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Shofi Ahmed Apr 2017
Wide open are your arms  
the sun is a small paintbrush  
every daybreak it draws  
exposes you as new as ever!  
  
The surges in the billows  
blow out swimming clouds  
across the globe.  
No they don’t splash out to  
the starry thrillers on the sky  
they all are a dwarf bunch  
draws down to you kind Moon:  
Down to earth on the ground  
spares the heap for all
for the day for the noon.  
  
Then you are there too
far afar, where is nothing
but you the lotus in bloom
on uncharted water.  
Who can describe it better  
everyone is lost for words!
Elemenohp Dec 2010
My mind is open.
See what is, my brain.
It's the purest form,
of all which I contain.
Crack open my skull,
With objects blunt, or dull.
Expose my mind, than take it all.
Shofi Ahmed Oct 2018
God ensures everyone a shore
floating on the sea of the soul!
No stone is as solid
lying in any temple.

Light up the flame lay it on
the passage to the truthful
selfless human conscience.
Unleash from the unseen
the one true enduring origin!

The more one understands
the universe's more meaningful!
Hails from the one yet to expose
the utmost intelligent of all!
Alyssa Underwood Jul 2017
The joyful heart is the buoyant heart—
empowered to rise above its circumstances,
unweighted, unburdened, unbound,
tied only to that which would lift it higher,
untethered from anything which would
pull it down, pull it under or suffocate it.

It's the free heart, quiet and at rest
yet jubilant and uncontained,
the celebrating heart, the praising heart,
the thankful heart, the heart set on pilgrimage,
bent on adventure, journey and romance.

All the while it's a waiting heart
because it's a yielded, led heart—
a heart which doesn't run ahead of the LORD
but willingly, quickly to the LORD—
a heart that though eagerly anticipating each
twisting turn, next horizon and changing path
keeps its eyes fixed not on the scenery
but forever on the Shepherd
because it's a heart persuaded
that He alone is the Great Reward
for which it has always been looking.

True joy is only ours when we find an endless
source of satisfaction, and of these I know only One!
The secret to all joy is to crave Him above all else.
The joyful heart is the one addicted fully to Him,
desperate for Him to the expense of all else,
willing to sacrifice everything to have that craving satisfied.

Joy and idols, I have learned,
do not easily reside together in the same heart.
So if I find that joy is chased away
the most likely culprits are my own desires.
What am I wanting more than Jesus?
For if intimacy with Him is the supreme goal of my life
then nothing can arise which I'm not enabled to bear with joy.
There is, I suppose, nothing so reliable as suffering and loss
to expose all of the hidden idols within me.

It's surely those who have suffered the greatest
and most frequent losses for Christ who are also
most capable of knowing the deepest and most abiding joy.
For it's when we've been stripped bare of everything else
that we begin to know for certain that our joy is based
not on the temporary blessings of our circumstances
but only on the presence of the Eternal Blesser Himself.

Sometimes He offers to us all that is in His right hand,
but for any with eyes truly opened to see
the most precious of times may be those
when He offers to us only the intimacy of His right hand.

Rivers of sadness can open up
into wide gulfs of endless delight and
are often the very courses needed to carry us there.
When all is lost, we find to our amazement
that, even so, we still have ALL
and no one can rob us of it.
When He takes everything from us
He proves Himself to be EVERYTHING to us.
~~~

"For to me, to live is Christ and to die is gain."
~ Philippians 1:21

"I want you to know how hard I am contending
for you...and for all who have not met me personally.
My goal is that they may be encouraged in heart
and united in love, so that they may have the full riches
of complete understanding, in order that they may know
the mystery of God, namely, Christ, in whom are hidden
all the treasures of wisdom and knowledge."
~ Colossians 2:1-3

"I say to the LORD, 'You are my Lord;
    apart from You I have no good thing.'...
Those who run after other gods will suffer more and more...
    LORD, You alone are my portion and my cup;
    You make my lot secure...
I will praise the LORD, who counsels me;
    even at night my heart instructs me.
I keep my eyes always on the LORD.
    With Him at my right hand, I will not be shaken.
Therefore my heart is glad and my tongue rejoices;
    my body also will rest secure...
You make known to me the path of life;
    You will fill me with joy in Your presence,
    with eternal pleasures at Your right hand."
~ Psalm 16:2,4a-5,7-9,11

"Though the fig tree does not bud
    and there are no grapes on the vines,
though the olive crop fails
    and the fields produce no food,
though there are no sheep in the pen
    and no cattle in the stalls,
yet I will rejoice in the LORD,
    I will be joyful in God my Savior.
The Sovereign LORD is my strength;
    He makes my feet like the feet of a deer,
    He enables me to tread on the heights."
~ Habakkuk 3:17-19

"How lovely is Your dwelling place,
     O LORD Almighty!
My soul yearns, even faints,
    for the courts of the LORD;
my heart and my flesh cry out
    for the living God.
Even the sparrow has found a home,
    and the swallow a nest for herself,
    where she may have her young—
a place near Your altar,
     O LORD Almighty, my King and my God.
Blessed are those who dwell in Your house;
    they are ever praising You.
Blessed are those whose strength is in You,
    whose hearts are set on pilgrimage.
As they pass through the Valley of Baca,
    they make it a place of springs;
    the autumn rains also cover it with pools.
They go from strength to strength,
    till each appears before God in Zion."
~ Psalm 84:1-7

