Ashley Somebody Nov 2014

Tread not on empty ground,
For the skies may stretch across
And the grass may abound upon the earth,
But you'll not thrive in the desert lost.

Lora Lee Apr 2016

Here in the desert
it's been raining
on and off
            for days
making the succulents and cacti
glisten with wetness
their thick skin sparkles
and catches nature's ironic eye
flowers and plants shine
so much better in the half-grey
Here in the prehistoric depths
Of rocky whitewash and silt
             flash floods rush through
flushing out all guilt
         And inside
a raging storm commences
and I feel so blessed
to be a part of this celebration
my lungs expanding in my chest
I breathe in deep
that fresh purity of air
let it cleanse right through me
from my toes up to my hair
It rushes in my body
taking no prisoners in its force
flows through every vein
cleansing poisons in its course
its power flows into me
washing out this stubborn pain
Turning the confusion
                     into clarity again
From inside subconscious thoughts
           realization thunders
rinsing from my mind
                 the emotional strain
and replacing it with euphoric wonders
Come, my raging desert tempest
Bathe me
       penetrate me with wet
restore and purify
my being
take over and disinfect
let me feel my own strength
until it pours out from my cells
into the space inside my heart
where love and lust still dwell
My tears mingle with the sweet drops
                as I fling arms open to the sky
releasing strikes of lightening
for every word I cry
as I summon, pray for lightness
mixed with the sturdiness of earth
Let joy rise up and bubble
within my being
as rebirth

CA Guilfoyle Sep 2015

Sometimes
before you arrive
I imagine the drive
the dusty winds
roads blown sand blind
the breath hot desert
red upon your back
the drown of dripping sweat
a mirage, a swimming lake
an oasis, of mind escape
how you travel as saguaro fields fly by

Graff1980 Dec 2014

Sometimes my eyes
Are the skies
Of the desert
Dry as the lies
That they told us

Sandy brown
On the ground
Parched particles
Pointy patches
Of cactuses

Insects and mole rats
Little lizards that run fast
And you may ask
Where is the metaphor
Well, everything is a
Metaphor for everything else

I know it should be cacti for the plural but cactuses works better.
CA Guilfoyle Feb 2016

On days like this
cool, with little winds
desert birds forage for sticks
they build nests perched in cactus
some build green in palo verde trees
always I think of baby birds in spring
hatchlings, the fledglings that fly
I travel far beyond the noise of towns
watch the movement of cooling clouds
the roundness of rain upon the ground
the grey banked scurrilous skies
of hurried birds, their silhouettes before a storm
daisies that close, cold amid the stones
beneath where snakes and lizards go
slither and crawl in this landscape of saguaros
and I, ever tethered can only dream to fly.

I have just moved and will be without internet for 4 or 5 days, except for on my phone, therefore I am unable  to respond to each and everyone of you, beautiful poets - but know that I am ever grateful for this HP sanctuary and for poets everywhere.

thank you
XO, Cyd

Out here there are no hearthstones,
Hot grains, simply.  It is dry, dry.
And the air dangerous.  Noonday acts queerly
On the mind's eye erecting a line
Of poplars in the middle distance, the only
Object beside the mad, straight road
One can remember men and houses by.
A cool wind should inhabit these leaves
And a dew collect on them, dearer than money,
In the blue hour before sunup.
Yet they recede, untouchable as tomorrow,
Or those glittery fictions of spilt water
That glide ahead of the very thirsty.

I think of the lizards airing their tongues
In the crevice of an extremely small shadow
And the toad guarding his heart's droplet.
The desert is white as a blind man's eye,
Comfortless as salt.  Snake and bird
Doze behind the old maskss of fury.
We swelter like firedogs in the wind.
The sun puts its cinder out.  Where we lie
The heat-cracked crickets congregate
In their black armorplate and cry.
The day-moon lights up like a sorry mother,
And the crickets come creeping into our hair
To fiddle the short night away.

Parched sun on naked earth,
Memory of water dulled,
Crushed by galloping heat.

The rhythmic wash of waves
alien as contours of verdant dales,
To blades of ancient rock and ruptured land.

Dead to ocean swells and sighing breath.
Life - which longs to root beneath
its blinding horizons,
Aborted mutely.

Tex Dermott Sep 2015

In boredom
Finding a good story
Is like a spring
In the desert

This is form I started which I called Unlucky 13.
The Lonely Bard Mar 2014

I feel deserted in this desert of loneliness,
Even though several people surround me,
Just lonely sand anywhere the eye can go.

I was aimless if not for your thought dear,
Your presence in my daily life's beautiful,
Like an oasis which is needed in a desert..

I am valuable for you & similarly you are,
Invaluable for one another we're lifelong,
Igniting warmer the feelings kissing lips...

My HP Poem #586
©Atul Kaushal
Mira scott Jun 2014
SLR

I like to think that I'm a mixture of a sunflower, a lioness, and a tortoise.
why?
simply because a sunflower is
exuberant,
vibrant in color,
flows softly and carelessly with the wind,
plain and simple,
Intriguing to say the lease.

why a lioness?
because she is Queen of the Sahara desert.
she is loyal,
she is independent and does not fully need to depend on a male,
though when given the right one, she'll go through many lengths to accommodate him.
she is also full in color,  plastered with battle scars to prove that she is of worth
and can handle the meat thrown at her
with nothing but scavengers surrounding her,
tempting her.

why a tortoise?
because they are slow and steady,
live on land with feet as claws, being able to dig into troubles and come out more wise than before.
Also they can retrieve back into their cave for as long and as endless as they want,
solitude is acceptable and perfered.

one is noticeable yet, easily breakable and disposable.
one is lazy, yet keen
one is small, yet can take on the world for three hundred and thirty years.

I'll be forever, and memorable, and radiant.

Out of mind, out of sight
Reaching out for my light
Reaching out with your hand
All you touch turns to sand
And as you fall, as you weep
The sand it something you still keep
All the fragments of your dreams,
Have evolved to separate things
Intertwined in your sight,
Are all the problems you still fight

If you want to reach my hand,
First you have to drop the sand

Amber Oct 2014

I watch as tears fall;
From the sky, her eyes, his eyes, your eyes.
I smile;
My eyes are dry.
they would remind you of a desert.

I've lost the ability to feel anything other than hunger, thirst and exhaustion.
CA Guilfoyle Nov 2012

There was an ancient gully
there were skeletons,
ocotillos strewn across the sand
holy places creatures crawled out from
cactus brittle, drying, lying dead

Mirages leapt - spectrally
ghost dancers, drunkards falling down again
bloodshot eyes searching,
shipwrecks, lost waters, the sea
cool river floating past the trees, you drift
crash and wake alone
cow skulls haunt you
death's sun bleached
bones

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