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veritas Jul 2018
gods and goddesses stilled mid-flight,
immortalized in a glory fast fading.
distilled sunlight filtering through, unheeded,
as a devastating dawn for redemption awakens.

     dust scattering over marble hands, forever supple,
as angels fall from grace,
wings clipped and torn asunder.

the sigh of a thousand lost souls, searching;
the thunder of a thousand chariots, unbridled.

     a wing outstretched, a bow pulled taught;
drawn, not fired.

frozen heroes lifting voices unheard;
     the calm before a storm, a fight unforeseen,
silver linings beckoning victories
of heaven's epics left unsung.

look up into the clouds and you'll see a history unwritten,
for they speak to you in murals
of smeared colors and pure light.

but hush! sweet child,
off you drift into an insincere sleep,
until these stories buried beneath your lips,
     singed, searing, burning away memories of the battles that
   linger ,over your tongue  ,
are no more than a shadow of a flame.

   and as his lashes flutter closed over blue eyes
   and his heavy golden curls fall on white sheets
   she whispers,
        the renaissance was not painted for you.
look up. and then higher than that.
ryn May 2015
Let me be captured by the night.
Engrossed in the conversation
between the stars.
Syncopated twinkling like...
thousands of fireflies
trapped within sealed jars.

Let me be enslaved by the moon.
As I drink her glow in
greedy insatiable gulps.
Crestfallen...
Her beam with an agenda...
As the landscape she sculpts.

Let me be ensnared by my solitude.
But I hear crickets...
Chirping and chipping away at my
bastion of dreamstate.
Persistent calls
I try to shun
that never abates.

Let me be trapped in my thoughts.
So I could harness...
And immortalise them in
indelible careless scribbles.
Erecting and...
Rebuilding them from the
rubble of conflicting squabbles.

Let me be overwhelmed
by the mess of my being...**
Let me wallow
Then emerge strong from this
decrepit state of mind.
Let me breathe heavy from my
punctured lungs.
So I could heal in time before
true solace
in this dark,
I would find.
Kim Jan 2017
Hazy outlines familiar faces
Echoes of familiar places
Captured moments long forgotten
Honesty in words unspoken
A fleeting smile unguarded eyes
Truth beneath the surface lies
Pause a moment the masquerade
Telling postures now displayed
Rueful smiles and tired eyes
A warm glance melts a mask of ice
And as the frame fades away
Smoke and mirrors back into play
I'm quite a fan of candid photography
It is an art that is underrated in my opinion
I have had the privilege of taking some beautiful, albeit inexpert, candid shots of my friends and family from time to time -
And shall continue to do so whenever I have the opportunity!

(Edited "breaks through" to melts - credit to Phil Lindsey for the suggestion)
Rise up high, or sink below
What you need, to succeed
Is what everyone should know
In the scorching heat around us
Or in the ice and snow
A master and his passion
Still leaves room to grow

In the eyes of an owl
In the lions heart and soul
The lion roars
The eagle soars
And the raven finds its crow

From the setting sun in the distance
The orange, yellow, and golds
Captured here in a moments time
Though it has no place to go

Nothing really matters
Anyone one of us can see
I came so close to drowning
That’s how angels earn their wings

Few out there shares my interests
I’m lonely and estranged
Everyone is different
Yet somehow all the same

When one of us is hurting
When it’s just too much to bare
Ask for help, and you will see  
Just how many of us care.
What can I say it provoked me.
The smokey black slithered with sultry grace
passed all my carefully placed defenses.

Humor me, it spoke
caressing the ear.

I watched the glow of it's single eye
searching my mind
The black became a tether
knotting, choking.

What can I say I did nothing,
little lamb laid to the slaughter.

I remember it choking, the smokey black.

Like a raven haired lover,
A mistress of shadow wills my curiosity
In that moment, lost to the movement
I would or could never return.

Pinned to obsession
staggering the lines of possession
A rebel's tango begins
the staccato steps to be my end.
about letting your problems win, night anguishes
helenbreeden Jun 2018
What's so good about picking up the pieces?
What if i can’t pick myself up enough to pick up what's remaining?
I can’t forget you.
You were the reason i shattered like glass all over the **** floor.
Your smile crushed my heart.
Your laugh killed me instantly.

