Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
ok okay Jul 2018
The lull of a restless night relieves my senses
It's monotone silence maintains my breath
The cold night breeze enters through an open window
It whispers soft tunes and attempts to put me to sleep
The humming of an exhausted laptop helps me decompress
It distracts me from overthinking and blocks out my stress
As the night goes on it starts to rain
It comforts my senses and cleanses my pain
This time-worn house cracks and creaks
It talks of troubled times and how it came to be
This place I call home proves i’m never alone
And it's always there to support me
3rd poem. Enjoy :)
Marla Jan 15
She wails at me
From her forgotten cove
Perched atop a steel mast.
I listen to her,
Though shrill her voice rings,
Yet I do not run.
People scamper away like ants
Escaping extinction,
But when she beckons,
My feet stay locked.

The fire cleanses all
As it nears,
And her voice
Shall lead me to...

onlylovepoetry May 2016
wondrous words,
shades of colorations,
this pain,
artfully slow, steady stalking,
finale staking into
my hardened heart

with tireless twinges
of loss and constant regret,
painstakingly plinking away,
leaving pockmarks of bullets shot
at the concrete ring-fencing,
failing to protect me from just another,

oh god not again,
have no mo' time

for jes one mo' time

love's aftermath regret,
bitter acid wash,
that cleanses nothing,
for you are already nothing
when love loss wrenches/rents your
soul's garments with knotholes of
unfashionable distressed

better not to have loved,
better, better, better,

than this battering silent hurricane
invisible thunderstorm internally,
than respects no seasonality,
for which the meteorologists
can predict neither its path or its
final cessation

did I build my walled shelter,
only to fail-fall to the siege machines
of beauty and desire,
once conquered,
with fire and heat,
they burnt me
from the outward edges inward,
and I am not a

see the stooped slow white walker
more than dead, yet alive enough
existing to be witness to
his own devouring,
his hands wrapped round
the stake in his chest stuck,
protecting it,
lest its removal
be one more undoing of the
painstaking man
- Mar 2015
until my soul
fills your lungs
with flowers

until my love
the cobwebs
beneath your ribs

until my heart
pumps the blood
your body needs

until my bones
crumble to cover
your veins //

**breathe me in
and never
exhale me out
for you
Lyn-Purcell Aug 2018
~ ⚘ ⚪ ⚘ ~
And so the Pu'erh and Jasmine Lily
pearls are covered, my attention on
the Phoenix Eye pearls, and I peel back
the foil of a small handful. Ainhana had
carefully remove the infuser and I pour
in the pearls, listening as they gently
hit the glass.

~ ⚘ ⚪ ⚘ ~
As soon as Ainhana places the infuser
back in the tea ***, I turn the sand-dial
and watch the cream sands run, and the
pearls steep. I dare not let it run for the
full five minutes - I find the perfect brew is
made in three. The pearls now unfurl, the
green leaves now floating. The clear water
turns into the colour of the finest champagne.

~ ⚘ ⚪ ⚘ ~
After three minutes, Ainhara pours me a cup,
the aroma itself puts me more at ease.
'Do not waste it,' I tell her, holding the
handle and saucer. 'Such fine pearls can
be steeped twice, and I will make sure that
I treasure every single cup.'
'Yes, My Lady,' She says with a curtsy.

~ ⚘ ⚪ ⚘ ~
With my eyes closed, I blow away some
steam and proceed to sip short and brief.
It is a pleasure that is most welcome, indeed!
Teeming with the fires of the Phoenix itself
and caressing my tongue with floral sweetness.
A delicious moan escapes me as I relax in
my Summer Throne.

~ ⚘ ⚪ ⚘ ~
My breathing is calmed as I look at
the horizon with redolent eyes.
The choirs sing as I drink such fine
ambrosia! By a cup of Pearls, mine
own eyes feel inspired, as I think of
the lovely vision that is the Phoenix
that is born of the lotus.
Adieu, stresses of Court!
Adieu, plagues of doubt and anger!
Thy Queen is now jocund dove.

~ ⚘ ⚪ ⚘ ~
'Truly the finest Jasmine Pearls I've
had in years!' I beam. 'Be sure to share
this with my fellow Kings and Queens.
Especially Queen Kim. In such a golden
hour, we shall become Dream Children,
to be lost in gardens of distant China.'
'Yes, My Queen.' Ainhara waves her hand,
Semui and Ilazi now resume play.

