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Shofi Ahmed Oct 2017
A fine mole down
the blue mountain sky
cannot be weighed out!
It's the cosmos's gold dust
the earthy depth triumphs.
Oh earth, our close clay-star
is far ahead of the day at noon.
Ahead of the moon
ahead of the Neptune!

With a million dash of curiosity
every new sunrise paints
upon her black box with the roaring fire.
Yet the ****** is a veiled wonder!

It has the plethora a room for everyone
and time for timeless times.
Guess, with her longhand
what an inside scoop did it pick out?

You too can be in the know
It's the feminine beauty all in all.
You may have by now
seen women million and one.
The earth is eyeing on only one!

Her closest admirer is the star
of the very luminary bunch
with open eyes in the hearts.
Her dead man is waking up
sniffing the daylight by her.
Yet to make the discovery
both are still wondering outside!
Shofi Ahmed Oct 2017
Eyeing on the night - its out.
Mirroring the colour of the Moon
every star flocks in the sky!

Just spare an eye - maybe the
missing sun keeping an eye out!
For it only fancies the billowy
sea in the black night.
nojak Oct 2014
it seeps like sap down the spine
this tar, or fear, or hate of mine
beads opaque and thick and full of sin
i pick and peel
but they get in

i still dream
but blue, it blurs to black
deep seascape of a tormented hand,
i bind, am bound, to the things i pretend i understand
circle of a girl
eyeing squares of man

light is the letting go
hoping you pull, forgetting you won't
each time i forget, i melt and i drip,
a bad trip.

but when i think of teeth
discerning meat from bone
alone,
i float back with loose palms,
a calm.
Shofi Ahmed Oct 2018
Lo, the waxing moon  
eyeing on heaven
ups a notch high.
The higher it goes
pulls the tides more
down on the sea
the crescent moon sways.

It bows down and prays
as it sails towards
the locked away
heaven far, far away.
The sea spilling billow
floats the key
to the tucked away ally way!
Shofi Ahmed May 2017
It’s a coloured and shaded broad daylight.
Bring me my hourglass, my paintbrush.
Keeping a timepiece, how soon my brush
strokes become finer it is not the task.
Try once more, strike a fine chord in time,
ever ticking but doesn't make a sound!  

Let’s read the small prints, the shadow lines
on the pitch of the slit sun shines!
A dark spot in the light, some dotted lines
on a blank paper, however witty you might
describe it, count on the tweeting birds
short and cute, singing in the open air.

Light and dark the two tallies, ins and outs.
The times come and go, flowing fine.
For now, let’s take a look inside.
Tint and shade nor tone them now.
Zoom in and out, just watch them as they are.

This cool sleek shade on the sunny slate
is it a shadow, or some quivering curly hairs
or are these reflections of flocking clouds,
diligent sea eyeing deep down on the ground?
Read the small prints, shadows in the daylight,
before the show is wrapped up.
And down the evening pool, the sun
parts away with the black swan.
Kewayne Wadley Jul 2018
A woman sits on the train.
Watching, waiting for something to happen.
She rushes pass building after building lost in the sights.
The world flying by her window seat.
One track at a time.
Fixed between one common place to another.
She turns her head.
A man reads the paper.
Headline covered by the fold.
Presidential debate.
His hold is tight, side eyeing the woman beside him.
Her round face.
Randomly clicking on her phone.
Bored.
Social media sites.
Candy crush.
He views in full.
The air is cool.
Cool enough to put you to sleep.
She wonders if anyone notices her.
She yawns,
lips printed on the reflection of buildings.
She quickly looks away.
The train passes.
Overhead she sees a plane.
Never has she flown.
To see the sights above.
Would the experience be the same.
Travel size smile.
Hand bag at rest.
The train rushing faster and faster.
The buildings now out of sight.
The plane races on.
She turns her head.
Now she's asleep
Tim Garemore Feb 26
An ecstatic
                    burst of joy caught me
earlier this afternoon