I spectated while you played the game with my heart.
I never owned it,
You did and held it in your unwelcoming hands,
Crushing it with all your might.
You left me lying there beaten up crying and breaking.
I collapsed in your arms but you threw me down.

You threw me away,
Almost as easily as someone throwing a piece of trash in the trash can.
Your words struck my already broken heart.
Why i came back i may never know.
I just laid there not knowing how to breathe because i gave you my lungs.
I ached for you.

I ached for the way you smiled at me after you beat me,
Or the way you said you loved me while you were crushing my heart.
You cut off all communication to the ones i loved,
And when i came close to closing the door a new one opened up.
I don’t know how you did it,
But you lowered my chance of survival from this hell called loved.

Did you even love me at all?
Or was it the thought of having something you could control.
Did you think it was that easy to escape the way you treated me.
Or was it the possibility of me loving another soul to much to bare?
Not much i knew,
But i knew you never loved me yet,
I stayed for you.

I called your name,
I called you the way you taught me.
I couldn’t fall asleep without you beating me senseless.
Sadly this is not just physically,
But it was much more than physically.
It was every ******* thing possible.
You were the devil himself.
You left and never came back.
I was afraid of escaping.
I pulled together and push myself through the door.
I was finally hopeful.
Cress Rosario May 2014
Brushes and paints can do a lot of pictures
Images inside his head that was once captured
It can speak for a million of smiles
It can reveal us thousands of lies

Even paintings has its own secrets
Hid by the one who passionately paints it
If we could dive through that canvas
We would know the story he wants to tell us
As an artist and a painter, I want to know unseen stories inside every painters hid in their works. We paint for a reason. It's either we are inspired, hurt, thinking too much, fantasize of something, delighted, or we want to wake up the world.
Jack Jenkins Apr 2016
Being held in your embrace,
Your head against my chest.
How could you wonder why,
I love this so so much?

It's gentle security against the:
Mind that claws itself every day,
People sparring against our hope,
Tumultuous times this life gives.

An act of love, of friendship,
Compassion and closeness.
You are my companion,
A joy unrivalled in my life.

Everything said here,
Is captured in a perfect act:
Our arms wrapping around,
Bodies pressed together.

Your hugs. My hugs.
//On her//
Cynthia Aug 2018
You dig a hole in the ground
You keep digging deep down
So the echo won’t slip
because your goal is to scream
Scream loud
to ease the pain inside
 
The dirt on your hands
is the hurt, the pain
You’ve been carrying around
Somehow you kept holding on
now freedom is what you seek

Fading memories is your dream
But what happens after you scream?

You have been carrying this weight
on your feet
feeling the heat
Blood flowing through your veins

Love turned into hate & trust into fear
So after all are you really at PEACE?

Then…
The battle with your mind begins
Because digging is no longer your escape
Your own fear has captured you in a cage
 
So you write it down on paper
Not in pencil but in pen
Because there are no mistakes
That can be erased
What’s done is done
And your shame cannot be wiped away
 
Once again you fight in the flesh
all you want is peace
And a resting place
Yet you seek no one but yourself.
Have no fear for He is with you
Seek Jesus let him be your escape
The one who fulfills that empty SPACE!
Advent Oct 2014
when the clock ticks at 12,
another minute has passed and another day has been renewed.
it replenishes an entire moment that separates yesterday from today.

when the clock ticks at 12,
a part of me has left something for good.
something that could only be retrieved by the nostalgia
of the passing hours that gives a pang of discomfort and dismay.

