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Shofi Ahmed May 2017
It streams down eye to eye
from the unseen but the all seeing.

Far from the Mars far from the Neptune
skipping all the planets hanging in space
only on the cheek of earth, a drop of tear fell.

Every angel in the heavens' shore
has heard of this lore.
It’s timeless long mesmerising beautiful.
Far from the blue yonder sky
hunky dory is delighting to the eyes
the stunner is made to measure.

A tear in the corner of the eye
as if it's diagonally weighed down
with the 360-degree open looking sky.
As close as within a fingertip comes the Moon
still, a sea is ahead forever untouchable!
Shofi Ahmed May 2017
I wanted to reach out to the sky
not to touch any star
just to whisper to the Moon
'How beautiful are you'!

I was still, stunned on the ground  
wandering down the sunrise hill.
In the midst of the morning breeze  
I heard of a whispering
‘The eyes in the sky gaze to the ground’.
So close to me that drew
as if that whispered to me ‘tell me about you’!
Evelyn Genao Mar 2018
"Please, daddy!"
You were walking so fast.
Too fast for my little feet to keep up.
Was it that easy for you to leave me?

You heard my tear-filled screams, but you never stopped.
You just kept going.
Farther and farther away, not even trying to get one last look at me.
I punched, pulled, and pushed trying to make you stop.
You didn’t.
You just kept going.
Leaving me behind.
"Please don’t leave me!"

Pain.
I remember it too well.
The heart throbbing pain.
We watched as you left.
Me and mommy.
My eyes were wet.
Hers were dry, cold.
As if she knew this would happen.

I looked into mommy's eyes.
Her brown eyes tangled with lies.
Lying to me for you.
How long do I have to wait for you before you realize that what you did was a mistake? What was the reason you stayed away for so long?
Was it all the stupid crap you did in the past or is it because you don’t want me anymore?

Since you left, I dreamed of your return.
The day you would wrap me in your arms and whisper in my ear,
"I'm sorry for what I did. I promise I will never leave you again,
my little Cookie Monster
."
Then I wake up, hoping to see you.
Praying that it wasn’t all a dream.
But reality soon caught up, and the dream quickly died.

I remember all the tears I had rushing down my face
as I saw you leave me and mommy behind, to never return.
I'm so incomplete without you, I need my daddy back in my life.
You deceived me, you said you would always be there.
You pinky promised.
You broke your promise.
How can I trust you again?

Do you still think of me as your "cookie monster" or
a daughter you never loved, a daughter you could leave behind without a single goodbye in the blink of an eye? I wish you were here to watch me grow up but we both know that will never happen.

"I miss you so much! Won’t you please come back to me, daddy?
I just need to see your face one last time
."
Am I that disappointing I need to work to make you love me?

Hey, daddy even if you don’t love me I will always love you no matter what happens.
I bet you didn't even think about how I would feel when you left.
No, you only thought of yourself like you always do.

You missed all my birthdays, first dates, father-daughter dances,
and you may even miss my wedding, not that you even care.
Did you know that I would wait for the postman to bring the mail and check to see if there was a letter for me? But there never was.
I eventually stopped going, knowing nothing was there for me.  

"Well, daddy looks like you really didn't care about me buts it's in the past. Now I have a family who loves me, stays with me, and likes for who I am.
I don't need you anymore
.”

Daddy, I still need you. Please, come back.
When I was 6, my dad was deported to the Dominican Republic. I remember visiting him in prison before he was booted out of the country. I was only a child then and I don't remember much but the pain is still there. I didn't ever write down my feelings until my English teacher assigned the class a project where we had to write a poem about a struggle that impacted our lives. It was not the best and as the years went by I would add more to it, pouring my heart and soul into it. I think the day presented my poem to the class was the day that I wanted to become a writer. I hope you love this and be sure to comment your thoughts on it. Also, check out my other poems!!
CK Baker Oct 2017
they’re pouring out of the
woodwork
those pretentious machiavellians
in ailing albino frames
eccentric masked figures
milling about the glow light
like night moths
in a cold london fog

