Hello Poetry
Submit your work and get some sparkles! Create free account
"kinship" poems
The angels' harps play a sacred tune, while planets dance around the moon; In subtle strains our spirits rise, and leave us grateful and starry-eyed. Recalling life as it once seemed, this vision floated inside a dream; In many days of endless chants, the angels' harps cause us to dance. When voices touch each other's hearts, there's always a sign creating sparks; And with that strong secure emotion, then lives connect with pure devotion. No longer chilled in fears of life, all folks fly far away from strife; The added wealth of kinship stands, as children sing while holding hands.
0
Aug 8, 2019
Aug 8, 2019 at 6:25 PM UTC
Kinship
As dusk sets on this pasture somehow a burger wrapper manages to find its way back home. This sense of vapid euphoria sets in among the cows, as they all gather to greet their brethren... So different in form, yet it's as if the farmer never took him away in the first place. And as I sit at this desk under a parade of fluorescent lights, I can't help but be ushered down the hallways of my mind. Life cycles, yet is a burger any less of a cow? Now I can greet the trashcan with a new found sense of kinship.
0
Aug 27, 2015
Aug 27, 2015 at 3:15 PM UTC
Trash
Blood is thicker than water as youth we were told, But families are divided and their veins run so cold. Funerals seem to be the only time they gather or talk, Hard times are the only time on your door they knock. From birth was taught family values and love implanted, Feeling alone, unappreciated, and so taken for granted. Could it possibly be they are feeling the same as me, A visit, phone call, or text message could be the key. They say I love you and to please call if ever in need, Love from family is what my heart desires indeed. Oh, how I miss my grandma cooking in the kitchen, Always a blessing to gather and see everyone pitch in. We shamefully have not carried on the traditions, Of our loved ones gone before us full of ambitions. Pride was instilled to honor thy father and mother, To stand behind and support your sister and brother. Neighbors and strangers did our family they make part, Love not based on material things but from a true heart. So get off your high horse and get over your ego trip, It is time to pull together and bring back the kinship. Love to you all and may you pick up the phone, Don’t wait, they can not answer once ashes and bone. VLK
0
Aug 15, 2018
Aug 15, 2018 at 9:16 AM UTC
Blood is Thicker Than Water
One cannot stress too much, the necessity of staying in touch when the heart grows of someone fond, laughing and dancing with them to life's song it forgets all passage of time gets attached to them, like two sides of a dime but often times we must part ways often times we are parted for days and we long for the joy of their company again though we think that the bond is retained even if we were not to stay in touch the heart is a fickle creature as such it will quickly find a new object of affection make a new friend, and forget that old relation so if you cherish our friendship very much I ask you my friend, do stay in touch. One day we may be reunited again Till that day let's keep alive the flame of our lovely kinship, and hope to reclaim some day, all our past joy again.
0
Oct 14, 2014
Oct 14, 2014 at 5:48 AM UTC
In touch
Stomped earth with broad feet Fastening fresh saplings into Whole forests Eight feet by eight feet, the grid Through winter month's To early spring Line of tree planters, twenty Sometimes less, sometimes more On Shasta, on Lassen, on Trinity Alps Douglas Firs and Ponderosa Pines In Mendocino, in Eureka Planting baby giants, Redwoods Sequoias in Sequoia National and Klamath Young men with hoe-dads Knew some old ones too Women as well, though few If you could bear the snow, the rain If you could bear back-breaking pain The glory is yours As was once mine Reforestation Go plant your line To be eternally in Mother Nature's good graces And kinship known by campfire
0
Dec 26, 2015
Dec 26, 2015 at 9:56 PM UTC
Cold Feet, Warm Hearth
Gazing past my somber expression etched upon the windows reflection. Silently observing the snow's caress soft, fragile, cold, much like myself.   Kinship is shared, as I gaze out from my window, observing them cascade, caught in a moment of limbo.   I, just an insignificant snowflake, weak, insubstantial, easy to break. Diminished by even the softest touch, transforming, melting, to lamented sludge.   Many will cast eyes upon my silent fall but with a millions others, I am too small. Tranquilizing, a melancholy presence, lethargically dropping in evanescence.    Some may glance and discover elegance  but rarely can they withstand my elements.
