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Hayleigh Nov 2016
One day you'll find someone who makes all those broken pieces of your heart feel like the most beautiful jigsaw in the world, who cherishes your cracks and fills them with gold dust.

She wasn't wrong when she said you deserved better.
Umi Apr 2018
Open, oh eye of ones heart
The spiral of desire continues with no end to it, if lies are to pollute the world it is time to purify yourself from them all, one by one.
A hearts eye, sees through lies, but that is not its only purpose in a chest full of light and compassion in which it can greatly be found,
It serves so much more, all sealed uner a truthful surface and a righteous core, careless about anothers looks, the way they speak, superficiality such as shallowness are wiped out by it completely,
The hearts eye sees anothers soul and what they truly are, a judgement far away from personal preferences or falsities caused by instincts of ones heart which are likely to bring light headed frivolity,
It cherishes the good, the beauty of the soul except for wealthy appearance, mavelovence within greedy devilish behaviour and spite,
Projected like a story, the fear of what they see is but of themselves, if such an eye hits a devil right on the head, exposing his  treaciousness
What lies behind such a courtain of darkness, may it be good? Evil ?
Come pray by my side, if you shiver from that far away I cannot help you, as sadness clouds your vision in a courtain call of pure grief,
Let me open your eyes, so your wounds may heal.

~ Umi
Najwa Kareem Feb 2017
A backdrop of gorgeous hues, tints, and shades peeking in from afar draw near, I on one side, it on the other, the two of us bidding for a glance at two white doves on center stage.  
Their eyes converging, their glance coinciding, a replica of the simplicity in which they were brought together, a dual recognition ignited by the burning of hearts and the lumination of souls. 
Affectionate hands coupled in an orbit of serenity, her passionately embracing his with a tug of excitement gushing I’m yours, his tenderly and securely supporting hers and in acceptance of gifts of admiration and approval, he is humbled whilst mesmerized by her captivating beauty and elatious smile.  
Two distinct bodies standing still between an air of transparency and vulnerability, they occupying an endearing space serenading to sweet melodies reminiscent of one exclusive life. A bit of haze lingers behind her, her ***** drumming to a cheerful step toward his, there she waits in an affirmative reply of what much he has to offer her, what much he has given her. He consumed by her presence, his face speaking something his mouth cannot. A yearning for each other unspoken, the romantic harmony of a moonstruck light and a synchronized kiss. Their bodies held captive by their souls set free. 
An impartial unfinished hallow sits as a canopy above, gracing its cascading rays on the couples’ faces creating unique shadows on each, one caressing the other in a playfully warm exchange. Overwhelmed by his serenade, emotions overflow and an innocent blush appears, his heart unburdened, skipping to a resounding beat and the words, I found my soulmate. With a slight rise of her jaw, she’s smitten with this king, the delicate skin of her countenance warmed by the glow of his, a pink dusting of her freshwater pearls.  
A love affair unconventional, a duo in adoration, a marriage of crisp airiness and a desire for discovery ringing true, a fondness between man and woman precious like a round cut diamond, weightless as dandelion fuzz blowing in the wind, beaming identical to that of a fluorescent night star, the twosome looking into one soul rejoices intimately at their romantic chemistry and unyielding bond. 
A gracious audience of ink, navy, and Prussian blue, antique and porcelain white, emerald green and scarlet pink in a pose of calm celebration, honors the mister and missus with an exuberant ovation. Entangled in a web of love with a sincerity stringing them in unison, the two in a trance cherishes a declaration so glamorous, a devotion so light.
This poem is dedicated to a soul's light romance of a recently married couple whose display of love moved and touched me.
Poetry comes at the end of the day
When the lights are turned low
And the sun goes away

A poet writes best in the mid-afternoon
With birds in the trees
and mud on the boots

A poet rises in the morning
Even if it might be storming
Oh we write in the rain, if it be pouring

A poet thinks in the evenings
Because we write better when dreaming
And because sometimes
it's better than sleeping

A poet cherishes every part of their day
Beacause each one is never the same.
Writing poetry means you can leave the ground
And never have to come back down
tinhearts Aug 2018
In the silence
Fruits of private prayer
Consumed by Your radiance
Unfolding a banquet of imperial morsels within each layer

My hunger is only for You
Whispering enlightenment my soul craves
Thank you for Divine Wisdom in holiness so true
Following on tippy toe footprints You pave

“If you are willing and obedient, you shall eat the good of the land”
Your promises stay tucked in my heart
You’re Love conquering every enemy with Your gentle hand
My soul is Your promised land renewed as Your art

I’m lost in Your arms of magnificence
Nations come to set their thrones at Your gates
You remember the devotion of my youthful reverence
My love as a bride how your love resonates

Holy to the Lord the firstfruits of Your harvest
May I come softly to the threshing floor to lye at Your feet
Spread your wings over me as a gentle garnish
For you are my redeemer my soul cherishes complete

All your angels delight as witnesses
Embracing Your nourishment
Within me rejoices being a partaker of Your loving kindness
Being a first fruit of Your Holy Spirit victory’s fulfillment

Becoming is Your
I wrote this for my grandson as he is entering the Kingdom more and more each day with enthusiasm that lights up the room with His presence.
To my Ben at 23 your a blessing ❤️
Salmabanu Hatim Nov 2018
Twinkle twinkle little star,
Every night you glisten so far,
My grandchildren live afar,
Tell them they are the best by far.
I have no one to say,
Grandma,please don't go,stay,
Only a little while,
I love to see your happy smile.
For long I have not felt you sleep on my shoulder,
A chance to hold you a little longer.
I would love to feed you with icecreams and cookies,
Shower on you cuddles and kisses.
Day and night,
I miss my grandparent right,
To store your beautiful childhood memories,
To form a strong bond that every grandparent cherishes.
The pages of my life have you missing,
For what I have and cannot have
my heart aching.
Remember,though we may be apart,
You will always be in my heart.
My grandchildren live oceans away from me.We meet once in a blue moon.
Makayla Jane Oct 2018
I find myself
Thinking about you more and more
Every day

And I want you back like something fierce
But you can't even stand talking to me
So how am I supposed to make you mine again?

