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Their love was never possibe
It could not be allowed to be
So deceptively decant
The way the beach consumes the sea

Amidst the fields of flowers
Where no one would ever see
He stripped her heart bare
She begged him willingly

Exchanging dangerous glances
It made her heart to race
He consumed her every thought
They made it do in haste

But their days began to narrow
The path became unsure
Deceit flared out of it's nostrils
For their lust there was no cure

The parting was barely visible
She went about her way
He chose the other path
That led down to the cay

She sails on luxury ships
He sits in a crabber's shack
They both look over their shoulders
Always looking back

For their love was never possible
Erik McKee Oct 2018
Falling softly like a juniper leaf upon the dry-hardened soil
as the morning dew does tease me with its sighing breath.
Your softness pressing into my arms, kneaded by the sun,
My heart comforted by the warm glow of your smile.  

''''''''''''''''''''''''''

The clouds dashed to hell again, the cold of winter blows
and your warmth has spilled over and dried on the pavement.
Staring down at the puddle forming, freezing to ice,
for I forgot to save some of your love for the cold.  

But such is the fate of a man who knew no scarcity,
who spent the frigid months hidden in the folds of you,
and who was then dashed to the hounds,
left alone to face this summer's end.
lapsed into your own silence
you're running and hiding
hence to the highs and lows
keep working and praying

no cages for your capability
if you just hear your possibility
you can do every impossibility




Muhammed Emin KUŞASLAN
You can check out my other poetries from this link.
https://muhammedeminkusaslan.blogspot.com/

My instagram: @eminkusaslan

Have a good day/night !   - E
M Salinger Jul 2018
Be kind to yourself,
as you are with others

You have these
grand expectations
of yourself
and at times,
those around you

It's good to have goals
and a hunger for
betterment,
but you must also be
vigilant
to keep them realistic

Because, while you are indeed
fierce & strong-willed,
you are also soft
& at times
fragile

You are human.

But that doesn't mean
you are without
superpowers

Your sensitivity is your greatest gift,
but without care,
can also be your greatest
downfall

You must learn to master your craft.

This means to be
patient with yourself
as you would with others,
to show compassion
as you would with others,
to show love,
grace,
& humility,
to yourself

This in practice,
is to truly understand,
& epitomise,
that self-care
is not
selfish

That it is okay to say no,
or to ask for help,
or to be truly
vulnerable

To embrace the lows,
for making the highs even
sweeter

To acknowledge
that fear is
the root cause
of bitterness
& resentment

To let the good wash
over you
the same as
the bad,
& embrace the micro changes,
as the meta
stays the same

To believe you are worthy,
of a great love,
the same as you believe
another's
worthy of
yours

To embody the idiom
that one can
only
truly love another,
after
they learn to love
themself,
& thus allow yourself
the hard-earned
victory
of grounded, stable
understanding

To know the difference between
support
& advice,
love
& lust,
friendships
& partnerships

To have
faith
that you will find your way,
because you will;
because you live your life
with generosity
& authenticity

This is my vision for you,
that you will
make this your reality.
Dev Aug 2018
Wet nose, four paws, and a wagging tail
follow right beside me on an uncharted trail.
We're exploring, but just what for?
National treasure or maybe folklore?
He doesn't know and neither do I.
On a day like this we don't need to ask why.
I stop for a break and he looks right at me.
"C'mon Dev. Let's make it snappy."
I can't disappoint those big brown eyes.
He never complains, frowns, or tells lies.
His only intention is to insure I'm happy.
So I stand back up and give him a patting.
We march on in search of who knows.
Through the highest highs and the lowest lows,
There is always an adventure just around the bend.
He's not only a puppy - he's my hairy best friend.
Nat Lipstadt Feb 2015
this is a very important poem to me,
about me, and how Obama slurred my people. and never apologized

<•>

there are mornings when I wake up
in my nativity,
in my born/bred,
these struggling to be happy,
United States,
strangely hebrew-speaking,
Jamaican coffee
morning-thinking,
tallying up
what I am,
who I am,
commanded to be,
on this Earth

the labels that the
outward-looking apply,
the tags,
that you have caused
yourself to be defined,
been staked
to your claim,
in infamy and in fame,
that you have
by action and indeed,

have allow
to be presented
as entries on your
global entry passport,
with visas from the
lows and highs,
places where
your have sinned and saved,
all the acts accumulated,
and those,
in pain,
you have been a witness to

word titles that
tinge and suffuse,
summation of my presentation,
sampler of words
like
father, poet,
American,
even,
a for-real
community organizer,
and of course,
bien sûr,
a
Jew

the quality of all these life's papers,
which I grade myself,
I,
the harshest marker
of all

once a young man,
safely away in college,
under the fresh-air freedom of the
university's in loco parentis,
in the early years
spent quantifying oneself

nearly fifty years ago,
now he,
revealed and recalled
when
his college typed-letter,
lately uncovered amidst his,
recently passed mother's papers

