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chichee Dec 2018
Lovely unpretentious silhouette
all bruised under dusklight.
You've got a laugh like
Honey-gold
spilling into
cracks in the pavement
I could walk you back
to the station.


Don't rush this, fool
Box this ((something)) up in it's
corners.

Keep those
Five centimetres between our fingers.
Inevitable distance.
I'll worship you behind
bulletproof glass.
Not yet, not yet

We love in fractions,
dripping into our hearts until it
spills over.
An Ode to the Early Days, when anything seems possible.
Inspiration from Station by Låpsley
Homunculus Mar 2016
Enamored of the possible, and racing,
  Through a winding maze of endless choices,  
  Daunted by the obstacles we're facing, and 
  Dizzied by the clamor's many voices,

Shackled by a heavy chain of causes,
  Binding us to all we've ever known,
  The many paths before us give us pause, as
  We struggle to define which are our own,

Within a world that's not of our own making
    We anxiously await the day we'll find,
    A journey worthy of our undertaking, so
    That purpose in our lives may be defined, but
    
Perhaps our fate condemns us all to wander, and
       Our lives are merely mysteries to ponder
I think this is the first of a series of 5 Shakespearean sonnets based on Aristotle's rhetorical foundations. Telos means an "ultimate object or aim." This particular iteration also owes its driving force to Heidegger's notion of "thrownness" or the idea that we all inherit a ready made world from the history of our predecessors, and struggle against the way the facts which constitute that world condition what is possible for us to achieve within it. The other 4 will be Kairos, Logos, Ethos, and Pathos; and I will be working on and publishing them as they come to me. - Your Humble Servant
I've read a lot of romances,

And before I fell asleep,

I would write my myself into the pages, and fall in love with Wesley and Darcy and Aragorn.

She would catch his eye, and he would approach, and they would talk for hours holding hands under the stars.


I would meet people, who I thought I could replace the heros in my stories,
but,
when the part arrived,
where he got down on one knee,

I couldn't imagine it with anyone.

But now,

I see us meeting at the alter,
our house
and our kids.
I see my old hand on your wrinkled face.
Road trips and trips to the store.
and making up after arguing
what movie to watch on a Friday night.


"You know you're in love when reality is better than your dreams"

I think I might understand now.

Because while you're not perfect,
neither am I.

You exceeded all my expectations

Not only did you fulfill everything I'd hoped for,

but you made it better.
Because it's you. And I could never invent the way you surprise me with the way you make me feel.

               I'm excited and unafraid

Of
     the
            possibly
                          of
                                You­
Can someone tell me how you know you're in love?
Gods1son Oct 2018
He is God
He can fix things in a second
Only if you can believe
Nothing is impossible to Him
He's waiting for your call today
Open up your heart to Him
He's more than willing to heal your wounds
He is ready to make a way for you
Reach out to Him
Do it now
Read from top to bottom and back up
Soleil Oct 2018
There is possibility
There is a possibility that you can go somewhere
There is a possibility that you can do it
There is a possibility to make a difference
There is a possibility to dream
There is a possibility if you believe
There is a possibility
~Soleil DeLorge~
There is a possibility that this is a little repetitive, but it means alot
Ian Mackenzie Aug 2018
We lie here - our bodies quiet in the late night heat

Off in the distance a dog barks as it’s master stirs and
in the fields the crickets give their last gasps of the day

A party lightens up a far away terrace as the wine flows and a secret flirt takes place as a gecko flits across a stucco wall, stops and moves again

And in this still heat our bodies merge - become one and we grow together

The far off waves of a Mediterranean Sea lap the silken sand

As we become one once more
31st July 2018 about a friend in Malta
Sophia Jun 2018
As we sit down to our dinners,
as we open our romance books,
people die.

We sip our water;
their guts spill open.
We study our notes;
their planes crash.

We live;
they die.
We breathe;
they suffocate.

We are testaments to chance,
to luck, to possibility.

