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ryn Aug 2014
Street lamps play
As they have before
Dim walkway
Leading to a door

Careful steps
Strewn leaves
Breathe between gaps
Skulking like thieves

Rustling trees
Otherwise nothing
Mind at ease
Heart rapidly beating

Usually stops here
Usually I'd stir
But still in slumber
I drew closer

Eyes on door
Familiar scene
Stood here before
This dream I've been

Up the patio
Door was ajar
Accompanied by my shadow
Stretched far

Tunnel vision
Dripping eave
Door handle beckons
Hand raised to receive

Usually stops here
Usually I'd rouse
Allowed to enter
This time... This house

Handle I seize
Door seemed light
It did not freeze
Hinges did not fight

Revealed the insides
Scanned surroundings
Unlit lights
Stairs climbing

Footsteps I heard
Coming my way
Sounds absurd
But yet I stay

Usually stops here
Usually dream is done
But still was clear
It only had begun

Darkened figure
Descending on bare feet
Beauty light as feather
Ever did I meet

She did not see me
Planted at the doorway
Impossible it may be
Nothing did she say

Walked right by
My eyes followed
Seconds fly
In eternity they burrowed

Usually stops here
Usually I'd wake
Yet still I'm here
Chance I'd take

Stood at the fridge
Back towards me
Under siege
My mind set a flurry

Fridge was opened
Light casted her silhouette
Her back darkened
Curiosity grew fat

Illuminating beams
Accentuated her hair
Like golden streams
Flowing with flair

Usually stops here
Usually I'd startle
Connection did not sever
Continue I was able

Spellbound I gawked
Rooted like a tree
Wide-eyed I stalked
This siren before me

She drank
Not knowing I was there
Stiff as a plank
I was locked in a stare

Finally broke free
Shifted my weight
She turned to me
And then said...

Then it ceased
Then I awaken
Surprisingly pleased
Slice of heaven

Who was she?
Silhouetted face
Perpetually...
Mysterious grace

Foreign albeit familiar
Strange but true
Now rings clear...


It is you...
Based on a dream I had.
Sanjali Sep 2018
17
-Hello Love-

Perhaps it’s been a thousand years,
the rivers have shifted so,
the lakes I swam in, have gone dry
the waterfalls though, overflow.
And so it is, that I have wandered back
tugged furiously throughout days
by this rugged tinkling thread
back to this ancient maze.

Most surely it’s been several weeks
the leaves are rough to touch,
the grass withers where I step
but trees don’t ask for much.
And so it is, that I have rambled on
pulled strangely through the haze,
at last I fall under the rays of morn,
My love, I’m home again.
Lost and found
breeze ripples palm groves,
a gleam in coconut fronds;
past peeps through the mist!
Keith Collard Nov 2015
How can I be the closest to the Earth, and still unknown,
How can I be the closest to the Sun, closest to the scorch,
and still have the most icy landlords in my poles,
why can you only see me during twilight, embracing a lover while all alone.

How come from my surface, light does not work--light does not hurt, I do not blink as I think, even as the sunset pours lava forth, and that sunset is that lie of time, as you disappear in darkness, I almost disappear in light, then the stars scream across the sky, in a geminid shower rewind, in my unblinking muse, in the solar hues, the great inferno retreats, and the slower speed of Earth I view, And I see the astrologer, with his useless scope, trying to track my path, futile as the priests trying to invent my gold.
They cannot understand my core, with machines that are perfect because I am perfectly mercurial on the surface,
with the intense cold of my poles, and the intense burning solar gold of my repose,   I view  blinding light, then infinite starry night, and cold dark logic they are encased in--my deep dark basins, and the rolling triumph of my surface's relief is from breathless sandy ovation beneath, for before my baron plains were slain and put to sleep, they braved the great inferno winning solar armor in golden fleece, for who can brave my extremes,
When my axix turns from cold still darkness to fusion heat,

But now is my region of my silver repose,  no ovation no gold, just the stoic silver shadow from the starlight strobe, the shadows slant from every surface at the angle of an open volume being studied, until my dark volumes close due to starlight directly above me, then my clock strikes the hour, when my surface is reinvested with power,  the oncoming of a sunset getting louder and louder, and in my face, cold lifeless blood,  and on my stare, intense solar flare,  watching graves start to to die, with the sunset looming, to sustain life by joining the great inferno's confusion, and becoming shadows from stars in my silver musing,

I am the twilight messenger--from my hazy theater of gaseous metal--where the applause  can't bear to sit,  to the hall of my cold dark temple with long dead stars keeping it faintly lit,  to be mercurial is my theater caused by applause, my temple's pale light of long dead stars.  It is the sadness of a fire that will never start--my annual Parthenon in short lived geminid sparks.
NA Nov 2018
The lighthouse was planted with its roots
Close enough to the faint smell of the salty water
Yet, keeping a safe distance from the ocean’s vicious waves.
And much like the lighthouse,
Not even my shadow dares to
Dance past the line
Between the calming shore
And the mysterious sea.
JC Lucas Jul 2018
Somewhere in the South Pacific
a human-shaped speck casts a bottle
from the shore of a tiny island
into the interminable sea.
The bottle contains a note
which bears:
a name
an approximate location
and a desperate plea.

