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She quenches her thirst with
The tears of the inhabitants
Of sinkholes, claims them,
And gives birth to them anew.
Exhaling the winter wind, the
Scalding embers of December.

No one knows her name,
But you can confide in her.
Share your disarray, she will
Rectify you with her rhetoric.


She's seductive like suicide,
While I am as hung as a noose.
An irresistible demon, a potter
Shaping your every desire, a puppeteer
Manipulating the strings attached to your limbs.
Hailing from the same realm as Shang
Tsung, mortal anguish empowers her.

(c) 2014 Brandon Antonio Smith
An "answering back" poem based on Winter by Sia Janes. http://hellopoetry.com/poem/960549/eternal-voices/
Growly Wolfus Aug 2019
A single raindrop falls from the sky,
depressed in its loneliness as it descends.
It lands and drips down a grassy *****,
alone and forgotten.

A single raindrop falls from the sky.
It falls from dark clouds and gloomy air.
It brings nothing but sadness to the earth below
and desires only to be heard or seen.

A single raindrop falls from the sky,
felt only by a stranger.
It's wiped away, declared a nuisance,
and cast away from existence.

A single raindrop falls from the sky,
mistaken for a tear.
Thought to be from an angel of a lost age.
It merely stirs the dust.

A hundred raindrops fall from the sky,
all lonely but together.
They cause a splash and demand attention.
Still only felt by one.

A hundred raindrops fall from the sky,
unable to quench the earth's thirst.
They disappear, taken by the ground,
embraced for the last time.

A hundred raindrops fall from the sky.
Not a head turns to notice them.
They cry out loudly but cannot be heard,
vanishing as they land.

A thousand raindrops fall from the sky.
The clouds gather to watch the spectacle.
They grow darker as they bunch together,
warning those below of the coming.

A thousand raindrops fall from the sky
and tap people on the shoulder.
"Come watch us," they whisper before leaving.
Few people are left behind.

A thousand raindrops fall from the sky,
looking for an audience.
The people have left and taken their friends
to hide in the buildings they made.

A million raindrops fall from the sky,
and joyously, they sing.
They hit the ground, the cars, the roofs,
and make music for those in hiding.

A million raindrops fall from the sky.
They dance and cheer and smile.
The sun decides it wants to watch.
The light dances with raindrops for awhile.

A million raindrops fall from the sky,
accompanied by rays of gold.
They bring new color to the city of gray
and rejuvenate all of the old.

A gentle rain falls from the sky
and makes art upon the ground.
It quenches the earth's thirst and hums in our ears,
dancing to its own sound.

A gentle rain falls from the sky.
People watch with awe from behind glass.
Ignored by many, precious to captivated few.
They long for it to last.

A gentle rain falls from the sky
and gracefully sways in the breeze.
It brings forth calmness and a sense of peace.
It blesses the green fields and trees.

A gentle rain falls from the sky,
watched by a child with wonder.
It sends the breeze to lift the child
and brings them out from under.

A gentle rain falls from the sky
and splashes on window panes.
It plays with the child and hums sweet tunes
as it makes puddles in the traffic lanes.

A gentle rain falls from the sky
and ripples in the water.
A new world created, impossibly calm.
It makes the child an offer.

A gentle rain falls from the sky
and whispers in the child's ear.
"Wait for me.  I will return.
I won't leave you alone here."

A gentle rain falls from the sky
and sings goodbye to the child.
The clouds dissipate as the sun takes over.
The departing rain simply smiles.

A million raindrops fall from the sky,
murmuring farewells and goodbyes.
Each gives the child a tender hug
as the color returns to the skies.

A thousand raindrops fall from the sky,
then a hundred, then one.
The single raindrop kisses the child
standing alone in the sun.