I don't know why it sought me
I didn't know t'was in the room

I'd been eyeing the words you wrought me
When the shot shot through

And with no material force it fought me
then it left
                 after dispelling my gloom.
An edited version of a poem I recently wrote. I also used this version as my sample poem to Hello Poetry.
madyson shaye Oct 2014
if it's the middle of the night and I'm laying in my best friends bed while she sleeps to my right, and I'm kind of reading poetry and kind of pretending  I'm knee deep in traffic lights and 80 miles an hour to nowhere, and the room is dark and her fan creaks every three seconds on cue, and her washing machine is going because I spilled on the white shirt she was going to wear tomorrow, then maybe I can exhale five times fast let things be as simple as they really want to be.
maybe I'll write a letter to your father and tell him he ******* you up and simultaneously made you the best person to walk around in tucson arizona, and he'll probably smirk condescendingly cause I correctly pronoun you and he thinks there's something wrong with you but he'll be pleased that someone is proud of what he created so he'd let it roll off his back while behind every word I'm only wishing you'd roll off my tongue, like you used too. your maroon sheets were the soundtrack to my summer and I mean that because the noises that were made while I was wrapped in those managed to open my eyes and make my heart beat and system overdrive with all of my other senses like when you stand too close to the amp when your guitars plugged in, like there was this mountain I once saw in place of your head and when I saw that I had to climb it I thought hey atleast at the end I'll be sitting on his face, right, get some head outta this whole ordeal am I right, but instead when I got to the top I was sitting on your shoulders like I was your daughter and we were at a parade and you saying "that's some hard stuff, kiddo" was on repeat in my head like kiddo? kiddo? that is definitely not ***** talk and in actuality I'm a good 4 inches taller than you.
here we go, I plan to have a photoshoot at a laundromat and I get my camera's ready and clear a memory card and my best friend gets all ready to be my model and we laugh and she poses and we pretend not to notice when people eye us suspiciously and then we climb some mountains and I turn and you're nowhere to be found and that ***** why would I climb the mountain that IS  you when I can't even find you and I think that might be a metaphor because you're literally nowhere to be found we haven't talked all day but maybe there's no hidden message and this is all just one really bad long run on sentence about mountains and the head that I'm not getting but I totally should be getting and doing laundry because I spill on everything and write in the middle of the night when my best friends asleep and you're short and I'm tall and I love you and you say you love me but really who the **** knows. who the **** knows what you really mean by any of this at all
maybe I'll write a letter to your baby sister and tell her you slept with someone that was a year younger than her and I'll watch you get all red because you're embarrassed and angry when she calls and questions you and you'll say something like "yeah, her...yeah, the one you've met...yeah, she did stay at my house that night, no what the **** I don't know if we had ***, what the **** stop you're making me uncomfortable, I am not going to go to jail" and you'll be eyeing me angrily and when you get off the phone you'll scold me and I'll laugh all the way to the top of your mountain and when I'm at the top I probably still won't get any head. angry ***, that's a thing, I'll write the same letter and send it to your girlfriend and when you yell at me I'll say something sweet and innocent and put my hair in pigtails and lick a lollipop and say nothings even happening here so why are you yelling and then I'll skip away from you and look so cute you'll call me and ask if we can camp on the mountain tonight like we were supposed to the night before I moved but your girlfriend flipped so we got coffee instead and you pressed ignore until no one could ignore it any longer so you answered and I left.
then I came back.
but I dunno, have you even realized that? like, I'm here..... I'm back now....where's your head at? but more importantly, where's mine.
I don't even know what this is
In the lazy
late afternoon light
when everything seems dreamlike
she comes to me.
Smiling coyly she undoes a clasp,
her robe slips off the shoulder.
I watch the fabric water like
flow over her body.
Hanging on her *******;
heavy with the ripeness of youth,
it pauses
then slips over her ***** brown *******...
One bouncing, then the other.
Following her curves,
past the hollow of her navel...
exposing her crowning glory,
her woman's furry triangle
so warm and moist and welcoming.
Like an admiring hand,
the falling cloth
traces the wonderful curve of her ***,
and down her long, smooth legs
to pool languidly at her feet.
She undoes her dark hair
shakes her head and lets it fall.
In all her glory she stands before me
eyeing me hungrily...
No seducer but prey am I.
This is my take on Ovid's Amores 1.5
I dreamt a dream but when the night was young,
And the moonlight sang lullabies,that doves-
Fair-feathered slept to,while boughs at guard hung,
Like a lover stands eyeing her, he loves.

I dreamt a dream that I had discovered,
In the most unexpected of places,
In epiphanic manner uncovered,
The true possessor of divine graces.

There was a chant that I heard in the dream,
That made me, unknowingly, pledge my soul;
Thus, 'To thee,to thee' did I sing and scream,
And woke up,as if released on parole.

(Later.)

Queen Mab,yet again blessed me at hour wee,
And O, did I dream? And what did I see?
Liebestraum means 'Love Dream'.
Inspired by Liebestraum No. 3 in A Flat Major by Liszt.
milkymoon Mar 19
her faced oozed frangelico;
a sweet reminder that she was top shelf.

you striped her skirt to the floor,
eyeing her chastity belt made of condoms.
unbeknownst to her father, you stole the key.

his shotgun alarmed you but not enough to stop.
the laws about minors stumped you but not enough to stop.

unlocking my belt, she prays.
on her knees.
mouth open.

she carefully places the cross that looms over her bed in the bin.
marriage can wait, this can't.
you realize in the morning God wasn't with you.
but the hole in your ****** was.
Columbusphere Nov 2018
Over breakfast, over tea,
I can hear the scramble of electricity
It crackles in the corner ceiling
Giving me an uncomfortable feeling,
Like the house might suddenly BLOW
And they'll be nothing left to show,
Because of this electricity.
Then, when I was eyeing the roof
My dad told me the unsavoury truth
That cackling of electricity
Is no longer such a mystery.
The noise above, is wasps.
The **** things are living there
Even with the lack of air,
They fly about, invisibly
Their wings buzzing, not rhythmically,
So our house is not about to blow
And that at least, is a comfort to know.
a fun little story poem about the wasps that came to stay during the summer. bbbbzzz

© 2018 Columbusphere All rights reserved
Benjamin Le May 6
She smiles at me,
baring twenty teeth and thousand arms,
towering in the grass.

