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L B Jun 2017
I was wrong about the rain
Robins are calling for it
Fragrance of honeysuckle and pine
have joined the ozone--
Priest in swirling raiments
dangling sensor on a chain
waving it in air before the altar

clink   clink   clink

Releasing smoke that bends the mind
before the monstrance of the sun
with storm surrounding
Clouds sift through the rays and rain
Bowing thrice--

clink   clink   clink

He waves it in the air before the altar
releasing smoke
into the high and holy
Inchoate murmurs
follow
incense hands
down
into the nave
As Catholic kids, we were dragged to mass pretty regularly.   Between being terrifically bored, I got my little spirit elevated by all the pageantry of bells, and music, art and statuary,  the Latin litany with its dead language, foreign sound.  I was especially fascinated by worship of the incense-- the atmosphere it created.

The nave is the main rectangular hall for worshipers. Related to the words ship and belly.
Austin Morrison Oct 2017
No.1 I have a fear of heights and I'm okay with that because I fall for you every day which keeps me close enough to the ground that I feel safe.

No.2 The dark. I do not like the inability to see, imagine being trapped in a space with no light, nothing to reach for but just a void of emptiness. You cannot find a place much darker than a blackened, hallowed heart. There are no signs of life, with no trace of light. Yet you still managed to find your way around it, walking aimlessly as if you knew where to go. I was afraid of the darkness within, until you lit a flame inside Of me, trying to send a signal fire to my sanity.

No.3 spiders, nothing poetic I just think they are creepy. Eight legs of hell and they have no need on my life!

No.4 I imagine being on an island stranded alone knowing no-one could find me, while I sit there huddle next to a tree with no reason to move forward. I feel a warm touch press on my shoulder. I open my eyes, everything seems different the white scattered sand is now my bed. waves which held me back from moving forward, now my blanket which seems to feel heavier than a tsunami of depression and deep thoughts. I lay there stuck being buried by the sand and drown by waves. Being held down by my past and worries of my future. two hands lifted all the weight off me, I looked up and there she was, she grabbed me by the...

No.5 my heart is beating faster and faster as I run an endless marathon. My palms get sweaty, it gets harder to breathe as if I was trapped in space with no air tank. I try to push through I will not let myself drop out of this one so early. I have a fear to love, not of love but to love. I want to find it but I'm too afraid of letting myself become vulnerable as if I'm joining a war with no gun just my heart hoping not to get shot down but be accepted with open arms. I have scars and battle wounds from past wars. But for no reason, you lent a hand to patch me up. You showed me not all wars are worth fighting Alone, so we joined hands and walked strong. I am afraid to love, I am not afraid to say I love. I am afraid to say I love anyone who isn't you.
Finished copy
Bryce Nov 2018
You had not joined me
My totem-journey to the wellspring of the Colorado
to seek the source of things uncontained

the stars washed over me with asphyxiation
the breathless gasp of space



--In the deserts;
Rocklands--
the emerald barrel cactus
is watered as the earth
and the passerby
Cheyenne
cut into the crust
to sip the wine-flesh
to be drunk
and exhume the inhibitions of living

Forbidden berries
in the garden of quills, spear thistles
trust upon the air to protect her children

a good, silent mother
does not refuse
the gift of deflowering
as she is stripped
of her sharpness
and laundered
bestowed in salted bison skin of a war-chief's pouch.
Vicki Kralapp Oct 2018
The bush, Down Under, beckons me, and calls me from across the sea,
its sirens sing their distant songs, with winged flutes and sorrowed calls.
I walk the haunting memories, while warm winds whistle through the trees,
and watch the ghosts of gumtrees play, while passing wattles on the way.
This foreign land bewitches me, and to my heart it holds the key;
a land where once my spirit played, from where I have too long delayed.