lunatic gazers
with seeping moles
pinned by frogmen and twine
spider climbers
in hell fire
splitting seams
on the fading
and hideous ink

guards of the perch
stand on hades hand
while monsters and demons
with severed limbs
taunt the condemned
and wanting
souls of the ******

cauldron fire
in blood red sky
silent screams
hack and wheeze
gas lines broken
words unspoken
teetering backwards
in the dark shadows
of the phantom abyss
Hisham Alshaikh Aug 2018
Brave men fighting
Knights crawling
Strong men dying
Kings crying
Emperors imploring
Kingdoms falling
Empires collapsing
Poets writing
Musicians performing
Paintings begging
Statues Kneeling
For a glimpse of your eyes


--Hisham Alshaikh
Glimpse of Your Eyes. Version 1.
Kristo Frost Mar 2013
Eye
Fire suns out of canons of old and decay in daylight. There might not be blood under your fingernails if you'd refused to laugh. Don't doubt it though, you're being watched. It thinks about your thoughts in thoughtless ways. Dance, pony, humor it. Fail to see the source. Research more. Someone else already answered your stupid questions. Go home. Go broke. Go on as long as you go away. Get a job, you idiot, and make sure it's a good one. If it isn't, fire yourself out of a canon into the Sun. Morphing is addictive. So is heroism. Go, sally gently forth. Froth. Growl low in the gut. Yeah, breathe the fear; die ******* mad about it.
Shofi Ahmed Sep 2018
Ambling in a full-moon night
let alone the Moon
I only asked for a star.
Because I wanted
to be in tune
with the half-lit sky.

But none did
stop by me.
Not even the little firefly.

Oh, from nowhere
from the colour black.
Off its sea of different shades
whips out the night.

The Moon in black
was indeed painting in the dark.
Though every star was
keeping a wide-open eye.
But no one wants to tell where
Before the very blink
of the waxing Moon's eye
where does the night scurry away?
Terry O'Leary Aug 2014
The darkness, now descending, floods the city as it dies
while shadows lurk in legions 'neath the looming Evil Eye.
Its frozen stare envelops all, it penetrates and pries,
denouncing loathed dissenters to the keepers in the sky.

One’s inner thoughts are well descried before they’ve passed one’s lips
and cruelly crushed with grim contempt twixt despots’ fingertips;
but if no taboo-idea’s found, with which to come to grips,
the stymied Eye dispenses pus as fabrication drips.

The Eye peers down upon us now, to conquer and control,
and mark our every movement, whether hiding in a hole
or preening like a purple parrot perched upon a pole.
Our welfare and our happiness? No, certainly not the goal.

While phantoms fade, then reappear within the urban sprawl,
the gloom (adorned with Evil Eyes which pierce the livid pall)
pervades the ache and agony that poets sometimes scrawl
of plenitude to penury, how life endures the fall.

And should the herd dare whisper words of freedom's fragrant bloom
or murmur sighs of worriment at earth's impending doom,
the Evil Eye will squint a bit at those who so presume,
condemning nascent unchained thoughts to wither in the womb.

The Evil Eye bores everywhere, a tattletale to Kings,
who scrutinize their puppet people, strumming on their strings,
extracting secrets of their souls like spiders plucking wings
that flutter with the hangman’s knot as the corpse of freedom swings.

Yes, Princes rule with tungsten fists wherever they may roam
and sip from golden goblets, nectar, sweet as honeycomb
while peons (stripped of mind and soul) stray never far from home,
with faces 'neath the iron boot, ****** deep below the loam.

And peasants pass, parading by to fill the golden urn
with pennies for the afterlife wherefore the faithful yearn,
though screams of babes with empty eyes are never of concern
to those who covet silver coins, eyes cold and taciturn.

To hide the pains of purgatory, far-flung distant shores
(on islands of containment) cache the dingy dungeon doors
and inquisition water-boards that buoy their holy wars,
while sandmen drape our eyes with dust, with rainbow metaphors.

We’ll know the party's over when there's little left to eat
and all the learned scholars, lean, stay silent when they meet -
the Eye, withal, will spawn distrust on matters indiscreet.
The signs are all around us - even sheep no longer bleat.