~~~
Jesse stillwater Dec 2018
Healing leaves are now disrobed branches
on the edge of this wilderness.
Many tall Douglas Fir stand sentinel
over 100 foot tall amazing grace — the fleeting leaves
expose the beauty of the moss clad scaffolds
adorned with a lime-grey lichen lace
Nature is my refuge — solid ground to stand
in this harmony and peacefulness.


Jesse Stillwater — December 2018
Left as a comment yesterday, mused by "Healing Leaves" by Reena Sharma:
https://hellopoetry.com/poem/2843497/healing-leaves/
KHY Jan 22
Sin is a real evidence keeper
Expose it to your equals
Or it will eat you
Em MacKenzie Oct 8
I’m the only one with dirt on my hands,
I’ve been crossing my fingers and snapping rubber bands.
And the fragments and pieces build into a story,
I transformed it to a thesis; the quality’s too low for me,
and I never set my expectations too high,
as should I, a lack of truth and abundance of lie.
My oh my and by the by.

There’s cracks in my ceiling and head,
there’s splinters in my skin and my bed,
there’s poison in the words I was fed.

I’m the only one missing pressure on my shoulders,
replaced the gentle weight with two heavy boulders.
I was wishing on satellites thinking they were stars,
breaking free from embraces thinking they were bars,
admiring fireflies not realizing they were cars
but I’m painfully aware of my own
scars.
I’m holding open seminars
to these memoirs of ours.

There’s cracks in my ceiling and shell,
there’s craters in my heart where I fell,
there’s holes in each story you tell.
patty m Apr 2018
The far space is closing along a band of trees,
peelings of shadowy rind expose ghostly hues.
all around the air is flammable,
until the setting sun a burning bush turns ashen.  

Strange mood around this monolithic rock
that some folks fear.
Overlong we have waited presenting our sacrifices.
yet not a breath of wind stirs as we chant
and seeds take root.  

A strange spirit leaps into our midst
and all around there is a quick intake of breath.
Piercing movement collapses in upon itself as it whispers
though our pores.
Rhythms strange insistent beat, a driving force
whirls through our bloodstream,
its slow sensuous movements lead us into dreams.
Attached ghost,
your haunting aria spins in ethereal mist
transposing meditation.
Someone has put a hole in our language and now as we
look with hazy speculation upon the book
with tiny red stitches we remain baffled,
turning it round and round looking at all the foreign symbols,
                                   but it cannot be deciphered.  
Only the creatures of the forest remember;
Mid-Summer nights, the sound of magical flutes and the
bells of dancing nymphs.  
Only they understand  the gifts that Gaia bestows.    
Only they remember the Wisdom Of The Faun.
L B Aug 2016
She rises above Monamoy Point
on her wake—a Tenebrae of carbon
Then bolts back
careening cross blue-black—
through her lucent clouds of hair
from which on radii spray a diaspora of stars
Mistress of Metallurgy
tempered, tampering
Darkness forged to alloy with light

Men have always wondered...
how anything could be so round?

To arouse a sullen tide
her fingers palpate night-water’s lead
tingling light of limbs so spread
to her lover!

Close him in—
a pewter path of trembling touches
that ends in the small of her back

Men so wooed, still shudder
“How anything so tender...?”

could expose such stone!

