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ryn Dec 2014
You are the sky
While I'm of dirt and earth
Sharing the universe in separate realms
Conflicting factions, diverse births

I would forever look up
Rest my gaze on the tide of the air
And dream for our eyes to meet
Temporary eternity that we would share

I've cried many a teardrop
But you can never know
Because to you they never could reach
For into my core they'd only flow

But when you stare down sullenly
Your tears would fall, soaking my plane
I'd drink the drops voraciously
Those gifts of love from heaven's rain

Your tears would nurture the seeds I've planted
They'd take root and flourish in the sun
Resolve in my soil held firmly in place
Thinking our journey forth would've then begun

Roots would give birth to stem
Which in turn, would branch out into leaves
Plantling will eventually grow up high
To give back the love, it constantly receives

Such misfortune little sprout
You can only grow so tall
You can never reach that far
You and I can only kiss the drops that fall

So... My beautiful sky of azure
I am but dust on fate's heavy feet
We can only look to the faraway horizon
Only there could heaven and earth truly meet
jane taylor May 2016
all that was not real

etched its way away

deserted

while those whose thirst needs quenched

see crystal pools of blue

my eyes search the horizon

for the desert

a mirage that’s real

©2016janetaylor
Axion Prelude Aug 2018
I seethe within what echoes disdain for all things wanting, because I can't seem to keep what's there to begin with

The desire to purge prior prose and start from scratch beseeches my mind to scrawl what dire nuance calls my name, but I don't look it in the eyes

It's my demon; my voice that resonates deep within; the call of all things mired by fate-less whispers of what's more, or right

But I know, it can't be how I desire. What can be will only come when time sets right the means to seek it out; to reach for whatever may be reaching back at me

I can't move forward unless I know for certain what's there would not bring more desolation. I am a coward, but am I human? I ask myself that every waking moment

I crave nothing more than to be normalized and reverberate with twining string of fate that actually calls my name, not the sour tones of dissonance and disdain as before

I crave reality to be my own, rather than reality to own everything I can not

I seek, eternally.. I find nothing but light that touches the surface, but never does the sun actually rise.

Bring me to my own horizon, bring me fate, bring me peace..

I hope..
Vicki Kralapp Aug 2013
Summer days, so hot and sticky
I can't wait for you to come
and us to steal away together
into the midday sun.
Sitting at a café just passing the time.
Watching the people pass by in the heat
I play with the silverware,
waiting for you.
And so I sit until I see your dark,
handsome face break free from the crowd.
As I wait with a glass of riesling
and phone in my hands.
You've made me wait,
and your eyes like sea green glass
tell me that a storm is brewing
just beyond my reach.
I have been waiting it seems like
an eternity in the same café for you, always for you.
Could I have been so wrong
to love a man beyond my reach?
And with just a kiss on the cheek you are gone.
All poems are copy written and soul property of Vicki Kralapp.
cel Jul 2018
between you and i, lie the seas that pull the tides rising within that are drawn to you; as though you are the moon that glimmers through the night.
zebra Nov 2017
i was looking at an old and tattered black and white photo of my grandfather
a man i never knew and wondered about

his existence
like a horizon of dissolution
his soul enshrined in my own
and like him and all creatures
ultimately i remain defenseless
against realities magnitude

while my father loved me as a child
he grew unkind over the years
and we where set bitterly against one another other
his tyranny and my disobedience

as i gathered strategies craft
by machinery of thought
and festering gall
he, the bully
got bullied back
by me and old age
as we in tandem set fire
to his sadistic golden age of disillusionment

and here we are now the living and the dead
still locked in a grudge
a recurring spirit of revenge
in a valley of tears
before i myself join the ephemeral legions
in a pile of stones and ashed corpses

are we not
a procession of long struggles and short pleasures
a history of terrors and creatureness
stooges bound by the wheel creation
crucified by desire
and the apathy of obliterations aftermath
an archeology of death
ruin upon ruins

has God
sinned against man
or bestowed his grace
mystified
perfect and beautiful
beyond measure
yet to be discovered
in an alternate reality?
When I was little
We never went to the beach,
Or the lake,
Or the river
In fact the very idea that,
Anything was larger than the creek behind my house
Was foreign to me  

