Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Alyssa Underwood Apr 2016
The LORD is my Shepherd, I shall not want
I dwell in fields of green
Led by His hand I may drink my fill
From streams where few have been
Though I may walk through death's shadowed vale
His presence calms every fear
Through the dark dangers He sets a feast
Whenever my foe comes near
His goodness and mercy shall follow me
Throughout my days here on earth
Then take me home where forever my eyes
Shall behold all His glorious worth!
~~~
Sung to the tune of 'Cloud-Shadows' (music by James H. Rogers)
ConnectHook Nov 2015
♪♫♪♪

Your  beaded snakeskin loincloth

strung beneath humid palms

cool rippling breeze that calms

our hammock hung under thatch

what a catch . . .

your Amazons running into my Congo

lost track of my bongo

back about one mile

from the sources of the Nile:

your jungle smile.

restoring all celestial things

deep within your tropical clearings . . .

flowing slowly, going loco

at the mythic mouth of the Orinico;

shake your nut-brown biospheres

and banish all my worldly fears.

Dusk is nearing — clearing the hill

insects trilling a sinuous thrill;

the yuca half-mashed in the clay ***

the witch doctor hungover in his hut

while our little fire smolders

near the mountains of the moon

—or are they only boulders?

Come soon

Jesus, Lord of the Jungle . . .
NOTES: ♪♪♫♪♪♫♫
♪♫♪♪
Truth a Stinging Bee Compassion promotes
Was ever by Chance I try to Avoid
But asking for such from your direct Mote
Was in fact Soothing as much as a Toy
Shelled? Yes as far as I have just observed
Those charmed Somniloquies your Voice expressed
In Art, why not? Mosaics are much conserved
Though tiled in Paradise of Colours concessed
Calming this haply your Passion consumes
Amongst Events the Water soothes and calms
Direct Object Happy; Go put out the Fumes
Which blinds Good Fish spitting Coins for their Alms.
Still this Summary chose you for your Grace
For me, next Spell, will adapt to your Face.
#tomdaleytv #tomdaley1994
nothing Dec 2018
isolation,                         feeling
the silence                      completely
calms;                   ­           numb;
i am                                 never
whole,                  ­            finding
                                         happ­iness.
the reason why i call this poem "three poems" is because there is a poem if you read the left side, the right side, and across
elaine Jul 2018
I.
brown eyes and soft lips; hushed words on cold nights, marijuana filled lungs, constant affection with loving arms always wrapped around my waist.
angst feelings overtake the love that had once moved into the heart of a broken soul, eyes seeking lust in another, loving the next who came by.

II.
pale skin with a caring smile, friendly eyes, living in the greater good, Marlboro pressed against her lips as the painful words begin to tug down her smile.
waves crashing against the rocky shoreline of her mind, fighting about whatever there is to, coming clean with the hurt that has overcome her soul. promising a better life calms the storm raging inside her hazel eyes.

III.
deep blue oceans trapped into the soft craters in her mind. dreadful for the loss of love that slowly destroyed her young mind. skipping school and upset parents.
restless nights, dark circles hiding under the spark in her beautiful eyes that once held her lovers captive. medication slowly slides down her throat as she is accompanied by pills and whiskey, slowly fading away from this pathetic world.

IV.
Smoke fills the midnight air as her petit face quietly enters the crisp cool night, daydreams filling her thoughts that pull her away into a better life.
heartbreak and ***** filled every friday night aching to be released into the adult world, free from all restrictions.

VI.
skin like hot chocolate that melted the cold inside others. laughter filling the room as we stepped in just me and you, never thinking of what was to become.
Hidden secrets became reviled as we said our goodbyes. silence washed over us and soon i took my last glance at the passing girl who once knew me. streetlights dimmed, showing teardrops dripping down as we thought about how it was.
L B May 2018
Yellow is
a high-minded mood
the extravagance of sunlight
to be touched--
before long
by colors of play
___

It is of hair
tendering golden sun
brown pennies for lemonade
__

Yellow is
bumping into the screaming end
of a lit
cigarette
___

Yellow is
dripping from the eaves
onto an empty soup can
___

It is
spindling sparrow song
from highest perch on roof
his pitch can aspire
___

Yellow is
in rattled doorknob
an infant's sweet
voice wanting – in
Reciting menu
above mattress
edges into sleep
two dark eyes
plead
for yellow
waking
Mother into morning--
“juice.... eggs”

Yellow  _
__
is
opening a car door
at the shore's
unmistakable!
