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Joanna Jul 31
The river runs in a direct course, moving forward with gentle force. Its sparkling waters feed all that come near.

This river has a mysterious pathway that like a puzzle that is about to unfold. Moving with a determination that holds no fear, this river is full of pure, clear waters.

The eagle soars with a strength that is bold, through storm clouds and more.  While journeying daily to a hidden fountain, this bird of flight seeks refuge in the cleft of the mountain.

And to build its habitat where nothing can obstruct its plan to live freely in a place that is no longer a barren land.
To read more of my writings go to:http://reflectionsoflight7.wixsite.com/home
Our Life full of love and Faith,
Happiness and Joy
God's  Plan Amazes Me.
When We Sit and Worry There is No need
if we lean on Jesus we will Succeed
  He is Always There To Feel what we feel
His Love is Truly Real.
When we Try to Take His Plan,
and forget that He was Once Man
Doing all we can to Unfollow what already is a Perfect plan.
God Amazes Me. Open your Eyes and your Heart
Soon your Fears will Depart
  Comfort and care will Replace Worry and Dispair
God's  Promise Was "I'm There"
I will always Be with you and Never Depart
the Time you Allowed me To enter Your Heart.
Last Year I was at Stage 4 Cancer, This year I'm Alive and cancer free
God's Grace set me free
Jenay Jarvis Oct 2012
I like you.

I like the gold in your eyes,
The solidity behind your stare,
Soft, but knowing,
I like every strand of hair.

I like that you play banjo,
I like your sentences, phrases and words,
I like how you string them together so delicately,
Like a melody waiting to be heard.

I like our small talk,
Even if it’s cheap,
I like our conversations on the phone,
And the frequent lack of sleep.

I love your voice,
How say my name like a dream,
I love all of your truths,
And every smile in between.

So take all of my likes,
Put them in the palm of your hands,
Let’s spread them out-
Let us make a plan:

I can’t promise you much,
But I can promise you this,
I won’t try to steal away a heart,
But I might steal a kiss.
Carter Ginter Jul 2017
First, ink and tree leaves
      Fresh or processed, it works nonetheless
seek a tranquil abode
      And allow creativity to flow through throbbing veins
lock the doors, close your eyes,
      Trap yourself in your consciousness
no escape for the wicked and divine
      Allow the fear of yourself to boil,
the image of her that burns behind your eyes to scald you,
      And the anticipatory chills to soak your entire body.
let them twirl and collide
      Car collisions, fists against walls
face these lost horrors living in the depths of your mind
      Tickle the subconscious,
drifting enough to dream,
      But awake enough to feel the lightening of this storm.
tease and ****** it until it claws for an escape
      Poke and ****, burn it to squirm
the perfect result will be worth the torture.
      Then, at the peak of destruction
when it’s nearing death and combustion
      Release it onto the whiteness of the page
tarnishing it, impure.
A poem about writing poetry
[16:11, 8/22/2019] Me: Why are we doing this tbh. Not that it's bad, There's not a lot of things I'd rather do

[16:11, 8/22/2019] You: I don't know
[16:11, 8/22/2019] You: I guess we are just trying to find ways to be happy?
[16:11, 8/22/2019] You: and like. It's intriguing

[16:12, 8/22/2019] Me: As long as we'll stay together, like, that we're not out there alone, I'll be happy

[16:12, 8/22/2019] You: I feel the same, because we can get through it together
[16:12, 8/22/2019] You: as long as we are together, I will be okay and happy

[16:13, 8/22/2019] Me: It'll be okay, probably

[16:13, 8/22/2019] You: it will be
Lawrence Hall Aug 17
German refugee husband: “Liebchen – sweetness – what watch?”

German refugee wife: “Ten watch.”

Husband: “Such watch?”

Carl the Bartender: “You will get along beautifully in America.”

                                      -Casablanca

I­ check the time on my retirement watch
(A Seiko; they did not think much of me)
And consider that there is no time at all
Unless Creation is some sort of clock

Childhood is watchless, timeless, careless, free
But adults must be catalogued and timed:
Bulova, Timex, Rolex, and Longines
And even a railway Regulator

I check the time on my retirement watch -
And hustle off to my chapter two job
Your ‘umble scrivener’s site is: Reactionarydrivel.blogspot.com

It’s not at all reactionary, tho’ it might be drivel.