I knew it existed,
But I didn’t really…
I’d never seen it

But when I did, I still remember the fear  
Walking up to edge of the cool water
The grit of the sand
The heat of the sun
The smell of fish
The knowledge that the waves could pull me in

Take me away  

But the thing that stays with me the most
Is the feeling
I felt calm
I felt at peace
I never knew that
Never understood it anyway

I could have stood there for hours
Just staring out at the endlessness
Knowing that there was something on the other side of that
Something else that I could see
It made me realize how small I was
It made me realize how big I was

I guess that’s the beginning

I went back,
Searching
For that feeling again
I returned to very spot
Same time of day
Same day of the year
But it wasn’t the same
Something’s was missing

Maybe I just needed a different beach
Maybe I don't need a beach
But I still kept searching
Looking around
Questioning if I’ll ever feel so small again
Someday
Somehow
I’d feel that again
That endlessness
That serenity
That hope

But if that was the only time
I wish I had taken more
Just a few seconds
To really memorize it
To really embrace it
Before I ran off

I hiked up a mountain side
The rough rocks digging into my hands
The leaves providing shade
The nutty, floral scent on the wind
Then there at the top
The sun set below the horizon
And then that feeling arose once again

And I knew it wasn’t endlessness
I felt that day
Rather I was

Complete
On a quiet winter afternoon
Near her balcony,
A lonely maiden sat gazing at the horizon.
Her starry eyes focused at a distant,
Wanting to know what lies beyond.
Under the bright blue sky.

A teen jumps out of his school bus
His face red with a bruise,
He makes his way towards his house.
Exhausted of his unfair life,
He limps as he climbs the stairs.
Under the bright blue sky.

Ten years go by
The two meet in a foreign land,
Bruised, broken and alone.
Their eyes lock in an eternal duel,
In a quiet a lane of a bustling city.
Under the bright blue sky.

Sixty years later
A lady gazes towards the horizon,
Reminiscing her younger times.
As nostalgia plays on the background,
She looks at her husband and smiles.
Under the bright blue sky.









Tanay Sengupta, Copyright © 2019.
All Rights Reserved.
I finally tried to follow the new pattern, as done by many well-known poets of my generation, the pattern of no rhymes. Although, I must say it was not easy for me, you see I am old school and I like poetry with rhyme. So, I repeated one rhyming line throughout the entire poem just for my satisfaction. Sorry for being selfish and I hope you like it.
Carina Sep 2018
Trapped in a cage with golden bars of light
Of ancient habit and direful duties;
Below the water crashed into the bight,
The whispering waves baiting with beauties.

But her shadow lurked around the coast,
Dashing her to the beach like drifting wood.
Preventing her from what she wanted the most
To reach new shores from where she stood.

She wanted to travel and sail the open sea
Beyond the shingle, seaweed and shells
Closer to the horizon where the birds flew free
Or to the arenaceous ground in diving bells.

And coming back to where she started
She found her seaside changed since she has parted.
Or did the widening horizon change her perceiving?
For returning was not the same as never leaving.
Dedicated to all those wandering souls who like to seek new horizons, who love travelling and experiencing the world with all its wonderful facets.
TheMystiqueTrail Sep 2018
Darkness dredges deep into the soul,
tempest gouges out my stillness in manic vengeance,
lightning in fiery wrath
rips up the mind’s horizon.
Thunderous sky roars in scaring rage.
Panicked,
stars have gone hiding
in the pall of gloomy clouds.