The bottle drifts slowly away
flashing in and out of view
on the crests of passing swells.
It glides on mysterious currents
and a quiet modicum of hope.

Simultaneously,
Above a particular point in the Northern Hemisphere,
a ball of tin foil
labeled Voyager I
is crossing the threshold
into the world outside
the solar system.

On board are a pair of golden discs
engraved with:
images and voices of human beings
the relative location of the Sun to fourteen nearby pulsars
and a plea,
      naively disguised to look like a proud declaration of identity
                             but what proud and accomplished
                                       race of beings
                         would need to search for
                                 companionship
                            among the stars?

                         The little metal ball floats away
                                        blinking bits of data back to Earth
                                                              each grainier than
                                                                 the last

                                     tugged by the gravity of distant bodies
                                                               and a quiet modicum of
                                                              ­                                  hope.
Images not included.
Alyssa Underwood Dec 2016
O morning sky of endless blue
Tinged with purply-pinky hue
You tell me of His mercies new
Whose heart pursues my own

O geese in wingèd winter's flight
Your honking cries arouse delight
And lift my gaze to seek thy sight
As wooing from His hand

O softest breeze which skims my face
And stirs with such mysterious grace
My soul to reach for Love’s embrace
You brush me with His kiss

O snowflakes falling to the ground
You pierce my heart without a sound
To crave a purity only found
Beneath a bloodied cross

O setting sun in half-light glowing
Waning day’s last glorious blush showing
You paint with fire my spirit’s own knowing—
This life is fading fast

O stars of midnight’s blackest sky
Paraded forth, you pull my eye
Toward One Who speaks this ceaseless cry:
“I’m coming back for you.”

O creeping fog to dawn’s light clinging
You whisper, Love’s veiled message bringing,
With haunting echoes faintly singing,
“Lose all of you in Him.”
~~~

"The heavens declare the glory of God; the skies proclaim the work of His hands. Day after day they pour forth speech; night after night they reveal knowledge. They have no speech, they use no words; no sound is heard from them. Yet their voice goes out into all the earth, their words to the ends of the world."  ~ Psalm 19:1-4a

~~~
Arianna Apr 16
"When
                    we parted

I hurried
     home,

wary of objects              
    like never before."

Spray paint oracle,
the sparrow of threadbare
winter trees
soaring flees
over
polychromatic seas.

Three-dimensional
freedom ride
toward lunar havens
from flat cages;

and so
I also
hurry home
through empty streets
of monochrome.

Home...

Lamplight sonata
drowns the hum
of the moon,
and
an unsolvable puzzle
haunts the night with
too many things
unsaid.
The text of a cryptic mural.
Alyssa Underwood Jul 2016
It's at the point of desperation that the soul finds its deepest desire,
and in that desire lies everything of which true life is made.
Perhaps the first and central question concerning surrender
ought not to be, “What am I willing to give to God?”
but “What am I willing to receive from Him?”

For it's only in the realization that I have nothing to give Him and
He has everything to give me that true humility and surrender come.
If I would simply receive all He offers me and let Him fill me up
I would have no room in my hands to hold onto anything else.  
But how often it is that we won't receive it until everything else is lost.

It's the secret and inexpressible dreams of the soul
which are the hardest things of all to let go and the last to go.
When they are finally gone we have nothing left to run to but Him,
and when we do we find that He is the beginning,
the end and the center of every secret dream.