From secret depths you sang to me, to where I’d always longed to be.
You called me forth, your land ignites, the strength within me to unite,
the unbound lass I’d sought to be, with new-found strength to set me free.
I found, much to my heart’s delight, when first I landed at this site,
the beauty of its majesty, I made its land a part of me.
This mystic place on earth excites, has caught my heart and held it tight.    

At once I knew that foreign shore, as if I been there long before;
with memories reminding me, of golden grasses by the sea,
a voice inside of me implored and told me you’ve been here before!”,
This view within my mind foreseen?  Just déjà vu? I can’t concede.
The scene’ry in my mind before, has opened a mysterious door,
into a land over the sea and made this curious memory.

When darkness flees, the day’s still new, when laughter bids the night adieu,
then bellbirds ring the morning in, their chimes float on the early wind.
The loris and the gold finch too, are both arrayed in rainbow hues.
With gum nuts, leaves, and bark akin, all carpeting the floor therein,
along with ****** bushland too, when all of nature sang anew,
the master painter, here has been, as seen in beauty from within.

As sunbeams from the sky break through, all glistens in the morning dew,
and add their magic touch to all; to paperbarks and banksias,
the bottle brush and wattles too, all readied for the day’s review.
Loud kookaburras’ raucous calls, with cockatoos and pink galahs,
pied currawong and magpie flutes, enchanting all who hear their tunes.
All joined in bushland’s magic call, and with this tune, I was enthralled.

I’ve been across this curious land, and seen more than I may have planned,
from Alice Springs and Uluru, and Darwin north of Kakadu,
the Barrier Reef, just off of Cairns, and Sydney with its city grand.
But the place I keep in view, with cockatoos and kangaroos,
in this immense, and distant land; the bush with all its beauty grand.
‘Tis in my mem’ry, pure and true, and with each breath calls back to you.
All poems are copy written and sole property of Vicki Kralapp.
At the beginning
Was an open sea
Knowing nothing
But its own
Owning every
Beach it met
Not knowing enough to feel alone

After many
Long years it finds
There is much
More for to see
Inlets and outlets
On every shore
A sense of greater freedom to be free

The sea joined
To many rivers
Seeing land
On either side
Freedom then became
Just a memory
The river's end was not in sight

But along the way
An Ocean Watershed
Joining rivers to the sea
It had to sleep
In many river beds
To see what it was meant to be

Down in the river
Flowing headlong
To the sea
Joining the
River's rage
That is where
I long to go
That is where I am meant to be

  
--Daniel Irwin Tucker
An Ocean Watershed is a large basin, such as the Mississippi Basin & the St. Lawrence Great Lakes Basin, where rivers and streams end up in the ocean.
Andrew Jul 2017
We all joined the party as friends
But the moment we were invited
We started being divided
Our agency we lose
To words heard in pews
Or shouted on the news
My once loyal glance
Becomes a soiled trance
As we put pettiness on the pedestal
And yearn to meddle in the petals
Of the roses that were frozen
For the sake of the chosen
By fate
To be the life of the event
But when strife is their intent
I find myself incensed
With problems I invent
My faults won't relent
My incessant repentance
Falls on deaf ears
Contempt it endears
But if we followed those apologies
Discoveries would be made
That'd somehow effect friendships
And their limits would be endless
But this party has a temptress
Wearing shiny things
Like expensive gold rings
We lust for the material
Forgetting the ethereal
Love becomes imperial
As we try to conquer each other
With kisses that feel like punches
And punches that feel like kisses
We want to break out of our solitude attendance
And our validation relies on another's dependence
When the music at the party
Is constant
Creating a craving for company
But the noises of social interaction
Never matched the beauty of the music
As life is weighed down by banality
We look to it's finality
And wonder if the party could've been different
Without the nuisance of the Devil's imprint