We are not products of God.

We are blind goats trotting on our path
before we perish, suddenly,
and vanish into death.
Kewayne Wadley Jul 2018
It is possible.
To leap beyond where fear takes us.
Surely so many things happen.
By contrast
We stand still.
Wound up in total curiosity.
To dream in wonderment.
With each twirl we captivate the essence of someone else.
A sort of inspiration that convinces us that we are more than what we believe.
Beginning to walk,
Our other functioning parts come to life.
Embraced in true courage.
Spun around and round.
This huge metal behind it's back.
Suddenly this obstacle isn't what it seems.
First finding what is important.
The touch of someone else
Through encouragement.
The wind-up doll begins to move
No longer incapable by what we define as fear,
But enormous faith.
To place all of it's self in another
Without fear of adding another chip to it's face.
It waddles along.
Moments later,
Pride interferes.
It's movements stop.
To be spun up again and again
Falling to the floor
Seconds at a time
~

I am
Unpoetic, for
Isolation built from self-paved
Solitude has wilted my writing's
Possibility for sweetness
And sugar-faked beauty,
But poetry is crazed
For a taste of
Vast feelings,
So here
I am-


~
All feedback is welcome
L B Jul 2018
For my cousin, Chris Goldrick

Lacing my skates
after walking two miles
in girl-strictured delight
Mom's stories of Sonja Henie--
No, not ever

Lacing my skates
with  snow-ball pompoms
felt skirt
and nylon tights
Cute little hat with matching scarf
My thighs and fingers
already freezing
icy burn
from miles on foot

to get there
the lake where--

I must get out
I must get OUT!

Knowing what
to expect from my body
the quick-twitch of muscle
Could always sense
specific--
gravity of water    
at 22 degrees

Desiring to feel
the motion between ice and steel
Read speed's vibrations through my body
The brain registers relation
to weather's effect
Tell of velocity
possibility of fall
Feel the slash of the blades beneath me
Throw my weight sideways, sudden
to hear that furious hiss
An object in motion tending, dire
to stay in motion

Threatening to stay there
always
in its heights-- of speed
away--

from the crowds of skaters
swirling distant in the lights

Seeking instead
the farthest reaches of Porter Lake
speed and speed and more
to overcome
inertia
of what it is to become
undone

at the outer edges, of humanity
A force  
centrifugal unto myself

Avoiding

Pregnant and slow
with years and babes....

The best
must be broken and tamed
of what it takes to stay free

catching the edges with every stride
catching my toe in the quick
180
spray of frost
to the sudden still

Listen to the frigid chill

and the heave of my breath
tumbling into evidence

Gliding
Once

Forever--

on, into darkness
of woods on frozen water

The wildness of it all

So infatuated with flight
so full of grace

I forgot Sonja

The moon rose
from her seat in the treetops
and applauded
Wrote this immediately from a dream a couple months ago.  With all the heat and humidity, it sounded good to go today.

This dream was an actual relived memory of being 12 years old and skating at Porter Lake in Forest Park of Springfield, Massachusetts.  22 degrees F is minus 5.5 C --Just a reference
Kora Sani Oct 2018
i start to think about rooftops and airplanes
it is there that we see the veins of our cities
from up above we utter their beauty
a beauty that we can't seem to utter with two feet on the ground
from higher ground we begin to understand
that we are all but small creatures
in a world of unknowns
from up above we can finally see
just how small we are
from up above
we see
possibility
lapsed into your own silence
you're running and hiding
hence to the highs and lows
keep working and praying

no cages for your capability
if you just hear your possibility
you can do every impossibility




Muhammed Emin KUŞASLAN
You can check out my other poetries from this link.
https://muhammedeminkusaslan.blogspot.com/

My instagram: @eminkusaslan

Have a good day/night !   - E
Qweyku Oct 2015
"Probably"*
          
             leaves open
                
     the door of uncertainty,
      
             Just enough for

the breeze of possibility


© Qwey.ku
breeze or draft which one's cool?
patty m Jul 2018
Beyond the reef
                     in crackling amber
the sun rises above the earth,
                     kissing river beds strewn with lovers

Passed mouth to mouth they whisper innuendo
the possibility of  living *******.
Bobbing bodies mimic boats on waves
and soon delirium penetrates a new country.

