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The Spider Jan 2016
Our Autumn has arrived, but I don’t predict another spring.
The Autumn leaves are here to stay
but Autumn herself leaves.
Her wake
forever freezes us over, petrifying us to watch the sufferage.
The sufferage of the people around us.
Starvation, damnation, and crimes that are uncontrolable.
The autumn leaves are here to stay
but Autumn herself must leave.
I leave along side her, I am not here to stay
and watch you fall apart.
Your Autumn has arrived, but I really don’t predict another spring.
I wrote this for an english project in 9th grade. We had to use a song and build a poem from it
MuEmpire Nov 2018
I love when my mustache freezes
I hate when my freezes must ache
you love living in Minnesota
or you hate your mistake
Jordan Rowan Jan 2016
The night sounds of fallen angels
Building stairways back to home
And the radio plays softly
Like a crooner left alone
As the night falls into the velvet shades
And beats down the bedroom door
Of all the visions that come to me
It's of one I'm hoping for

The postman closes up the station
And the buses get cleaned with rain
The asylum rests and barely breathes
As the countryside goes insane
Prophets speak of peace
On the dim hue of TV screens
Of all the moments that seem real
I still wait to watch my dreams

Imposed upon the westward wall
Are the silhouettes of weeping oaks
Swaying in the wind that talks
But they only tell me jokes
Swept beneath the silver stars
Sleeping on blanket clouds
Of all the space above me
I feel as if I can't get out

Headlights and passing trains
Sound like time passing by
Gone are the hearts inside
Like the years beyond my eyes
Sounds from the suburb city
Blow like sirens in my mind
Of all the thoughts within me
Only one freezes time
am i ee Jan 2016
blizzard passes
fluffy snow left
deep footprints

sun comes out
melting mountains of snow
night falls

cold descends
ice freezes hard
top lay of snow

now hard
feet don't
fall deep

owing the universe
a mountain of shoveling
shovel in hand

off i go.....
hypotheses Feb 2018
Your arctic blue eyes
Light my heart on fire
Your cold flames of ice
Burn me
Yet I only feel a slight chill
As my heart erupts into electric blue flames

Your frost-bound lips brush against mine
And my frostbitten heart
Melts
But freezes again as they leave
And forms a shell as hard as stone
And as cold as ice

Yet you leave me
Cold and unprotected
The turquoise embers still smoldering
Maybe I should fight ice with ice
But your hypnotizing gaze
Pierces into my soul and ignites it once more

The world bows to my will and power
But do you?
I am invincible from everything
But from your soul of ice
Your cold flames
And your arctic blue eyes
Sally A Bayan Sep 2018
Today......in some places, heavy rains and
gusty winds rule, no way to control them
today, here where i am....sun beams with
fire.........hands keep fanning the hot spell
away, i think of ice...of snow falling from
heaven....touching the skin with coldness
that freezes the sadness in our heads...we
slowly become aware.........silently, gently
it fills spaces...seeming weightless.......yet
it soothes feelings....every drop, a comfort
we ponder more, as it amasses....painting
hills,  mountains, with  immaculate white
all over.....as if choking, but never slaying
cleansing........healing.......even the human
heart and mind, from bad energy......from
stubborn dirt......from being broken.....the
sparkle of white and  the refreshing  cold
bring clarity  to one's darkened  thoughts
a respite....a shedding of old, broken skin
much like new existence..............a rebirth.


Sally

Copyright Rosalia Rosario A. bayan
September 16, 2018
Trying to divert my mind from typhoons and hurricanes.....
Ken Pepiton Oct 2018
Drunk, we staggered home.

Aware of having been
some
other where
a while

That woman, she could answer

any question rebbi axt,
Ohhhhmyyy

she laugh and say, Dude, I got the Intent-net,
in my hand

That's more than a list of numbers, this
accounting idle words going on, on going, as fast as

lightning, at the scale, of, say

cat-ions ifiying an-ions
at random,
seen systematical, from a distance
zoom out
at the scale, of, say
Great Deep Field.