                        Epilogue
One sightless seer scans the skies and mourns the heretofore.
Nine limbless men descend the stairs to find there is no floor.
Eight tongueless women babble, telling tales of nevermore.
Four earless children drown within the ocean's muted roar.

When hope becomes defiance, ask: Will bedlam soon arrive?
Will doves appear above us all? Or drones to guard the hive
while fed with milk and honey by the Queen and kept alive
to gut the gale below them? Will we let the Eye survive?
Purcy Flaherty Feb 2018
I’ll be sitting on the fence;
until the cows come home,
You can steal my thunder,
and you can break my bones.
Blood is thicker than water
and you’re the apple of my eye,
you may steal my thunder,
but you're a blessing in disguise,
Because honey!
You're just so easy on the eye,
It’s true I’m shallow;
but you're so easy on the eye.
I like the way you walk,
I like the way you talk,
I like the way you move,
I like the way you groove,
I like the way you scream,
I like the way you shout,
I like the way you spit, (Swollow)
I like the way you pout!
Because honey
You're just so easy on the eye,
It's trues you're a monster;
but you're so easy on the eye!
conceited, self image,  narcissistic
Batool Nov 2015
His dark eyes
held
galaxies in them
&
She loved stargazing !!
Notes (optional)
cait-cait Jan 2015
can hearts be heavy like
the bags under my eyes,
or is my
illusion of gratitude
just stronger than
my effort to stay awake
im so tired i hate working and i hate being alone***, and now i have to write more for class ugh ****
幽玄 Jul 2018
Coming by
To what seemed to you
that the other wanted to chat
It was opposite to an expectation
automated is such pessimism
Why not give it a second thought
falling through to such idealism
Either way all that was left
was their own discretion
Piled for me to discard
along with this repulsive ashtray
I feel what you need
that isn’t what was said exactly
Twinge was the sting
seemingly numb to them
Maybe a simple postcard would suffice
Little what words could do right?
What little could words have done to excavate
your attention from the deep water
Your without seeing your day melt away
There is a healer
somewhere
paving way to vulnerability
The hinges welded together
your bureau has no way of breathing
Ancient could these ways be
coily haven risen from your depths
Untouched by an intimate hand
Gone missing from
what is floating
toward your sound
les image has you going there
Don’t leave me behind
I’m without your liberation
Grace me with your discreet thoughts
over and over
Glimmers found in your darkness
See me lie inside your eyes
greatly absorbing
Show me what has not been already given
Shower me sensibly
Give what was given to you
Take me lightly
Don’t dispose me
lower us beyond these
Warm hide
Structure–disheveled— to your liking
stays open for disarrayed stares
A requiem for slightly
held memory
Gone on to mystery
‘nevermore’
washing up from your shores.

leftover.

It is hard to see those swaying around you to the tune of your madness that actually care, right?

Dedicated to: his resounding lilt
With no argument I think most people agree
With the adage stating that, "you are what you eat"
But it's possible there's information not known
Having equal importance or maybe more so

All the nutrients eaten; We intake our food
It will travel through digestive tract once consumed
Same can also be said of our actions and thoughts
They're the building blocks making up all that we are

Brains are not like a rigid or fixed type machine
An old dog and new tricks go together it seems
Our plasticity will let us both change and shift
It makes pathways; New neural links over the rifts

These connections might possibly benefit us
But this same mechanism can also do stuff
With a negative scope, the outlook and belief
We might think we're no good; Our lives filled with much grief

If we're constantly saying things inside our heads
Like self-doubting, self-loathing and feelings of dread
Then our brain will re-wire to fit this outlook
Once ensconced in this spectrum; Not easily shook

The same way that a person engages with time
Like activity, also is true with the mind
A small change in the way that we look at ourselves
The new thoughts and beliefs in our mind start to meld

With the make-up within that each one of us holds
Self-beliefs and self-doubts from our birth till we're old
Like a painter with ink; Our brush never is dry
We are always creating what's in our mind's eye