No longer do raindrops fall from the sky,
but a child waits for them.
To dance and sing and draw and play,
with the gentle rain again.
I LOVE the rain.  I wrote this after a gentle rainfall and listening to one of my favorite songs.
The child in the poem does not necessarily represent age, but more awe and feelings I have when I watch the rain.  It's so peaceful.  I feel like a child whenever I watch it or sit in it.
Kiss the Rain - Yiruma
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=so6ExplQlaY
Sydney Victoria Nov 2012
Sunflower,
Don't Die From My Soul,
Sunlight Still Lurks In My Veins,
Imagination Quenches Your Thirst,
Though Your Roots Are Exposed,
I Kiss Every Petal,
To Keep You Alive

Rose,
Don't Die,
You Are The Passion In My Garden Of Me,
Don't Let The Frost Over Take You,
Snowflakes Dance Around You,
Enjoy The Cold


Sunflower,
Oh Sunflower,
It's Always Summer In My Garden,
Let The Showers Of Enlightenment,
Keep Your Petals Smooth And Age Free

*Rose,
Oh Rose,
Rose With Green Eyes,
Stay Strong,
Don't Let The Weeds Overtake You,
You Are Beautiful,
You Are The Pacemaker,
To Anyone Without A Heart,
If You Fail To Survive,
So Will I
This Isn't Very Good But Oh Well!
Ovi-Odiete Jul 2016
Poetry has a sensitive soul
A drive and impulse
Telling stories the way they are
Feelings of soberness
A heart felt word

Poetry has a sensitive heart
Beautifully immense
A heart of gold
Giving values to life
Adding years to life: Poetry is beautiful

Poetry has a sensitive soul
Like streams that meanders slowly
Like a river glorious: It Flows
Poetry has a sensitive heart,
A beautiful soul; A flying Angel.

Poetry is the signal
that
The soul sends into the world
Like the river, it flows into the sea,
yet the sea never gets filled.

Poetry is the fluid for the soul,
The liquid for the yearning of the Mind
That which quenches the fire
Feeding the deepest desires
Poetry is Gold in essence

Ovi Odiete©
May you find SOLACE AND BLISS in POETRY and may it be a MUSE for your Living.

I am thrilled that this little poem of mine has been chosen for THE DAILY POEM (19/July/2016)
Thank you all and thanks to HELLOPOETRY.
Regards, Ovi.
vircapio gale Oct 2012
Haiku:

hiking new forests
mountain homes of moss and dew
more roots deepen


berries ripe
dot taiga heath--
alien planet


yellow blazing sun
'packin'rocks'
from maine to georgia


pain born hero
in oven boots of blood and pus--
summit breeze


barefoot hiker
calls herself 'FearNot'--
toes enjoy same mud


snake rises up
fangs gleam at water lair
cold spring quenches all


***** at each view--
water comes in and goes out
like a filter


at waterfalls, swans
alighting air-- noble poise
on the way to sea


gunas intertwine
my sweet mountain hunger paths
bitter taste of bark


sour grass
garnish of an earthen tract
saliva honeyed


strands of spider flight --
i too catch myself making
web after web


"nature loves to hide"
hidden hermit roars of all
strife and fire flux


spider bite at dusk
afterswing of scenting food
shoo the meal away


change becomes the same--
people streams talking pixels
aging static web

symbols set in light
speed of optic living nodes;
clicking finger fibers


websites spin and stick
plastic tropical alphabets
ant waves clean the keys


fueling in process,
living fossils already
drilling seas--on earth


give or take six months,
happy birthday!
two seasons gone


Haibun:*

A mountain poet has come to the city, blisters pushing up his toenails. His smile spans 15 blocks of concrete and rebar. Strangers coo to see his sunshine gait but cough at his aroma. Hospitality is found after all, in parks and in the drunken streams from clubs gregarious for midnight novelties.

poet's apology--
not exactly 'myself' to
license gratitude
when time gifts symbols distance--
terror war towers still fall

Emergencies of all sorts force their way into my mind, as I live, sometimes as I write. Ambiguities serve as fulcrum nooks for meanings incompossible to hide, not being ready to share what can't be shared, obscurity offers the ineffable reprieve to be spoken nonetheless.

peering in the word--
sound signs meta symbol
witty sea of *****

property stings
abstract fights to earth
mixing labor

i found a haiku
on my coworker's desk--
where is the frog pond?