Ah, blessed Peniel—that mysterious and holy ground
where heartache collides head-on with romance,
that deep and shadowed land where we struggle
with God and with men and we overcome,
that painful yet glorious place which we may leave limping
with a wrenched hip but we do not care, for we have seen God’s face—
like Jacob, may we not pass you by without being forever changed.
Genesis 32

~~~
My spine tingles and my bones grow weak
I get the chills from every creak
Even the faintest noise makes my heart jump
Faster and faster my heart does pump.

The feeling I speak about is the feeling of fear
It makes reality become quite unclear
They say the only thing to fear is fear itself
But I swear that doll jumped off the shelf.

I have the feeling I’m no longer alone
From the basement I hear a dreadful moan,
Quite unsettling this feeling can be
When I feel there’s someone watching over me
Mysterious like a shot in the dark
Stabs a knife right through the heart
Once you find it run quick turn on the light
While you and your conscious put up a fight.

Trying to figure out what’s real and what’s imagination
My heart’s constant pounding won’t help my frustration
As noises comes closer I don’t linger
But my body freezes from my toes to my fingers,
Frozen still yet ready to run
Tears fall slowly like the setting sun
I fall to the floor and pray that it’s all a dream
No sooner I finish than I echo a scream.
The room races round and round
So dizzy I can’t find the ground
Its’ gotten into my mind and now I’m out of control
It haunts my thoughts and my soul.
Could this be it, could it be the end
Is my demise just around the bend?
Then the garage opens and the car drives in
A relived breath utters, “Fear had me again”.
Read more at http://******-in-oncology
Radhika Lusted Sep 2018
Mysterious and unseen
A master of the dark and light
And all in-between
When she looks into your soul
Hers is enough to burn it to the ground
But also ****** it to the very core
She is a force of nature
An unstoppable wave of chaos and purity
that’ll throw you so off course
you’ll forget what it was ever like
to not have her in your life
She will read your mind
with the power to take every last bit
of strength you have
until you regret ever standing in her path
Do not ever lie to her
For she does not handle deceit lightly
Vengeance is her first, middle and last name
And her type of revenge is an evil noone
would wish to encounter
A queen of manipulation at her finest
she will see into your soul
long before you catch a glimpse
and change the way you think
to mend what she craves and the
desire that she seeks

She is a Scorpio,
And if you think you can escape her

You're already doomed.
A poem dedicated to my sister who wanted me to write one about her, but is also dedicated to parts of myself and any other scorpios out there that can relate. She is the darker side of the scorpio and i am the lighter, but this poem portrays more of the darker side.
Alyssa Underwood Nov 2015
God's love is delight itself
it is beauty itself
it is tender yet fierce
sweet yet wild
steadfast yet unpredictable
enveloping yet freeing
captivating yet boundless
protective yet empowering
certain yet never boring
relentless yet gentle
secure yet mysterious
trustworthy yet exciting
all-consuming yet unfathomable
He is everything
you’ve ever hoped for, dreamed of,
longed after or imagined
and so much more
He is the Lover of your needy,
thirsty soul and He fights
continually for your heart
calcium Oct 2018
You're obsessed with your surroundings
Upset because you're single
But you love to mingle.

Every girl that you see appears to be an angel to you
What I saw in you was a mysterious prince

I found you through your voice
You found me through my face

As the light shined on you like a halo
I stood out in the dark

Your light slowly faded
And in the dark is where you left me

And in the dark is where I'll stay


10.07.18
By Angel. XJ/ 17/01/2019
Were you the one?
who discovers,
an icy,
heart shaped pond?
At a dusky evening,
were you the one?
who finds
a solo path within the forest,
leading to a La La Land?
At a dusky evening,
silvery and shiny.

Slowly move your steps,
slippery but smooth,
reach to an icy,
heart shaped pond,

Were you the one?
who is wanting me?
Search me please,
if you lift up your steps,
will you see my smiles,
that were hidden,
remote but not far.
Silvery and shiny,
at dusky evening.
Under a portait of dusky evening, find a heart shaped, icy pond.
17/01/2019
No thoughts of refuge, it’s bad…
throw it in the refuse bag
Mystery miss me coz' I choose black,
History feel me, I can’t refute Dad!
The symmetry of the cemetery
is relevant, you can’t rebuke that…
An emissary mandatory and misunderstood
became a revenant, coz'
I refuse that
Maverick
Heavy Hearted Jun 2018
The river winds in from distance lands
With mercyless power it turns stone to sand
Through its mysterious life, the very earth it commands
And Yet the fearful river still runs through our hands.
In torrents of furry where the deepest currents flow
The rivers wild waters surge with woe. For
Onward, forever, its destined to go
A permenant home it won't ever know.

The river runs from each of us
As a refugee of fear,
It knows in a blink it will be somewhere else
Its waves are really its tears.
It runs from the audacity  
Of the selfish human mind
As Its massive life capacity,
Of flora and fauna combined,
Are threatened by our antics and helpless to our crime
So the river runs on their behalf, from everyone, in time-


even within its whitecap foam
Water's yearning for a home

So roam does the water- endlessly,
till its long gone out of sight
The essential droplets of the river-
Nomads day and night.
Deadwood Jawn Mar 28
There's a terrible **** on my arm.

But it's there because I want you to care.

There's a terrible river down my pillar.

And all I wanted was the attractive force to pull you in.

We
      Should
                 Be
                              Careful...

We
      Should
                  Be        Careful...
I wish you'd come to me.
Alyssa Underwood Nov 2015
O morning sky of endless blue
Tinged with purply-pinky hue
You tell me of His mercies new
Whose heart pursues my own

O geese in wingèd winter's flight
Your honking cries arouse delight
And lift my gaze to seek thy sight
As wooing from His hand

O softest breeze which skims my face
And stirs with such mysterious grace
My soul to reach for Love’s embrace
You brush me with His kiss

O snowflakes falling to the ground
You pierce my heart without a sound
To crave a purity only found
Beneath a bloodied cross

O setting sun in half-light glowing
Waning day’s last glorious blush showing
You paint with fire my spirit’s own knowing—
This life is fading fast

O stars of midnight’s blackest sky
Paraded forth, you pull my eye
Toward One Who speaks this ceaseless cry:
“I’m coming back for you.”

O creeping fog to dawn’s light clinging
You whisper, Love’s veiled message bringing,
With haunting echoes faintly singing,
“Lose all of you in Him.”
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