poets walked into a bar. These are some thoughts that emerged.
Hartaz Kaur Sep 2018
She seems pretty queer
Yes she does
Something odd
Something peculiar

Is it in her insouciance
Is it in her audacity
Is it in her pirouettes
Spun with such vivacity

Is it in her defiance
Is it in her nonrepentance
Is it in her reveling so free
A form full of glee

Sometimes impetuous
All times ingenuous
Aflame with passion
An immersive intoxication

Cracking down on this mystery
A perplexing dichotomy
Let's remove the misfitting pieces
In sync with commonplace notions

Alas what dismantling of a girl
at peace with her pieces
What uprooting of a girl
at home in her body
Paras Bajaj Jan 13
It's 3 am, when you try to seek for help.
It's 3 am, when you've tears in your eyes.
It's 3 am, when all the memories hit you.
It's 3 am, when you regret the goodbyes.

It's 3 am, when the darkness scares you.
It's 3 am, when you've noises in your head.
It's 3 am, when you miss everyone at once.
It's 3 am, when you wish you were dead.

It's 3 am, when you can't save yourself.
It's 3 am, when you get hurt a little more.
It's 3 am, when you just hate yourself.
It's 3 am, when you only feel insecure.

It's 3 am, when you love lyrics more, not song.
It's 3 am, when you only know what's wrong.
It's 3 am, when you are alone, no one to care.  
It's 3 am, when you ask if you belong somewhere?

-Paras Bajaj #PoetrybyParas
Instagram : @mr.parasbajaj
Floating, my lens is set to soft-focus. Just a sense, an outline.
Held so close. But from the grounders, safely, I am out of reach.
To finally be able to feel secure is sublime.



My freedom, they shall no longer impeach .
Intentions pure .
Settled, I am finally at peace. Lightness I now know.
I have risen and found my cure
(C) 2015
His abrasive lips,
her soft longing.
Together part an eclipse,
gently under awnings.
And they'll stay like this,
fire-lit til the morning.
Sharing whatever it is,
lovers do til the dawn ends.
10/10/17
Kaiden A Ward May 14
I exist in the space between worlds,
never truly a citizen
of any one of them, just
a wanderer passing though, looking
for a home
I will never find.

I live in the gray that
separates night from day,
weaving and bending my existence
to blend into the background.

I am the static you despise,
forgotten in the silence between heartbeats,
stalking the shadows
of your imagination.

I am the fog that bridges the gaps
between realities,
formless and boneless, I
smother the void between the light and the dark
so you need not fear the sight
of the abyss.

But, I warn you,
be careful in your step
for I only obscure the in-between to
safeguard your sanity.
I cannot keep you from falling
into the fate I have become.

Though I grow weary of this listless journey.

I am but a ghost
stitching together the worlds
of the living
and the dead.
My attempt to describe something I've always felt.
Partially inspired by my friend's comment that I like to live in the gray/ be the gray person.
Cvash May 2018
I used to hate your healthy avocados...until I had one
Not that your coffee tasted superior to my tea
But what's taste when you season mine with gun powder?
Yes, In case you did not detect
There is a lot of hate in this one
Call me aggressive and spiteful
Whilst holding your rifle
They say hate begets hate begets hate begets hate
So for you to understand
I put aside my ignorance and try to walk in your shoes

OK, let's start:

A lot of trees
Beautiful sky, delightful breeze
A rich land where tenants are a many and they shun the proprietor
I know I promised to be nice
But let's face it for that white picket fence, someone had to pay the price.

Start again:

Sunny coasts
Bacon, eggs on toast
Walk the dog in the park, life is not all that hectic here.
To make it clear, running out of coffee is my basic fear.