when the clock ticks at 12,
a fairy godmother is there waiting for me to move past everything and start fresh,
like nothing has ever happened from yesterday

but when the clock ticks at 3,
my emotions are scattered,
eating me alive.
it kicks me out of the zone - exposing me to a world of nothing but things to hide.
it haunts my core, dwells with my demons,
building up emotions that don't seem to collide

and at 3, I find you - once again with all the sublime images we’ve captured
and grand words we’ve uttered.
i find you, drowning from the roots
of my memoirs... and there I see how midnights took parts of me

because at 3, I’ll always remember how I grew with thee


a.t.
jonni inferno Feb 2018
follow me
if you can
thru tortured paths
and wintered lands
where the sun is lost
the moon unknown
beyond this dark
encroaching gloam

follow me
if you dare
where voices speak
in whispered layers
of external wars
undeclared
where twisting turning
bodies play
on silken sails
on captured waves

follow me
if you would know
where silver rivers
sometimes flow
and flying angels
falling lay
sweetly laughing
in their gentle way

follow me
if you wish
and play in childhood's
autumn mist
where paper dragons
fill the air
and broken hearts
still beating share
a love for passion's
written snare

follow me
and I will show
how wounded heart
now mended grows
where many paths
once hidden glow
and light the way
to where I go


.
http://oi61.tinypic.com/dc573k.jpg
.
.
added link to pic/poem
Robin Lemmen Jul 2018
To you
I was a bouquet
Of forget me nots
You forgot to water me
And so I died
Right before your eyes
You took my lifeless petals
Pressed me between pages

And as the story goes
You forgot I ever stood center
On your kitchen table
No longer can you remember
The name of the book
Or the author
In what art you hid remnants
Of our love

I hope one day you will rediscover
And when you do
I hope it takes you back
To when seeing me made you smile
And stop to admire the beauty
You had known to captured
Before you let her die
Lizzy Mar 2015
What are you still doing here?
I told you to go.
I told you I can't come back home.
But you're still here,
In my bones.
In every atom.
When I said I was addicted,
I meant I was enslaved.
I meant to say I was yours,
You took me captive unknowingly.
And now I can't let it fade,
The comfort of your embrace.
It held me with you,
It captured me willingly.
And I belong to you,
And I always will.
Gemma May 2018
Sliver shine ,
Captured between the blur of blue;
so the room spoke "monster "
Since the thoughts entering my head were not to be taken friendly,
I'm my own biggest enemy.
What have I done for a life like this ?
I've never been tempted
before
But my fingers itch
it was painful
it was sore
Yet it's what I deserved.
celestial Apr 2017
i dreamt i kissed you that night: once, then twice,
with my trembling arms circled around your neck,
while i clung feverishly to your shielding embrace,
as though you might leave me, and i would break.
i pressed my lips against yours again, a third kiss,
lingering and hesitant, like i knew it was goodbye,
and i captured a photograph inside my thoughts,
of the glimmer in your eyes, eternally in my mind.
i will miss you and love you for eternity.
nadine Jul 2018
recurrent moonlit distractions
captured by words
tied down into morsels;
separated and concealed,
contiguous yet sheer greetings
of each other’s skin
had left wanton burns
and gushing streams
of a brooding lover’s propensity
for unsusceptible matters of the heart.

there, he stood,
on the precipice of tomorrows;
ruminating and scrupulous,
forlorn yet never dithering
over mundane and quintessential quandaries
of the tepid gloss of incertitude
dangling off syllables
dictated by sordid agony.

there, he stood,
in the midst of everything;
from the otiose adoration
poured out of empty caskets
to the lenitive shades of his eyes.

with the ripples of moonlight,
the gestalt of doleful flower-like hearts,
there, she stood,
and waited.
and waited some more.
ConnectHook Sep 2015
†           †           †    

A quorum of biblical scholars
turned their doubts into thousands of dollars.
Armed with Document Q
they revealed nothing new
but the dirt neath’ the white of their collars.

A proud “health & wealth” Oklahoman
was renowned as a gospel-tent showman.
While the scriptures he twisted,
their tithing assisted
his rise from poor hick to rich Roman.

A sexually diverse professor
(assured he was not a transgressor)
spoke only of openness
glossing sin’s brokenness;
rainbows and tolerance – yes sir.

A Mormon, who lost his own ephod
Realized he was running quite slipshod
and invoked Joseph Smith.
(Yes, it may be a myth –
but it’s not like misplacing your I-pod…)

A Christian whose faith was prophetic
held to views that were truly pathetic.
This crazed Pentecostal,
not quite an apostle,
had taken an End-Times emetic.

A sober and staid Presbyterian
was distrustful of thoughts millenarian.
After smoking some bud,
he awoke with a thud;
in his sleep he’d become Rastafarian.