So don't hinder yourself with a picture that's bleak
Just believe in yourself and go get what you seek
You are capable of so much more than you know
All it takes is belief and in time it will show
Written: November 20, 2018

All rights reserved.
[Anapestic Tetrameter format]
Umi Feb 2018
The sky above me, closed in as the dark, ominous yet fascinating rainclouds have driven near, gathering together in a council.
As it begins to drizzle, soft, warm and little raindrops, fall in
line, gently, carelessly hitting the earth, moistening it in their line.
Once in a while, as the rain gains its strengh, hitting the ground below with more speed and roughlessness in their action,
Rays of the purest light, sent by the sun as it shines above the darkening sky, a sensation for ones optic nerv, a sensation for the eye,
make it through and let this scene shine further more.
Graceful drops, carrried and distorted by the majestic wind,
Create a lovely melody on my window, as they one by one fly into it.
Now as the soil is fertilised, life will surely grow from the sunlight.
Alike the raindrops are carried by the wind, my mind engages with this scene, lets me fall in love with this beautiful earth.
A little rain shall not be the cause of sadness, as it truly is a reminder of the moments of love wich it makes easier to determine.
So I keep my gaze out of the window and enjoy the weather
Until then, the sky clears up and the sun shines again.

~ Umi
sophia Oct 2017
they glow like two glistening moons spun together against the night sky and the stars would admire how bright they are
and would compare them to lost angels finding their way back together.

they would stun me, like starlight and when up against each other, they would fall on me like stardust.

he, my boy, was the vast galaxy and the stars were his ever glowing heart forever gliding with shine, accompanying the two moons, forming smiles like never seen before.
Shofi Ahmed Oct 2018
What's in sight
is a perishing lie.
To see the truth
Save the eye!
Bus Poet Stop May 2015
dedicated to all the better poets here...*


don't know much about a quatrain
don't know how to write a refrain,
surely could not compose a
courtyard elegy
maybe after
and still untilled,
I been buried,
'n checked out
the neighborhood competition...

as for limerick,
that is Dr. Seuss
and Ogden Nash's shtick
with whom, eye,
a believed descendant,
cannot compete...

Oh dear me,  
no ode node-ed within,
as for a pastoral,
kinda hard to feat,
where I live,
a pastoral is grass cracks
surviving under,
breaking through to the other side
of concrete and blacktop rulers

Maybe one of you
will haiku,
send us a senryu,
send off, see ya!

the doc once diagnosed
a severe case of inflamed iambic pentametery,
with antibiotics and a diet of Hamletery,
was cured most satisfactorily

this silly pen-man-sinking-ship
ain't capable of dat,
boy how 'bout
an epitaph
for a graveyard stone,
should be plenty of room...
as it will be plenty short...

all eye see and all eye know
is vignettes that birth in me
walking down the street,
that's my bread and butter,
my soul's delicacies...
and moments that recorded
here, for a posteriored posterity,
as noted in my all my living
testaments,
drinking and spilling the vin,
from the uninvented igniting vignettes
that consecrate and connect our
knowing each other though odds are
we will never meet...we can yet
drink together
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"Don't know much about the French I took.
But I do know that I love you,
And I know that if you love me, too,
What a wonderful world this would be."
eyes eye eye ** ** ** ha ha ha
Lillith May 20
Eye
A man once said
"Eyes are windows to the sole"
as the girl read the paper she said aloud
"........Well then I guess now they know"
am i ee Oct 2015
\ih-SPAHY-uhl\
noun
1. the act of spying.
2. the act of keeping watch; observation.

Quotes

The landlord of the house had not withdrawn his eye from this place of espial for five minutes, and Barney had only just returned from making the communication above related, when Fagin, in the course of his evening's business, came into the bar to inquire after some of his young pupils.
-- Charles Dickens, Oliver Twist, 1838
s
Origin
Espial is related to the word espy, which comes from the German word spähen meaning "to spy." The suffix -al forms nouns from verbs, as in the word refusal.
Rafael Melendez May 2017
As I visualized people in my mind, and wondered,"Who are you?"
I felt a real person within my existence. I felt like a real person even if only for a moment, I felt like one of the others, one of the ones I imagine.
Yet, it's fleeting, it only comes when I feel the deepest sadness, when the rawness of this perception throws me into the ground, gets dirt in my eye.