She eclipses the sun!
She commands the sky!
...to hone his steel on that!
Nat Lipstadt Sep 2013
How I Observed the Day of Atonement

If you are unfamiliar with day and its observance,
See http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Yom_Kippur

In a place of perfect solitude,
No crowded synagogue within to hide,
No cantor to intercede on my behalf,
I spoke words of mine own creation
To my creator who wisely empowers me
To judge myself, for knowing, none harsher,

We two,
Old travel companions,
Upon worn grayed, adirondacke thrones,
We overlooked,
A natural prayer place,
Bay and breeze, white-clouded and sun-laced.
Only the full time inhabitants, the animals,
Grayling butterflies to match and contrast,
Eavesdropping on our Greek dialogos, in this,
Palace of Perfect Solitude.

Amiable did we chat,
I of family, this and that.

He, wearied from recent travel,
To Syria and India,
Was glad for a day off,
For he had little to do,
But wait for twilight,
To then close the books.

For us no formality, easy the going,
No prosecutor no defender in residence,
For we exchange these roles intermittently,
The incriminatory, the penance, all deeds displayed,
No adult games of winking eyes, and
Hidden heart, secret chambers,
Rabbinical or angelic intercession.

He does so love his Bach,
Adagio on strings,
My soothing gift to him,
This music more than divine.

He returned this courtesy.

Warming sun to expose my chest,
Cooling genteel breeze offsetting,
The bay emptied of wayfaring skiffs and yachts.

A cooling beverage proffered,
But sighing, he said that he had yet to find
A beverage that his kind of thirst could slake.
For his eyes, tho shining, did not effervesce,
As when we shared this day in years past.

Too much killing, this year,
It tires me so to tabulate human excess,
Spoke not a word, for my critique would
Comfort him less, if at all.

Thanks for Kol Nidre, he plainted,
So I too can disavow,
The best intended oaths I took and take,
For each year, I fail more than the year before.

If only I could sit with each,
As I do with you,
Where what needs saying,
Is said, understood, undisguised as praying.

A schooner to the dock did appear,
For him it attended, for him, it waited,
Sails, both black and white.

He stood to depart, my arms-grasped, taken, he graphing,
Measuring my fortitude, my strengths, my divinity.

I do so love this day in your company.
I shall sit with you again one year on,
Bach sweet when next we meet, please.

Soft spoke, as almost I should not hear,
Your time is nigh, no thing I create is forever.
He spoke with such sadness,
For well I knew, the intent, his meaning.

He, for-himself, saddened, for he loved
Sitting  beside me in this manner,
Since my inception, never deception,

Only He resting easy, when he atoned before me,
And I gave him his absolution conditional,
As he gave me,
mine
September  2013
at your own peril!



dare to vex

provoke, antagonize, exasperate

that is what my words will do

they won't irritate or annoy,
bug or merely peeve,
a simple bother
insufficient

vex
your core,
demand
that you more
than mere question yourself
but riptide extracts the
elemental,
battery acid on the essence bared

learn the power of crafting words
for maximum effect

torment, infuriate,
expose yourself,
what has lain beneath the skin,
you will let me in,
to let you out

why play with poetry,
the most dangerous weapon
unless you nakedly intend to


!dare to vex!
Hastings Padua May 2013
you do not need to be quiet.
you do not need to expose your heart
to this brutal world to feed its ugly desire.
you only need to walk into the wilderness of your soul
and breathe, succumb to the silence in your heart;
rebel and provoke, then embrace the soft despair
of your broken body and heal; in the miles
of broken road between your heart and mine, repent;
cry a little and scream, for the valley will echo
in redemption and uplift you into the timberline
and up again to the highest point above the valley floor
until the sun whips its fingers across your face and you stagger,
kneel, then pray in your enlightened state;

you will smile when you come home
to the craggy rocks and dusty rivers
and the tender patches of moss along the boulders;
you will tease the tall grasses and the buttercups
and the sunflowers with your fingers
and push deep through the mud with your toes;
here, silence is forgiving.
Sofia Von Oct 2013
Strangers are my best friends
Even feelings are for even people... Know anyone who matches that description?
I'd like to cuddle away the problems
**** someone while crying
No
I don't think so
I want to be felt and loved. And craved like fluent chocolate gushing
Down the corners of my mouth
Lapped up by your tongue
I wish

Scratched letters over a blank canvas
Make for messages of clarity.
Nails on a chalk board every time you etch, but its the promise of the next word that makes it tolerable.
These pick-up-stick letters are angry and depressed but fit together like bread on butter. creamy song lyrics you scribble but there’s no tune.
An obstacle foreseen and ignored.
The rhythm of voice catches, flame to syncopation, and feebly you grow with your words to become the song