Heat and fire flare in bandied breeze
                          igniting insatiable shadow;
Pure and venial, the air incarnate
excites the ocean and ****** sing.

The quivering above ground
slithers silkily spilling watercolor rhapsody,
                         in a gush of white a fertile tsunami
reeks reckless abandon.   Once by moonlight,
they rubbed sleep from eyes, hugging hurt
as they clamored high in ghostly pallor.
Some leading the dance, hungered for knowledge,
others played shadowy roles.
Yet wafting still, comes the foreign fragrance,
fragments of spirituality,  a longing to touch,
as abundance rolls in shorelines green.
                         Offered mercies, fragile as wings,
shades of truth cascading like water, breathless
in sensual splash;
                       how tremulous
                       the image of truth,
                       the threshold of tomorrow.
Andrew Oct 2017
A challenge to dating men
Is I don't want to insult them by calling them ***
Yet there's no way of knowing
Unless I ask
But I never know how they'll react to the possibility
Which is fair
Because the possibility of their wrath
Keeps me from saying anything
So I can live in a fantasy of possibilities

You may write it off as internalized homophobia
Or say that these are problems everyone faces
But the more I see the more I know
And I've seen an aura of toxicity
And the possibility of it's removal
I hope you've heard my love hiding inside the melody that Donny Hathaway plays
From every poetic note folded amongst the ivory keys plucked
This heart writes light like butterfly wings fluttering in flight
But it's heavy when I barely see you
So, my vision grows old like my wishes of us
Weakened only by fleeting time
Yet. lengthened
Like desires that chain-link hopes to the wildest dreams along far streams
You could say I'm always in your hair
Wherever the strands flow, I follow its fibers feverishly
Strung along by song of nature so strong, that
I'm in a Pinocchio-state, made to move by your voice
A puppet parroting psalms to praise your personage
In the richness of your favor
In the hour of knowing
It's been a minute
And time is indeed money
Every second counts when I'm around your golden smile
I wish I could play this track forever
Or rewire my brain to rehearse every one of your favorite verses
Be the B-side of your cassette
And rewind to the best moments
Unwind together.

Ifeanyi N. Okoro II © 2018
Vicki Kralapp Aug 2012
Rising from ashes like the fabled phoenix
Growing out of nothingness to a possibility of life
I am but a tiny whisper of a breath, still struggling to be.  
with life renewed yet to be lived.

I am born to a freedom to be
what I will… what I choose to be.
Can I truly be all that I am; what I was made to be?
My slate is wiped clean by you.  

Debts repaid and fears released,
Replaced by age and broken hearts.
Why did this have to be so harrowing a life.
Why did I have to die to live?
All poems are copy written and sole property of Vicki Kralapp.
Before there was anything that mattered everything that would ever be existed , it was the essence of totality , it was without dimensional constriction or necessitated form .  Optimistically speaking time had no relative realism to it’s progression because realistically nothing had happened yet .  As it continued it became according to it’s innate inflections as a functionally integrable form .  The questionably understandable nature of it’s conjunction was an omnipotent directive beyond necessitated action or morphological construction .  The enigmatic consciousness of it’s relatively interrelated conception was spontaneous and yet it continued without elemental omniscience.  

As the relative complexity of it’s interrelations evolved dimensional consistence was born.  Humanly understandable laws of physical integration governed many facets of it’s conjunction yet the totality of it’s ramification was beyond humanly realistic conjecture .  

The organic morphology of biological ontogeny was a conceptually reflective derivative of functional physical mechanics yet it’s diversity exceeded it’s physical complexity , understanding evolved .  Relatively extraneous interpolations of adhesively practical extremity succeeded in a hierarchy of functionally integrable forms .