Last night I had a dream about you
We were at an event
Kissing passionately
And just as I was about to go down on you
You looked away
And saw other people watching
You pushed me away instinctively
And as you looked down at me
I could see the love of my only friend
Disappear behind an expression between disgust and pity
Right before I witnessed our friendship vanish completely
I woke up
Next to a cell phone
Conveying your invitation to an event
Unaware of the nightmare event I just attended with you
Unaware of all the other slumber parties we've been to
Unaware every moment I spend with you is the event
karin naude Mar 2013
Dear C, you are a good friend of mine
but you will never know how much i despise your skin
your soul is pure and love flows
your skin resembles all i hate about my country
you will never understand the yellow monster
his eyes tell it all
you are not human, no soul
just a peasant born to serve
how dare you breath what about speak
unthinkable that you can think
once you have seen the monster
innocence lost forever
no turning back
an anger that build in the chest
energy build in the muscles for action
action fueled by the pounding anger
action against my oppressors

God safe me from this anger, only you can.

thee oppressed hold on tight as death
to God, now i know why

now i understand mum and dads anger
yes i also joined that group now
question each nice gesture from a goose
'the only good goose is a dead goose'
now i understand
Robert G Page Dec 2011
by
rgpage

her blonde wisps of hair riding the late evening’s breeze,
at the dark water’s edge they casually stroll
snuggled up close under her lover’s arm
as the breakers roar like a thunder’s roll.

a late night stroll on deserted shore
the  dark hour’s flushed with the full moon’s glow,
barely enough light for their silhouette’s form,
as they walk the water’s edge with its wave’s ebb and flow.

on a wool blanket stretched upon the cool evening sand
alone with nature, the couple takes pause
she sits and leans back on his bare muscled chest
lightly stroking his arm with her nail like claws.

light wine and cheese from a basket she packed
‘til nature takes hold and leads them along
with kiss’ on her ear and cheek he snacked
as young hormones pull on urges made strong.

with one finger lifting her tiny stringed strap
a motion foretelling of pleasures to be earned,
his fingers gently gliding it down her arm
exposing a prize for which he did yearn.

warm kiss’ exchanged give personal consent
the ocean’s loud din now muffled and still,
gentle fondling, soft kissing, their secrets are learned.
with their gifts to each other of a lover’s free will.

time pass’ quickly with the couple’s desires,
their two bodies joined in love’s embrace;
united hearts pounding to love’s ultimate dance
  at the water’s edge where the breakers chase….
Sam Jul 2018
We started in one point,
until we flew our way into a straight line.
We hold hands and joined,
like stars in the sky
that just aligned.
But things came to disjoint,
after we realized we're choked when twined.
This must be the endpoint,
of our spiraling world that once shined.
My heart was destroyed,
and left there hanging on a thick brown vine.
But I hope you enjoyed,
the matter of time that you become mine.
So now,
I'll wish on a coin,
and throw it upon a
fountain of signs.
hoping we could go back together even in a square one.




Noises in Mind, Copyright © 2014
Sam N. de la Rosa
All rights reserved.
Breaking up has to conclusions. First, it is the endpoint. Second, it can still be fix.
OV 1d
J2
Late at night
We hide under covers
Our bodies joined as one
Moving to the soundtrack
Of our raging hearts
But this is like a band-aid
To you I don't exist
Until you're itching to take it off
I almost drowned the other day.
Walked out into the ocean
Dodging jellyfish
Jumping waves
Turned around and smiled at my family.
But really
I planned on sinking.
Going under one wave
And not coming back up.
But my dad came out and joined me.
And I died a little more
Knowing it was not going to be today.
Francie Lynch Dec 2017
You've heard this tale
A thousand times,
Take one more spin,
This version's mine.
And this telling tale
Is its first time.
My theme is fitting,
The message sublime,
For the Season of giving,
And gifting one's time.

For my first Christmas
I was three,
But the warmth on that night
Never cooled,
And indeed,
It was
A cold Christmas Eve.