Smells of life  
warmth and breeze
touching strings
those kites  
of sense
harmonics
above the tone
octaves of excitement
to see to hear to touch to taste
to know
again –

the ocean of my mother
as she calms the waves,
ignores the pouts of us
with stuff to lug out to the beach
the towels, pails and shovels
Picnic basket, cooler
lotion, comic books, her magazines

Mom looks out
She is a good swimmer
Her glasses, dark
Preside  
reflecting beauty –

“Take your sister's hand.”

Yellow are the squeals
Feet thrashing sand
of cannot wait
For my daughter, Phoebe and my mother.
Aniron Jul 2015
You
the passing cloud in pale blue skies
the ocean wide that drinks your eyes
the sailing storm one summer’s day
the rain to kiss the blush of May

You

the glowing rose in winter’s frost
the secret smile no sight wants lost
the lonesome tree down by the lake
the breeze that makes its foliage shake

You

the touch that is with sunlight crowned
the voice in which the sea has drowned
the stare which makes the moon glow more
the long lost wave to kiss the shore

You

the distant sigh that calms the screams
the hidden glister among the beams
the unseen path amidst the vine
a love for which the dreamers pine

You.
I never stop thinking of you,
you always fill up my head.
And not just with thoughts,
but inspiration instead.
This feeling you give,
is something I seek.
It's just so relieving,
anytime you speak.
I love how you sing,
about anything that moves you.
Leaving nothing out,
whether it maddens or soothes you.
Your soul just emits,
an intoxicant that calms me.
And when we touch,
this mood just embalms me.
It binds me tight,
locked in your sweet release.
Then time slows down,
til the silence has ceased.
But during that moment,
I've begun to beleive.
That your voice,
is really,
the only one I need.
Ashley Chapman Nov 2017
High on the O2:
Red Rossopomodoro, Wagamama,
and on the bus shelter, Marc Jacobs,
and again higher,
Habitat,
then Metroline moves past.
It's the 113
to Oxford Circus,
and the 13 to Victoria:
Thrilla Lives On,
the slogan shouts,
while National Express has
All Set For Take-Off.

They're gone...
It calms
empties,
nothing much
just the red lidless eyes
of cars
two, three, four dozen pairs
hover
over the asphalt road.

Where...
where am I?
Ahhh, yeah,
in the Oriental Star,
the road seen from a table and stool,
waiting
for food.
Where have I hailed from?
My lover's womb.  
No, no
NOT THAT!
The North Star, yes:
A pub on the Finchley Road,
Where Tottenham beat Liverpool 4-1
A pyrrhic victory!
Over a couple of beers.

Warm years, and tears.
A sense of place,
a home, a nest,
Receding in the traffic
Of a busy road,
Waiting on noodles.
Carter Ginter Apr 2013
Worst mood ever and I can't write.
I wake up into this weight on my chest
And thinking of everything I've done that I regret
Wishing I'd just be dead
I'm weird, crazy, illogical, ******
Why does everything always go the same?
It's just like my shot putting
I know what I'm SUPPOSED to do
But for some reason I just can't.
I'm sick of how I am
I really am
And I can't sleep when I'm sick with regret.
I don't understand myself
And why I can't just be normal
Have normal friends
Do normal things.
Instead I'm socially awkward
An angry individual.
And I just wish it was over.
I don't know why.
I know what I have is good
So why am I complaining?
People make me angry
I think I just need to remember that no one is perfect
Nothing works the way it 'should'
Little things set me off
Nothing calms me down but time
Occasionally.
Sometimes time just gives everything a chance to boil
Boil over until I snap
Until I lose it
I'm seriously sick of people
I used to be able to at least hold a conversation
Now I can even do that much
I can't even write right.
This is sort of just a free write journal thing. I've been in a terrible mood for the past week or so and I woke up even worse today. I would never do anything stupid that would harm myself but nothing in this write is a lie. It's my thoughts straight from my head to the page. Sorry it's just a pointless, probably selfish rant. But when I can't write well it's the one way to still get my emotions out if my head.
Joanna Jul 23
When there is time, I walk the beach,
seeking quiet and occasional seashell.

Looking to the sky, I wonder if I will
ever reach the place of freedom, and
complete peace.

I wonder if there’s anymore and yet
with ease, you comfort me.

Washing my feet with each wave of
the tide, it calms me and heals me up
inside.
To read more of my writings go to: http://reflectionsoflight7.wixsite.com/home
zelda Jan 18
he thinks i am confusing and complicated. someone he can stare at for hours but someone he's afraid to open up his heart to.