My soul too blackens out,
O Shepherd,
where are you this night?
Outside Words Sep 2018
My breath beat shallow at a chest of stone as I looked out
At all of our houses that seemed so small from whence I stood
The sky’s true and radiant blue, I discovered at this altitude
Cloud rings spiraled down, the sun beams reflected off my goggles -
And my arms felt stiff, strapped into wings of enchanted brass
     When all of a sudden a gust swept –
          Me from the tip of my ride with such haste!
          From a cloud boat I dropped and gasped for my life!
          Cyclones of wind paddled my body and blew back my hair…
From a tumble, to falling with such grace,
I soared with a smile over my tiny little city -
And yearned at the horizon in its majesty -
     This moment and its treasures I had stolen for me.
© Outside Words
Red Brush Nov 2018
The horizon calls me home
I walk alone to it, silent.
My feet swollen yet stubborn
Take me true to my home.
Am I a knight of penance, or -
A **** for ill fates to vent?
I'll never know, I know, but still
I walk to that light - my end.
HTR Stevens Feb 5
Not a soul stopped Jim from roam’in
                      the wild wild sea
While the foams o’er him were roll’in
                      and down went he
Into the depth of the water;
                      he cried in vain.
Mermaids crowned him in wonder;
                      he woke not again.

With eyes closed, his lips half smil’in –
                     down down went he
And friends’ calls were not far reach’in
                     into the sea
While dreamt he of gardens pretty –
                     far, far from real
Which were dreamt ne’er by you nor me -;
                     he’s dreaming still.
Lyn-Purcell Sep 2018


-
I lived and loved someone
I suppose I loved the lie
But I officially closed that door
I hear you clearing everything
before storming out
I don't need to open it;
I'll always hold onto the memories
And I'm super glad that I moved on
I won't pretend
I don't need anything toxic
I've locked that door and
threw away the sodding key
A chapter I'm glad that's closed
Now, I can breathe and focus
on me
What's done is done...
-


Another chapter closed...
I'll keep my eye on the horizon.
Be back soon!
Lyn ***
Jamie Riley Aug 2018
The black horizon stares
at me like a fatal wound.
I might now know to
respect the sunrise.
The void will always
brighten eventually.
Andrew Guzaldo c Sep 2018
“Some task of grandeur symbol yet be done,
Not unworthy men that strove for tutelary,
The stars begin to twinkle from boulders afar,
Is that the demise of an allure on the horizon?

What was once a fiery passion of desire?
Procured in the end with passionate love,
Once flaming red fervent orange propensity,
Thunder and the sunshine cloudless all above,

You can find pleasure in the waves of the sea,
If you refuse to let a friendship of love perish,
Then there is still hope that the love will live on,
But will it be of one or of both the past spirits,

Hiatus brink ocean alongside lulls me to sleep,  
If you feel you can reach up and grab the stars,
Each star shall be used as a stone stride,
Climb to meet with the passion afore horizon,
Beauty that once ignited my heart and soul"
By Andrew Guzaldo 09/17/2018 ©
By Andrew Guzaldo 09/17/2018 ©     #Poem#123
Shofi Ahmed Jul 2018
On the very edge the living earth
dared to replicate Queen Fathima
The Queen of Heaven’s footstep.
That way is graced by
thousands of the prophets of God!

In the name of Allah she descends
on the Night of the Ascending.
From the odd night an unnumbered zone
The Night of Measure unlike the rest
it doesn't geometrised is a transcended location.  

The earth steps in the gap making way for her:
The only asymmetric Golden Ratio.
Slips out to the symmetric prophet flock!
Sequenced in symmetric phi she moves on
in the veil, exposes her unique divine closeness
her golden spiral reaches out closer to God!

So pretty she is the paragon work of art
the sunrise amidst the eternal night.
Her beauty in her shadow is burning fire.
She is 'Zahra' pure light the luminary dynamo
the only one woman had no shadow!

The great women flock mirrored the earth.
Treading across  on every atom on that angle
perfectly aligned down the Moon.
Until those beneath the skin atoms
bang, explode on approaching
the vibration beneath Fathima’s foot!

The seven seas billowed up
floating on the clouds.
Choreographed like a little dew.
Hanging low on the rose
just to drip down on that hot spot
like a cool honey drop.