~ ⚘ ⚪ ⚘ ~
As I sip once again, the summer
showers come. Lo! My gazebo
glistens! Cleansed by the light,
and life for my fields of my
fair gardens.

~ ⚘ ⚪ ⚘ ~
This blend cleanses the fire of my heart.
This blend casts out sorrows for me to
drink beauty.

~ ⚘ ⚪ ⚘ ~
A  liquor the shade of champagne with
the flames of life budding from a
delicate flavour.

~ ⚘ ⚪ ⚘ ~
The Phoenix merges with me, for I
am the star of the morn that graces
my Aurelinaea!

~ ⚘ ⚪ ⚘ ~
Such a blend of elegance in my tongue,
a heavenly euphony. How I'm forever in
awe of the power of
my Jasmine Pearls.
~ ⚘ ⚪ ⚘ ~
Final part of my Jasmine Pearls free verse!
Thank you so much for reading! I really hope you enjoyed it! ^-^
Lyn ***
Cunning Linguist Jul 2015
Sacred fires burning bright
Purging the flesh of my being
Becoming one with the light
Scorching the cells of my mortal body

4 Illuminate
3 the masses
4 Self-immolate
3 to ashes
1 break
3 conciousness
4 cosmic I lapse
3 death cleanses

8 dissipate into the nether

4 essence of life
3 extinguished
4 the chains that bind
3 relinquished
1 Pain
3 Surging through
4 Serenity
3 Gleaming blaze

I, long to be cosmic,
dissipate into illumination
To, become the nether -
to lapse in lost

Then I shoot off in space and time,
soaring through illusions
Light years from reality,
distant pixels

8 Obsessing through the tesseract,
6 scouring past illusions
7 beyond spatiality,
4 distant pixels

Drifting, no sense or feel
Flames of color, figments of my creation

Drift in-to the surreal,
Chasing fractals defragments my cognition

Dreaming in discordance
Life confined in simulation

A glitch in the matrix
Lies conceived through my perception


I, long to be spectral,
fluctuate right through this oscilation
To, attain the ether -

Then I shoot off in space and time,
soaring through illusions
Light years from reality,
distant pixels

Obsessing through the tesseract,
scouring past illusions
beyond spatiality,
distant pixels

Drifting, no sense or feel
Flash of colors, figments of my creation

Drift in-to the surreal,
Chasing fractals defragments my cognition

Dreaming in discordance
Life confined in simulation

A glitch in the matrix
Lies conceived through my perception

Lyrics for my band's next song.
Lyn-Purcell Aug 2018
Tranquil orchestra
The sweetest ******* soul drinks
My flame flickers pure
Said it before, I'll say it again - Yanni's music is heavenly, and spiritually it's detoxing me from the garbage of the mainstream. (not all is garbage but majority of it is)
Working on the Meringue poem, still! ^-^
Lyn ***
KiraLili Jan 2016
On warm
Coastal El Ninio
One  can walk
To the tops
Of granite crags
Chest bare and open
To the tearing wind
As warm rain
Cleanses your soul
Cedar boughs
Rustle and howl
Heavy oscillating winds
Plough up the coast
The night tide
Crashes headlong
Glaring out to sea
You stand steadfast
While the wind rips
Naked yet defiant
El Ninio winds , end of January.
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.
Kabelo Maverick May 2014
Last I read, the Alpha said Jesus gave us Wine, Bread and Fish. The Way, Light and Truth was spread for nothing in return, a moving Church made wide, stead for each. Today I see business in Church all made part of some tradition, no valid permission...just a twisted perception of the less in the lurch and the rich in the mission. All due respect, I've seen Priests get lured by church female adolescence, truth. Priests are mentors especially to juvenescence, no wonder now church feels like a fashion parade courtesy of young essence, youth. Our Kids are now spiritually weak, they think going to church cleanses the sins for the following week. Adults say they've tried, but I see God holding a cane...whoever rebuked my Aunt's burial, pray you're not first in the lane. Where do we run to when Holy places are not such an Oasis? When white man doesn't travel to the moon with you? I don't know your faces...just mine, Black Jesus and Yahweh as basis...
"The Lord knoweth them that are his" (2 Tim. 2:19)
Krizhe Ming Sep 2018
If tears really cleanses the heart
Then yours and mine
Probably are some of the cleanest