if only he knew how much i love simple things; like the pure beauty of kindness and affection that feeds my soul; like handwritten letters and frank sinatra songs that mesmerizes me; like jazz and the sound of the rain that calms my mind.

if only he knew, i just want to be loved—faithfully, unconditionally and truly. no secrets, no lies. nothing in between.

if only he knew, like scenery and arts, i'll love him as long as i can.
Julieta Aurelio Jul 2015
There's this mask I wear
The glue is so tight
Hiding me, hiding all
All you don't see, unless you get really near
That I'm not alright
My eyes are dark and deep enough for you to stand in
My wrists are ******, so are my thighs
My heart is shaky
And I've got non stop anxiety
But from far you see this mask
You hear my loud laugh
And see me hold my tummy in pain from giggling at my own joke
You swear I have recovered
When actually my late night tears help me keep the mask on
I may not look injured
Nor hollow
Or in pain
Just with this smile on my face
Of this mask that I wear
I hurt unheard and unseen,
Impatient for good days.

If my heart was transparent
A lot wouldn't be the same
Anyways, I'm already used to building these walls around my heart.
It's protected, I guess. From the outside world yet within me the storm never calms.
Tears wet these pillows
All night through sometimes wishing that morning must never come
Holding the grudge against myself
While smiling to all standing right in front of me.
Asking is this how life suppose to be.
Limping with anger yet holding the last thought of laughter
One hell of life we living.
You see...
This mask doesn't show things in 3D
That's why I love rainy days
Coz my tears are never recognized
Sadness engulf my soul while hoping that one day I will be able to remove the glue on this mask I wear.
Duo with @DrewThePoet (twitter)
Christian Ek Sep 2014
Craters on the moon are injuries caused by the power the universe holds.
In the night you continue to shine down on us lonely strangers.
The saying "the freaks come out at night " best describes our relationship.
Your the light we admire.
Your the source of our creativity.
When I can't sleep, looking at you for inspiration is my favorite activity.
The relief I feel knowing someone out there is doing the same calms my overdrived mind.
I want to be brave like the moon, undiscouraged even though it's surrounded by darkness.
Still being able to shine it's guiding light.
Jeannery Oct 2018
The sun's going down
Here I am sitting alone
Observing people from a far
I envy, they look so happy.

The sound of the leaves
Calms my inner peace
Is it calmness or emptiness?
Help, I'm so confused.

The sky is blue
Is there any other hue?
The sky is so plain
And right now I'm in vain.



--jeannery a.





102418
there will always be a moment in your life where you'll choose to be alone and feel all the sadness in your soul and oh by the way you also know that no one can help you and it *****.
ISSAI MASHINGO Jul 2014
When brothers go to war there are no captives/
When brothers go to war we find only casualties/
The in explicable war between Palestine and Israel,/
In this poem i hope that peace would prevail/
Countries at the crossroads of heaven and hell/
Their war has lasted for ages/
Pain and revenge bitterness and hate/
When brothers go to war who dares to mediate/
Who knows of their fate who knows whose right/
Its bee like this for so many years/
Who will be there to wipe their tears/
Who will be there to give hope to those in fear/
Who will dare to go and interfere/
When brothers go to war know that the end is near/
Hold on and sanctify your soul in prayer/
When brothers go to war who is the villain who is the saint/
The war of Israel and Palestine stained in red paint/
A revelation to the faint hearted/
A lesson to the boastful and egocentric/
Innocent lives lost when brothers go to war/
A gentle answer turns away wrath/
But a harsh word stirs up anger/
A hot tempered man stirs up dissension/
But a patient man calms a quarrel/
When brothers go to war who dares mediate
(c) ISSAI
for the war within!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Marina Kay Feb 3
Time and again,
at dusk or dawn,
I force my head to envisage
a mirage or an image
of your bones lying still in death.
That helps me sleep at night.
It calms my breath.

In my dreams, you're a phantom.
Torn away from me, inadvertently.
You didn't leave,
pick up and disappear deliberately.
You were poisoned, ill, murdered, killed,
you froze or passed in sleep,
you maybe drowned at sea.
Not in despair, in a life so unfair.  

You did what you thought was best.
Perhaps it was, I still can't tell.
It's what you do when you're young,
seek a new start, a chance to become
something you can't run away from.

In my dreams, I'm your companion.
Your muse, friend and lover,
we ran away together.
Travelled and settled, hand in hand.
Built a life that could withstand
everything that drove you away forever.