Center you, I'm no matter.

synchro
now

zoom out
Use that steam program
Universe Sandbox,
you gotta see that to imagine this, right,

and next is what you keep saying is unbelievable,
but its not.

Good things come to them
to whom
good makes more sense.

Earth from the moon POV

Confusion flux, spurtual,  caused by the solar flare of all solar flares,
one side

Whooshing the Ice left from Patton's flood
into steam, the stuff, not the app,

which swooshhhesssssssssss smack
into the freezing repurcussions
from the daark side…

The Noah event, that was bad,
This one, the last one, this just previous one,

was spiritual. Magnitudes incomparable
(save in parable and example, exemplar gratis,
says the bodiless being, with a roll of  my wrist and a bow)

At that very time on the side away from the flare,
the daark side of the planet, this one…

a Donald Patton nitrogen snow ball
that nearly breached Roche's limit,

too not nearly enough,
dis -integration
The atmosphere freezes
to the quark level, snap,

the cold
explosive
forward momentum
booms a nitrogen bubble now
minusminusminus
solid nitrogen
melting

any heat locked in flare fired steam,
what was once the water
that washed away the gods and locked their cities
of ivory under the ice

on the sunny side,
where now, then,

a solar flare like legends build empires upon
has passed, fires rage

there were survivors who lived to tell

and old stories never die. Old story tellers do,

Only miners survived, gold digger mostly,
few alchemists who knew the mystery in mercury,
Lost was all knowing but to a very few,
who truth be told had been the owners
well kept servants, ministers of this and that
they perished with all the fires touched

we diggers, we only marvel

How bits of time, exact as ours, can be seen happening
all in bubble of Mercury. Cooked out red rock like these.

"Blood o' the gods of old, swat I'astold."

Messages from the gods, grandma, said, "Mercury calls for gold, gold listens, when fire's hottern fire can be,
unless
the breath of men blow on the coals", we all said that last part and blew out the light. G'night


but a story told a wee bit here a qubit there
here a little, there a little
line upon line,
precept upon precept,

'cept no body knows what I know about cept,

capere, a story starts, a provisioning tale. Wait.

it means grip. like a tool. rock breaks nut.

Paper covers rock, but scissors are so far in the future
that now, my time, my mind wanders after whys

this authoritative telling of the story, in it,
none know the terminal tale.

As in times past, there were survivors who lived to tell

and old stories never die. Old story tellers do,

Tho' here's a clue.
Meek's not bad,
stupid, for no reason, is.

Living long for the sake of a song heard once,
in dream luring me on, promising right now, I'll

know what it's like to see, oh

POV I made this clear some time ago,
time is less predictable than any imagined, before 2018
when, you know…

Even those tales old drunk Hesiod sold
in the Hittite tavern at Delphi,

Chronos thought wrong in those,
he ruled but for the merest gleam o'

Time, then a bubble gen erated by the thought of
opposition to transition,
nothing to something,
pushing /pushing back
stretch/snap/spark
that takes power, pulsing power, throbbing power

push/stretch
glow/snap
you know, imagine, glowing - cheat, think 2018 CG
glow/snap
Planc time,
each time the bubble pushes back
a ripple
imagine a clock, later, if you believe then, you must.

Now, see the bubble of all men have imagined,
since the time when such a bubble was only evil,
continually.

It went viral.
Noah we know for sure, almost, survived, ? Cushites kept records. In Africa.
Akkad kept record, too.
Some Hopi survived somehow and they have a tale.

They say they know the story is ten thousand years old,
I've been to a crossroads
on their journey,
stories
tell of it, still, today.

Holy means marked for good reason.
Marked with clues, not riddles, maps

Sacred means secret means hidden away for use,
not common, every day, quotidian use, right use.

Time, the opposing force, is precious to us all.
In time, we do all we can and die,

in ever, we expand, in no time at all. I imagine.

You fill it. Now, Your expandable mind's time,

time pushes from the outside,
wisdom pushes from the inside,

And so it goes, life goes on and music grows on ya,

Amusing how they do that, teeny muses dancing
shiva on the tip of my tongue,

singings songs in tongues I've never known
if they
are words on tongues
or sounds on tongues,

notes,

Baysian Binary Cross Validation
still ends with some people thinkin'
"it is finished" left them with a ton o'weight,
that's wrong, insist resistance.