Sung now, in churches
Do they realize from whence their hymns originated? Deep down, long ago, in the valley of hidden emotional pangs
Your envy was too rich for your body
Yet big enough for this... congregational ritual.
Heart tears are beautiful for creation
To existence
They're treacherous

I smile and admire my work
Blow a smoke ring over the wet words not quite solidified on the page
Smudge
Better with a flaw
I don't smoke
Im a social stress smoker
Self diagnosed
Self medicated
So you see I'm an aspiring artist
Although most of my works are ****, I don't really give up.
Its just this part of me I can’t always explain
That happens
They’re my impulse of choice
A painting, a drawing, a poem, a song, dance, all music (save country).
Even little quick thoughts or plans I have are peaceful to record.
It's times like this night where I should really be fast in my REM cycle, dreaming of crazy scenarios to **** up and uncover a truth upon my waking.
But I'm on my notes
Typing away the babble of nonsense thats streaming on demand
Tonight
I'll exit with a line
Or so, I'm not sure
Breathe in the plant, puff out love hits and over expose the motion picture. Each passing present memory is precious to the cycle I don't really want to define.
But I'm in love with its inhabitants I can't get over them
And each day is another episode
But... Is this a sitcom, or a documentary?
These words, are time filled

Cold feet shouldn't be a thing.
JP Feb 11
I'd rather suffer in
       S
          I
            L
               E
                  N
S   O   L   I   T   U   D   E       
Than expose my soul
And have you tell me
It will be alright
As you hold
The pillow over my face
And wish me goodnight
Lets take the day off and chill out, not stressing soaking up the lords blessings, let's go out tonight enjoy a nice meal unwrap ourselves expose our fun side peel the layers off, relax by a waterfront getting high off the emotions of us, watch fireworks toast a glass of strawberry and cream champagne to celebrate nothing bothering us

Just a night off lets communicate with our bodys flirting with the slightest touch temptation not asking for much, the night is still young so juvnille, let's make it worthwhile no dollar amount a value deal of us just enjoying us do wild stuff like we don't now how to behave ourselves, radiate is our smile viberations of our laughter makes the valley's of our heart shake, sweet lovers a savory taste

  Take the time to enjoy us we been working so much not taking breaks convicted to the grind like tired slaves, not tonight it's date night we haven't had this feeling for a while now, let's takeoff day cater to each other feed both of us grapes do you want to split a cheesesteak?, nothing much just you and us it's date night take the load off
Sad Girl Apr 2017
“I'm big, you're little.
I'm smart, you're dumb.
I'm right, you're wrong.”

This is what you've taught me,
but I've learned another way.
I try to be so peaceful,
I practice every day.

I've been through quite a lot,
And I've had to be so strong.
My message must have gotten lost,
been fighting for so long.

You raised me as a woman,
Yet you treat me like a man
The way that I'm reacting
often goes against my plan.

I'm trying to reach out and
you call it my excuse.
What you see as parenting,
Feels like abuse.
I feel very threatened and
begin to snap back;
I realize my mistake too late,
I try hard to retract.

I need some space to breathe,
I need a little air...
You get so worked up;
leaving no room for repair.
I try to walk away,
I try to be alone,
But you will never let it be
And that is set in stone.

I feel backed into a corner,
As though I have been trapped.
You push me all my life
And expect that I won't snap.
I am very agile,
But I am just a person.
I try to learn to bend
so the problem will not worsen.

You think that I'm rebellious
And full of disrespect
Whenever I'm defensive
As I am made upset.
I don't want to feel scared
And I don't want to feel pain,
Once you introduce those feelings
It can drive a girl insane.

I'm sorry that I haven't turned out
quite how you expected.
My problems are ignored
And my person feels rejected.
Expose me to the anger of
which I have been subjected...
I forget why I'm hurting and
I follow your objective.

The things that I'm saying
are just sitting in my head,
You may not remember them
as things that you once said.
I don't mean to preach and
I don't try to follow,
But your anger is so loud
That I find mine hard to swallow.

I'll leave if you need me to,
But that's not what i need.
I want to coexist with you,
I'm just not up to your speed.
I need love and I need patience,
But you have your own issues
And you cannot face this.

It's chalked down to
"He's old and he'll
never change his ways"
If this isn't an excuse,
I don't know what more to say.

