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jane taylor May 2016
skilled
beyond the
greatest artist
or scientist

you are
to have
composed
the pieces just so

i see
what you had in mind for me
all along
god

my life
an amalgamation
a mosaic
immaculate montage

©2016janetaylor
Amy Leigh May 2014
I hate the word simple.
Everything is actually really
complex.

© A. Leigh
mjad Nov 2017
Sometimes things have to break
To make something wonderful
Although they are full of cracks
Mosaics are beautiful

(we could be a mosaic, love)
hope kills me
I am a masterpiece
beautifully crafted by you
i'm a canvas of bliss
painted in a vibrant hue.
yet you never admired me
instead, you ignored the beauty within
how cruel is my destiny
the end of me is 'bout to begin.
you disheveled my peace
i pleaded but there was no sound
slowly, piece by piece
i fell on the hard ground.
soon, I will feel no pain
the strong me is now awake
one day, I shall stand again
by then, i'll be a wonderful mosaic.
Marina Kay Jun 4
The hazy hours, the break of dawn.
The candlelight kindling your living room.
The ardour of your fingertips, brushing my palm.
The question you asked me, hanging in doom.

"There's something I need to clarify, contest this but don't ask why.
Could you list five things you like about yourself?
The light is green, give it a try."

The shadows of lashes painting my skin.
My downcast eyes saturate to the brim.
The blocks in my head, the lump in my throat,
Why haven't I an answer to this simple poll?

Stuffed with self-loathing?
Weighted with doubt?
Could that be the root of my soft-pedal mouth?
I made a bid,
I lifted a finger,
The answer never came, the longer I lingered.

"Your silence has met my expectations.
I can't ask you for your love if you can't give it to yourself.
I can't pick up the tessera to put back on the shelf.
The mosaic is your own, here's the polish and a crown,
I'll stand by and watch, to fault my preconceptions.
I'll stand by and wait, in anticipation."
A typical "I can't love you if you don't love yourself" scenario.
Don't fall for it, it's *******. Everyone deserves to be loved.
Chris Saitta Jun 12
The immortal is the time before the rain
When we have thoughts of it afterward.  
By then, the mosaic of tongue and its words
Are broken stones swept away
By the shuttling broom of storm.
For a slide video of this and other poems, please check out my Instagram page at chrissaitta or my Tumblr page at Chris-Saitta.
Sabila Siddiqui Feb 2018
A masterpiece of intricate mosaic
A beauty underlied with chaos
She lets them see,
What she wants them to see.
Lexi Guffey Dec 2017
I used to think brown eyes were prosaic.
That was before I saw your mind shine through your eyes,
lighting the room with a glimmering mosaic -
amber light filled with passion, beauty beyond recognition.

I looked into your eyes expecting to find normalcy
and instead, I found myself embraced by your starry night soul,
my sense of self ceased to exist - it was just you and me in perfect harmony,
an entire universe blanketed in ebony.

It should have come as no surprise
that there is such beauty in simplicity,
but brown eyes are just brown eyes
until the person behind them is what you see.
She was like a broken mirror
Anything beautiful, she would reflect
A reflection abnormally distorted
Her perspective could not connect
She could not see the sparkle
Of the sunset sprinkled on the waves
She couldn't share the happiness of others
Because her feelings weren't quite the same
People's smiles were always crooked
Compliments were always misheard
Acts of kindness were disappointments
Expressions of love were just words
She was tired of being broken
Constantly blinded to beauty
She gave up holding her pieces together
Loosening her grip more than slightly
Her broken pieces then fell apart
Into a pile of shattered looking glass
She laid there with her hollow frame
As she could finally rest at last
Her self destruction symbolized
Her innermost desire for rebirth
Her lack of knowing what was beauty
Did not take away her worth
She realize her vision's distortion
Only showcased her perception
Her definition of beauty
Was different beyond interpretation
She arranged her shattered pieces
In a way her beauty befits
On the ground where she laid
Was a beautiful mosaic
Julia Hones Jul 2018
Your life is made of distant springs and falls,
a straight route is not
what you own
for hurricanes and storms divert your path
to new horizons.

Will you find horseshoe *****, mussels, clams
on the stopovers?
Food awaits you
if the shores are not ravaged
by human greed, ignorance.

Your resilience is written in B95's ordeals,
a mosaic of adventures ingrained in his own cells.

The threads of your trips assemble
the places of Mother Earth connected in its roles;
nothing is detached in the collective harmony of souls.

Red knot shorebird,
peaceful messenger,
icon of strength without rage,
your story is the universal flight of awareness
waiting to be heard.
Red knot shorebirds are endangered birds due to human greed and ignorance. B95 is a survivor who has traveled the moon and halfway back in terms of distance.
Jon York Mar 13
I Love and
    I cherish every
         aspect of
the divine feminine
       that  stands
         before me.
            I feel
     her and I touch
        every part
            of her
      angelic body
        and to her
                 I
whisper the truths
    my heart holds.
         And she
  embraces the full  
     embodiment  
of  her soul's essence
  and  now the only
piece left to finish this
    exquisite mosaic
is the sacred union she
    shares with me,
her divine masculine,
     and notice how
she glows differently
    when loved right
               and
    treated  properly.                                       ­                  Jon York   2019
Deborahlee Jan 3
drips of oil and water twisting
in the bubbling glass,
nickel spins in orange quarts
citrine gold and brass

copper caramel and platinum
shining tinted on mass
for crypts inside the cemetery
lawn covered by grass

on lot lined in green treetops
yellow meets blood red
marking glass panels stained
and then framed in lead

handmade by a glass cutter
as a salute for the dead
from the people still left living
-aches born with death fed
Kristaps Oct 2018
The fester of the past caresses my
skin as a mother would.

