"matures" poems
And it becomes stronger,
So does our relationship,
And likewise we become.
And it becomes strengthy,
So does our bond of trust,
And so our love matures.
Jun 24, 2015
Jun 24, 2015 at 1:20 AM UTC
The state of being with no suffering is Shakti
The state of awakening beyond sleep is Shakti
When love matures and sweetens that is Shakti
The fullness and fulfillment of masculine is Shakti
When the sweetness matures that is Shakti
The divine which resides in the thoughts is Shakti
Whatever work comes before us is Shakti
The state of mukti, the end, is Shakti
The braveness which destroys laziness is Shakti
The flame which is instilled in these words is Shakti
When the best of fruits are eaten that taste is Shakti
When thoughts of divine arise that is Shakti
Shankara who lives on top of the huge mountains, his lovely flame is Shakti
The lap where life flourishes is Shakti
The strength which guards the earth is Shakti
The flame which stops one from falling is Shakti (denotes inner strength that averts fall/defeat)
The tapas that eliminates confusion is Shakti
The finger which stops downfall is Shakti
The one who spans the whole expanse of sky is Shakti
Her highness who eliminates karma is Shakti
The inner flame which shines from within the heart is Shakti
Oct 3, 2014
Oct 3, 2014 at 2:09 AM UTC
is it love
or the parasite ?
my pilot bulk
aims for relief
it pursues this via
your romantic correction
in public arena
a library stair
(i never prior encountered you)
one step as foreigner
the approach
and upon a swift internal pendulum
i make witless incisions
hurried mended sentences
directed stuns
invasive
i demand the compromise
of your company
hastily push at boundaries and
you're not so accommodating
but
on a further occasion
same building
we exchange a battering of conversation
that
then
matures
into barter-like use of language
despite my harassments
a civil cultivation is unearthed
tongue within this intelligence effort i lessen
loosen my demanding appearance
disregard my dignity
a skin suit about the ankles
you're open in a vein of similarity
you flesh out your own controls
we've progressed quickly
there's an aped conduct
and flashing attitudes
this time we share table space
a nearby café
we have become quite unmanned
repeated meet ups
upon humours we adjust small habits
and shake on perceptions where we overlap
it becomes
more an overlay of rationalities
than resented promises
fast time passes and
i move into your living space
i pick a wildflower
and put it in the tiny vase on your dining table
we agree on its colour
we agree on a book to make our bible material
we agree on the pitch of the tinnitus we share
the clothes i am to wear
i switch to your diet
and you cease taking medications
we sleep on your lawn like children
and bring down the night sky for comfort
during the day we wear our sleep
like a lubrication for our chores
and go about our productivity
in genuine partnership
yet
i feel we're just out of reach
of some dark harm
we are an excellent sample pair
it is all vital
we grow stronger the more we quiz it
recycling our **********
refine our agreements
await further impulses
and come closer to plug
so..
do we please love
or simply indulge a parasite ?
Nov 23, 2021
Nov 23, 2021 at 10:28 PM UTC
A passionate lovelife begins at the cutting edge of ones comfort zone. Death ends all ... this too will pass one...is told. Our sun is not gone as it sets alone. Everything changes as it matures & nurtures; a soulhome full of love passion, mindful hearts, quientessentialy enhancing a compassionate empowering peaceful patient presence. Or mere things do not change, we do. Observe pendulum perceive pit. Forhere awakenaware for now reason & argument forsome, their edge, that is it. Pure calm empowering passion consciousness preferring peaceislove for some that is it. Please a privilege for others for police a right of MEIOSIS. A greater fate is faced with an attitude of forherenow passion. Like fights for wit rights must be felt by allowing an intimate interconnectivity of resonating conscious~hearts. Mindful heartbased interactivity compassion with action. Cards dealt one plays around what is being felt. Done sleeping? End beginnings to start endings...what? Energy...awakening is a passionate art. A heartbeat a part to re late one may appreciate wit meiosis?
Dec 2, 2014
Dec 2, 2014 at 11:21 PM UTC
~
*Love is the painting
every heart hopes to achieve,
sifting through seldom
looked upon pictures,
we came upon this masterpiece:
The little boy pensive
just to hold the hand
of his darling,
and skipping along
we played to this game,
giggling in each other's ear,
yet, with only sweet innocent thoughts.
The daytime summer sun
meant a twirl in the air,
a ride on the swing,
and an ice cream to share.