You think that we are different,
but we are quite the same.
You don't see yourself in me
And I find that quite strange.
You say I make my problems
Into someone else's,
While doing just the same...
Am I the only one who is selfish?

I never mean to do or say
the things that I have
I wish that you could help me out,
but you are just my dad.
You are who you are,
no matter who it affects.
I just have to get over it,
as everyone expects.

I'll try not to be like you;
Try to avoid all of your habits.
The idea is in front of me,
I just can't seem to grab it.
Stripping away
the pretense
to expose the
naked truth.

Nothing to hide
as the warm water
flows over me.

Washing away
yesterday's mistakes
and disappointments.

Watching as regrets
disappear with the suds
down the drain.

Cleansed of the past.
Ready to start a new day.
Mike Groves Aug 2018
In order to expose my heart and truly write,
I must release my status or my pride,
this is not about me,
it was never meant to be a way to gain recognition,
another way for me to perform on a stage, some sort of exhibition.
Yet I find myself hesitating to write my thoughts,
trying to impress people I don't even know,
It was only meant to be an outlet a therapy for me, never some sort of show,
but like everything I have ever done somehow Id rather waste my time trying to impress. My guilty conscience driving me to be truly under duress. Forced to hold back the leanings of my heart I merely release a fluffy worthless shallow piece. I will not be stifled, held down by my need to please, my ribs will not rupture under this pressure as I try to breathe. I must write with heart and soul or not at all.
So this is my open message to you pride, no matter how many times I fool myself into putting on your mask, I promise, your control over me will not last.
I will take you off just as quickly as I put you on because I want someone who reads these to truly see me. To see me with all of my scars misfortunes and faith, I will put my heart out, I will never aspire to be fake.
Hector Jan 2018
~

Where will I touch you the first time

if I ever was to meet you?

If desires build trails, we must follow

until the fires are extinguished

or we burn down to embers-

I can almost feel you,

drunk with crimson lips of wine

numbing all my senses

if with a kiss I could swallow

your entire universe

and the universe remembers

how a flicker of light burst into fire-

And how your ******* may feel

under my trembling hands

playful ******* enticing

my mouth to satisfy my wants,

my teeth wanting to bite

and slowly drink the rising

desperation of a moment-

Then let the black lace peel

from around your waist

to expose your moon like skin

driving me insane with desire,

my mouth creating streams

of honey flowing down

to the river between your legs.

There is where I begin

to find a place filled with dreams

of heavens,

blissful elixir of life

in your flow I will rise

and find the fountain of youth

where my thirst will drown-

And I will take you,

until galaxies collapse into the light

you have become,

entering every space inside

in a rhythmic dance,

drunk with the feel of skin on skin

on legs spread wide

to receive everything I am,

every dream, every wish

and every want-

So tell me,

where will I touch you the first time

if I ever was to meet you?


-
H.O
-

https://soundcloud.com/som-40/implosion
“I want to make you weep. I want all your pleasure, Iris, all your pain, everything you are. Come for me."
And she felt herself bow with the stark white bliss of her epiphany, the shattering realization of his words and his hands and his mouth. She was gasping for breath, shaking, lost, unseeing. The center of her being pulsing with pleasure.”
― Elizabeth Hoyt, Duke of Desire
Arsène Aug 2018
Drowned in pills
Her morbid gaze and soulless eyes would send me chills
A relationship empty but a foundation of thrills

Her beauty piercing as to be posey
I just delighted she chose me
Her slightest whim I’d mosey
Or she'd batter, bruise, and expose me

Why me I wondered at times
As her white powders sniffed in reverent lines
Too petrified to ask
Her actions ignominiously grasped

So I left
My feelings undealt
as I wept
With all of my friends gleaming
But I didn't know what to believe in
Value your self!
Francie Lynch Dec 2018
You know Comey and Spicer,
Sessions and Tillerson,
Priebus and Haley,
Flynn and Bannon,
But try not to recall
The most infamous POTUS of all:

Donald the orange-skinned POTUS
Has a Pinocchio nose,
And everytime he speaks out,
You literally see it grow.
All of his well-placed minions,
And millions that can't be named,
Try to protect the Donald,
But only expose their shame.

Then one sunny DC Day
SC Mueller  says:
Donald with your team in flight,
Your term in office is finite
.

Then how his minions left him,
And they shouted silently;
Donald, you long-nosed politico,
You're a blip in history
.
Sad to destroy such a beautiful children's song with such a horrific adult song.
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