We stuck branches of pine
In a bucket of sand,
That's the snapshot I've got
Of our Christrmas tree then.
Here's the memory that Eve
Of a lad of three,
Yet this story is true,
It's a family heirloom.

We weren't many then,
There was Mammy and Daddy
And six children, soon seven.
Daddy was an Operator
Of cranes and loaders
Dirt packers and graders.
He was working North,
Far North,
Manning a dozer,
Distant from family
Near the Quebec border.
That's where he was
Days before,
When his pant-leg caught fire,
When the diesel was spilled.

We were only three months
In our chosen homeland,
It was 1958,
And fresh from Ireland.

No way to get to him,
Nor him to get home,
No car,  no friends yet,
Little money, no phone.
Yet somebody knew
We were out on our own.

And the snow started falling,
It was Christmas Eve,
I stood at the window,
Saw the snow fill the trees.
I was still and staring,
At what I don't know,
But I remember quite vividly
All that I saw.

Like a scene from a movie
Starring Barry or Bing,
A fire-engine red no-top
Stopped and parked with high beams,
Highlighting the snow,
On that Christmas Eve.

A big man in a red suit
Slid off of the trunk,
Literally carrying a sack,
And calling, **! **!
The family joined me
At the window to see
The big man's helpers
Carry a big Christmas Tree.

When they entered the house
Kevin, Sean, Gerald and I,
Cowered and crouched
Behind the second-hand couch.
We must have resembled
Three monkeys plus me;
I hadn't a clue,
I was dumb-founded and three.

In through the front door
They clattered and sang,
Unloading their boxes
Of food, clothes and toys,
*****, bats and dolls
For two girls and four boys;
And I'm sure there was something
For the coming bundle of joy.

I don't remember their departure,
Or where he went,
But they called Merry Christmas
And left all else unsaid.

Mammy understood
Some good persons had called,
Who'd heard of our plight
And couldn't be calmed
Til they knew for certain
We'd some peace in our storm.

So, that's my first Christmas,
Since then this my creed:
The gift of giving
Isn't under the Tree
.
Emily R Jun 2016
Music makes us lose control
until the beat is like a tsunami
surging through
and replacing the blood
in our veins
with an unquenchable fire
and the world is left behind
the sound fills our head
and our souls
those who listen together
are joined in unison
to rejoice in sync
karin naude Jun 2014
once i eagerly awaited the patter patter of your feet
a smile covered face in anticipation
my eyes rejoice
my heart race
blushing cheeks are lovingly embraced
to souls joined again
how naive i have been
your patter patter brings anxiety for fear of the wrath
the grows and brews under the service
exploding without any clear sign
the volcano erupts
the molting lava desecrates all living in its path
succeeding in annihilating the last of my love and affection
barren wasteland all that is left
my mind understands
my souls questions
my body remembers
my heart cannot believe, a wounded soldier in disbelieve of bleeding wounds and missing limbs
i have been here before with cold and broken hallelujah's
the show goes on there is no curtain call
falling on knees
arms on high
singing my broken hallelujah
Pagan Paul Nov 2018
.
The hypotenuse stretched
as far as the eye could see,
across a vast lateral plain
an horizon mathematically perfect.
And yet …
In the main square of the hypotenuse
the town crier bellowed out tidings.
The Triangle Triumvirate was unstable,
the discovery, nay re-discovery,
of the Mystery, the most horrific of Mysteries,
the Mystery of the missing
Fourth-Side.

Dweeb was a box standard barbarian.
Quick to anger, slow of wit.
Like last night at dinner.
He had Three potatoes, his sister had Four.
He shouted and thumped the table,
his angry voice expunging his ire.
Then his sister had explained,
to calm and reassure him.
Three was more than Four
because it had Five letters in it.
And Five is more than Four.
He thought about his axe,
then about his abacus,
and then he ate his spuds.

