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Shofi Ahmed May 2017
When you stepped in my door,
I realised I was Paradise
in my heart and soul.
You were so surefooted
because you came up from the high.
So long I longed for it.
O Fathima, only to kiss your feet!

The time was so sweet,
beyond anyone’s dream
only in pure beauty
I was rendering,
screaming to new highs.
I did it my way!
Lovely bouncing on
my polished pitch,
the rivers forget to flow
back to the seas.
But no one knew
where my toe melts!
Until you did
and took me for a tread
closer to your spring,
my sweet dream:
O Fathima, only to kiss your feet!

Your so pleased man wished
to rain down with love,
but humble you hid your feet!
You blinded the moon, snowed it
away under seven seas.
No wonder it's
your winning footing.
Like the Prophet said:
I found me the heaven
beneath the mother’s feet.
O Fathima, only on your feet!
Poems I write for hobby sake for chap books great they make .

Art of giving words a life is a legacy so old , the charm and style simply unfold .
Here I am the super power,
Igniting sparks of positive desire.

Completely lost in the world of words so dear.
My love for books becomes clear.

Rhyming with the rhythm of words , caressing the art of creating a verse .
Attributing  to being a poet with a purpose .

Contributing to the humanity in all making myself confidant and tall .
By fabricating beautiful stories ,
I'm
Pleased offering everlasting memories .

© Mrunalini.D.Nimbalkar
28.06.2019
Poem acoustic
(P)  Pleased
(O) Offering
        (E) Everlasting
     (M) Memories
A try at giving a depth to poetry in general.
Truely  believe the world of poetry transports one in a dreamland and a poet contributes so much of depth to the otherwise mundane things in life...kudos to all poets ....respect....
Mak Jul 2014
cameras flash
                                                           ­                                       lights blare
mother smiles
heart aches
                            stomach rumbles
                                                         ­   agent is pleased
skinny skinny skinny
                                                          ­                                          must be skinny
                                                         must be pretty
                                                          ­                                      must be perfect
must be good enough
                                                       not enough
                                                      neve­r enough
                                                     ugly ugly ugly
why do people
                                                          ­                                           even like me
                                                     ugly model
                                                     ugly girl
                                                        hate­ me
        cutting carving creating
                                                        ­                                              scars
             ­                                            drink drank drunk
drip drip
                                                       hoping I'll
                                                            ­                                              just
bleed
        ­                      out.
Salto Angel dances an Aqua-Skirt
Such Fashion pleased the Tourists below
How else can the Latin earn your Fervour
But surpass your Record of height and snow?
Funny, how her Majesty can suppress
Even more when viewing up from this Point
Like a Crone who often tries to oppress
A Revolt which a Priest failed to Anoint
And lowering my Camera, I see
The many Prizes I did Hit-and-Miss
But she roared with showers raining gently
And, enough! They saw Rainbows turn to bliss.
So I sat on a Rock to watch and live
Hoping my Partner would rise to forgive.
Muse the Bobbie, Learned and Scrolling Mentor
For screening this Curtain to show our Task
Basic Words you exhume; Trust, a favour
Later allow us with some Sticks to bask
It takes much swallow to go back to School
And strip us bare with Her Majesty's Words
This how you Speak - With a Rod and a Fool
But then, who cares? Forgans are for the Birds
Now all it takes to supple your behalf
Modelled by the Mad Agent done and pleased
We empty our Fillers; and bid Avast!
Upon Graduation your Skills we take heed.
Thank you so much again, Mentor availed
Success is Reward; Laziness is Failed.
Knit Personality Oct 2016
The sculptor-witch crafted with skill
   His model's eviler twin:
A stony Jack O'Lantern, ill
   And twisted-sick with sin.

He captured well the holy eyes
   That smile and look things dead,
The nose-hole where aroma dies,
   The mouth on curses fed.

Pleased with himself, pleased with his art,
   And, nothing left to do,
He gives it life in Satan's heart
   By yelling at it, "BOO!"