Even the Moon on the horizon
fancies to sip from this drop.
Ah, the lunar punter rowing down.
The sleeping beauty wakes up
eyes on the silver dance.
Eying on every star in the night.
The Moon is floating down
slices of the moonlight pushing the boat.
Full of fireflies rolling over  
to the cup of this pretty little drop.  
Poetry in motion is a sea on the ground
the same is known as the Moon in the sky!
The storylines jump ever more
on that way over the shady grove.
Painting the colour of the winds
the sky rains down on that spot
singing the sweetest title song.  

Never were a woman prophet of God
nor was paradise hidden anymore
to one woman it was the open shore!
The heaven turns upside down
turning for the earth the last stone.

For the rest of the rocks
it was the stepping stone.
As many times more
the earth may try on
it will still be tangent fluid
until the very one woman
The Queen Fathima steps on.

Her presence connects the dots
the nadir and zenith perfectly line up
intersect into one grand perfect circle.
She will close it with the pi once for all
without a gap spilling new decimals.
At last putting it all on the map ‘as above,
so below’, all in all, a pure scientia scenario.

The heaven will open its grand door
where The Queen will stand on.
No more reverse engineering physically
the original, Fathima will step on,
on this last turned stone.
Paradise starts from here on.
From the one great woman
from beneath the mother’s foot!
Aisha Nov 2018
Like a ferris wheel,
It all moved real fast.
With an effort that only time could tell
Making every eye that falls on it, last
But in the end stayed stangnant
In a place where the end was always another start  

Inspite of the mindless pace and run
Inspite of the beads of sweat that fell
It lay in a motion of stillness
With no fruition of the struggle it dealt  

But inspite of all this trouble and toil
There rose an unstoppable spirit
Fueled from the quenched desire of shine
Did it keep the raging fire inside lit
Kmary Jul 2018
It is not the fear of aging that scares you;
it is the fear of never turning back

But my love, you are not a single serving
with a best-used-by date

You are ******* stardust,
a glow that continues to outshine

No amount of change or time
can drown out your inner-light

And my love, there is so much on your horizon,
and oh so much more for you to become
English Jam Sep 2018
The beach smells of tranquillity and salty sea air
The rhythm of the waves gently caresses my skin
The horizon seems elusive, a dream always chased
Yet night foreshadows traumas waiting to be let in

Oh where do I begin?

I love you
I don't wanna be scared of you
I'm waiting in the shoreline
Please don't run away this time


I'm scared of silent reflections, solemn and reclusive
I float futher from myself with each passing day
I have a note addressed to myself taped to a mirror
I'm scared of reading it aloud and being lead astray

And I have to accept that it's okay

"I love you
I don't wanna be scared of you
I'm waiting in the shoreline
Please don't run away this time"


Seashells coated in sand tickle the edge of my ear
The fog carried on the wind sends chills that rattle deep inside
The sun will always be there to break the duskiness
Daunting across the sky and waking up the tide

And the breeze slowly sighed

Please don't run away,
       don't run away from me
Please don't run away,
         don't run away from help
Please don't run away,
             don't run away from the sea
Please don't run away,
                don't run away from yourself


Angel wings take me further than I've ever gone before
His hearing loss is going fast
Speeding past his aching heart
There's no foot on the brake
Just inches of peril
And how he wishes there was a pearl
One, one with life
Not one that now opens to a calamity
As old age creeps
Wrinkles and gray
Are part of the bay
As the sun weeps on the horizon
But his ears
And maybe his mind
Are a different story
He sees an impending sunset
Where the bay meets the sand
Where the pearls bask in the sun
There's still a splash
A tongue roars somewhere
He guesses
He sees the crescendo
A beauty, blues merging with white
Ripples and small waves everywhere
Seabirds might be squalling in the sky
He hears nothing
He feels a tap on his shoulder
His imagination
It's the whisper of the wind
For a moment he's at lost
Perils
The ones in the bay
The purples, whites, and golds mutating, too

Logan Robertson

2/15/2019
For this old friend, there were setbacks. Life marches on. It was sad watching dad, then mom.
Gabriel Bonney Aug 2018
But the many words
I want to say to you
will hide within the
recesses of my mouth
like the fiery sun kneels
beneath the vast horizon.