"Don't know what kind of
Jew
I will be, but be assured,
that I will be a
Jew
all my life"

so here I am doing my post-sabbath,
top of the week,
right it down,
qualifying myself,
coffee enraged engaged,
a new Sunday tally

taking all my terms,
reordering,
re-prior-itizing,
what was prior, first,
is no longer

decades decay,
events sway,
simple words change me, stain me

nearing on five decades later,
when this
son of speakers,
son of humanists and 
son of
 writers,
son of proud
Jews
rewrites his list

today I write/substitute,
a new order,
a tag gladly taken,
a marker given,
some what in pride,
some in shame too,
first and foremost,
à la manière d'Lincoln
I am
of, by and for

"a bunch of folks in a deli"

proud member of them
that so identify,
for they are among those
that shall not perish from the Earth

those
happenstance-not,
bunch of folks in a deli,
I claim as
mine own,
as they would
have claimed me

no subtly professed,
a diminishment intended,
and now
an honorific taken,
Medal of Honor provoked and embraced,
proudly inscribed,
visible on my forehead,
in the black ink of mourning,
a Presidential Cain Citation,
a tattoo of letters,
not numbers,
now moves up to
head of the list,
I am
now and forever,
a member of that corps
(appreciate that double entendre)
I am
Je suis
JE JUIF

*"a bunch of folks in a deli"
Just google that phrase

Obama’s slur
Paul Hansford Aug 2018
When we first stood, those fifty years ago,
outside the church together, man and wife,
we had no way of knowing if our life
was bound for sun and smiles or tears and snow.
In the event, we had our share of each.
When children came, as we continued longer,
the highs and lows made our love all the stronger,
and happiness was never out of reach.
Together, then, we've weathered many a storm,
and having lasted now for half a century
I think we're justified to call it victory
to know our love continues just as warm.
(Although age may reduce youth's fiery passion,
a long, slow smoulder's never out of fashion.)
Thanks to all who've commented/loved this. I guess I'd better update it next year, as it's going to be the Diamond Wedding!
Pooja Basnett Aug 2018
Its been a long winding road,
I have traveled with my eyes closed,
It feels like t'was yesterday,
I feared the highs and the lows.

I was blind but now I see,
This was just some song,
until you came along.

I was naive, I trusted you,
Maybe it was all I ever knew.
Lies don't hurt,
its your truth that tears it all apart.

I once read about the sheep in wolf's clothing,
After all that you have put me through,
I can't help but think,
why is the wolf still breathing?

The day will come when I will walk away,
I will have all the love that I have earned along the way,

You will try to fill the void
Oh! you will try in vain,
May the Lord show you mercy,
When the absolute darkness sets in.
Aiden Phelps Feb 2017
The world around me is revolving slowly
While the people surrounding move faster & faster
As I am caught in between the fibers of time

Why am I here?
Do I even belong?

My only therapy is the songs I hear in my head
My only medication is the drugs that make me wish I were dead

I'm just a shell of my former self.
I'm not what I used to be.

It seems there's no resolution,
only an empty cell waiting for me in this institution.

Dear diary, please help me now.

There's only so much abuse I can inflict upon myself.

The cuts on my wrist, the empty bottle of pills
The lacerations on my fist, shaking from the anger still.

I've got my fix, each line getting me higher
The only answer getting clearer, as my lows keep climbing to the ladder.

My sanity escaping.
Depression creeping
As the ghost of death takes over me.

Oh diary, it seems it's goodbye to you and I.
It seems no matter what I do, the world isn't going to accept me.

I'll never belong.

I'll always be different.

Goodbye and goodnight.

I'll see you on the other side.

----------------------------

Dear diary, I'm an addict.

Yesterday was proof of concept.

Tomorrow is a death wish.

If I don't do something now,
I may never get to see the light of day.

Dear diary, please help me now.

Because I can't do this alone anymore.
I had a stint with drugs in 2012.

I felt like killing myself.

Now I know life is worth so much more.
s Feb 18
cat scratches
in the green room
a back stage
more calm than the front.
I ask about the
maroon robe
and picnic-table-cloth choker,
home made.
making my way through
the Bombay Sapphire
highs and lows
Awkward hellos,
over salty popcorn
and Bonobo.