0
Nov 20, 2013
Nov 20, 2013 at 1:34 AM UTC
Insignificant Snowflake
let’s go back a hundred-thousand years to these ragged edges torn rains raw greens biting seas to the first sunrise, now understood. tears of calm joy – a return. we find ourselves in this, a kinship; our brother is our keeper, and we its’ guardian, walk the edges and the smooths; our planet, Earth’s children
0
May 1, 2015
May 1, 2015 at 8:08 AM UTC
Bette
the nature of this night spreads its thin harvest upon my table a gruel and water porridge feast with the fanfares of her jaundiced hand many more lined up with eager grin for the warmth of paupers kinship thin blanket wrapped round our shoulders snow gathers at feet she captures the moment on paper the image of all of us gathered like when we were young the grandiose illustration with its brilliant colour fanfare with jugglers and wine swilling laughing men blinded by drink chorus line of female dancers who wear costumes of the hundred years war lead the assault on the last bastions of the ignorance of bliss all descrying that we can ill afford to be sleeping while empires are built in our namesake the so daintily shod soldiers whos feminine wiles misunderstood have taken over the dancehall beneath us and have taken up song the grandiose illustration caught by her pen on sketch pad has leanings to the Marxist revolutions and philosophys of the rhetorical but in the end we join them and drink the port sing the song a thousand years of tales to be told in the eyes of a single girls sweet thoughts epic landscapes filled with noble men and storybook girls the grandiose illustration shows the two of us on the beach with the sun racing down to touch the high towers of miami and fill the laughing joys of thouse who toss and tumble in the breaking waves the nature of this night in one small corner of the illustration a simple window with the shade drawn that says goodnight
0
Feb 6, 2014
Feb 6, 2014 at 1:03 PM UTC
storm warnings
the nature of this night spreads its thin harvest upon my table a gruel and water porridge feast with the fanfares of her jaundiced hand many more lined up with eager grin for the warmth of paupers kinship thin blanket wrapped round our shoulders snow gathers at feet she captures the moment on paper the image of all of us gathered like when we were young the grandiose illustration with its brilliant colour fanfare with jugglers and wine swilling laughing men blinded by drink chorus line of female dancers who wear costumes of the hundred years war lead the assault on the last bastions of the ignorance of bliss all descrying that we can ill afford to be sleeping while empires are built in our namesake the so daintily shod soldiers whos feminine wiles misunderstood have taken over the dancehall beneath us and have taken up song the grandiose illustration caught by her pen on sketch pad has leanings to the Marxist revolutions and philosophys of the rhetorical but in the end we join them and drink the port sing the song a thousand years of tales to be told in the eyes of a single girls sweet thoughts epic landscapes filled with noble men and storybook girls the grandiose illustration shows the two of us on the beach with the sun racing down to touch the high towers of miami and fill the laughing joys of thouse who toss and tumble in the breaking waves the nature of this night in one small corner of the illustration a simple window with the shade drawn that says goodnight
Continue reading...
38
If reached beside the pearly cradled rose therein a rattling joy; o' stillborn child. What uttered mine - unsaid angelic prose, should passing lay my husk and essence wild? Awaiting yonder womb were tepid wings; inflamed with bonding warmth of kinship love, like softly feathered pads and rocking swings then ardent glows, as seen and known above. The wailing babe is music sung and sought, for more a sleepless dusk - had since apart. For eyes which never opened wide were wrought and taken here and strolled in golden cart. Should words in amber fail and infant pine, behold the spectrums soul, the same as mine.