In my dreams, you couldn't let go and we didn't have to end.
In reality, I find it easier to pretend you were dead.
You'll live forever in my dreams.
My brain makes up stories to compartmentalise when I'm in pain, like imagining the love of my life dead when they broke my heart. Morbid yes, but it helped me start to heal.
SC Kelley Sep 2018
I write in the midnight corner of now and what is to come. Sifting through the ashes of the forgotten. I seek what I fail to find in a light I can scarcely see. The rain washes the sins from my skin so that the ones inside can bleed back out. My words catch the air with gentle, intense passion. I caress the broken cheek hoping to fix it and finding only myself more broken. I know not of what is to come but I can prepare myself with the ammunition of my past. The brittle autumn wind calms me with the vibrant colors of a dying world. My mind wanders into the absent recesses of my twisted imagination. The words I write copy the voices in my torn heartstrings. I lust for the cold rain fingers that embezzle my mind. My soul is painted with the bright blackness of a blackhole's laughter. There is a butterfly caged in my stomach and I'm too afraid to let it free.
- - -
When will I know, I've found rapture?

~S.C. Kelley
For the broken and lost like me
May I write a book about you?
I want to write chapters about how your smile
calms all of the piercing voices in my head
I want to put into words how the feeling of your hand in mine
calms all of the storms that cause chaos within my chest
I want to write you letters
telling you how you are the best thing that ever happened to me
I want to tell you so badly how much I love you
I love you so much but I am afraid to let myself tell you
because my love for you is so overwhelming
I don't think I can handle it
Sometimes I lay in bed and I feel like I am suffocating
under all of the ******* that my depression throws at me
but you are like the sky after a rainy day
You are so handsome
You are so beautiful
It's enough to make me sick because I can't wrap my head
around how someone so perfect can exist in a world like this
I can't accept the fact that you can have anyone you want
yet you chose me
I can still taste our first kiss on my lips
That kiss brought back to life all of the parts of me I thought died
I was a **** you turned into a flower
You made me able to love again
God! What a beautiful gift to be able to love someone so deeply
So I ask again may I write a book about you?
I want to write chapters on how you came into my life
and changed my world in the most magnificent way


To the one I will one day write a book about, I can't wait to meet you. Whoever you are...
WRITTEN BY: Mandie Michelle Sanders
WRITTEN ON: March. 8, 2016 Tuesday 3:03 AM
Marla Oct 2017
Jazz is what keeps me sane,
away from that crack mundane.
That New York jazz is all I ask,
put it in and drink from a flask.

Like liquor,
it calms my jitters,
cleanses my soul,
lifts my spirits.

But I ain't got no jazz,
bebop and swing evading my empty hands.
Pray every night for jazz.
I ask and ask, but never get
an answer.
Umi Dec 2017
Oh your milk which calms me down
I love it so much that it forgets why I frown
Please Rin, please let me enjoy being close
I wouldn't want yet to doze
Though the land of dreams is not as sweet as your gaze
Please don't lleave please let me admire your face
Its those piercing eyes of yours which I chase
your warmth which I can enjoy
So what do you say dear, do you wanna cuddle ?
After we leave eachother in a puddle (of sweat)
From being close....

~ Umi
Chrissy Ade Jun 2018
How do I ask my mind to shut off?
How do I tell her "Enough"?
How do I ask my mind to leave me alone
when her very essence is to control my life?
She bothers me when I want to sleep,
I'm restless, wrestling with the thoughts and
uncertainties that I cannot put to bed
My bad days become her vice
My good days become her stomping ground
I'm a prisoner of my own mind
The feeling of constantly running away
but not knowing what you are running from
Always thinking the worst
but never really knowing why
My heart dancing inside my chest
bouncing off the walls while I
lay perfectly still
The incessant crying that drowns me
in a sea of endless fears
She calms down when she wants to,
but she never truly goes away
I always feel the storm coming
but I never know how hard it will rain
Constructive Criticism is welcome! :) I wrote this poem about my own anxiety hoping to make sense of it all :)
His melancholy eyes,
Didn't settle for the world.
His bittersweet heart,
Was never caught by any girl.
He's nostalgic for content,
Doleful hands strain to attain,
Whatever he tends to lack,
From inside those frosted panes.
He doesn't leave his room.
The window sill calms down his brain,
Knowing any moment he could jump,
To feel something upon his frame.
He's sad and unwilling,
Given strength when he loses control.
Each loss of rein will cut a rope,
To which untethered his varied soul-
All feedback is welcome and appreciated!
Next page