Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
B1uesx Feb 2019
I remember the naivety
It was like swimming in an ocean

The waves prelapsing onto my skin
Freezing cold
But I stayed.

I stayed in the water allowing my to nerves scream
Screaming for warmth.
Yet my body filled with lust told me to stay.
It began to become warmer
So I stayed in longer.
I had hoped it would fill the vulnerable space I had open.

I let it fill me with salty cold water.

The skin on my fingers and toes began to fold.
Whispering upon the folds worriedly
'Enough'.
I resisted
'ENOUGH' the folds screamed.

My legs begin to move towards the oceans shore.
The water droplets trickle down slowly but surely
My face,
My lips,
My body,
Now exposed to what used to be welcoming air.

The air now filled with angry wind, whips my body,
Harshly shouting 'Why, o why?'
'Why have you given your body to the ocean?'
My lips, unable to move shiver against the wind's whips.

'Guide me back' my hair says trembling with mercy, damp of water.

The wind's whips weaken.
'Follow the path',
'Follow the path of rightousness'

The wind forgivingly breathes into my lungs
Gasping, finally giving me the warmth and sweet taste of air
This kind of manipulation truly was the first thing that had completely changed me from the way I perceived love. Was love really worth all that pain?

Not worth to keep giving love when they only want one thing
Ballerina's feet
are calloused
twisted
bruised and ugly from far too much use

My friends and I used to compare the carnage
which we called, forgivingly, feet

I was never much a dancer
Flexible, but ungainly
I could lift my leg over my head and hold it for a minute
keep time to music
but there was something about the rigidness of it that I never quite-

I loved it
sweet passion of a not so distant youth
and my feet were always the most battered
Nat Lipstadt Dec 2013
The solitary reminder,
a sole survivor,
hopeful-placed,
forgivingly encased
in little boxes decorative
hidden in plain sight
throughout our home.

Single and incomplete,
the lonesome leftovers,
openly hid upon bookshelf,
desk corners, fireplace mantels,
storage units of the
I am unlost,
I am unfound,

Raise your hand,
stand up and say
that is me,
that is me.

Minor treasure chests,
of carved wood, seashell real,
acquisitions of trips
to faraway places,
these boxes, they themselves,
visible but unremembered,
just there, no cares,
no one knows,
when or why.

that is me,
is that me?

Space fillers, memory taunts,
grandchildren's playthings, delight,
when they someday come visit,
weather and parents permitting,
finding keys for locks, doors,
from three homes ago.

Can they unlock me too?

Boxes hoard the things
we have lost, but cannot discard,
can't sacrifice, gotta keep,
an admixture of buttons,
dried flowers, faded notes that
once upon a time mattered,
shook someone's world...

Some kept in hope,
others, sequestered, lock-up,
jails that we are both
jailor and jailed,
the joke being on me.

Should we, you and I,
exchange these
cases histories of lost hopes, memories,
it would not be surprising,
if when opened,
the contents identical,
even if you are in Manila,
Leeds, places of need,
and yet,
we would be shocked,
asking,

*that is me,
is that me?
If you like this, and as of yet not read
http://hellopoetry.com/poem/always-fall-in-love-with-a-poet/
take a minute, for it the best of me, perhaps,
the best of you too...
Qweyku May 2014
I have been deeply
French-kissed
by the Sun.

My skin
unmistakably glistening,
reflecting;
the sensual moistness of her tongue.

Scorched by passion
from the very beginning.
A frenzied possession,
so deep,
now genetically smitten.

A torrid affair
by certain perceptions.
Unshakable,
defiantly unbreakable.
To wit questionable,
sometimes unbearable.

But...

I must confess
her kiss riles me,
and with it,
guilt
forgivingly
hails me.

Too,
the jealously of men
contorted,
merely
by
the sheer beauty
in her embrace.

?

I am at a loss, I despair,
I don't understand it.

Driven mad
simply,
by the affection of her face.


**© Qwey.ku
race theory is a myth made of ***** sneaky pipe bombs
filled with the shrapnel of financial ******
past, present and future.
race is a social invention.
I sunbathe all year round
therefore
I am permanently brown.
MR Jul 2015
Most nights I am out cold... But I lie awake and staring into the blackness of the room. Wishing you were here with me, holding me as I nuzzle into your chest inhaling your sweet aroma. I roll over to see the illusion of you coming to kiss my forehead and I come back to reality as your lips never meet my sensitive skin. A tear streams down my cheek and my pillow catches it forgivingly as my blanket tightly hugs against my cold body.
Saša Milivojev Jun 2022
.
And I have died,
in antiquity,
and noone ached for me.
Some rejoiced,
young as I was, as I bled on the cross,
drenched in blood, in agony.

Not a single tear rolled down for me,
when they nailed my bones to yew,
the dzelats were singing sneeringly.
and I was smiling, forgivingly.