But maybe in the pale light
of the midnight moon,
my words will be whispered
gently as you sleep,
and you will dream of me
and the words I wish to say.
vemod | Swedish | (n.) a tender sadness or pensive melancholy; the calm feeling that something emotionally significant is over and never will be back
Ashley Chapman Jul 2018
Pressesd tenderly,
your carnal flower opens,
its butterfly released,
hovers like a hummingbird
drinking from the bill.

Oh, I too would steal you away
and cage you happily,
to get under your black-fringed skirt; 
to see that pretty dress,
fly off once more,
and see you bare;
burned now forever in my banks,
a first sight,
of dark curls!

As I think of it,
my desire stirs,
but of us
I have already masturbated twice:
jammed,
hips pinned,
sliding over our wet perspiring bellies,
in our jungle heat:
'cause in the firmament of our embrace
- it's hot -
where glued we **** into each other,
stoking flames,
until sleep,
when we disappear from each other.
My mind crowds,
with niggling neurotic inanities;
yours with manic dreams where bed-wetting criminals in cages beg to be freed,
before better spaces overtake.

When I awake,
I am lying next to you,  
Gwen over the horizon of your fertile valley,
a mountain,
white and reposed.
You,
murmuring desire for me.
****!
I can't wait to answer.

It is late,
late morning,
and we are all half asleep.
You have your back to me,
as we lie,
rubbing feet,
stroking hands,
(the oiled bulb at the end of a finger),
your fine shoulders,
(that delicate but persistent bone in your wrist that stretches with pointed elegance);
as quietly inside,  
(warmly enveloped),
my couched *****,  
rocks us:
each diffusing into the other
like the early morning brew.

**** and love,
closing-in,
which for a good while on edge had been:
the weeks,
days,
hours;
faint promises from afar;
sometimes a little closer,
our shadows in daylight cross,
as one over the other storms;
and once (or twice),
a sleeve brushes,
even better,
hair crackles,
as a speaking lip touches lobe,  
and for a moment,
taking in the other's scent,
a hint sublimely overpowers.

And these,
dearest of fancies,
are just some,
with which to ******* your mind,
as you have mine:
the energy of my yielding tenderness,
inviting you to complete me,
as I spread for you with desire.

Much later,
those daring looks you have,
the way you walk our stage:
your beautiful bone china face,
those quick-fire arousing eyes,
your sultry self-assuredness,
your pre-possessing self.

I could talk about your couple,
of generosity,
reaching up,
beyond mere comprehension:
of the fact that I like Gwen
(his love gift for you, me);
but actually,
in truth,
I prefer to take this moment to make love to you;
to say how wrapped I am,
folded in your limbs,
in our mingling sweat;
how with your joy,
you touch my desires,
into yours,
so they flow,
run rather:
honeysuckle from your blessed nymphae.

You love my smell,
you say,
and I dream of gathering you in pheromones,
of drugging you,
of intoxicating you,
so once again you will find me,
take me,
have me.
Entice you once more like a creature from its shell:
Come!
where I can ravish you,
all of you,
lay ***** to me,
flesh,
sinews,
everything,
your very bones;
those fine elbows,
those knees I would like to ******* over;
wash their smooth surfaces in my come:
from these cliff heights,
rain ***** on the rocks below.

To once more cast aside your socks and get at your toes,
to pour oil on 'em,
to rub and squeeze' em,
while in the moist cavern of your insides,
we ****,
half washed over by our own tide.
And as we do,
I quail,
speaking sweet nothings of appreciation;
from full lips,
your sounds return,
the hypnotic rhythm of your breath:
I engorge and in our labyrinth,
- the maiden and the bull -
we consume ourselves.