Either way I'm stuck;
Because my head has already forgotten you,
Moved on
And left you for Autumn Girl

But my heart still holds onto you,
Cherishes what we were
And wants you to come back

So my mind is scattered,
Confused about what my heart wants
But my heart scarred,
Because you left too soon

So it seems weird that I'm writing love poems about two people
But I'm sorry I can't control my heart and my head
For they both abide by different rules
So I'll just remain stuck here
Feel free to share revision ideas :)
Andreea Evduh Apr 13
It’s been 7 months.
I still carry you in my heart, like a stone pressing on my breathing.
I see you everywhere, in the books I read, in the movies I watch, on the streets, in my bed.
I see you with my eyes wide open, I see you with my eyes shut.
I still remember your fingers on my skin, I still remember your voice and your jokes, I still remember your smell and your breath.
You’re lingering on every little thing in my life.
I ask myself if I will be able to feel love ever again.
How can you love someone else if you’ve already loved with all your soul and your being?
Some days I think about you a little less, but on most of the days, you’re all I think about, 24/24, even when I’m dreaming, I still dream of your hazel eyes, I think about all of my mistakes, about all the little things we had, things that I will never have with another person.
I would give up everything if I could just do it all over again, right from the start, and do it differently, so we could have a happy ending.
I impatiently wait for all of this to be over.
I am tired, I’m so tired of endlessly wrapping my mind around all of these memories.
I’m going mad.
You’re happy.
Or at least I hope you’re happy.
I hope you’re happier than you’ve been with me.
I hope she treats you how you need, I hope she loves you thoroughly, I hope she would take a bullet for you, like I would’ve.
I hope she listens to you and supports all of your ideas, I hope she never gets tired by your amazing mind.
I hope she will get the chance to know you like I did and I hope she cherishes  and appreciates you, like I never did.

I lost you.
I lost the love of my life, because I was scared of commitment, because I didn’t show him the love I felt for him, because I made him think I don’t care about him, when in fact, he was the only thing I cared about.
And he still is.
I fall asleep with your smile on my mind, imagining your body pressed to mine.
Nat Lipstadt Nov 2018
strike my eyes lovely

for S. B.

by way of introduction,
when you have gone to confession,
freely admitting you have nothing left for others to harvest,
no seed to plant a new crop, and lies and laughter, interchangeable,
there is no poetry left, not even raisin scone crumbs,
one good friend informs that a forgotten five month old poem,
a computer has selected & resurrected, for distinction

so months later you snicker for you have been seriously
self-kicked away from writing, all your vocabularies,
trite and yellowed overused, and you read
really good poetry and are
slapped-seen-outed by the impoverishment of
your own no-winsome word-smithy,
no delusions, even this, but a-quick script, more a thank you note,
and it’s the only lasting quality is the
genuine nature of its intent
but the poem itself falls bottom of the cliff, short on quality,
a victim of your dissatisfaction

let me explain better

she messages you while the time difference works in her favor,
she reads while you sleep the sleep of the soul-exhausted,
she, scoffing at your claims of motivation deprivation,
as she cherishes this forgotten one,
with words that cannot be ignored

the poem

                 strikes her eyes lovely

daggered, this morning phrase cannot go unchallenged  

for this a compliment that any poet would
weep for, be inspired by, stung into action,
provoked, ego flattered and challenged to-do more-better,
what writer could want for anything more!

who can own this ability  
accept this ultimatum of success, a cross-word crucification

to strike down lovely
the readers eyes, almost all once,
almost excuses me forever
for trying and failing so many times

you smile
but not in the chest where
needs to strike you

for if you cannot strike the readers eyes again and again, then...
let the moment gleam, and then disappear,
again and again, stored but not restorative

I love him.
I love him like the rain
I love him like the sun
like the moon
like the stars
I miss him
like a toddler misses her mother on the first day of preschool
like the
sky misses the sea
like the wind misses the leaves and clouds miss the storms
I want him like a child wants a one dollar hershey’s chocolate bar
like a singer wants to perform at Madison Square Garden
like a library wants new books to hold tightly on its shelves until it must let go
I want him to hold me
like a mother holds her newborn baby
like a military officer holds onto his only family photo on a very late evening
like a ballerina holds onto her very first pair of satin pink pointe shoes
like he holds me during storms and long nights that chill to the bone
I grow for him
like trees and flowers reaching for the sun up into the dark night
like eyes filled with wonder reaching to the top shelf
like a ribbon dancing through the air and intertwining with the breeze
I cherish him
like a daughter cherishes the jewelry box from her grandmother
like you cherish time with a friend you don’t see often enough
like your pet running to greet you when you come home
He’s my love, my precious darling, my honey, my babe, my life, my world.

— The End —