Lawrence Hall’s vanity publications are available on amazon.com as Kindle and on bits of dead tree:  THE ROAD TO MAGDALENA, PALEO-HIPPIES AT WORK AND PLAY, LADY WITH A DEAD TURTLE, DON’T FORGET YOUR SHOES AND GRAPES, COFFEE AND A DEAD ALLIGATOR TO GO, and DISPATCHES FROM THE COLONIAL OFFICE.
September Roses Aug 2018
The satin gown of hope a myth
      
   The heroes fallen                                      
                                    to the abyss

The bloom of death, no longer risen
Our souls trapped in endless prison

        Existence the master of all
        masked curses
    
              A song of tragedy with endless
              verses

   So if dying breath comes anyway
                  What's it matter
                 How soon the day

All suns set
Some plan no dawn
They care not for those who mourn

           I wish myself
      The blood to stop
     To soon not hold
   A single drop

So I promise you my heart for free
       If you swear
   You'll rip it out of me
why doesn't hello poetry like metaphorical Shakespearean poetry? its so pretty?
Charlie Black May 2018
Despite the screaming in my head,
The tears in my eyes
"I'm fine..."
Is what I said
"I'll be there in a few minutes..."
Then I put down the phone
And ran into the street
My suicide
"An accident" they'll say
The perfect plan.

The average person lies four times a day,
The most common lie is
"I'm fine"

I nvisible
'
M arred
F ucked
I nsecure
N uerotic
E mpty
MeanAileen Mar 2017
I am warmhearted and icy cold,
with a pretty face that's getting old.
I am fragile yet tough as a man,
struggle thru life with no real plan.
I am petite and cuss like a trucker,
slightly naive, but I'm no sucker.
I am a sinner with a halo of gold,
an open book with secrets untold.
I am a hypocrite but always play fair,
a bleeding heart and I don't care.
I am a mother who acts like a child,
crazy, impatient and easily riled.
I am spontaneous and I am a bore,
forever forgiving, I still keep score.
I am unstable and wonderfully wise,
a ****** deviant in sweet disguise.
I am creative and self-destructive
naturally skilled and unproductive.
I am shy and I am outspoken
with a heart of glass, easily broken.
I am awkward and well refined,
lost, insightful and a little love-blind.
I am respected and I am addicted
shamed by burdens, self inflicted.
I am a perfectionist and I am a slob,
unbiased and shallow, an inept snob.
I am nocturnal, a creature of night,
blissfully ignorant, typically right.
I am cautious and I have no fear,
a loser and quitter, still I persevere.
I am brilliant and easily amused,
over-zealous and under-enthused.
I am impervious with wounds to heal,
a habitual liar just keepin' it real.
I am witty and weird and mean-
I am what I am.......100 Aileen.
A lil bit about who I am...
June.4.19                                                        ­                                            

It's 2'am on a Friday morning
The brain flows words in like a flood coming through
Your heart's racing as you think about it
There's that phone call that makes you get butterflies
Just as you were talking to him couple ago hours
He know something's off
He knows your motions so well
He can feel it from across town
"I'll pick you up in 10 mins"
As he lets you know
" Ok "
But what to think ?
what to plan ?
what to say ?
You hear his car outside
You sneak out your room
You jump over the fence
Hop into his car
Ah , there's something to look at to be amazed by
He puts his hand under your face into pulling you
For one of his sweet kisses
He knows something is taunting you
He knows it's his job to make that taunting
From a memory into a disappeared cloud
You drive the ghost streets
With the lights only there
The vibe with music going is more relax
He knows how to give a vibe
The town is more beautiful at night with no one
Lights still going on
There's a few places open to food
You know my favorite taste
The taste that brings that vibe in me
Later when the sun is rising
We're at the beach
Where the warm colors show more
I look up at you , as you have your arms around me
Knowing it'll be ok
As long as you are with me
I close my eyes for second and open them
But suddenly i'm in a different place
Where i have my comfort zone
Where i lay down and think of you
Here in my bed
Having another thought of you all night again
Thinking here that
"This is the perfect plan"
Sehar Aug 2018
shuttle lost in space
transcend physics, black hole, in-
finity together.
my first haiku.
Michael Marchese Aug 2018
The power lines provide
Elucidation in disguise
A sanctuary shadow-stained
Estate commandment private enterprise
Desensitizing blinded lies
The buy, buy, buy
Consumes the lives
As malnutrition feasts its eyes
Monopolized, the profits rise
The pockets lined with earth’s demise
Until the rockets own the skies
Devising how to energize
The Helios within our minds
As we just sit and stare with pride
Ascending our expenses climb
Mankind amidst the stars will shine
Except for who gets left behind
To overpopulate in time
ThePoet Sep 2015
I've only been affected 
by anything other 
than affection
The only plan made
was to never have 
anything planned
I've only been 
perfect at living as 
an imperfection
The only thing I
understood was how 
much I didn't understand
Nat Lipstadt Aug 2018
a poem I didn’t plan: but a foot upon my shoulder
gave me no choice