Retrospectively speaking pragmatic practicality is a humanly rational possibility .  Rational logic can conceive of individually totalitarian structural forms , yet the implosive nature of their rational cohesiveness becomes a practical partiality due to the diversity of their definitive impetus .

Perhaps the essence of our being is the logical counterpart for the matrix of our subjectively conclusive social fragmentation , or perhaps we are evolutionally incapable of cumulatively rational correlation.  Problematic diversity could be perfectible on an individually infinite level or contrarily perhaps ubiquitous causality is the ultimate survivor.  

In any case it is beyond our subjugatively rational cohesive coercion to intercede en masse on our own behalf as an integrated unit. Our conceptual abilities have been thwarted by the unmitigatably individual nature of our extraneous conclusiveness .
Re-post
I wish I could have that.
I wish I could have his kiss.
I wish I could ignore what the world judge against my actions.
To allow him to be comfortable with me and for me to do the same.
To hold him like my life depends on him.
To cherish his love for me.
I wish I could be that girl.
I wish that I wasn’t weak.
Wish that I could be taller.
Confident.
Smarter.
Beautiful.
I wish I was told I was beautiful.
Not by mom.
Not by female friends.
By a boy.
A boy who interests me.
A boy who is a gentleman.
A boy. Period.
I wish it would be that easy.
I wish destiny was true.
I wish love at first sight exist.
I wish for true love.
I wish.
And I long.
For a possibility that is unreal.
Overcome the possibility by removing the factor in riots
Important is understanding the language
The double-meaning words of the Minister commanded the riots.

Crime is a whistle-blow understanding contract
People who claim relationships are the ones who do not maintain
Were their days when victims were not helpless in riots?

The earth went red in riots; rioters work by their traits
Learn the language opposite
Happy Mother’s Day!

Dr Baljit Singh
Sunday, 12th May 2019
rebecca Sep 2018
The river of possibility is an endless stream
and still, I'm lost, trapped in this small town dream.

I know I cannot change what happened in the history,
but I can change the soon to be.

The past is forever,
but the possibilities of my future are without measure.
I want to write better poetry, so please comment with tips and suggestions!
Jeff Stier Oct 2016
A most pious man
whose well-tempered music
brushed the cobwebs
from the throne of God

Evolution was made manifest
across deep time
these lyrical figures
achieve the same purpose
in the space between the morning star
and the dawn

A fallow field
is sewn with pearls
a moonlit beach
illuminated by shadow
every scrape of the fiddler's bow
merges mind with the present
harvests the meaning
in the moment

The composer
that good man
was
for a time
church organist at St. John's
its notable steeple leaning
all askew
as a rebuke against God
or perhaps the drunken architect

A finger of candlelight
plays across the manuscript
a fugue echoes
through the still church

And though no living person
on that still winter's night
shares the organist's solemn delight
the stirring mass of possibility
that is posterity
awaits
frankie Aug 2018
is it possible to see a person
every day, every hour
in every aspect of life
and still never get tired of seeing them?
is it possible to get the same
production of emotions each time you even
think of their being? or their laugh? or any aspect of them?
is it possible that every time i lay my eyes on you
i only fall deeper and deeper?
is it possible, to not get your heartbroken by the idea of not being anything, but having someone who is everything?
L Dec 2016
APF
i feel like the equivalent
of an abandoned paintball field.
I guess it could be peaceful.
But its a bit eerie to say the least.
Everything is all faded but you can tell
**** has gone down there.
You just cant know for sure what.
Like youre sure there were some great memories there.
But you also cant rule out
the possibility that
at one point in time,
someone has gotten an eye shot out.
French rose Aug 2018
Give me a canvas so my soul can paint you a picture
Give me a journal so my heart can write you a poem
Give me your mind and my heart will devour the pain
Give me your love darling and I'll show you possibility
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