The Fourth-Side drifted in spacial isolation.
Of course now it wasn't a Side.
Being attached to nothing, it was just a line,
but it had some tricks.
It could coil and curl itself
to form rude words in joined up writing.
It floated on reminiscing,
about the **** angles it had made
with all its previous adjacent lovers.
The memory caused spasms
and it formed into a rude word
that should never ever be written down.

Teena, Dweeb's sister, vomited.
She had kissed a puppy,
and was being sick in the morning,
was she pregnant?
But, it was never a puppy, always a stork.
He mum had told her, warned her
'never kiss an errant stalk'.
Her mum died of the pox, whatever that is.
Something clicked in her head.
Oh! Stork and stalk!
Well they do sound the same,
especially in a harsh barbarian accent.
But the puppy had sneezed
as she had kissed it goodnight.
She thought about her axe.
And then she threw up again.


Equations to be solved #7
Vlad the Impaler was a Barbarian
+
Vlad the Impaler was a Libra
=
Dracula was a Librarian?



Right Angle was worried.
Duly so.
If the Fourth-Side Mystery was solved
he'd have three other Right Angles to deal with,
instead of a sixty and a thirty.
The Triangle Triumvirate would cease.
An intense Quadrilateral Mexican stand-off
would ruffle his perfect two-seventy external.
He had to divert attention away,
far, far away, from the Fourth-Side.
By Jove he had it! Bingo!
Let them try to solve
the Mystery of
The Back-Side.

Dweeb loved winding up his sister.
So he hid her puppy in a box.
But now he was worried.
Was the puppy still alive?
Or dead? Or both?
This may sound like a ****** stupid question
but where did that last thought come from?
Yes!
Yes what?
Yes, it was a ****** stupid question!

Teena though it very strange.
When she rang the dinner Triangle
the cat sat on the mat,
Salivating!
Curiouser and curiouser.
Conditioned response or learnt behaviour?
Teena dismissed the thought line,
she didn't ask ****** stupid questions.

It had no idea
about its status as a Mystery.
The Fourth-Side has issues.
Complicated issues.
It had somehow conspired
to tie itself in a knot.
And spacial isolation had become crowded.
Missing links everywhere, the sofa of time,
excommunicated integers, 1970's wallpaper,
it all floated about in spacial isolation.
Above all Fourth-Side was intensely agitated.
Couldn't anyone quieten that yapping puppy?




© Pagan Paul (06/11/18)
.
My psychedelic washing machine mind on spin cycle!

https://hellopoetry.com/collection/29495/strange-world/
.
We were teammates
We suited up
We showed up

We weren't stars
But we rolled in the dirt
With the best of them

Our blood ran red
Like the rest of them

Our sweat tasted salty
As the most athletic of them

Wounds and bruises
Ached like the most
Stalwart of them

We were Bulldogs!
We anted up our
Gifts and talents to
Forge a winning season

A flair for humor
Wry observation,
Encouragement, fortitude
And intelligence were as
Valuable as speed,
Agility and strength

We all pined for the
Affection of cheerleaders,
Bandmembers and the
Adoration of fans

We equally joined
In the chorus of
locker room banter
And honored the
Confidence of camaraderie
Such intimacy bares

We endured thankless
Adversity, while wending
through anonymous toil

As brothers
We grudgingly drank
From the vile cup of defeat

And passed the chalice
Of victory among us
To share the savory
Taste of triumph
As champions

The Duke of Wellington
Said “the battle of Waterloo
Was won on the fields of Eton”

I trust my teammates and
Not forgotten friends
Tasted sweet victories of
Happiness and success
As they coursed through
Their prodigious fields of life

And at games end
I hope their heart swelled
With pride to know they were
A beloved and Valiant Bulldog

David Irving Korsh #75
BCSL Champion 1973
Rutherford Bulldogs

Well done Valiant Bulldog

God bless and Godspeed

Music Selection:
Bruce Springsteen
Thunder Road

5/5/18
Puyallup
jbm
the passing of a former teammate
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