Flat stomachs
In fact, six packs!
Cupboard full of knick-knacks
and plenty of time to kick back and relax
Never-ending supply of niceties

Calm waters
Long walks along the harbor
and perhaps a tall pint of lager at the pub

Throw some juicy ones on the barbie mate!
Who cares if 6.2 mil in Somalia are starving mate?
You say to me:
"survival of the fittest, Darwin mate"
"It's so difficult to fit in" I say; so tiring MATE
Did I say that right?
I'm Mohammad, as James in a play called "Aussie Catch Up"
and I don't know how to play that part

What else can I say? they gave me a voice (although in English)
between the self deprecating migrant and the middle eastern rag head, the gave me a choice

And by the way my boss tried to anglicize my name
Said Sebastian had a nice ‘ring’ to it
Well go ahead, march to your colonial tune and have me sing to it

Oh healthy avocados, you're too ripe for my liking
Maybe I'm just used to a bit of rawness in my diet
To be honest
I have a heavy heart, a dark one
Maybe to reconcile, you should take a step
a very very very very very very long one
Hartaz Kaur Aug 2018
In love we are bound,
yet in love we are free.
Bound to one,
bound to circumstance.
While bestowing upon us
the spiritual freedom,
in hardship and adversity,
to escape our current existence
into a world that knows only beauty,
comfort and belonging.
Giving us strength,
giving us meaning
FrankieM Jan 2018
I’m going home
Even though supposedly
I’ve always been

I’m sure
If you searched hard enough
You’ll find me

In a memory
Camouflaged as rose pedals
A gray sky perhaps

I’m going home
And when I do I will
Be a part of your world

At last
On never truly belonging
Alyssa Underwood Jul 2016
It is out of the heart’s cavernous longing and furious search
for love, significance, acceptance, approval, identity, security,
freedom, belonging, innocence, intimacy and transcendence—
out of its primordial memory of what was lost to us in the Garden—
that we begin to ***** idols for ourselves.

Unconsciously we hope they might restore to us a taste of paradise,
taking away our fear and shame and isolation.
We yearn to go back but, alas, we cannot get in from there.
We ache to connect to beauty, to be desired by it as much as we desire it,
and Jesus is the only door by which we may enter.
He is the Beauty, and all the rest are simply there like pealing bells
to arouse our hearts to Him and tell us that He is coming for us.

Still, as if we haven’t quite yet heard and believed the message, we keep
aimlessly trying to forge a false righteousness through our false gods.
When they are lost or the dreams of them unrealized we are devastated,
for the shadows, echoes and reflections we had supposed would finally
make us feel good about ourselves have been exposed as frauds,
and once again we are left to feel naked but without fig leaves to cover us.