Some, heavy duty, leaders of lambs, they claim
power in their mouths, spoken from fixed hearts,

but fixed upon, is truly the song,
said, words are only
little bits of whole sym ulacrum of re-ify-ing

where broken things re-pair, and life goes on…

"fixed, my heart is fixed",
no, your heart is machine of the most magnificent design, perfected,
a time at a time.
Flexing, pacing time itself, faster slower,

try some time
alone
be still, pond still

I know the story broke,
I could not hold it.

In the night, bitter cold
Frozen fragile...

There are pieces scattered every

where, everywhere
there is time, there is at least, a point

a story may stand upon and ask an angel
to dance.
Dance, give it some flare, what do we care?

Nobody's watching, but that fly.
This is read, by me at http://anchor.fm/ken-pepiton
Life is good at my house, thankyou. A reader is needed more than words can tell. My posts are a book now, few stand solidly on their own. Thank you if you spend your time perusing them please tell me where I muddy the flow, or break the story.
kainat rasheed Nov 2017
7 o clock
passing through river indus
look out there
from the windows of bus
golden sun moving on the water
against the cool breeze run
every thing is going out my way
beautiful morning
silent and bare
the breeze is so busy it don't miss a tree
the indus highway is in its own sweet will

every eye was happy
the bell rang ....phone
first once , then twice then thrice
what happened
there is bomb in the university
what type of joke it is ?
its true !
what ?
yes
first my heart freezes
i was trying to hold my soul
there was  a explosion in my heart
i asked myself
who you are?
really muslim ?
with strong faith ?
i was convincing myself yes you are a muslim
i have a deed of creed
my heart was tossed up
in the middle it burned me

are you alright ?
yes i am
that sun and wind become the point of fear
my voice was turning back to me in echos
in the huge traffic
blue buses
were grave for us

tell me who the hell is doing this
who is he to die me today
i curse to him in the worst places of hell

hey friend why are you going inside
stop please
for the sake of GOD lets go back home
no
why
because i came to read !
yes but
but many will cry ?
but then they will be silent !
come on
reject the call of terror
he is heart less man ?
what can he do with our lives !!
come on
tell him
we don't fear from him
he is the soul less hell
                      

and we go
where the death stands

but thing i had seen today
everyone also passed through terror

HE WAS NOTHING
see me i am alive
GOD saved me


lets go on the top of highway today
i had also captured the picture of death  today
it was a irritating ring
which was
repeatedly asking me "who are you "
                                        " what do you do "

today the winds are blowing better then ever
come to read
I seem to prefer the cold
As if to sooth my bruised heart
So it freezes and no longer bleeds
Frozen around and between the parts
Because a cold heart is still whole
Even if it can no longer feel
When the warmth has been lost
Losing its attraction to appeal
Only a fool would fall in love
Having the intention to steal
This fool's gold of a heart away
One that has been shut and sealed
NURUL AMALIA Nov 2018
I'm not Cinderella, who came to the party and met the prince because I didn't have those glass shoes
or being Ariel, exchanging the beautiful tail with feet for a man from another world
Aurora fell asleep long enough, then love came from a prince with a kiss, could it be?
then, should I become Snow White who was poisoned by an apple then fell asleep and the prince came just to be able to see me every day. No
could I have to meet an unlovely and cursed prince like Belle, and love him sincerely?
but I can't like Elsa that freezes the human heart
because I am still need love like Jasmine from Aladdin, but I don't want to be a present
I might have to venture out across the vast ocean to find the lost, yes it's Moana
so I have to be brave and tough like Mulan about anything that will happen in reaching the dreams and love that might not be easy
rom Jan 16
death awaits last of the embers
and the hearth is numbed by sleet
barren by midwinter's breath
leaving only the stubs underneath
the smoke that is reaching out to the clouds
in hopes of Sol's fiery wreath