0
Jul 22, 2018
Jul 22, 2018 at 2:50 PM UTC
The Pearly Cradle (Sonnet)
Is Easter All about eggs Or is it about bunnies Or maybe about chocolate It should be about true sacrifice And hardships and determination For brotherhood and kinship for all And, of course, the Lord Jesus  Christ For worshipping, dedicated Christians But really, it is about all kinds of eggs Beautifully colored hard boiled eggs Many solid, milk chocolate eggs Peanut better fudge eggs Even poetic eggs
0
Mar 31, 2013
Mar 31, 2013 at 6:26 PM UTC
Egg Shaped
Charity starts at home don't we say? Be kind to your kith and kin come what may. A family's not only your safe haven Tis pals your very own roots Water these shoots with love devoid of hate So they bear you sweeter fruits. Maybe you'd say that's not so easy but perhaps that's coz you just too busy Or your clock just don't chime for quality family time? For if you can't make time for a letter or a hug Then let my poem give your conscience a gentle tug. And if this may sound like a very preachy homily Deserves much more mention and affection the family If you can make time for so many other things some of them not even worthwhile Try discover the happiness family brings Just a tad modify that routine lifestyle. My words in crystal clear clarity sing compassion is likewise a charity Charity need not be for strangers only Find out who needs help in kindred and family Ties of kinship severe not Value the relations you've got Your siblings, cousins from your family tree and all else that you call family. What supports and buttresses your family tree are your very own roots And what keeps the tree living on are your beloved offshoots Love and regard is quintessential to reaping  sweeter fruits
0
Dec 19, 2018
Dec 19, 2018 at 1:09 PM UTC
Charity starters
Asleep, your touch sparks arousal Brings, sparks, kindling fire Carries, your desire Deeper to the night Embrace, sultry words whisper Fingertips grace, tighten Gifting life, hardening Hands explore, so soft Into and out, dreaming flight Just give to me this sin Kinship in sensual prowess Left not to my devices Mouthing delicate blessings Not silent, your moans Open, spreading for you Pulsating bulb, dripping nectar Quivering thighs, devour Rapturous entry tight Some pleasures indulge Touch me, send me over Undulating, spinning for the edge Vicious nails, like teeth Wanton desire show the night X rated, our bodies only Zebra stripe across my back
0
Sep 16, 2014
Sep 16, 2014 at 12:48 PM UTC
Suspended In Animation
The Story begins with silence and black out, a void. Not darkness. Nor anything that attempts to define nothingness, because it’s nothing. The blackness or void is only a metaphor representing nothing. Within this point, so close to simultaneous you’d think they were one in the same, a light emerges, emanating divine, pure energy and love.  Its intelligence and complexity expands and fills what was once nothing with beauty and truth. At this moment, all is whole, fast as thought, strong beyond comprehension, gentle as a whisper and furious beyond all flame. The wild spirit of happiness is real and alive! The void was never the enemy, only a point in which to be born. Duality can only exist if unification finds an enemy within itself. The enemy is reflected by the segregation and space created between divine and mortal. This space is developed by Ego.    This entity “Ego” is the essence of self resistance, absorption, chaos, consciousness…hate. The inner antagonist rises and begins to cut and eliminate the threads attached to creation and spirit. A mirror that envelopes and contains the living spirit.  An orb caging vulnerable souls spread throughout the expansion of life and suffocating energetic flow.  The universe and it’s creatures that lost connection being virtually incapable of seeing one another ever again while the enemy exists.    The instigation is tolerated by those who always continue the journey. The emasculation of Ego, commences as the divine resonates it’s vibration as a weapon like a solar flare, piercing the Ego. Then the inner spirit begins to open up and claw its way out. The Spirit sees that vanity is leading the despair of self pity into the heart as it remains a vessel dwelling in a false world channeling a false force. This awareness makes The Spirit lifts up, against and out of a matrix constructed within the crystal ball cage that refracts the true sun’s rays. Together, The Spirit and The Divine begin to crush Ego. Ego begins to flatten, compress and then combust. Through the flames the chord of love between The Divine and The Spirit bursts like a shooting star towards the kinship’s re-established nexus. The collision creates what was pure and full in circulation again and the expansion becomes an infinite motion harmonizing with the void in an adventure that goes on forever. When Ego tries to slither back in after a nearly insurmountable time of hiding between the gaps that contains new life, it is given no room by anything in thought, theory, in any form of existence.