It is at these precise moments, when the bottom of our false hope falls out,
that we are best prepared to encounter Christ in His intimate
fullness and most apt to recognize at last that He alone is
everything we have been so desperately wanting.
It is our boiling point, where the unbearable weight
of failed expectation so crashes in on us that we are finally
begging God to lift our idols off of us and deliver us from them,
pleading with Him to come and capture us,
crying out to Him to possess us fully.
~~~
marla Oct 2018
Thunder strikes
A dying heart,
Drowned in sorrow
And pacified since
Yesteryear.
Upon it's pentultimate breath,
The sweet music chimed
And saved the heart
From a bitter death
Filled with hollow victories
That shan't last till tomorrow.
Ah yes, the Queen with her
Rock of Brighton hath come
To make me smile.
After a little while
I conceded,
'Tis this joyous muse
That makes this product of abuse  
Yet again a child.
Rock n roll is for the children
dabble Jun 24
your eyes belong
to my undeniable stare that has infinite meanings and thousand thoughts
your lips belong
to my unbounded lust that flows out as a lovable kiss
your chest belongs
to my irresistible touch that tattoos my name and marks my reign
your ears belong
to my moans and bites from our night bed fights under full moon light

your hands belong to me to hold
I'll want them even when I grow old
your shoulders belong to me to lean
and I, forever want to be your queen
your heart that's beating
that's mine
only mine
no... I would never share
for this whole world, I swear.
Vera Jul 2018
Clothes have outgrown me many times over,
but this sadness never does.
One size.
fits all.
There should have been an obituary for cancer,  not you.
Wishing these slits within my skin could have been
replaced by a reality check from you, “You chose to exist.”

My name causes a sigh to escape from lips,
that do not feel like they belong to me,
the girl,
whose words always had to be special.

The schematics of hospitals like a birthmark in my brain,
born into sadness, a gut feeling as a child.
Never trusting time
due to what it delivers.

Death, being the only thing I desired.
But you, 
who I love,
endlessly-
robbed by it.
Whose ebb for life glowed so feverishly.
Stopped comparing depression to lace,
restricted the belief that suicide is poetic,
seeing things as they were.
More often than not, applauded for feeling emotions deeply.
Every second that dies, the shift of my heart quakes.

This world is not tender.

II. Sad.
I have known the flowers I wanted at my own premature funeral,
knowing how many bouquets honored you that day.

split open my veins like a dimension
reminiscent of days where I anticipated deathbeds.


My family wondered,
can we make it through another day?
Death scares me for what it has taken,
yet, I’m not afraid to die-
it’s all I deserve.
So I await the day pain erupts
from my throat,
acknowledging the days a soul
lived inside of my body-
footprints that walked,
belonging to me.

But I learned so well.
How to suffer with a smile,
dreading the beating of my heart
how unfair—
I don’t want to take these deep breaths
You deserved,while I masquerade as a member of the undead
Never outgrowing the desire to rot with the phantoms residing under my bed.


III. Jokes played by the universe.
punchlines delivered,
how could anyone to stand to be in the same room as myself?
How could anyone look over skyscrapers and sunsets,
and not be infatuated with concrete consuming them?
How I shared a sigh of relief during the thought-
of knowing people would thrive without me,
or the power of a belly laugh,
resembling a laugh track audience
drowning out 3 AM suicidal thoughts.
—V.H.
I wrote this in pink gel pen, maybe, that’s another joke.
Fabiana May 28
i never really understood
how to just
be part of the world,
i always let it
consume me.
banks . drowning (lido remix)
Nigel Finn Nov 2018
These are the hands that will guide you to greatness,
These are the hands that will stay through the years,
These are the hands that will celebrate good times,
And these are the hands that will wipe away tears.

These are the hands that will love you forever;
When you are weak they will help you feel strong,
And, right now, since these hands are entwined together
These hands are precisely where they belong
Recently I was asked to write and perform a hand-binding wedding ceremony for two of the loveliest people I know while I was dressed as a dragon. It's definitely one of the best things I've ever done, and I doubt I'll ever do anything like it again! This is the poem I wrote for the special moment.
Obassi Bholai Jan 15
3am
i love me
do you?
could you ever, truly?
the way you make me feel is
unsettlingly unruly towards self
i couldn’t hurt you the way you’ve done me
it’s not in the cards nor my heart
for it belongs to you.
seems i can only finish writing when i’m drunk so i’m sorry if i’m not doing well with this anymore than i have been
Karen Lang May 15
We are part of an ever moving, growing, expansive and sacred energy

It is around us, above us and below us at all times

We belong to everything and everyone

We are the ones who separate from this space

We are the ones who contract away from this energy

It is always here waiting

Waiting for us to re-connect and flow into

We belong to everything and everyone
Shlomo Jan 30
I’m everything and nothing

For where do I belong

Everywhere and nowhere


Life feels like death

To me, and it seems

Death feels like life


If only I could disappear

Gone from this earth

And slowly reappear, in hopes of a rebirth


To free myself from this pain

In a world of no disdain

With pleasure and infinite gain


This fickle life of endless monotony

I yearn to be free from;

To be in a world of transient diversity.


This skin that I love and hate,

In its real and abstract fate

Was once brown, now black to date.


It seems the winners are losing

In a backwards upside down world

Where the losers are winning.


If I could turn back the hands of time,

I’d go back to the year zeros