Round her crowds men - spokes of men,
eyeing and climbing for her youth
Young and fearless her children are,
and so is she,
locking her steel-coated arms
tight on her children.

Les they be careful
the sun will shine on their homes
and Spring will take them away -
cajole with his sweet talk,
lead with his loud mouth.
Four by four, the blossomed children
leave their mother, who
doesn't hear a word.

On river banks and narrow creeks,
on closing books and lovers' looks,
on baskets and gardens,

the powdered children will soar and
their mother will be waiting
where they are.
Sueño Oct 2018
Sin
Confide in me
Cry to me
Or just keep dying silently
Quietly, eyeing me
Steal pieces inside of me

I tried to see
Wildly
How you break me
So I tell myself
This is what she wanted
A boy to see romantically
Another to see casually
Im A friend to you,
A man to another
I cannot help
But I have been smothered
Your tight knit heart
I’m all covered
I know it’s a shame
That it won’t fit right
I’d rather have you here tonight
We say we do
we say we don’t
Our lives have changed
Up in smoke.
I Was given the master plan
I just had to dissect it
Jordan Rains Sep 2018
There is no other soul with a heart as pure as mine
I'm getting better with time at lying that I'm fine
I taught myself to cry in the silence with dry eyes
I break into a smile nimbly when my mind cries
And I have wrapped my pang in my ****** heart
Undying pain scampered at me as smarting darts
I start to hibernate and then more pain generates
Trapped in these blackouts, like young Norman Bates
I'm dying to get my soul out of this dormant state
Just a Gatsby in search for the one who reads heart
I keep eyeing at my heart. Asking, will it ever restart?
I repressed all my emotions and lingered to ask
How I'm gonna unmask my heart from this masque?
My soul interrupted and concealed my thoughts
Gave me a shield to protect me when unrest erupts
Self-doubt disrupts me downright, it corrupts my mind
And now when I think about all the battles I've fought
The ones I've won are only a few, quite a few I've lost
Did I learn anything from all the lessons I was taught?
Maybe I did, still, I regret the things that made me weak
Peace of mind is all I seek when they start to critique
These hidebound **** sapiens are all around
Populous solitude make me bound, I'm spellbound
Wandering to heckle in a Hamlet, they come at me
with a mallet when I jot down my rhymes- bright palettes
It doesn't matter to em- whatever I write is ******
I'm roving solitary in the crowd in search of a mantlet
I go around running in circles, makin' my back way around
Echoes of my mind forbid me to put down more words
Though distractional voices divert my mind
Trying to get rid of the soul who impedes my mind
Undying forces assure our writing proficiency
But the nocturnal creature pitilessly disavowed
Incredulous power instantly accepts things which I wrote
And the words spirit away from my heart to Far Far Away
I scribbled a few words for the opposing side too
But still, they tryna repress my words; *******!
Mortals are continuously humming around their "profound"
opinions- it's all noise but when I listen, I hear 'em sound
They are out of their flipping minds but I do care
what they all are sayin', I'm gonna find a way in-
to their crooked minds when they start weighin'
rights and wrongs from every single word I write down
They say my rights drown. Should I take a break now?
Nah! I'll never go down without a fight. You all clowns
Keep your half-crowns back in your freakin' pockets
When I put my pen to paper what happens is
like the explosion on the collision of two rockets
I was empty as a shell until your flair filled me up
You glared out of my heart, you thrilled me up
I push out all rage onto a page & it gave me courage
I'm gonna mock em out, preparing myself to knock em out
Time to lock down this scene, As you all have seen
what I've been through my rhymes, yeah I'm mean
Now gettin' ready for the final knockdown
I've stacked my courage to scoff them around, I mean
Every living soul needs to accept the fact
All human beings are open to criticize
But before you get ready to paralyze, try to visualize
At least try to understand what's goin' around
Everyone is going through some sting of the life
For me, writing it all down is the way of life
duck Jun 10
bright phoebus trails a hand in the brush to feel the flowers catch and snag between slender fingers;
fields of grass wrap themselves over the rounded hills;
violets stretch in the hot sun;
the enormous oak tree behind reaches out and skims the surface of the heavens;
the wasps make nest in its branches, darting out and around the occasional plummeting acorn;
the air ripples with the sweetness of hyacinths;
the cypresses line the horizon, a herd of deer graze in their shadows;
the man [who is not a man] rests against the trunk, sighing, eyeing the budding laurel tree that shivers in the warm breeze;
the Cyrean hives hum pleasantly;
twin calves plod towards the man [who is not a man], and a palm is reached out to caress their young heads;
everything is sweet;
everything is lush;
everything is warm.
a god lives in my happy place
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