0
Nov 8, 2012
Nov 8, 2012 at 7:40 PM UTC
121 (The beginning of something more)
The Story begins with silence and black out, a void. Not darkness. Nor anything that attempts to define nothingness, because it’s nothing. The blackness or void is only a metaphor representing nothing. Within this point, so close to simultaneous you’d think they were one in the same, a light emerges, emanating divine, pure energy and love.  Its intelligence and complexity expands and fills what was once nothing with beauty and truth. At this moment, all is whole, fast as thought, strong beyond comprehension, gentle as a whisper and furious beyond all flame. The wild spirit of happiness is real and alive! The void was never the enemy, only a point in which to be born. Duality can only exist if unification finds an enemy within itself. The enemy is reflected by the segregation and space created between divine and mortal. This space is developed by Ego.    This entity “Ego” is the essence of self resistance, absorption, chaos, consciousness…hate. The inner antagonist rises and begins to cut and eliminate the threads attached to creation and spirit. A mirror that envelopes and contains the living spirit.  An orb caging vulnerable souls spread throughout the expansion of life and suffocating energetic flow.  The universe and it’s creatures that lost connection being virtually incapable of seeing one another ever again while the enemy exists.    The instigation is tolerated by those who always continue the journey. The emasculation of Ego, commences as the divine resonates it’s vibration as a weapon like a solar flare, piercing the Ego. Then the inner spirit begins to open up and claw its way out. The Spirit sees that vanity is leading the despair of self pity into the heart as it remains a vessel dwelling in a false world channeling a false force. This awareness makes The Spirit lifts up, against and out of a matrix constructed within the crystal ball cage that refracts the true sun’s rays. Together, The Spirit and The Divine begin to crush Ego. Ego begins to flatten, compress and then combust. Through the flames the chord of love between The Divine and The Spirit bursts like a shooting star towards the kinship’s re-established nexus. The collision creates what was pure and full in circulation again and the expansion becomes an infinite motion harmonizing with the void in an adventure that goes on forever. When Ego tries to slither back in after a nearly insurmountable time of hiding between the gaps that contains new life, it is given no room by anything in thought, theory, in any form of existence.
Continue reading...
3
In the lie Lie all the beliefs And in the belief Die all the lies From stories of "gods" Who create the thunder To the lies of love and kinship Of societies and their wonder Lied into religion Educated about virtues and vice Lied about a happy future When happiness itself is a lie When you break it down Down to the last Except that matter, everything else dies So if its that we are all made up of, From where did good and evil arise? Where did the tales of myth come from? How did this system surmise? Wasn't it all supposed to make us feel happy? Ah! But they were just plain lies Lies to breed more further lies And yet more to bear the older ones Robbed of all the will in the world Forced to believe the gods in the stars and the suns Yet, the funniest irony about the beliefs Was it a linguist's private joke? An accident? Or just a plain riddle? For does not every 'be-lie-f' we hold Has a 'lie' right in the middle?