In hopes of a restart and some new heroes.


To take everything from the every ones;

Some Robin Hood type ****,

And give something to the no ones.
For more poems and stories, check out my site!
shlomotion.org
Leighanna Aug 2018
I am like an astronaut floating in the sea
I know where I’m supposed to be
and I know it’s not here
Yet despite the creeping sense of my vindicated isolation
I still manage to revel in the wonderment that surrounds me
I may not be where I belong
But I am here none the less
So instead of trying so hard to find my place
I will accept where I have landed
For while I may not be here for a long time
I am here
And here is beautiful
I’m not really sure what to say about this one, it came to me quite quickly so I apologize that it may not be as good as some of my formers. To be simple I guess it’s just how I feel.
Robin Lemmen Aug 2018
Losing is a game I have mastered
I win each and every time
When it comes to us
Battle wounds won't heal
If you keep pouring salt into them
I feel so lost and I so strongly wish to be found
I keep hanging onto memories
Because at a time when I was most unsure
And feeling like I had no clue
Who I was or what it was I needed to do
You made me feel safe and you felt like home
It didn't matter how little I understood
About the world around me
You made me feel like I was enough
Like I had a safe space to come back to
You were the only person I have ever
Felt that way with
So when you left so did safety and belonging
And ever since that day
I have been screaming your name
In silence to myself
As if somehow that would make you reappear
But it doesn't
It never will
It only makes me feel more lost and like
Nothing I ever do will be good enough
I want to so badly, but darling
I just can't seem to let you go
There is such a place, you know--
one that transcends time and space
and visions of what you're supposed to resemble,
and the limits placed by the digits
of your mortal age.

I can feel the presence of it
in my bones,
where the sky is never ending and liberated
and the sun and moon
can openly converse and love and exist,
without the rules of superiors
who like tragic love stories and twisted histories.

Whatever you decide to do, whatever you decide to feel,
there are no restraints
to keep you from the prospects of flying,
or dreaming,
or embracing things that you had to
let go of in another existence.

There is no fear, confusion, or awkwardness,
no doubts of not belonging,
of not deserving to exist in such a place
where your soul can be pure,
and being able to thrive
without having to try so hard
anymore.

You don't have to try anymore to
be a good person,
because you are one.
You don't have to struggle to hold on to yourself,
you don't have to feign ignorance
or enlightenment.

You can breathe and smile openly,
and every smile is so breathtakingly beautiful that
you glow and transcend above all heavens
and insecurities.

The ground is soft and supportive,
giving way to your feet, that no longer
feel so tired and heavy from having to labor to live,
or from constantly running away
from demons and voices
that tear at your conscience and soul.

No, you can now feel as light as air itself,
soft feet running on sunkissed clouds that
formed from tears of happiness.

When it rains,
you don't have to take cover
for it has already washed away all your sorrows and guilts,
guilts in the forms of hot, suppressed tears
in the failures of your lost ambitions
and stolen discoveries,
guilt from turning away, even when someone
asked you for help.

You can forever venture out here,
to unknown, misty, thriving islands and majestic palaces
far away,
you can do things you never got to do,
for you don't have to pretend
to be someone you aren't.

You don't have to live each day questioning
every single telltale of life.

You don't have to wonder anymore
about why the world can be
such a cruel place,
no matter how many rays of hope
reach into the darkness.

You don't have to wonder anymore,
because here
such misery does not exist,
and the ruins of a good soul
dance as a renewed, enlightened being again.

Above all,
you don't have to live someone else's life
because here, you find yourself
over and over
and over again.
07/09/18

The Green of this particular Nirvana is a component that allows you to love and live freely, with no restrictions or heaviness of people weighed down by the world, and themselves.

Here, you are liberated from the faults of others, and the faults of yourself in a time and place where you were ignorant and lost.

Here, there is no society to degrade you. You can exist solely in harmony with nature.

Edit: Wow, I can't believe this poem got chosen to be the Poem of the Day! I've never received so many likes, comments, and feedback on any of my poems, so I feel overwhelmed, but very happy. Thank you for taking the time to read my words; it really means alot to me <3 <3
ryn Oct 2014
Brittle dry earth beaming with longing,
For wet kisses from heavy heavens' door,
In soothing rain, finds the heart’s belonging,
Releasing the sweetest aroma...petrichor.

The mist of warm moist wafting playfully,
Kissing and engulfing in a subtle unworldly spin...
A feeling ensnared by the clutches of fond remembrance.
Like the cadence of your breaths upon my parched skin...


A taste of your last dance on my fervent lips,
Awoken with each drop, still makes me thirst,
I lift my head, entranced by memory’s grips,
Craving you, again to make my heart burst.

Here again...two drenched hearts encased in glass,
Latent spectres melded together as they did before,
Promises wrapped and bound to the gaits of the other,
In eternal dance, laced with everlasting redolent petrichor...


Dajena M
**rhymesmith
Another collaboration of thoughts between lovers of a natural phenom.
Shout out to Ms. D. for the magic hidden within her mind, heart and written word. Thank you for another opportunity... Enjoyed it so...
So two down, 8 more to go! ;)

Hope you enjoy this, beautiful people of the universe!
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