As children love
was an amusement ride,
just leisure fun we never took seriously,
as adults love achieved art,
developing a magnum opus
rich in its own poetry.
The young man proud
just to hold the hand of his darling,
and strolling along their game matures,
they whisper in each other's ear,
yet, with each word the balance
of their intimate thoughts so rest.
The dazzled moonlight of evening
means an aura in the air,
the anticipated kiss it will bring,
and maybe an ice cream to share.
We were never good at every sport,
but somehow this one
came so natural for us,
and so we too were an art
unto ourselves.*
~
Apr 20, 2021
Apr 20, 2021 at 10:23 AM UTC
Just as the Seasons change, so do our lives. In order to function in these Seasons, one will have to be wise.
Just as the Seasons change, we grow one year older. As our teenagers matures, they will become bolder.
Just as the Seasons change, you'll experience different types of weather. In the Winter months, inside is where people gather.
Just as the Seasons change, so many can't wait for Spring. People attitude may become better, they may not act so mean.
Just as the Seasons change, Summer finally rolls around. People constantly peel away their clothes, throwing them onto the ground.
By, Author & Poet, Sandra Juanita Nailing
Nov 17, 2014
Nov 17, 2014 at 6:10 PM UTC
A tantalized spirit
Delves into my spine
It dictates my breathing,
It quickens my saunter
I see filth in my mind,
In my decaying lungs,
On the palms of my hands
Muck where virtue once resided
Virtue untainted by original sin
“O’ God free me”
No reply
The spirit seizes each prayer
If the spirit within should perish
Or plague babes hereafter
It is negligible
For every breast carries putrid milk
Every infant grows
And matures into a gruesome sight
Every wave peaks
And culminates
Every day passes
Every harmonious sound shall cease
Mar 21, 2012
Mar 21, 2012 at 6:51 PM UTC
On this day,
Twenty-eight years ago,
I realized that love is not divided...
Not halved between.
A father's love for his children...
Is a multiplication,
An expansion.
How do I explain?
Meanings of life change;
Additions and subtractions aside,
Love multiplies...matures:
Exult or suffer, it endures
Even the agony of division.
Mainly now, love suffers,
But always it endures.
Mar 25, 2012
Mar 25, 2012 at 8:30 AM UTC
I fall back
on uttered words.
In them
I find comfort.
Like a spear
of newly birthed rays,
slipping silently
between complacent
drapes.
The warmth I feel
like love upon my skin -
wholesome and sufficient.
And the day matures
as do the words.
What used to soothe
now burns as hot as
the midday sun.
*Draw the curtains.
Your mind isn’t yet ready
and is no match
for smouldering embers.*
I tripped.
I fell on uttered words.
Here I am,
engulfed and cocooned
in heavy drapes.
Feb 18, 2018
Feb 18, 2018 at 5:34 AM UTC
Let's talk about a human being,
Be it a male or a female being...
The infant needs care,
It also needs to feed..
The infant cries,
The infant laughs.
And nothing else matters.
Then the infant grows up to be a kid,
Becomes a more big teenager next..
The teenager needs attention,
It needs to be accompanied..
The teenager plays,
The teenager enjoys.
And nothing else matters.
The teenager matures into an adult,
Blasts each one of the social norms.
The adult needs inspiration,
It needs to be truly loved..
The adult thinks,
The adult aspires,
And nothing else matters.
Jul 16, 2016
Jul 16, 2016 at 3:28 AM UTC
Am not a queen
but he is my prince
I treasure him most
as a prince should deserve
He does not cling on me much anymore
as he matures and grows
He seeks my asisstance in
less demanding ways
To get him out of troubles
I stand by him still
Soon he will have a girl
Unsure will he still
have me in his mind
But Just remember my son,
you are the most special one
let me ensure, i am so proud
to say "This is my charming son"
Love, Mom
Jun 14, 2013
Jun 14, 2013 at 12:07 AM UTC
As August matures
My patio grows green
and is a new lawn
Jul 25, 2012
Jul 25, 2012 at 7:17 AM UTC
In the aria of music
As the notes reel
High and low
Thy pulse shall dance
With a rhythm
Such an unmatched fervor!
In the aria of music
While the symphony matures
A new game of romance
Rules the mood
Defying every holding loop
In the aria of music
The moment enriches
The thrill of the heart blooms
Into a new season
Unbridled joy shall stay
Caressing every heart beat!