Life is a tearjerker, you know
Saint John Paul II once said "...Tears flows silently through the soul and cleanses the heart"
Yasin Jan 14
we're growing up, and memories sort of hang onto the branches of your mind
that will someday break you.
when your standard love reaches to the uncontrolled point you can feel like
you can rule the earth.
Songs sort of changes your mood like the weather changes the whole sky.
it's good that there's rain
it cleanses the fady memories.
You now got this rainbow expression
no more silent enemies
so you can dance.
Napolis Nov 2018
So easily

I fall
under the
your eyes,

to a
in between

all of
the heart
beats of
an innocent

is new,

and your
touch  is
a hot
seems to
never end.

it  falls
over me


inside me

that I
am alive.

this place

only a
who truly
inside your

can see.

and a

Julia Lee Nov 2018
Her breath is the lavish humidity
She sings with the symphonies of crickets
Her tears are delicate rainfalls, washing the silence
Her breathing is the wind that shivers the palm trees

She calls out to you
Wraps you in Her arms
Cleanses you,
Heals you

She is serene
She is abundant
She is warmth
She is Love

Mother Bali, watch over me always
Deliver me Home
Mother Bali

(n) a place where a person or animal feels it ought to live or belong; it is where nature around you feels right and welcoming
Spiralize Sep 2018
Reflections of the sad soul,
when the shouts are unheard.
From the beauty of the pain within, the skies bleed red.
Water cleanses the body,
the soul is ripped apart though.
Solitude and Isolation is a Pendulum,
as it swings to and fro...
Inspired by a painting by a friend - Gem
jess May 2018
the smell of springtime in the air after the rain cleanses me
warm homemade *** pie fresh out of the oven warms my soul
the first snowfall of winter, hot chocolate by the fire brings me peace
a breath of relief after completing a task relaxes me
belly laughter with a friend brings me joy
a bubble bath with a peach candle by my side soothes me
long hugs, a little squeeze, overwhelm me with love
late-night, trustful conversations connect me
a soft, purring cat in my lap calms me
writing poems purges me of invasive thoughts
i want to add to this as i think of more things i find peace in...
June gloom
Summer night
Warm breeze
Dry kiss
Busted lip
Sweet pain
Lust pours
Cleanses like rain
Relieved suffering
Flows down the drain
You are my rain cloud
Drenched over me
I’m drowned in you

RKJ Legend May 4
A chill in the air awoke him,
It was another cold night in that lonely forest,
The light that he was searching for was dim,
but he still kept his stride for the moon's light was just too hard to resist.

Though he had  thick fur, it wasn't enough to keep the cold at bay.
The brave wolf had been traveling for quite sometime now,
All this struggle based on a small glimpse of hope that he'd reach the light someday.
He stayed true to the path for he'd fallen for its glow.

Winter's bite slowly depriving his senses
He knew the costs of this journey,
and wishes that this might finally be the key
No turning back but he knows that the moon cleanses.

He had previously lost his pack to the storm,
Another beguiling sight that left him devastated
Maybe that's why he decided not to leave the forest
But the moon's rays saw his decisions altered.

He finally found himself out of the woods,
It was the first time he was  in the open fields
Seeing the moon in all its full glory,
He felt relieved, but this wasn't the end of his story.

Now he was completely unprotected from the cold.
The journey left him starving
and he thought this was where his story would unfold.
But it ends with him dying.

Legend has it that, you can still hear the ghost.
The ghost of the lonely wolf howling at the moon.
But is it to mourn what he lost?
Or to warn other travelers on the same road about the despair.

