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Kevin J Taylor Nov 2016
I dreamed an opened book of prayer
On a table by a window
Pages turning by a window’s ledge at night
There, God in darkness, knowing, seeing
And where a thief had hidden, kneeling
As pages flutter with the curtain in the night

Pages lifting, lifting, turning
While God looking, quiet, waiting
For His thief in contemplation
Of the faith he had not kept
There, in the shadows of the curtain
At the turning, soon the lifting, of the night
.
.
Not all poems survive. I've lost a few and let others go. My current collection of poems is available on Kindle. It is called "3201 e's" (that is approximately how many e's are in the manuscript which is a very unpoetic title but a reflection on the creation of poetry from common things.)
MeanAileen Mar 2017
YOU
YOU hurt me in ways
like no one else before,
cutting me deep-
right down to the core.

YOU beat me up
without lifting a hand,
reminding me exactly
where I stand.

YOU love to **** with me
building my hopes-
making me the ****
of all of your jokes.

YOU shove your money
and life in my face,
finding it funny
that my life's a disgrace.

YOU give me your love
just to rip it away-
an unworthy ****
in the game you play.

YOU think that I'm ****
I'm well aware,
to all the others
I just don't compare.

YOU treat me like I'm
a worthless ****,
barely good enough
for you to ****.

YOU boldly look me
straight in the eyes
and feed me so many
******* lies.

But please don't stop,
I love it this way!
Choking on every
cruel word you say....

For I am too spineless
to ever stand tall,
and I'd rather feel pain
then nothing at all.
I'm a sucker for punishment, I guess....
Alyssa Underwood Jan 2016
Eddie Starr is a man of love
who lives to spread God's grace
consistently lifting fellow poets up
through encouragement's embrace

He thinks of others more than self
and his own dear heart does spend
to share the gospel of Jesus Christ
and to reach out to all as friend
"For we do not preach ourselves, but Jesus Christ as Lord, and ourselves as your servants for Jesus' sake. For God, who said, 'Let light shine out of darkness,' made His light shine in our hearts to give us the light of the knowledge of the glory of God in the face of Christ. But we have this treasure in jars of clay to show that this all-surpassing power is from God and not from us.

"We are hard pressed on every side, but not crushed; perplexed, but not in despair; persecuted, but not abandoned; struck down, but not destroyed. We always carry around in our body the death of Jesus, so that the life of Jesus may also be revealed in our body. For we who are alive are always being given over to death for Jesus' sake, so that His life may be revealed in our mortal body. So then, death is at work in us, but life is at work in you.  It is written: 'I believed; therefore I have spoken.' With that same spirit of faith we also believe and therefore speak, because we know that the One who raised the Lord Jesus from the dead will also raise us with Jesus and present us with you in His presence. All this is for your benefit, so that the grace that is reaching more and more people may cause thanksgiving to overflow to the glory of God.

"Therefore we do not lose heart. Though outwardly we are wasting away, yet inwardly we are being renewed day by day. For our light and momentary troubles are achieving for us an eternal glory that far outweighs them all.  So we fix our eyes not on what is seen, but on what is unseen. For what is seen is temporary, but what is unseen is eternal."  
~ 2 Corinthians 4:5-18
Vicki Kralapp Aug 2012
Swept up in your breeze lifting me to new heights.
Floating on a silken web back to earth, lost in wingless flight.  
Living in the moment, you’ve given me new eyes.
Riding high on a wave of ecstasy, coming alive in you.

Words elude me, running in circles to escape my lips.
Tears run with unfamiliar emotions,
washing away old scars of relationships past.
Souls unite as intertwining vines, becoming one in love.
All poems are copy written and soul property of Vicki Kralapp.
veritas Jul 2018
gods and goddesses stilled mid-flight,
immortalized in a glory fast fading.
distilled sunlight filtering through, unheeded,
as a devastating dawn for redemption awakens.

     dust scattering over marble hands, forever supple,
as angels fall from grace,
wings clipped and torn asunder.

the sigh of a thousand lost souls, searching;
the thunder of a thousand chariots, unbridled.

     a wing outstretched, a bow pulled taught;
drawn, not fired.

frozen heroes lifting voices unheard;
     the calm before a storm, a fight unforeseen,
silver linings beckoning victories
of heaven's epics left unsung.

look up into the clouds and you'll see a history unwritten,
for they speak to you in murals
of smeared colors and pure light.

but hush! sweet child,
off you drift into an insincere sleep,
until these stories buried beneath your lips,
     singed, searing, burning away memories of the battles that
   linger ,over your tongue  ,
are no more than a shadow of a flame.

   and as his lashes flutter closed over blue eyes
   and his heavy golden curls fall on white sheets
   she whispers,
        the renaissance was not painted for you.
look up. and then higher than that.
we go higher than a plane
and further than a car
is it not good enough
to enjoy beauty from afar?

we are the aliens

(we are propelled to take chances
with trajectory toward illumination
lifting off into oblivion
to our new space station)

we build rocket ships
to keep us up to par
is it not good enough
to only wish upon a star?

we are the aliens
patty m Mar 2016
Dropping flower petals into the water
voices merge, lifting in song and prayer,
I wish that I could join them,
instead I whisper my prayer
very quietly, hoping that God
might hear me.