In the aria of music
As the lyrics hum
In your own self
You shall be complete!
Jan 8, 2013
Jan 8, 2013 at 12:55 AM UTC
Passion through years does grow anew,
when tangled, are emotions, soft.
Respect is held, with trust, aloft.
Seeing more beyond, to value.
Your eyes held mine, that's how I knew,
what became of the years that fly.
They were stepping stones , as whereby,
our years together, passion grew.
Mere words can not give justice to,
the joy in our life's adventures.
From that first kiss when love matures.
George, you are my passion renewed.
Oct 20, 2010
Oct 20, 2010 at 8:41 PM UTC
The tallest tree stands guard in the park
He keeps out the wind with the thickest of bark
And all of the trees for miles can view
His thick curving branches holding so true
But in this park, alone is he not
For he must have company contained in his lot
And all of the trees for miles besiege
A chance to stand where he scatters his leaves
So one by one he picks his crew
An elm, an oak, a pine, and a yew
And all of the trees for miles brew spite
That they were chose not to be at his right
And slow but sure, his trees conceive
And then of their duty, they are bereaved
And all of the trees for miles make haste
To see the new saplings that are now placed
They know for sure that some can not strive
For he consumes the most sun to survive
And all of the trees for miles conspire
To rule his park when he retires
And the smallest of saps looks on in rapture
And knows at once, his park it must capture
And all of the trees for miles look on in gall
For this little sapling is the smallest of all
For years he awakens and each day he stretches
But in pain of this growth, the poor sap retches
And all of the trees for miles must grin
The sap keeps fighting, though told he can't win
The sap matures, and ends an adult
Taller than all, he begins to gloat
And all of the trees for miles are shocked
The sap beat them all, his potential unlocked
Many moons pass and all can see
The impending death of the old tallest tree
And all the the trees for miles don't know
What they will do when his wizened self goes
And when he expires, the sap is the king
And his cries of victory echo and ring
And all of the trees for miles can view
His thick curving branches holding so true
But the sap can not hear all this admiration
And endlessly strains in exasperation
And all of the trees for miles can see
He's so much worse off, being this tree
But up on his pedestal, his glory can blind
And he can't see know his particular bind
And all of the trees for miles just wait
For the last of his life to dissipate
Oct 25, 2017
Oct 25, 2017 at 11:20 PM UTC
I want to sink
And lose myself 600 ways in you
Losing myself in how you feel,
How you smell.
A softness that doesn't fray
Between the heat
Shared between you and me,
It doesn't wrinkle.
It doesn't crease.
It's not a traumatic response
From any part of your or my journey.
You breathe against me
The kind of comfort that trust
Cannot put into words.
Unrushed. Patient.
The way home should feel.
Before true happiness,
I stretch and unwind
In your quiet
Twisting and turning,
My face pressed into how
Warm you are.
When I lay on you,
I don't want to get up.
I want to lay here and dream,
Far from the suffocation
That exists away from you.
No matter how rough I am,
Compared to your softness
This goes beyond material reality
Where hands and feet
Don't have to beg for rest.
They just are.
There are no wrinkles in how you love,
In the way you unfold and spread yourself.
Eventually,
Love doesn’t stay young forever.
It matures in its openness.
In this, there is surrender.
I am consumed in you
No longer twisting,
No longer turning,
But at peace.
Whether I am closing my eyes
Or opening them.
I am glad that you're here
Mar 1, 2025
Mar 1, 2025 at 9:05 PM UTC
She has chemical dreams and toxic wishes.
She wastes her breath on silly superstitions...
like it's nobodies business.
She kneels down and prays, but nobody listens.
She has visions that seem to come and go.
She imagines a future that feels so alone.
A time where every body is delved into a selfish abyss.
Where kids are growing up without a hug or a kiss.
Every year the bad days grow longer.
Positivity fades, and the negative thoughts get stronger.
Welcome to a future where all the heroes died.
Now its reflections of villains in these kids eyes.
Change happens when one matures.
Immaturity has become an epidemic, and we can't find a cure.
What ever happened to a soul that's pure?
She's the last of that kind, a species that's become a blur.
Aug 5, 2016
Aug 5, 2016 at 4:45 PM UTC
serpent tongue lashes. frantically,
the fool might say it is but a snake licking.
rage froths from under covers.
below sheets, anguish breeds with frustration
towards the self and distant lovers.
feigned empathy matures when nurtured.
then it is apathy
successfully disguised
as silent understanding.
on my feet, i assume the ground is beneath.
then the eyes meet another
who is also standing
but who seems so far above
and transcends me.