Grey ash mint apples - a feast
for a crawl to the flees is a burden
unyielding.  The endless unmotivated hours
ending in blinks serve
as the hard concrete floors for the
cellar of my bedroom.
Each glass mosaic piece
of my 19th-century chamber door
embeds a muculent eyeball of my longing ka.
Red droplet soup in a marble bowl,
the utensil now tied in hair clumps.

Every Ra's breath- a six-eyed sand crawler
on my leg thumps
Francie Lynch Nov 2018
I went to Winchester again,
It's been forty years since then,
When we were awed in the nave,
Stood over Jane Austin's grave,
And loved the irony of golden St. Joan.
The chest coffins hold bleached bones,
The stained glass mosaic filters the sun,
And everything appears the same.
I had perfect recall,
I remembered it all,
Before returning my self-guided tour.
I lowered my head
Through the Refugee door;
To return no more;
For my memorial to you has faded,
As my memories got musty and jaded.
Title is a line from the song, "Winchester Cathedral."
Break Me Into Pieces
Let My Colors Bleed
Put Me Back Together
Whichever Way You Please

I’m Not A Simple Puzzle
It Will Not Be With Ease
But, If My Heart Is Found
It’s Your Name It Will Read
A professor I am studying with has told me to keep a diary, so that I can find myself. She told me this will help me with my art, which I believe has validity. I struggle with expressing myself through my art because I keep my feelings locked up, and I need to figure out what is actually in my heart. But, I have always been able to find myself through writing poetry. I need an excuse to write again, and I hope I will see more of you. Much love always.

-Sydney
Ash to mouth

divide north and south
east and west,

shout  with class of Scout
let it out with griffin clout

we here we out , hear me out
— rhymes in time without

silent shrines to mime
cleared the crowd

covered eyes and mouth
over body desert shroud

if vengeance is your business
then from swords to plow

en lakesh

an eye for an eye binds
the all to be blind
but you can’t unsee the signs

no thoughts unclouded by loss
out the window I toss
mosaic fragments that cost
health and awesome sauce

Nazareth gutted commandments
by anarchy spelled
disaster after culture
massive ego it swell

up the road ahead a pit depress the juncture
so we spit the dirt divide just to touch the other
from pup to wolf so many bites, a pitted puncture
so much disfunct the fight till all be winded lungs sir

you can run
but  from
gamma ray
you no hide
passed a black hole
wand inside
a body died
but it’s alright
(it’s heaven sight
till Zombie night )

animate dead necromantic black ring
the rhythm of life and death a chronic swing

the pendulum blade cross over cosmic skin
consciousness draw out from within

traced the win which wound round tat to skeleton
a dusty tome bound and crafted man

medicine subtracted by the head that spin
in the sky and its happening, blessen-ings
the miracle is mystery u cant guess it

talking 3 eye see
talking vip
climb high as canopy
walking so
my shadow lands under me.

ten toes touch to the dusty roads
when toads appear throats close

mighta had the Midas touch
still the golden one
was too much to flush

you might live in Laos
you my livid crowd
you might live it now
neva hit my limit how
cause you live in now

when you wake up proud
timid mind plowed
divid-dine fill the cloud
insta crowd wowed
this I vowed
life isn’t life until it’s loved
that is the answer
but so few live it.
Life calls to us to take it and ride as if its our mount,
but there are no more equestrians.

Break the stallion
DivineDao Aug 2016
He's been taken from the ocean

As an open shell awaiting to

Breath the brother air

For the first time

Absolutely

Hotter

Bathing in orange

Sunny sparks

Japanese

Brahma

Vishnu

Rudhra

Divine
Mastery

Of a
Long
Breath
Taken in

Divers
Marveling

Extraordinary things

Beauty born out of pain
A black pearl
A blue pearl
Indigo pearl

Trinkling out

Falling down on the cold mosaic floor
In almost erotically humid firenheit
August day emanating with power


Inevitably  ~ as lovers do ~

As fire watched in a slow motion

A desire's voice intense

As those summer tile colours

Are gleaming artistically

Shiny as sweat coat

On the entangled bodies


Waving ~ like oceans do ~
Drops underneath everything
Ashleigh Black Apr 2014
Well, it’s 3 in the morning
and you’re still standing
Beside that rain-covered window
And I don’t know why

I hope that you are
Just admiring the mosaic tones
The raindrops give as you try
To stare right through

But you know and I think so too
That this is all we have left
You and your window
And me here just watching

And still the rain pours
And the sheets stay creased
And it’s been awhile
Since I’ve noticed either one
Aditi Sep 2017
(... And i like you.)