There,
Sweet Lentiform,
you did it,
you got me rolling in flesh,
******* after your intimate parts,
wanting you in bed as I know you must have me:
pulling me on you,
kissing and biting;
my arousal in your palm,
pops,
as you run a curved finger over my nethers.

Lying,
lying,
side-by-side,
lying prone,
lying ******,
never unconsumed,
because,
please,
please us,
with more;
so rarely,
unfucked even for a pause,
nothing doing more than sleeping and carousing;
our sustenance barely enough to keep us at it,
an occasional comic thrown in.
Oh,
God,
throw the ******* comic at me,
will you?
Beat my ******* flesh with it if you like.
Anything to see you standing in all your pearly ***** glory!

And if you can,
keep texting me,
so I can hang on your every word like a ******* puppy!
Beautiful
long-haired,
skin tight,
upright,
wise,
gorgeously wild,
woman ...
Now pull me by my **** into your **** -
where I love it best.
ryn Mar 2015
Hues of violet
As the azure meets the reddened sun
Sparse deflated clouds
Floated quiet as into each other, the colours run

Lavender streaks
Trail far into the horizon
Tracking the sunset
As the hour struck seven

Purple gladioluses
Bowed to the evening sea breeze
As if mourning the departure
Of the day's warmth with silent pleas

The orb finally sank
Beyond my sight could reach
Disappeared from here
But rising over someone else's beach

Last dregs of light
Slowly swallowed, giving birth to indigo
This night would last long
Before the first rays of tomorrow...
beth stclair Nov 2018
the clouds storm and stir the horizon
and swoon like a sorrowful bird,

the sun sinks the same way once risen
and deafening the fires of his word,


a lover waits hopeless and dreary,
and hopeless and dreary departs

for love not returned leaves her weary
and breathful her heart.


a vision as clear as the ages,
that reach to the soul or the heart

the storm of the clouds broken cages
long gone those soft clouds that depart


and the sea strides to shore like a viking,
and rages eternal like cloud,

for the storm now is spent and surrenders,
that once stood so proud.


the sea she will wrap me in flowers
and drown me in ivies and wine,

as the sharp winter wind blows wild showers,
that bury the aches of the pines,


and the sea i found tender with rapture
blew me back where the ages relent,

and the sea gave me back all its flowers,
for the love never meant.


desire is no pastry or pudding,
it is death, it is life, it is naught,

in its rages it cries like a blossom
that bursts from the bough and is caught,


no lover could rule or control me,
but they begged and they begged
for my love,

and the love that i gave soon destroyed me,
a lion to the dove.


yet the sea dries my eyes from my weeping,
rejuvinates like vinaigrette,

and love never once won or departing
soon buries its soul in regret,


and the sea sings like a stereotyped lover,
too broody to throw out a rose

and the rose would be tearful my lover,
seas sea e'en froze.


for the sea is a viking of passion,
strange ghost of the wind and the wave,

and knows nothing of love or compassion,
but will leave you with the dark that can't save,


i see her in the **** frost, her blossom,
the waves that still billow like sails

the foam the blue foam near the flotsam,
her song a soft silvery scale.
Dawn Nov 2018
The horizon is laid out like a flat dead line.
An end with no push or pull.
I don't remember when it used to be this way. Decided.
It seemed as if the land could stretch the volume of the sphere it claims to be, like the soft sheet of a bed.
Now, all that can be seen by the ***** eye is the invisible aggressive gate, weighing its prisoners trapped.
The key thrown in space.
How could I attempt to find this key? The action will only be useless.
I will only swim through blurry haze , never finding the solid ground I once knew. Decided.
The more I fill with unbearable ending, the further the lifeless horizon appears; every last bit of hope disintegrating into star dust.
One day the gate will unlock and reveal how far the horizon can go.
Dancing fields that fold into mountains. Inspiring sights and dreams glazing your finger tips.
But I will stay in my dead end. the horizon will stay decided. my worth will always be questioned.
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