Jul 20, 2010
Jul 20, 2010 at 8:13 PM UTC
*“The best investment that one could ever make
is into another life
in hopes that the stock matures and is productive
and in return your rewards are priceless”*
Jan 19, 2016
Jan 19, 2016 at 8:50 AM UTC
The love I had with him
I'll never feel again
It was young
It was naive
When I loved him
I was selfish
He was nonchalant
We were jealous
The love I had with him
was meant for 19 year olds
Oct 19, 2013
Oct 19, 2013 at 3:18 PM UTC
Imagine, for this night, you are the queen of Fairy Tale land.
I, too, am a prince, from Make-Believe kingdom.
From beyond our cocooned proximity,
the night shimmers in, and thickens to a silken thread of moonlight
that the crone will soon spindle into her never-ending story
of billion constellations, both seen and unseen
by naked, desperate novas.
We, entwined, like the roots under a rabid rainforest,
pale as innocence, battering feverishly against the stones for ever afters,
seize Avalon, and reject Camelot.
The canopy of fireflies synchronises in raw euphoria,
a rebel Excalibur.
The wind matures around us.
Tomorrow may be an inevitable notion,
but my queen of Fairy Tale land,
my sword, shield, bow, toothbrush, unicorn,
worn-out copy of The Arabian Nights,
all lay bare before your lion throne.
This world was once a crevice between fire and ice.
Fire and ice run in our veins,
from me to you and back into the realm of drunken faeries,
where the bumblebee heart of the day
is yet to ignite the pomegranate sky.
Feb 17, 2017
Feb 17, 2017 at 1:37 PM UTC
Well girl if you’re stable at overflowing
Just please let me coast inches
I need to sentry how this is growing
There’s a tugging at my sleeve, trying to lead me in a cave
With a slight incline so not even a torrential wave
Could splash safety
Yours or mine
While our synergy matures like wine
It’s in the print of the design that I come across a constant need for repair
Bring tools along the way I swear ruts bend your axles
Bending backwards can’t twist your posture like her
Fur is soft on the skin
In a race the fox always wins
Reach in to the frothy mixture and pull out a piece of the picture
Even though your centered in a fixture a foundation is hard to find
It especially distorts the spine at night
When the light can’t distract you
From the visible glow she radiates
Strong enough to contract you
Feb 27, 2013
Feb 27, 2013 at 6:00 PM UTC
Who said the grass was greener on the other side?
The one alone on the ***** soaked sidewalk?
The bearded man walking two paces behind
His wife while glancing my way?
The woman with the frown, the hard face
Eye rolling as the lovers smile into each other’s eyes?
The fast food nation dying inside out
The tilted heads, phone glowing, never noticing
The world around, the clouds, the sky.
The nation of talking heads stuck in the portals
The aimless many searching for nothing in particular.
The grass is greenest when freshly sprouting
Tender shoots reaching for the sky in hardy soil
Grass matures into a strong and vibrant pasture
Wild flowers and butterflies bouncing off sunlight
Its season comes and goes light and dark.
Pity so few stay long enough to enjoy its seasons
To see its growth to the fullest potential
Inflated expectations lead to disappointment.
Egocentric self-indulgence rolls along
Jumping one flower to the next.
Love is not feeling gratification
A heightened sense of intense emotion
Love is not lust, lust is not Love.
Love is not experienced in a moment.
Love lies in-between the moments.
Experienced in a lifetime.
That grass? No, it is not greener.
It will turn just as the grass you stand in
The faster you walk through it
The less you will understand its beauty and wonder
Between the moments.
Oct 29, 2015
Oct 29, 2015 at 10:01 AM UTC
Love made to order
like a luxury bottle
of fine wine that
appreciates with time
We open ourselves
and let the relationship
breathe as it matures
Never gulped, yet sipped
slowly and enjoyed as
a guilty pleasure
The finest crystal used
akin to dressing up
in ballroom attire for
the proper occasion
A myriad of flavors
and bouquets dance
on our pallets like
a waltz composed
by Tchaikovsky
What follows is left
to the imagination,
but consider a good
bottle much like a
good relationship
always leaves you
yearning for more.
Oct 19, 2016
Oct 19, 2016 at 3:35 AM UTC