dad drinks alone--
photo recalls sunlit leaf
and beer can stare

opining fire false
freezing hearts with argument--
cold spring, winters warm

It is with the love of a child that I write, wincing harder into that self-given 'Indian-Burn' of cathartic fetish and psychological indulge. Where is maturity, and what use is it when faced with endless ground-zeros? Still open to answers, still unwilling to speak plainly or straight about the blanket crookedness and blissful meander that colors life most vividly. I imagine dacrygelosis understood.

thawing pond
creaks in headstand calm--
autumn air released

night's insight pierce
heralds migraine's ease--
gong of moon or sun

on dead wood, against
live trees, hours of *** by
mycelia blooms--
fragrant rot and sweat collide
skin spotted with forest sun

love signs everywhere--
two trunks spiraled
in a yellow wood

vocal awe resung
this is love! this is love!
deep summer fruit

rub of bark                      
vast forest sways across skin
                        naked expanse
Chuck Jan 2013
Man needs little to endure life's hardships
Gold, silver, and jewels plunder a man's soul
Water, food, shelter, and companionship
Despite life's conquests, must remain the goal
Water quenches what possessions cannot
A custom carriage fails as a life source
Nor does it quench when August days grow hot
Nor nourish folks when seasons fall off course
Look for umbrage, safety from barren land
Shelter to the pains of nature denied
Yet, man's elemental resource reigns man
The shipwrecked, fed and quenched, unsatisfied
Possessions, wealth, and even basic need
Can't provide the nourishment humans bleed
This is the first English/Shakespearean Sonnet in a sequence to my children: lessons from life.
Nat Lipstadt Dec 2020
*But wrestle I do nonetheless,
                                    for the pleasure of this (non?) soluble
                problem that both creates
    queries & quenches
                             simultaneously, so I break off this
                             thinnest wafer to share with you,
          offering this notional



<~>

mine own words return, Halloween hauntingly,
every event adds layering failure to comprehend
and the frustrated anger dissipates into a thousand
swirls,
Oct 25 2020 Manhattan
Kelly O'hara Jul 2014
Being wiccan is my calling it's my religion.
It is the well i drink from it quenches my souls thirst.
The god and goddess are my rulers i heed their call.
I follow the call of the elements earth, air, fire and water.
Wicca is something i can count on when i have nothing to give.
Wicca is something that gives me a sense of safety and relief.
When i know i have nothing i know i have wicca.
Blessed Be! be the the ancients for they dance with me.
The knowledge of wicca the complex magic is food for my soul.
The deities walk with me i feel their love, their protection.
No fear will tweak my soul no outer force will break my strength.
I will forever seek to learn the wiccan ways and laws,
For being wiccan is in my blood.

Written 5th July 2014 By Kelly O'Hara
Ishita Mar 2015
You are glancing out of the window
Taking a look at nature's creation
Wisps of your hair gently stroking your face
Feeling a cold wave against you
Walking slowly amidst the misty clouds
The endless curves of the mighty mountain
Spinning your head around
Deep down there lies deathly valleys
Defining life beyond explanation
All you can see is plush green colour
Ranging from warm to tender
While I travel,I try not to grasp at people
By their devotion towards work
An independent river flows curvily to reach its destination
Given much ore of its freedom
Captivating nature in just one go isn't enough
You have to soak in as much as possible
Sure one becomes perplexed at the first sight of the beautiful sunrise
And I bet the day couldn't get that better otherwise
The air had its own charm,its own charisma
While the chants and prayers of monks completed the atmosphere
I smile as I currently jot this poem down
Words fail to express my happiness crown
I say to myself-" This isn't imagination,This is reality"
Confused, are you reader?
My heart beats and  quenches for the aroma of green tea leaves
Hmm,I'll miss this heaven on earth,
This place,these people,their lives,their struggles
Their homeland.
Their Birthplace.
So this is my travelogue
And currently you were into my experience
My "Darjeeling Experience"
And not a dream,or a part of paper
Cause its far more than your mere imagination.
Thank Heaven! the crisis—
  The danger is past,
And the lingering illness
  Is over at last—
And the fever called “Living”
  Is conquered at last.