Brief deceptive gleam of sun on water
that catches the eye,
now hollow as dried driftwood, light as foam,
everything conspires against me even the weather;
Tumultuous sky, the squally wind squeals through wires, rattling flags.
The sea is glaucous with strange phosphorescence;
I sit watching rabbit tail grass flicker and bob palely in the wind,
the insects hum and the grass whispers.
Adrift in tides the
sand beneath my feet
spills centuries of debris,
shells, bones, pieces of fossilized matter,
fragments of unimaginable time.
Fire flies often dance here and the crickets sing in
warm grassy hollows

Somehow we co-exist, men exerting surly independence
trying to climb above the wretchedness.  
I take a loving look backwards
at this seaside town, and the boatloads of wood
brought in to fuel our fires.  
Now the rain pummels in endless drops
forming ever bigger puddles,  
flooding dreams gone to seed.  

Perspectives collide,
this is my way of life
even when it becomes bland and unsettling.  
All the icing on the cake has washed away
why cling to ghosts with their warm persuasive kisses
in the poetry of moonlight?  
Now the fire has burned out, leaving me cold
with only the ghosts who slide through end of day.
Left Foot Poet Jun 2014
some times I believe,
not think,
but believe,
that there are indeed little figures in the grass,
brushing my ankles with tickles and laughs

sometimes in mid of velvet black,
can see them waving their six fingered hands
in front of the lights across the bay,
for the twinkles are different, their winkles,
semaphoric, euphoric, random but patterned

every know and every then,
could they be inside me,
inciting riots, sugar sharp pains,
in places where pain has no place purposed,
feel them lifting my-back-of-the-neck hairs,
at scary movies, making an ear itchy, why?

these elusives
are fairie godmothers,
personal angels,
hobgoblins,
shoulder sitters,
amusing muses
ear whisperers,
of new poem titles

sock stealers,
shoelace knoters,
giggling self-amusers,
ever present, ever invisible,
hat hiders, wet spot slider installers

you say you know them too?

cousins perhaps, for my elusives,
could not be here and there,
for they are:

as I write,
as I speak,
this very second
fluttering my eyelids,
those rascals,
to lay me down to sleep,
in cherishing tenderness me to keep
for they know too well,
sleep,
is an elusive of a different kind,
like peace of mind,
but they do their best,
to distract me unto rest
June 2014
Distress shows on my face
like atheism in a priest
yet is welcome in my head
like a baby in its crib.
I'm always where I don't belong
always finding myself singing songs with cicadas
I'm always losing my head
And finding myself stuck, still a slave to time
it's time I find so pressing
not some boy's dejection or rejection of my kind words
(in that sense, I can make 101 comparisons
of myself to a rubber ball, always bouncing back)
no, it's time I'm so scared of
it's time that's constantly breaking my heart
when I fall in love at least 32 times in a day

I fall in love with contentment,
with the sunrays that filter through the leaves
of early autumn trees
with the slight lisp
situated between my favorite singer's lips
I fall in love with the milliseconds when
life seems sublime
when I snake my way out of glass,
when the wind dances on the
ski-***** of my nose,
the moon lifting me up
putting pretty words in my head.
Time will always be sure to come and
rob me of these lovers of mine
and so
naturally,
in their passing I am left hollow,
confused,
longing and heartsick for something that no longer exists
but is still very real
Vicki Kralapp Aug 2012
The dead brown of winter gives rise to yellow cups in lacey dress,
lifting their bowed heads to take in the golden days of spring.
Mornings heralded by melodic songs calling out for spring partners
in trees filled with cascades of color and buds waiting to open.

The snow and blackness has lifted and life has begun once more.
Forgiveness has found a foothold in this crushed heart.
Like a doctor sewing wounds and stopping the drain of lifeblood,
I have found a way to heal and make it back to life once again.
All poems are copy written and soul property of Vicki Kralapp.
Erin Suurkoivu Oct 2016
Be a voice; not an echo*

somebody had written on the wall.

People are in love with echoes,

reverberating off walls of canyons,

in love with the sound

sounding off.

Nothing for me, they decide.

Nothing for the girl, lifting her hand

to caress the branches of trees

hanging overhead.

They want the familiar sounds

of girls

sounding off.
Lazhar Bouazzi Nov 2017
A dark rim hugs an acre of
A zinc ocean - no fish, no birds,
Save a pure body, no soul,
No words, fluttering on a bro-
ken sea, and grimacing
From time to time, from
Wave to wave, in lieu
Of lifting an imploring hand.
©LazharBouazzi (2017)
lifeonLSD Sep 2018
Every once in a while I see you sitting on a branche

The beautiful nightingale in its form

Always singing exquisitly beautiful songs

Why the mind never stops seeking

To which frequency it belongs



With absolute stillness there is able to find

The music that plays, is made to hide

Verses that cannot put into words

What the galaxies describe



With a universal language

If one listens, can unwind

The wool of what is spun

Structured and wired

In the most delicate way

From the beginning to every gentle laced humn



Now fly away again; with all of the harmony lifting notes you sung



My love, for I will follow the thread

As far as there is no more

Untill I can feel the wind move between the feathers

And the beauty of true love sounds embraces my hearts warmth
visits from the nightingale
Butch Decatoria Jun 2018
(The sound of breathing)