if perfection came along regularly
we would not take note of this August Sunday

the breeze looks steady, blowing a firm few knots
making the waves rulers of the bay
without the necessity of troublesome whitecap shoutouts,
the sailboats muttering thankee

the kids dock jumping into the water so warm they shiver running on a warm summer day, 
 to home, where they do the coverup thing with hoodies and their Great Aunts white haired cozies blankets which appear in untold numbers,
one for everyone and don’t drip the cherry frozen sticks stains
from your tongue and lips

the sun temp modulated and moderate, a summer kiss farewell,
after weekend of thunderstorms and house shakings, it is sad for now
we recount the costly lost days unretrievable and
sky watching
for  naught

the waters inviting again come walk-upon me Island Poet,
to  see my new sea bottom treasures that the heavens, abetted by foolish men and children
have added to my storehouses of grains and pains

decline and recline for
Oh! have I not got one more weekend, to
close out that Melville tale^ and that is something one need not rush to complete

let me clarify - I am a Summer Man^^
and the summers sunsetting
is a ring around my chest that sings ever louder
nearer my god than thee;
now at the age where one only counts down to zero at double time
marching, eye straight

in this place where we - god and me - have sung and battled together
like good friend and peer,^^^
college roommate permanent enemies,
he keeps his teary rains in abeyance to remind that the coming of his schooner is
inevitable and to pack my poems in plastic for the journey
finale

Oh! how can perfect be so saddening but it is

my perfection days are minimizing and should not complain
for wrote many poems to day, unable to refuse my traveling muses
who summer with me, one upon each shoulder until god kicks them off, with a bossy look of
he’s more mine than yours

to make sure his presence acknowledged he
makes Pandora play Billie Holiday singing:
“I'll be seeing you
In every lovely summer's day
In everything that's light and ***
I'll always think of you that way

I'll find you in the morning sun
And when the night is new
I'll be looking at the moon
But I'll be seeing you”


subtle, right?

but who am I to complain
the razor thin difference tween
blessings and curses so thin
sometimes are they not the same thing

ne sont-ils pas les mêmes?


an unplanned poem
part of the plan
Pieces of me
thrown away
like trash
Never consulted
Never asked
The direct result
of another’s conviction
or more commonly seen
consequences
from blind ambition

Paranoid
The fix is in
But no invitation
for me,
former me
or forever me
and all of my imitations
beset by my
limitations

Forwardly I lean
step in between
lines upon lines
hidden;
can’t be seen
Falling ill
Now trapped
by its machine
And from my vein;
My blood I spill

A still surface
with sticky sheen
amber tones
from which
I glean
a reason
Thrilled
What it might mean
A hunger
that
can not be filled

Nothing but lies
giving me chills
A shell
with values
not instilled
Instead
it’s dread
Their words
I’m fed
"Nutrients"
to fill my head

My outer skin
Its layer
thin
Not to attacks
No single act
or prayer
could patch
and fill it in
A hole
that’s black
is my first sin

A game
in which
no way to win
and no ending
once it
begins
With opened eyes
commence to see
The dorsal fins
surrounding me

Head starts
to spin
What could have been?
It doesn't matter
in the end
because
there's nothing
here for me
A demon-like reality

Where what you seek
Placed at your feet
The icing; sweet
Choices; not three
Have cake or eat
One choice not two
But want to eat
and have it too

All efforts
to retrieve the treat;
An outcome that
ends in defeat
A princess swept
off of her feat
But this feature
princess;
a creature
Spirit of
a soulless seeker

Deceitful speaker
Flames;
he’ll eat ya
Offers pain
Can’t heal;
life drained
Then reaching out
to use
life-line
but with each ring
hope further wanes

An answered call
done just in time
The chills
running all down my spine
Stand tall
just like Douglas-fir pine
With racing thoughts
filling my mind
I will be saved
Free from it all
God must exist
No time to stall
In battle
warriors
may fall
but no man's ever left behind

Only to find
With said spent dime
A dynamite kind of answer
-
A type
that might
cause strife
Can't plan for
Needed answer
Plight
like cancer
New chance to live
Worldly romancer
On planet Earth
A tiny dancer

A romantic thought
to think
fight fought
Instead a sinking ship
just dropped
This life?
If could
an ‘OUT’
would opt
No more
can take
Just make
it stop
Written: April 17, 2018

All rights reserved.
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