//starfishdiaries #3
Kieran Dec 2018
What is it like?
The fields of Elysium I mean
Today I should be sneaking you wine
After all, today is your Sweet 16
16 years ago on this very day
Our aunties answered the phone
Breaking the silence with sobs of sorrow
All I wanted was to hold you at home
But now you hold me
You soak the ambience with hope
in my lowest moments
the force of your existence cleanses my scope
My heavenly brother
When times are tough and I am not around
I know you take care of our sisters and our beautiful mother
You showed me in that dream
Vivid and clear
I walked into our bedroom
Our sister was asleep but something else was here
A child's curiosity led me
So I peered through our window
To see skies dancing
In a twinkling orange and yellow
Our sister was still sound asleep in bed
That's when I saw you for the first time
A light blue warmth with a cherub's head
You were cuddling our sister
I was in awe, not a single word said
Years have passed and I remember your visit
Anyways I just want you to know
When my eye's of this realm closes in death
I want to see you beside me Bro
One day we will all be together
In our circle of Heaven, as light as a feather
Can I ask perhaps to see you again?
In another dream?
Cheeky of your big brother to ask
On your bittersweet 16
On 25th December 2002, I was at home with my aunts on Christmas day whilst my mum gave birth to my still brother Jamal. It was my first experience with death and marks a pivotal moment in my family's life. I witnessed my mum slowly lose herself to depression and Christmas day became a birthday but also an anniversary of death. I remember having that dream I speak of when I had fallen asleep in my living one night a few years later as I now had my little sister. I told my mum and we cried in joy.
Marla Jul 22
Dragging a bare caress down my face
as the angst begins to consume me,
I see the end of my days in a whirlpool
of emotion and visions; death's favorite
mortal is close to communion.

The trees beyond my window shake violently
in a bellowing stream of belting wind,
while thunder shatters nearby.
Flames begin to spread and though far,
the heat raps upon my door.

I feel a silence stopping the rain
as the walls begin to melt away
and the roof melds into the floor,
leaving rubble and searing flesh.

A Voice calls to me in hushed bellows
that echo throughout the slipping void
of what was once my life. He tells me
to let go, his words more feeling
than sound. And thus, the fire
cleanses all as the rain mingles
our ashes; intertwined with everything.
Cunning Linguist Dec 2018
Sacred fires burning bright
Purging the flesh of my being
Becoming one with the light
Scorching the cells of my mortal body

The masses
To ashes


Cosmic I lapse -
Death cleanses;
Dissipate into the nether

Essence of life
The chains that bind

Pain ~
Surging through
Gleaming blaze

Then I shoot off in space and time,
soaring through illusions
Light years from reality,
Distant pixels

Obsessing through the tesseract,
Scouring past illusions
Beyond spatiality,
Distant pixels

Drifting, no sense or feel
Flames of color,
figments of my creation

Drift in to the surreal;
Chasing fractals,
defragments my cognition

Dreaming in discordance
Life confined in simulation

A glitch in the matrix~
Lies conceived
through my perception;

I, long to be spectral,
fluctuate right through this oscilation
To, obtain the ether -
Planetary cognizance

Then I shoot off in space and time,
soaring through illusions
Light years from reality,
distant pixels

Obsessing through the tesseract,
Scouring past illusions
beyond spatiality,
distant pixels

Drifting, no sense or feel
Flames of color,
figments of my creation

Drift in to the surreal;
Chasing fractals,
defragments my cognition

Dreaming in discordance
Life confined in simulation

A glitch in the matrix~
Lies conceived
through my perception;
Lyrics for my band's next song.
Akshiv Nov 2018
Past the Tempest,
See not through;
'morrow defiles your view --
Naught is rage.

See you the pain, the suffering, the rain
What eludes is awake, awakend Land
Land agraze, Land that cleanses -- cleanses the root of pain
Strip thy trees of despise, thy Sycamores of ever growing wants.

Take it away, afar from memory.
Remaining is Love, Unity, Solidarity
'gainst the land, that land which gives you view, view past the Tempest.
Dante Leto Nov 5
This vessel filled with sanguine nectar
Placed before my tortured face.
"Drink, drink", growls the Collector,
"So the ritual is not debased."
With a quiet sigh I raise my eyes
To find there's no one in sight.
But the shrill cries still to my spine bring chills
From the vague memories of the night.

"Who speaks to me in this empty place?
And what causes me these conniptions?
What are these echoes, these screams that resonate
And what source has borne this addiction?"
There's no soul here to hear my words,
Yet imposing shadows loom in the light
Of strategically placed candles set about the oubliette,
Ready to begin a dark rite.

"The one who speaks is the one who hears,
Indistinguishable except by delusion.
You writhe for the memory as the fogginess clears
And reveals the true cause of pollution:
We, Dante! We are the ones who
Fill this cup to the brim!
You are the lure and I am the hunter
And blood is what cleanses their sin."