A preacher who fleeced his disciples
overdrew his own balance of scruples.
He was finally captured
(defrocked and un-raptured)
and rent by his destitute pupils.

A sister who waxed Pentecostal,
mistook herself for an apostle
Speaking pure glossolalia
she sure could regale ya’
with prophecy; crazy – but docile.
What's wrong? Too hard to LIKE me ?
ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha  

         †           †           †
CeriseRed Aug 2018
The beauty of a poem
Lies between the words
Which captured the poet's soul.
ryn Apr 2015
As the violet of day
draws to a close...          
Witnessed the dwindling
vermillion sun,             
being swallowed  
by the horizon.
Ever so slowly,
       seconds stretched...
      This moment here...
Captured...      
and                
froze.        

    Brushing off
the indigos  
  and                
blues.          
of the past,
            Whilst I shed these
scarlet tears.
Burdened with
              unfounded speculation
and fears.        
Gifted the        
lease of bravery
but I know...        
it wouldn't last.      

A final skirmish            
between                          
night and light.            
My crimson wings    
spread to greet the.        
green evening air.            
Feather and wind.            
spoke to each other;      
quivered as if              
the same story        
they shared.          
A conversation    
              that ended quickly before
both took              
flight.                        

To the                        
highest heavens,
leaving a          
trail of leaves
from days of
yellow...        
  Flying past the
                 blushing orange cheeks
  of                        
sleeping clouds.
             Evading the beckoning
of                      
    night's curtains
and            
shrouds.  
    Into the sun,
I would go.
                Beyond world's end,
           I would follow...

To find you
                  where the universe
                      would run its course.
                      I'd gladly soar through
       spectrum's grain,
Through        
      unfamiliar realms
and                  
              warped new planes.

Why?          

Because      
blood red  
rubies          
pump            
through mine
and                
garnets          
flow              
      through yours...
Osiria Melody Feb 23
Amazing how a text message conveying
affection
Regarded as a few lines of dejection
Amazing how a photo of joviality,
Regarded as a—fallacy
Amazing how a video of life's best moments,
Ignites a fire of jealousy, a ring of volcanic
comments surging with scorching words

Amazing how my likes and comments strikes
another's conscience,
Belittling their importance since being popular
means everything
Having the most followers means being a valid
member of society
Amazing how the fame of being a social media
phenomenon is the best thing in the world,
Nothing could replace the missed connection that you and I share

Among the shared posts and counterfeit feelings of emojis,
We lose what it means to connect to one another
personally
Rather than living in life's moments selflessly,
Everything is about me, me, me
Not you, 'cause my posts matter more for my
self-esteem

A missed connection of what reality means,
Above the ubiquitous screens emitting blue light,
Fill in all of these captured memories
Not through a glowing device, but through eyes of authenticity
Experiencing what it means to cross the bridge between an idealized world to mundane

A missed connection of what reality means
For once, put down that screen and live in reality with me



Melody
2/23/19
It's not very fun conversing with someone in-person when they're on their phone.
Ted Jun 2018
When I was 10, I had a hamster.
Its whole world was in my room,
It's life in the hands of a child.

My whole world was on 10 acres of land,
In the hands of two grown children.
Their hands as reckless as mine.

How does something grow within a cage.
Does freedom have a place in it's mind.
How to acquire the thoughts of freedom,
Of peace.
Will the captured know when the cage door is gone, with nothing holding it in.
How will it even recognize grass underfoot,
A world beyond 10 acres,
and the hamster wheel gone.
Baby, I'm yours,
from the very start...
That's when
you first captured my heart...
I smile each time
you walk through the door...
I feel your love all around me
and through my very core...
I feel the fire
and see the light...
This with you-
feels oh so right...
I want to savour each kiss,
from the sweet to the ****...
I miss you so-
whenever we're apart...
I even allowed you to take my hand
and lead me onto the dance floor...
Having you hold me close-
and then all I want is more...
Kiss me passionately
and hold me tight...
Baby, I'm yours,
each and every night...

2008


COPYRIGHT; Sabrina Denise Healey,
~Angelmom~
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