We never tire
Of trying to fit everyone
Into the shape of voids
Our hearts have carved

And that's fine.

It's still not something I'd do to you.


(..And i like you)


Love has made a ghost
Out of the best of us
And we anchor to the memories
To save our entities.

And honestly who am i to judge?

But you knock new air into my dead, dusty lungs

(..And i like you)


We ache,
And we mould our ache into arts.
Abusing and devouring  love,
Like scorched land tasting the first rain drop.

And I'm one of the many inked hearts.

I would leave my pen though, you make me want to.


(..And i like you)


We all have been loved,
And we all have been lonely,
Some of us feel the presence,
More when it starts to ebb.

And I've always felt myself overstaying my welcome, even before arrival.

But I'd leave my pieces on your door, as an excuse for you to call me.

(..And i like you)

We are always
looking for a replacement.
Disguising our sadness with a new skin
Trading one addiction for another; a vicious cycle.

All these temporary fixes and the perpetual sadness.


But you could be a detour from this dead-end I'm leading to.


(And i like you.)

Fistful of mosaic desires,
Confessions barely held in by my teeth
Future is easier to swallow than salvage
Your intoxicated lips smirk in agreement.

All these loving hearts with eyes askance.

But something tells me if i showed you my palm, you'd understand.

(..And i like you)
Will probably take a while to acknowledge the voice in my head saying (...And i like you) or i can keep ignoring it, even if it's the most obvious thing.
we can make our own sure things,
if we’re not greedy holding on to
slow motion crashes, orchestrating
the wrong moves to prove a point-

               see, every action has infinite
                         reactions, depending on
                         your grip. my wreck, your
          
                          mosaic.

         as for this unruly air,  I
                                                    let it fall.
Skaidrum Mar 2017
...
And just like that, I was drifting again. I was slipping into the folds of static, describing the abyss as I drowned. I fell from altitudes of happy to suicidal in only a manner of insidious seconds, because that's how it goes. You think you have what it takes to be ice but in reality, you're only shattered water.

It comes when I think of them. The urge to succumb into my own ghost has never been so appealing until now. But there are visitors here, the twins grief and guilt have been uninvited guests in a home held together by dried flowers for ceilings and walls of teeth. I have learned to confuse my name with wreckage under their supervision.  

The brothers tell me how to do it, ******* myself without hurting anyone else that I love. But they only speak their diseases to me when all my fight has bled out onto the kitchen floor as the latest mosaic. Then they feast, and teach me the art of being empty through their hungry wolf bites. I remember how to breathe in a shallow way so my skeleton won't fall apart. I haven't had to do that in a very long time. Guilt reminds me the idea of shrinking is hereditary, while grief tells me it's time to practice that now.

When I want to hurt myself I want to do very strange things. I want to ask cigarettes to try to strangle my lungs with smoke as weak as a newborn. It reminds me of what is missing. The sweetest punishment is often the deadliest. When I want to hurt I pick fights with my grief or guilt just so I can lose again, just so I can keep the moon in the same spot in the sky. Just so the stars will pity the same people. I am sick, I am sick, I am sick.  Welcome to the sickness, amen.

When I want to die, I rinse my soul out and leave it to dry.  Like a flower that will become brittle and turn into a bookmark to mark the page where my life left off. I allow myself to deliberately stop holding the weight of the sun and I allow the sky to crush me softly.

I let the tsunamis out of their cages.
I cup his face,
he is beautiful and he is holding what remains;

I will let love hurt me in unspeakable ways,
until death too, dies.


---"How to turn cancer into god."
© Copywrite Skaidrum
L B Jun 21
Will the rain never stop?
I sigh
and hear the cat snoring
in her box
The room is breathing just enough
I sigh and listen to it
racing through the eves
my thoughts
are rain
My house --  too quiet for it
My life?
My Love?
I am too tired to be restless

Drifting in mosaic
Tea berry
green  grows
between rotting leaves and pine needles
Everything is rain
I never get to hold...
I am Jupiter storms
Unabounded by time
Raging on
And eons
Can not hope to confine me
To unstable matter
And mass
Rearranging
My molecules morphing
To liquefied jewels
And my surface
A canvas
Of unrefined fuels
Like an abstract mosaic
Of swirling
Unfurling
Tempests of archaic
As constellations
And the ages I've waited
And slumbered and spun
Into memories
Faded
And taken the names of your gods
As my payment
Inflating my ego's
Mesmeric rotations

So quick to claim hearts
Of Europa's amidst
My seductive, enchanting
Illusory bliss
Venture into my centrifuge
Fumy abyss
I have pressed up my lips
Of a frigid, wet steel
And then sealed
With a kiss
What ‘nary
A planetary
Can resist

And as she revolves
Around me
And gives life
Io dances about me,
Callisto my wife
Ganymede my seed
And the rest of my progeny breed
Future needs
What the Earthlings will need
To make up for their greed
All will see
Look to me
In my enormity
As my reservoirs
Fill them
With infinity
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