Mc Donald's veg burger
and soft serve updates
'I earn in dollars' she says
a fly in my fries plate.
Share my toothbrush
and my bed like old times
- let us pretend
that nothing has changed.

Groggy Sunday morning
of Chilas
and Break-uppers, half way.
Mustard bed-sheet - full size -
and a nehru jacket for bae.
Peanuts in all flavours for lunch
- a craving for guava -
and always room for
frozen tender coconut.

Payment apps
and gym subscriptions
compared on the way
- a stitch fix for clothes -
monthly and bespoke.
A game of bulls
and cows,
and a reason to drink
before curfews.
quick goodbyes
with hugs to go
and a waiting black scorpio.

Hot engines,
stretchy hair caps,
dodge the lasers,
catch the light traps.
a gun called Marco
and the stench of childhoods
that are hard to let go.
pink bowling *****
and green nylon socks.
arcades smell like
sweat, ****** ale
and fries gone stale.
A catch up cigarette,
recording racing tins
before  midnight votes,
on who is to move in.
Blissful Nobody Oct 2017
Consistently inconsistent,
Sometimes still and at times turbulent.
In ruins, is this cosmic connection,
All this drama- a mere fiction.
All that is, is and is my making,
A higher truth , I thought I was seeking.

An epiphany, and I transcended,
Into a realization, that it ended.
Long-long ago, its time eclipsed,
Dreaming away, real time, I’d missed.

Like the highs and lows of an ocean,
You’ve always been, an unrest emotion.
Determined, is the way to be,
This Drama - no-more, can I see.

Through the tyranny of my mind,
I have been trying to escape,blind.
I see you now, for what you’ve been,
An absent figure - washed clean .

So fade away, my love,
Fade away, into an abyss.
Fragments that are left of you,
Take them all , old and new.
Yenson Aug 2018
So it came to pass at last and sad to know a Timber has fallen
It stood in strength tall and strong for over seven decades
Resplendently toned it spread an uncompromising foliage
Masterly in domain magical in reach attaining untold grades
Humble in origins yet grew with endeavour and knowledge
Distinguishably it cut sway in tundra and in lush green glades

Son of sons of the Land held roots countenancing no crawling
It reached for the stars and danced reasons with every shades
Ran with the sun and sat with owls and vipers for tutelage
Sweeping the very highs and the lows in communal trades
In the jungle of sharks and vipers it be known who's in Charge
A Timber has fallen while the rains falls and blue clouds fades

There's now a mighty hole in the earth and rivers are swollen
Leaves scatter and branches beckon hundreds of onward bridges
Leaving best Princess, flowers and saplings for love and largesse
A notable trunk laid supine free to roam without worldly cages
Odes will enter dancing in guises and tears flow without finesse
A Timber has fallen and dirges will ring out for a man of all ages

Yemessia bows and says Adieu My Senior, we will meet again.....


[email protected]
Leal Knowone Feb 2015
the mirror of the soul is broken,
spilling out a river forever flowing,
as eternal agony soaks in ,
I can't control were the gears are going.
Is my valued machine broken?
Can it be repaired by you ?
Can it be rust free again, in a world were all is painted blue?                                                       Who would have thought the igniter,
would become the cause of the stole?
Causing us to be fighters
but when does it all get old?

LOOKING GLASS

Broken mirrors, this floors so cold and wet.
All is shattered and ripped apart.
Look into the mirror don't forget.
Look to find a slow beating heart.

Cold yet beating it isn't dead!

LOOKING GLASS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

7 years bad luck roll over.
A black cat that was once loved,
now has gone over the shoulder.
Question this the loved.

LOOKING GLASS

It all changes and circles,
like the gears to the machine,
watched over by it workers,
but there's piercing laser beams.

Forever grow, river flow, broken souls, sanity goes, the lost soul different highs, different lows,different eyes, visions unknown.

LOOKING GLASS, LOOKING IN
LOOKING GLASS, LOOKING IN

Never know, true control, societies soul, vanity goes, the lost notes
different thoughts, indifference lost, so its fine, vision unknown.

LOOKING GLASS, LOOKING IN
LOOKING GLASS, LOOKING IN

Did you break the mirror too?
Will it bring about misfortune,
our colorful different hues ?
When did this destruction begin?
Rivers flow into the ocean.
The water construct and destroy.
Beginning of the end, beginning again.
The mirror of the soul is broken.
SPILLING, KILLING
looking glass, LOOKING IN

The mirror of the soul is broken.
Spilling out a river ever flowing.
I'm letting it all soak in.
Is this vile machine broken?

looking glass, LOOKING GLASS, looking glass, LOOKING GLASS!!!!!!!!!!!
The blackened mirror can still see into you
Castle Of Sin
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