I am the air / unseen
a breath
underneath
                  the rush
                  the coffee
                  the traffic
on concrete streets

I am lifting the dirt
                  the grime
                   the dust
polluting us
I am adding wings
to the speed of your feet
to where your dreams may meet

I am the sigh
in your quivering lungs
inside your heart
                  such self defeat
when you concede to its
deceit / disease / cease to breathe
never to notice me
or listen to our song
Time’s
Wind chimes
a summer's relief / a breeze
strides along
cooling your face from the heat

Do not say you blame it all on me

Don't say I'm the purpose
                    the reason
or                  the space between
Wound of flesh, lips compulsive kiss
The mindless lies
Loss of will
between the heart & the eyes
unable and refusing to see
It’s why our love
retreats

Dagger / plunged
the deathblow
a quick hands woes

A heartless man goes
so neat and clean
so discreet
hiding in the bleak
uncaring

so...

I am the air
   you never notice me
touching
           your sorrow
            your skin
yet never being / your glee
invisible
that is how despair begins

I am the air / unseen
waiting for you to care
                        to notice
                         to open eyes, see!

I am the air, here / with you
a friend that is always
there

invisible
waiting to be / seen.

do you notice me?

(The sound of breathing)

A heart is beating.
Lub Dub Lub Dub

Did you notice
The life we misbelieve …
Us
The invisible
Unbecoming
Unloved
Edit repost
ryn Mar 2015
This smile that makes your day...
This undaunted smile that seem to say.
Show me yours too so we both could play,
On a plane where everything is fine...
Everything's okay...

This smile that reaches out to you...
With nothing but invisible arms.
Caresses your eyes and draws you in.
Entices you with the sweetest charms.

Whispers you tales of a brightly lit future;
Where we're trapped in dance with each other...
Supporting...
Leading...
Lifting and,
Seducing one another...

Let the music ring clear,.
Over the thumping of our heartbeats...
Aggressively segmenting, framing the dance into seconds that would elapse.
Like two duelists entranced into committing tender jousts and retreats.

But know that...
This smile screams only lies.
For it is but a routine mask.
So well worn and adequately rehearsed...
You'd never see the need to ask.

Instead you'd just allow yourself be taken,
To a place where the tide gently beats...
Upon the shore our two ailing hearts.
A place where earth and sky would meet.

When in fact,
It hides the turmoil and agitation.
Guarding the storm that brews incessantly.
Continuously threatening
To breach this shared sanctity with me.

A haven would've then be erected.
That very instant we allowed...
This dance of smiles
From time of first contact to the time we bowed.

This smile... Only took a second
To paint a peaceful picture upon my face.
Free from the pressures building behind my pursed lips.
Just take this smile so that in that second,
We could get lost in the promise of a heavenly place...
Lacey Clark May 2016
TODAY'S LETTER IS L

Love
A language, a label,
lifting the landfill left in our lonely lives.
Learning to let loose the luggage of our last lovers.
Lustful love, while lively.. lacks the lusciousness of a loyal and laudable lover.

Liquid love
Fills our lungs with laughter
and leaves one lucid and luminous with life. Light Love.

Loose Lips
Lost in this lingual labyrinth of ludicracy,
Love, quite literally a literary landslide,
leaves my lips loose and lousy, looking for a lamplight.

My heart - as limber as lilac.

Leaving Love
Listen, listen!
a Liberated lifeboat
leads us to a love that is
landlocked and limitless.
Playing around with the letter "L".
jcl Jan 6
there is hope
like a rising sun
on a distance horizon
lighting up the morning sky
pushing the darkness aside
melting the clouds away

the rays warm my face
coaxing a smile
squinting my eyes
i take a breath, savoring being alive

the sky is blueing deeper, clearer
morning haze is lifting, disappearing
life is awakening, stirring, moving
the beauty is overwhelming, awe inspiring

i see anew, with an indigo eye
things i’d sensed but never knew
i feel too deep, intuit too much
beheld as a curse, repressed, suppressed

i burned, screamed, fell into ashes
my soul lay fallow, quiet, healing, waiting
resurrecting from cold dark depths
heart beating, eyes opening, arms reaching

vindication from self doubt
forgive me Cassandra, Cairn, Mother
i weep, openly, proudly, for your grace
it is the 9th and final gift
#552-2019.03.11
indigo flower photos https://flic.kr/s/aHskLRTg2B
Columbusphere Nov 2018
Train rides and trains fare
Hurling over hills and through fields
And we sit together, collectively
Calmly, reading, typing, talking
A train community

And the train jumps with apology
When your legs twitch or meet
Muttering sorry, barely lifting a head
To mark a general unease
At the close space we all paid to use

Seeming so personal to share a seat
With another who finds a song to choose
Over conversation with a stranger
Shared time
We share daydreaming
© 2018 Columbusphere All rights reserved
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