As the snarling, disembodied voice speaks
I become filled with lecherous dread.
"You're a monster, a devil, a hideous fiend!"
I scream to the voice in my head.
I regain my composure but suddenly looking over
A room full of familiar corpses,
Torn open, bled, all eyeless sockets,
Materialized by unspeakable forces.

The flickering light from the tiny dancing flames
Eerily animate the dead,
But the bodiless shadows that tower remain
Motionless as the voice again said:
"The one who speaks is the one who hears.
By indulgence you gain from their tears,
Their terror, their anguish, they strengthen you, tame this
Devilish gnawing you fear."

Five leering shadows, eighteen festering carcasses
Surround me in grim trepidation.
Why, why do I choose to take part in this
Unholiness in this dark wretched station?
I try to refuse but my failure amuses
The entity goading me on.
I embrace the chalice of blood and of malice
And drink to fulfill the liaison.

As the ambrosia from the chalice is swallowed
A drunkenness begins to befall me.
As I stand, the five shadows, my servants, they follow
But as if they aren't walking, but crawling.
Altogether the flames grow brighter and stronger
Until the room like a kiln now burns.
The desiccated bodies prostrate and offer
Themselves so the fire upturns.

In my blood-drunken haze my eyes are opened
To the creation of my own obsession.
The Collector, the Harvester, the Reaper, the Chosen
And the Hunter, they are all but reflections.
"The others are voiceless", said the one voice I hear,
"Only I can speak as you can.
And you, Dante, are a bloodfiend, a ghoul.
In only man's realm you feign human.

"We are all you, all one in the same,
And as one we are death and disaster.
These victims before you bathing in flame
Were brought before the ritual master
That the remaining token be brought forth, bespoken
By the aspect of you that's most potent:
No, not the Chosen, though he holds the notion
Of calling that one the Unbroken."

At last all those nebulous memories
Are elucidated in this nightmarescape.
The Unbroken the voice just spoke of is me,
An amalgam of these shadows of hate,
Of murderous, methodical diabolism.
It all has finally become clear:
This black, ****** rite has brought me transcendence
As something all the more terrible draws near...
If your feelings can only be expressed
By human nature's raindrops
If you must break the dam
That holds your tears back
If you must open your eyes wider
To see past the blurry vision
As if your tears cleanses your sight
Bad thoughts, bad feelings and memories
Flow out through the windows of your soul
Keep them unlatched until the rain has ended
For storms like this come and go
The salty drops that stain your face
Are reminiscent pieces of your sorrows
They are no longer trapped
They are free to fall
It is okay to cry
My soul is the master,
My body is an obedient servant.
Without a soul,
My body is just a corpse,
A wasted husk.
The beauty of my body lies
when it is in partnership with my soul,
Just as you need to exercise and go to a gym to maintain your body's fitness,
You need to go to a mosque,church or temple to maintain your soul's purity.
Your body is a carcass that is going to decompose in the soil,
Your soul is destined for your hereafter,
Your soul will be accountable for your deeds good or bad,
Your soul will accumulate Allah's rewards and blessings.
That can only be done by fasting,praying and giving alms,
Not to forget pilgrimage,
Which imbibes piety and certainty in you,
Guards you against evil,
Restrains you from shameful and unjustful deeds,
Cleanses and purifies your soul,
So that  it leaves your body with least pain,
And the Angels come with joy to wrap in soft musk scented cloth,
And take you to your creator.
Cleanse your soul.Allah's blessings and rewards are plentiful.Ramadan Kareem.
She had skylights installed for Him
who said let there be light, which burns.
Eczema, she assures me,
it is hereditary, only temporary.
Soft-skinned, she smiles

and cleanses the house with sage.
My airways are scorching,
and my nose starts to drip red wine
but allergies are commonplace.
I must have gotten bad genes.

She lines the doorways
with remnants of the Himalayas.
Stronger than sea salt, it’ll help
if you just stay in your room.
I ignore the urge to shower,

rinse the blood off my lips.
She prays with a hand hovering above
my blackened skin, she gives me
olive oil, it helps with migraines.
If it hurts, it’s working.

She tells me it’s time to fast—
Ash Wednesday’s moved to October.
My body pangs and tremors,
bruised as the bitten fruit in my hand.
I’ve never fasted well.

She tosses me a burlap shift
and my skin splits at it’s touch, her
explanation lacks this time. But,
I can have my clothes back soon—
After the priest is done here tomorrow.

Mathew 12:43-45
Next page