In that life so brief,
in that cauldron of hell
in the tarnished jaws
I begged for love with poetry,
fruitlessly.

And as I have perished
to all I have forgiven,
soaring to Third Heaven.

Into the mountains of crimson jade,
Barefoot with the angels I stroll,
It is raining milk and honey
on the squares of the city of gold,
just as it did before.

Here, there is no pain and misery,
resentment and poverty, fear and sin,
by the beautiful streams,
sweet fruits are blossoming,
here, love is always waiting for you
when you come to stay from far, far away.



Saša Milivojev

Translated by Ljubica Yentl Tinska


www.sasamilivojev.com
Copyright © by Saša Milivojev, 2022 - All Rights Reserved
st64 Jul 2013
eternal thanks to the likes of open flowers as these
always a-blossom
rendering life
so worth
living


1.
“But who prays for Satan? Who, in eighteen centuries, has had the common humanity to pray for the one sinner that needed it *most
?”
― Mark Twain

2.
“The trouble is not in dying for a friend, but in finding a friend worth dying for.”
― Mark Twain

3.
“If you don't read the newspaper, you're uninformed. If you read the newspaper, you're mis-informed.”
― Mark Twain


4.
“Courage is resistance to fear, mastery of fear - not absence of fear.”
― Mark Twain


5.
“You believe in a book that has talking animals, wizards, witches, demons, sticks turning into snakes, burning bushes, food falling from the sky, people walking on water, and all sorts of magical, absurd and primitive stories, and you say that we are the ones that need help?”
― Mark Twain


6.
“I've lived through some terrible things in my life, some of which actually happened.”
― Mark Twain


7.
“The best way to cheer yourself is to try to cheer someone else up.”
― Mark Twain


8.
“Kindness is a language which the deaf can hear and the blind can see.”
― Mark Twain

9.
“Everyone is a moon, and has a dark side which he never shows to anybody.”
― Mark Twain


10.
“A banker is a fellow who lends you his umbrella when the sun is shining, but wants it back the minute it begins to rain.”
― Mark Twain


11.
“A clear conscience is the sure sign of a bad memory.”
― Mark Twain



12.
“Anger is an acid that can do more harm to the vessel in which it is stored than to anything on which it is poured.”
― Mark Twain


13.
“There is a charm about the forbidden that makes it unspeakably desirable.”
― Mark Twain


14.
“Life is short, break the rules, forgive quickly, kiss slowly, love truly, laugh uncontrollably, and never regret anything that made you smile. Twenty years from now you will be more disappointed by the things you didn't do than by the ones you did. So throw off the bowlines. Sail away from the safe harbor. Catch the trade winds in your sails. Explore. Dream. Discover.”
― Mark Twain


15.
“Why do you sit there looking like an envelope without any address on it?”
― Mark Twain


16.
“I thoroughly disapprove of duels. If a man should challenge me, I would take him kindly and forgivingly by the hand and lead him to a quiet place and **** him.”
― Mark Twain


17.
“Noise proves nothing. Often a hen who has laid an egg cackles as if she had laid an asteroid.”
― Mark Twain


18.
“The two most important days in your life are the day you are born and the day you find out why.”
― Mark Twain


19.
“He who asks is a fool for five minutes, but he who does not ask remains a fool forever.”
― Mark Twain



20.
“Never allow someone to be your priority while allowing yourself to be their option.”
― Mark Twain






Source:
http://www.goodreads.com/author/quotes/1244.Mark_Twain?page=10




S T, 2 June 2013
Feeling inspired by Mark Twain, of late....oh, the fine thoughts which spilled from him ...wow.

Samuel Langhorne Clemens (November 30, 1835 – April 21, 1910),[1] better known by his pen name Mark Twain, was an American author and humorist. He wrote The Adventures of Tom Sawyer (1876) and its sequel, Adventures of Huckleberry Finn (1885),[2] the latter often called "the Great American Novel." (WikiPedia)

Also listening to 'Scarborough Fair'.
www.youtube.com/watch?v=XEhAXQ5QQzs





Sub-entry:  “faire”

1.
will ye go to the faire with me, dear thing?
walk over the lea and pick wild daisies for yer hair
please, let me whisper sweet honeyed songs in yer mind .

2.
deep-red apple-toffee syrup on yer cotton shirt
oh, I have something splendid to give ye this eve
we share moonlit love under a twinkling canopy.

3.
come with me..

(oh yes :)

I swing my hair in the car quite loudly
and Sing quite un forgivingly.
I parade my scars like tattoos,
do you want to touch them?
They feel quite strange!
Does it matter where I am from?
No I am not deranged!
I am just not ashamed.
Of course I want your attention
but i dont want your pity
I want your love,
and Thats what you can give me.
I'm to cool to hide my truths no matter how ugly
and if you try to tell me to pipe down
Well thats only going to bug me.

— The End —