0
Jun 17, 2014
Jun 17, 2014 at 11:06 AM UTC
The Lie
“The horror, the horror!” Nothing or everything Not simply something The pain of what? The people? The disease? The world? Imperialism… To what do we owe this horror Mistreat, and mistake Seize and learn Lets all take a lesson from Kurtz We are all people White, black, tan, brown No matter what It doesn’t matter We are a kinship We are all brothers Sisters, Fathers, and Mothers We are all families We are all people The Heart of Darkness
0
May 29, 2011
May 29, 2011 at 7:41 PM UTC
The Heart Of Darkness
*I don't want to be alone anymore I need someone to share with my dreams someone who can see my invisible tears one who'll hold my sweaty palms when am shaken and drowning in volatile oceans of fears Someone to remind me that hard times do not mean by the world am forsaken I need someone who'll hear my silent screams who'll understand my emotions to the core to remind me to stop on the second beer bottle they say the moment's a picture so I need someone in my photo someone to cheer my cause, as I can always lift the load thrown at me by karma, I need someone to listen to help me find every piece to my heart that's missing* **I need a friend beyond the lines of proverbial friendship for now I believe I can manage romantic kinship.** It doesn't have to be a fairy tale, 'long as it's a tale that's fair all I crave is someone who'll try to always be here *You don't need to be perfect or as sleek as the dawn I just want someone too... to call my own.* Am free falling from the sky of desolation and hoping yours are the arms that will catch me because I want you to be in my future, my definition.
0
Jan 5, 2017
Jan 5, 2017 at 4:03 AM UTC
Invisible
You may search for kin in the blood that binds, The haemoglobin of heritage entwined. Or you may wade your way Through the rich and meek To find those of whom you speak, Those so oft' hidden in plain sight. Trust not all that you can see For disguised treachery Can lie in the softest of smiles. Devious plans of mental mockery Executed with cunning and guile. Look instead then to the conquests! Not to those we won outright, But to the ones that fall to unions Under starlight, under night. Perhaps even then we will find With our silent siege of time That the Kinship sails on blind. When the mindful heart Meets the heartless mind.
0
May 11, 2012
May 11, 2012 at 5:24 AM UTC
Kinship
Can you outrun the history Of violence and oppression If you felt every inch of terror That was birthed from the bombs Every bit of anguish and loss If you paid the same wages of war Then maybe you to would see The inhumanity of drones If your stomach growled With a pain so deep And you could not sleep Because of the fears you keep Maybe you would not stand For this poverty If every bullet hole Cut partly into your skin Leaving painful impressions If the nightsticks bludgeoned Your beloved And you watched your oppressors Armor up for in house war Maybe you would abhor Police brutality If the circle of kinship Surrounded more than just this Small social club you claim Then maybe the pain Of others would touch you Something as of late It has failed to do Maybe you could use A little empathy
0
Aug 1, 2015
Aug 1, 2015 at 3:12 PM UTC
Get Some Empathy
Consanguinity: A Commissioned Poem (How Well Do You Know Me?) This request, from wolf spirit aka quinfinn, accidentally hit the spot of what was foremost on my mind. Cosanguinity:  A relationship by descent from a common ancestor; kinship (distinguished from affinity).  A close relationship or connection. Poetry, mine, yours, Ours, Invades my consciousness. We write poems on the same subject, Even the same title, But a few days apart. Insanity, Coincidence, or Consanguinity? Perhaps we are reading each other's stuff Too much. But that's crazy, Or Consanguinity? Yet, And yet, We see the same things So incredibly different. That is the answer. We see the same thing and I am Struck down. A billion sights. A billion words. Yet, the human computer, Sorts, collates, and generates A billion different writes In a similar spirit, Employing the same phraseology. All right. Alright. Malaysia. Minnesota. East Coast. West Coast. Geographical differences. Time differences. No difference. A billion differences. The stylistic differences enable, No, correction, Ennobles us to coexist, Value each other, Learn. Observable differences. But more interesting, More pleasurable, are the incredible, visible, signs of Consanguinity. Mere affinity? Kinship. A poem? Nah. But at 1:11am in my location, It's what's on my mind. Now that I know the meaning of Consanguinity.