She is in so much pain, and I can't do a **** thing because I am not real.
Ironically, probably one of the most realistic things I've ever written.
She had a smile
that drove me wild
I smiled and giggled
like a child
a beauty I couldn’t deny
every time she caught my eye
Shofi Ahmed Mar 2018
Nature is feminine by nature
off the man keeps a step away.
Touch it not but do not sway
eye on to this butterfly
que sera, sera on the way!
Kyle Kulseth Dec 2016
Rub these eyes.
What a misspent night.
I cast one die, tumbled through to light
               aimed away from
               where I left you
on a corner, towards a ******.
               ...You know...
Hung my hat
on these stupid hopes,
tried to steer us two on an icy road.
               Slid through stop signs,
               you stopped speaking.
Anyway, I'm flying out tomorrow.

Tired as Hell
switch planes in Minneapolis
On the way from Richmond to Montana
This far North,
     the snow is never far away.
               Last one through
                       the gate
               and still sleeping.


Slug this Fall
down in airport bars.
A snowbound move, but I got disarmed.
               so I aim to
         where I came from
Gift myself with what's familiar
               ...You know...
Out here there's
not a lot of noise.
A few pinned dots between the bullet points.
               Here it gets cold,
               just a few miles
from the real Continental Divide.

Head dipped down,
and shoulder leaned windward.
Take two steps, try calling in the morning.
This far North,
     some flights can get grounded.
               Not much
                between
          here and Seattle.


*Heavy coats
and fortified spirits
keep us warm between our vacations.
This far North
     no Saints to preserve us.
               Not much
                between
          here and Seattle.
Shofi Ahmed Dec 2018
My narrow cave is zero colour
a thousand winds that blow over
only blow away kohls yet to see an eye.

The sunrise beams out in the morning's hush
as do the sun basks in the swift uplifting rush.
Ah, only to miss out again like yesterday,
there was a cave it tried to highlight.

Then lost me in the dark finds a Moon
heavily tilted yet over a shady turf.
Every star eying upon it knows that
tomorrow again this will host the sunrise!
Shofi Ahmed Jun 2018
I am a woman
not a man but
the imagination
of the man in front!

I am his beloved
his love of life.
My smile is peace
of his eyes.

None like me reign
over his heart.
I am what he desires.

What am I not then?
I am not a man
I am a woman!
Sebastian Macias Apr 2017
It starts by accepting it
With a gaze in your eyes
Moves in slowly, a kiss
Starting at the corner of
Your top right lip
You shut your eyes
Another kiss on the
Inside of a cheek, near the nose
Then, moves to your closed eye
When you get goosebumps
The hand slowly slips off
A strap of the shirt
Striking at your neck with
A gentle and wild kiss
Pressing on your back
Then a soft bite at your chin
You open your eyes
Now a fire has begun
The two souls link back
At the center of the eyes
They are shut again
And it begins,
The long, tender, passionate kiss
The soul is now undressed
-Kaitlyn A. Warnken

'I try hard to block myself from sadness but it breaks free and gets to me.
The Bad things are shot at me like bullets and
With Me being the target, the hits make me sink so deep.
Sometimes as to were i don't think i could live to see another day.
While the world keeps revolving, i wish to keep myself from evolving this way.
So No matter what or how hard you say it, we both know things are never going to be okay.'
I DO NOT AUTHORIZE MY WRITINGS, PHOTOGRAPHY, OR ANY OTHER PERSONAL INFORMATION. WILL RESULT IN A NEGATIVE CONSEQUENCE IF TAKING POSSESION OF MY PROPERTY WITHOUT MY PERMISSION. kw --as of Jan. 29th
i see your face in the sky
the blue color comes from your eye
the clear color from your face
i believe your name will pass
every wish to make my world fine
and the worst will be wide
every one sees his lover in clear image
Clara Cipriano May 2017
And I swear
I could feel
his touch
every time
he would
look at me.
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