O.O
Fulfilling the word of the Law and the Prophets:
Paw Patrol posing pouch, Paw Patrol posing pouch!
Darth Vader is really Peter Parker's mother.
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Tories are cancer, Labour paedophilia.
Paw Patrol posing pouch, Paw Patrol posing pouch!
Very cheap, very good one pound fish!
Paw Patrol posing pouch, Paw Patrol posing pouch!
Over the cliff, Kubrick's monolith.
Paw Patrol posing pouch, Paw Patrol posing pouch!
In the gurdwara Sikhs limbodance under
Paw Patrol posing pouch, Paw Patrol posing pouch!
All the cops in the doughnut shops go
Paw Patrol posing pouch, Paw Patrol posing pouch!
Viva Chimerica, Neo-Ozymandias!
Paw Patrol posing pouch, Paw Patrol posing pouch!

Is that the Spear of Destiny or you just pleased to see me?
Is that the Spear of Destiny or you just pleased to see me?
Is that the Spear of Destiny or you just pleased to see me?
Minions Mankini heretics burn at the stake...
Robert G Page Mar 2015
by
rgpage

hollow now my world has grown
with age that time has ****** on me.
from carefree childhood days i'd known,
from days of climbing in a tree.

from summer sunlit mornings
from sundays in the park.
i didn't see time's warnings
or see the sun grow dark.

i didn't see the stranger
who followed me one day.
i didn't sense the danger
as i went off to play.

with eager youth i left from home
the world was my shell.
i didn't see the stranger
who'd lead me to my hell.

i'd lifted weights with youthful ease
these weights now known as life.
did what i wanted as i pleased;
i took myself a wife.

and with my wife we had a child
we had a baby boy.
with carefree sundays in the park
he filled our lives with joy.

we watched his life as he grew strong
'til off to war he went.
he told his mom, "it won't be long
until my journey's spent."

and as his ship pulled from the pier
i saw the stranger's face.
with deep set eyes he blankly starred,
he seemed so out of place.

i felt as if i'd known this man
had known him all my life.
in parks where as a youth i ran
and when i met my wife.

it wasn't long our son had gone
my wife had passed away.
and in the war he followed her
just six months to the day.

old and lonely now i sit
and watch the children play.
on carefree sundays in the park
until that final day.

a day in which the stranger comes
and takes me to my rest.
to my loving wife and son
upon my final breath.
Tommy Randell Feb 2017
Always, always pleased
To be unexpectedly smitten
Like finding the wind comes from trees
Waving their branches in rhythm
Like finding a Poem has meaning
Beyond the words that are written
That the path we follow is true
As we dance through a series of prisms
This poem was written to a moment of insight upon reading a poem 'Mutiny' by Mysidian Bard (qv)
Donall Dempsey Jun 2019
"...IT HAS PLEASED THE GOD OF BATTLES..."

General Dan is visiting
his leg

at the Military Museum
for 50 years now.

The one he lost
at Gettysburg.


Walt is visiting the wounded
and the many dying

at the Patent Office
press ganged into a makeshift

hospital
in glass cases

patents stare
at patients

"every kind of invention
it ever occured..."

the poet remarks
"into the mind of man


...to conceive."

A soldier laughs out loud
even as the President visits.

He has been handed
a religious tract

"The Sin of Dancing"
he who

has
no legs.

A crop of amputated feet
grows higher and higher.

How human are
a man's toes.

A dead Confederate
is dragged into position

to make
a better photograph.

Bushfires rage
through the Wilderness.

The scream of the wounded
being burnt alive

begging to be shot
"Did we or did we not

do all
that men could do>"

Shot through the socket
the eye bulges out

both brothers and
yet both survive

Microscopium constellation
looks down upon

this world of men
amazed to find itself

nailed to the Museum's floor
by some man's art

sharing the space
with General Dan's lost leg

that still lives on
in its glass case.

Obscure and barely visible
to the naked eye

just like the constellation
of the dead.