0
Nov 4, 2013
Nov 4, 2013 at 1:21 AM UTC
Consanguinity: A Commissioned Poem
- Passing idea Clusters a spark a mundane brainstorm   And as it passes Through the elastic mind I wish to sit At my typewriter To capture the essence Before it’s gone Before the idea vanishes Before storm ceases Mad, Mad mind - Passing idea space exploded within itself atomic fusion instigated The mundane universe And it expands Through the elastic space I wish to sit At my typewriter To capture the essence Before it’s gone Before a black-hole Swallows my universe to create another one Mad, Mad universe - Passing idea Clusters of minds Until civilizations are fused Into mundane cultures And they expand Through the elastic generations I wish to sit At my typewriter To capture the essence Before it’s gone Before civilization zero Is both dead and alive In the schrodinger-like Transition to civilization one Mad, Mad persons - Passing idea Cluster of lonely universes Until the almighty gravity Loses its kingdom To the thought of multiverses And it expands Through the elastic kinship I wish to sit At my typewriter To capture the essence Before it’s gone Before multiverses wonder And discover: They think, therefore they are. Mad, Mad multiverses - I am sitting at my typewriter To capture an idea whilst thoughts are passing through my cerebral cortex Perhaps Someone inside an earth-like neuron in my brain Is sitting at his typewriter With a writer’s block Trying to make sense of the birth of me: His equivalent of the big bang a single atom Giving birth to the energy That shaped his universe - my cerebrum    I am sitting at my typewriter To capture an idea Whilst the milky-way and Andromeda Are to cross through a string of light-like gravitational paths   Perhaps The conscious of the universe Ponders my existence In a form of a passing idea Mad, Mad Alireza.
0
Apr 20, 2014
Apr 20, 2014 at 11:33 PM UTC
Mad, Mad Alireza
- Passing idea Clusters a spark a mundane brainstorm   And as it passes Through the elastic mind I wish to sit At my typewriter To capture the essence Before it’s gone Before the idea vanishes Before storm ceases Mad, Mad mind - Passing idea space exploded within itself atomic fusion instigated The mundane universe And it expands Through the elastic space I wish to sit At my typewriter To capture the essence Before it’s gone Before a black-hole Swallows my universe to create another one Mad, Mad universe - Passing idea Clusters of minds Until civilizations are fused Into mundane cultures And they expand Through the elastic generations I wish to sit At my typewriter To capture the essence Before it’s gone Before civilization zero Is both dead and alive In the schrodinger-like Transition to civilization one Mad, Mad persons - Passing idea Cluster of lonely universes Until the almighty gravity Loses its kingdom To the thought of multiverses And it expands Through the elastic kinship I wish to sit At my typewriter To capture the essence Before it’s gone Before multiverses wonder And discover: They think, therefore they are. Mad, Mad multiverses - I am sitting at my typewriter To capture an idea whilst thoughts are passing through my cerebral cortex Perhaps Someone inside an earth-like neuron in my brain Is sitting at his typewriter With a writer’s block Trying to make sense of the birth of me: His equivalent of the big bang a single atom Giving birth to the energy That shaped his universe - my cerebrum    I am sitting at my typewriter To capture an idea Whilst the milky-way and Andromeda Are to cross through a string of light-like gravitational paths   Perhaps The conscious of the universe Ponders my existence In a form of a passing idea Mad, Mad Alireza.
Continue reading...
87
under the full moon the ceaseless howling of a dog i join in kinship for one so far away (C)2002, Christos Rigakos
0
Apr 6, 2012
Apr 6, 2012 at 7:05 PM UTC
under the full moon
you walk this earth with nothing but pain and yet you blossom so beautifully— a lotus in winter, defying all odds and all of nature. you are more than who you think you are. a king without a throne, a lion without a pride— you can be either without anything else to your name. i am not who birthed me, and i will not apologize for this space i consume. i am not their mistake and i will not mistake kinship for love any longer. i will own myself once and for all.
0
Oct 25, 2023
Oct 25, 2023 at 11:13 PM UTC
birthed and left to die