yet He remains hidden
and the smoke begins to fade
the hearth completely freezes over
while the stubs continue to withstand
cruel Winter's escapade
sara Dec 2018
time freezes.
i’ve been just barely hanging on for so long now
and it’s as if that final strand has finally snapped.
i’m stuck in the split second between everything being okay and everything not.
i know what i have to do.
and so i bring out my friends.
sharp, silver, small
the ones that are there for me when no one else is
and i tell them my pain, my suffering.
they validate me.
they promise me that they’ll make it all stop.
and that’s all i really want anymore.
English Jam Feb 22
Quickly and quietly, running in the snow
Recalling memories of so long ago
The smell of wood and burning embers
That cherished old cabin, I remember
Am I Dreaming?

And when it freezes at night, and the outside seems like ice
The cosy firelight, curling up to your delight
There’s no difference between the dusk and the dawn
But it reminds us the fireplace is still warm
What am I Feeling?

Dreaming- could this be real?
Dreaming- what memories could heal
Dreaming- what do I feel?
Am I Dreaming?
Am I Dreaming?
Dreaming

Think of the haze of the early mornings
The breaking rays of sun as a new day’s dawning
There’s a blurry sensation to the bitter cold
Made to reflect on when you’re drowsy and old
Time is Fleeting

The grey hope of the skies of late afternoons
Life is far away, but coming so soon
There’s a mind numbing, tear-bringing space
That I enter when I think of that place
Is this Believing?

Just for a flash, to see things from my spot
Just to catch a glimpse, a portrait or snapshot
Just fly out the window and burst at the seams
Those fleeting moments
Those forgotten seconds
Those dreams

Are we Dreaming?



Dreaming
Today's my one year Hello Poetry anniversariy, so here's the first (proper) poem I ever wrote, and the one that lead to me discover Hello Poetry.
Ineffable Feb 2
open up
first sip
burning
its relaxing
i look out into
the dark night, it's cold
how did I get to this point again?
no, I don't care, i just take a loooong
sip, sip, sip, i like getting warmer it's
not as lonely. i recently read that drink
ing tea is a cure for loneliness because it
imitates human warmth, even though just
sip, siiip, for temporary time is'nt that just
pathetic? swallow, burn, warmth, rinse
siipp and repeat. cold air freezes, freesses
frees me! the bottle is my best friend and
sihps, now even my best friend is hollow
wat a shaym, sh amme, shame
The Dedpoet Mar 6
A confinement to the street,
I likened it to a bliss of pain.
Not extended like an overrun episode,
But the anxiety is sleepless,
When yesterday approaches,
I wrap myself in the ignorance,
Homeless, timeless,
It grows and defines,
Coarses through my fundamental
Lapses,
A boy becomes an atitude,
I wish i had these experiences in youthful insurgencies.

Its someday in the week,
I lose the raptured schedules,
To hunger is life.
To thirst is life.
The misled winter wraps itself
On my frozen life.
A faint emergence of time
Resumes,
There in the shadows
I once knew a man,
The visions of him asking to feed
My souless self.
Stretched by insistent graces,
In a road of certain contrasts,
Gentle into the street,
I laugh; the revolving doors,
I cry; what or who i never was,
A certain kind of grace to be
Within the containment,
the poor, the  restless,
bleeding my facades,
Shredding the faces I once knew
Destroying my world.

Once I sat upon a throne
Lost in the decimations,
I dont know who I am.

Keep walking.
Telling myself as the night freezes
I will be just fine.
Keep walking
Telling myself in minced
Thoughts as hope flutters against
Nowhere to go.
Keep walking,
The sun rises
And blisters on my feet
Calm the night as the safety
Of day lets me rest.

I will bounce back tomorrow,
And the streets become a ripened spring fruit,
Losing myself
And the art of loss
Is no disaster,
Not unlike losing my keys,
Not unlike losing places,
Not unlike losing names,
Until i reconciled myself
At the fork of the river,
Losing myself is not an art:

The beauty was in finding who I was meant to be.
No pity. I walked my path. I see what it is and i am grateful. To the end. To the beginnings. Life is and i am hapoier than i have ever been.
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