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Tommy Randell Nov 2014
For once this dreamer has some knowledge -
That some of me was made in you.
My wariness is natural -
To know a creator is a great thing,
A thing not to be taken lightly.
What kind of church shall I build for you?
What kind of worship should I devise?
A blanket over sand for an altar?
Hymns of gulls and passing breezes?
Black olives and red wine certainly.
Should we come together casually?
Or more often than not meet distantly?
Just as in a poem -
The way we first did -
The way perhaps my fates will have it so.
And what name shall I give you
Under my breath where the real words hide?
What trickling liturgies shall I devise,
Disguised in plain clothes and habits,
As if the tongue had no memory?
But know my constancy, creator, believe
This subject has some ontology.
Difficult as it is to be
Your secret sect, there is perhaps
Some future yet where bells may ring.
apparently girls are only attractive
when they are difficult to get
my friend once said this
English Jam Mar 2018
My golden years are a retrospective view
Doubtful, not sure, might be a last dance
One day I was gum-chewing with my Batman yo yo
Now my soul is rubber, and it leaks on the outside
Faded away from the youthful days
Once giddy pleasure
Now it’s all so

The teen lifestyle washed over within seconds
Sure it’s fun to friends
Entertaining to have enemies
But the squabbles and meanders slow you down
The pitiful liars and desperate seekers
Worship through blasphemy whatever they care
Limbs don’t respond
Thoughts and actions don’t line up

You see it for what it truly is
You’re in danger
of maturing

Forgotten and dazed
Sitting in a broken armchair
It's difficult seeing through the fogginess
Finding the missing hours
Difficult on a drowse

...I work only weekdays (don't we all)...
...Fantastic gatherings on Sundays (family days)...
...Jimi Hendrix, he's good (bit of an understatement, mate)...
....He's the kind of guy I wish I could...

Ayvin Jul 2018
I open my heart
not with carelessness
but with humility  
so you can read
the foreign language
that is trapped inside my chest
that I cannot comprehend myself
so that you can tell me
what I truly feel
because this foreign language
is becoming too difficult
to carry
Alyssa Underwood Jan 2016
I would have taken the easy path
But that would leave no room for glory
I would have picked out a comfortable life
But that isn't God’s kind of story

I would have followed a prettier road
But missed the most beautiful way
I would have clung to familiar things
But lived out my days in the grey

I would have chosen what’s stable
But grown cold, apathetic and bored
I would have sought out earth’s riches
But lost all that in heaven is stored

I would have liked more successes
But not learned so quickly of grace
I would have seen myself praised more
But given up knowing God’s face

I would have tied all my loose ends
But not known it’s He Who brings peace
I would have wanted for happier times
But traded a joy that can’t cease

I would have opted for normal
But not tasted rare delicacies
I would have preferred a man’s love
But been robbed of Divine intimacy

He’s chosen for me the high road
More jagged, more narrow and steep
So now I must travel this difficult way
Ever knowing it leads to the deep

Now I must choose to cherish His path
And trust Him to walk with me there
Now I must hasten to take up my cross
The fellowship of His sufferings to share

For one day this life will be over
And all my afflictions will end
It is then I will see what all this is for
In my Bridegroom, my Savior, my Friend

"Therefore we do not lose heart. Though outwardly we are wasting away, yet inwardly we are being renewed day by day. For our light and momentary troubles are achieving for us an eternal glory that far outweighs them all. So we fix our eyes not on what is seen, but on what is unseen, since what is seen is temporary, but what is unseen is eternal."
~ 2 Corinthians 4:16-18

Edmund Ashley Jan 16
Is it?
What do you think? Is it?
Have you felt it is?
Do you really think it is?

How do you know love?
Does it have it highs and lows?
Does been in it feel like a law?
Does its dark side appear white as snow?

What distinguishes it?
Few times down other times lit?
I thought it was always in high spirit?
Why now do I feel I have to desist?

Is it same as infatuation?
Where it goes away after you've achieved love action?
And all your sweet ideas become sour notions?
And thoughts of the other exits your attention?

Yes. Maybe its infatuation.
Love sparks that light but fades with wiggly motions,
When one stops trying because you're no more an exception,
The little silly things you do become "expensive inactions" .

It hurts badly,
Sadly your undoubtedly not feel it rightly,
From the start that love wounds, you pretend nicely,
That you both can take it lightly.

But it hurts, with time when the usual things are no more,
When the long night bare no talk,
Sleepless nights come back as they were at first afterall,
You miss someone badly, but misses only harp in thoughts.

Maybe its not love.
Maybe you stopped trying
Maybe you aren't telling your honest feelings
Maybe you're making it difficult to be loved
Maybe you don't want to be loved

Maybe hear says have dimmed your love
Maybe you aren't too sure
Maybe you feel this love won't go anywhere
Maybe you feel you're not good enough to be loved.
Maybe you feel its not true love.

Is love difficult?
It takes time to know.
Its like a sling stone thrown,
It takes time to be known.

Genuine love finds you when you do things right.
Maybe today, tomorrow or someday,
When things are right, Love's not difficult,
It'll find you. You'll feel it Right.
Jing Xi Lau Nov 2018
They print their lives on a price tag,
Those big fat numbers,
All they do is brag.
My daughter’s a neurosurgeon,
Graduated from Johns Hopkins,
Saving lives by the hundreds.
My son a number-crunching accountant,
A career that keeps his wallet thick,
And his pockets filled.

They wonder what I do,
I tell them I work with words.
They gasp,
Eyes widen.

I tell them that,
I can count the spaces between adjacent letters in a word,
String words together to build a sentence,
Layer each sentence above another like bricks,
Place a single powerful mark of punctuation in between,
The glue that holds the bricks intact and forms a wall.
A wall of stanzas,
Connected by commas and semicolons.
A wall of paragraphs,
Big enough to block numbers out.

Because words fill souls while numbers fill pockets.
Words are immeasurable.

em Jan 14
don't push me away
like you always do
Mohd Arshad Sep 2018
The thickest smoke
Gradually goes up
Piggybacking the wind;
Soon it descends like the fountain
And the ball down the stairs!

I'm not terrified
By their casual thunder
That scares the timid pigeons!

Rolls of tobacco leaves;
You're born to burn to nullity!
To be young
and lost.
To be young
trapped under society.
to be young
and in love.
P E Kaplan Sep 2012
Sounds hard,
and difficult
for you.

Can you set limits,
with your family?

it would be
right to do so.

Same here.
I wonder, does this
help you?

And for you,
my sadness stays,
until you feel heard.
HaleyBoo Dec 2018
The hardest thing I’ve ever had to do?

It wasn’t letting you go.

That was difficult though, to swallow my pride and wear a smile to hide the fact I’m not okay.

Oh no, the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do? Was finally admit to myself the truth.

It was admitting that you were never mine to begin with.
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