Man now
in a museum

falls asleep with
a book upon his lap

"Lost, Missing and
Troublesome Stars"

Like a musket shot
it wakes the sleeper up

turns heads as
1863

becomes
2003
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.
Smoke Scribe Mar 2015
Part II  of "Got 0 Followers"

aim high
to keep
it low

expectations
such an
Awesome Awful
curse
others infect
you with

don't, yada yada,
ya wanna be like
Tom, **** and Jane,
even Harry, a transgendered
friend and fellow (ha) outcast,
all with a good job
prospects of a
goodly tented long life?

so ya write poems
to nobody
about nothing and
you are pleased
to be pleasing just yourself

in writing you have
nothing to prove,
so read them
like keepsakes
ya like,
keep 'em & me hid,
in the shoebox
under the closeted
pile of ***** clothes,
special designer outfits concocted
so they keep my remains,
privatized and unsanitized,
my equity,
hidden,
disguised as disgusting

but for god-sakes
don't follow me,
unless
you want to curse us
both with
Expectations of Expectations,
then comes with
illiteracy of
Affection

then the literary
pre-tension
that always follows,
leading to

Affectation,
the first derivative of the infection of affection

yeah,
then comes
caring
and it instantly it's too late,
you're *******,
right up the mental heine,
lost condemned
ruined annihilated
crushed subverted
crushed into
mental death camp suffocation of more, please ma,
can I have some more?

**crap, why did you have to go and follow me?
Mary Gay Kearns Aug 2018
The broken biscuits lay in a tin
An ordinary oblong tin
With turquoise pattern
And pink embossed flowers
Gold edged to finish the job.

How many times I visited
That tin on the middle shelf
In the top half of a cupboard,
Sawn door, to allow for fridge,
And quietly took out the tin.

Broken biscuits were my delight
All shapes and sizes tasty bites
Wafers,  bourbon, custard creams
Rich tea, digestive all suited me
Sometimes fig sandwich, pleased.

Love Mary
Thank you Mum and dad .Love your daughter .
Traveler Jun 2013
Beyond passion we embrace the dark
A habitual bliss as we release our heart
Temptations tease, even want becomes need
Fulfillments fulfilled, even pleasures are pleased
We draw to the surface the quickening quench
Bathe in the purposeful hormonal stench

We lurk in the shadows cast by the meek
Who have inherited a world ruled by deceit...
With the wisdom of ages to guide our flight
We exist unnoticed under cover of night
We live for love yet hate sets us free
We search for truth in a world deceived

A simple twitch of an eye reveals a white lie
The calming of a heart as a nagging fear subsides
All is still as the dawn peaks the tranquil hour
Blinding rays of solar death seek evil to devour

Yet we are safe and sound from such a demon trap
When the forces of nature consummate our final path
Yet beware of such folklore that indicate win win
For we are merely immortals, until we reach our ends...
Traveler Tim Re po to 2019
HerStory Mar 2016
I know you hear my inarticulate moans each time I climb on top,
I know you feel me pressing down on you, until I have to stop.
I lay my naked body on the warmth of your core,
And every time I leave you I think of coming back for more.

Let me melt onto your surface as you take me away,
time is restless, time is deathless, time won’t let me stay.

My soul adrift
My mind at ease
My heart is pleased to dream Belize.

here I am before you, humbly on my knees
… before we touch bodies
I must ensure that HE is pleased.

I love The way you make me feel…this ecstatic state of mind,
the way I gravitate towards you before you penetrate my mind.
Drift me away like Sam smith at 2 a:m, Lay me down.
I will give you all of me while time just runs around.

I will close my eyes while I’m on top so reality melts away
But I must leave you, dearest , at the break of day.
karin naude Mar 2013
i wandered for a long time
among thorns, disease and death
no glimmer to see
feel the walls, feel the cave,it leads you out
i found many Christian doors
locked with big heavy chains
you preach "come Ye weary"
to locked door?!
Christian followers preach beautiful
words divinely chosen for impact
no temperature ever checked
walk among bibles, oil and cloths
dance in praise
blow the battle horn
But But But
who sees those wandering in the dark standing before closed doors for help

closed doors mean" banishment to the Barron out field
red sin covered land
mercy irrelevant
demanding cruel deity
pleased with nothing
pushes self destruction
cries are stamp on
more pain more glory
damage soul the goal
your pleadings are laughed and spit upon
the glorious hellish Barron outfield

do you allow this dear reader?
do you have closed doors?
i lived in the outfields now i'm home thank God
my Guardian through prayer opened a door for me
now i know, now i know
follow the true Christ
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