Sadly, I know,
  I am shorn of my strength,
And no muscle I move
  As I lie at full length—
But no matter!—I feel
  I am better at length.

And I rest so composedly,
  Now in my bed,
That any beholder
  Might fancy me dead—
Might start at beholding me
  Thinking me dead.

The moaning and groaning,
  The sighing and sobbing,
Are quieted now,
  With that horrible throbbing
At heart:—ah, that horrible,
  Horrible throbbing!

The sickness—the nausea—
  The pitiless pain—
Have ceased, with the fever
  That maddened my brain—
With the fever called “Living”
  That burned in my brain.

And oh! of all tortures
  That torture the worst
Has abated—the terrible
  Torture of thirst,
For the naphthaline river
  Of Passion accurst:—
I have drank of a water
  That quenches all thirst:—

Of a water that flows,
  With a lullaby sound,
From a spring but a very few
  Feet under ground—
From a cavern not very far
  Down under ground.

And ah! let it never
  Be foolishly said
That my room it is gloomy
  And narrow my bed—
For man never slept
  In a different bed;
And, to sleep, you must slumber
  In just such a bed.

My tantalized spirit
  Here blandly reposes,
Forgetting, or never
  Regretting its roses—
Its old agitations
  Of myrtles and roses:

For now, while so quietly
  Lying, it fancies
A holier odor
  About it, of pansies—
A rosemary odor,
  Commingled with pansies—
With rue and the beautiful
  Puritan pansies.

And so it lies happily,
  Bathing in many
A dream of the truth
  And the beauty of Annie—
Drowned in a bath
  Of the tresses of Annie.

She tenderly kissed me,
  She fondly caressed,
And then I fell gently
  To sleep on her breast—
Deeply to sleep
  From the heaven of her breast.

When the light was extinguished,
  She covered me warm,
And she prayed to the angels
  To keep me from harm—
To the queen of the angels
  To shield me from harm.

And I lie so composedly,
  Now in my bed
(Knowing her love)
  That you fancy me dead—
And I rest so contentedly,
  Now in my bed,
(With her love at my breast)
  That you fancy me dead—
That you shudder to look at me.
  Thinking me dead.

But my heart it is brighter
  Than all of the many
Stars in the sky,
  For it sparkles with Annie—
It glows with the light
  Of the love of my Annie—
With the thought of the light
  Of the eyes of my Annie.
In one who felt as once he felt,
This might, perhaps, have fann’d the flame;
But now his heart no more will melt,
Because that heart is not the same.

As when the ebbing flames are low,
The aid which once improved their light,
And bade them burn with fiercer glow,
Now quenches all their blaze in night.

Thus has it been with Passion’s fires—
As many a boy and girl remembers—
While every hope of love expires,
Extinguish’d with the dying embers.

The first, though not a spark survive,
  Some careful hand may teach to burn;
The last, alas! can ne’er survive;
  No touch can bid its warmth return.

Or, if it chance to wake again,
  Not always doom’d its heat to smother,
It sheds (so wayward fates ordain)
  Its former warmth around another.
Creatively enticing,
   profoundly sensual
  boundlessly experienced,
cryptically presumptive
inordinately exclusive
 
 effusively lavished,
anesthetized or blatant
allusive beyond ethereal,
metaphorically inferred
criminal insanity

disquiet midst agitation,
peaceably surrendered
illustriously polished
or indubitably raw
    fruitful to a fault - -
in reciprocity's glory be

   quenches thirst,
     satiates a hunger
flourished midst ink's
designed grandeur,
poetry never fails to thrive,
   tripping the light fantastic  
    in its exuberant offering*

Seize the power
Stanley Mungai Jun 2012
Upon the arboreal dozed and limb,
Extended coccyx serpentine loose,
Throne of inspection, tenet and dumb
Stillness hunts akin stealthy Mongoose;

Except for the natal locomotive
Soft deep sufficiently immense purr
Emanating from some industry; effective
In the cover of the thick supple fur.

The lord of his unconquered empire,
Thrives on flesh and quenches on milk,
Wintering unperturbed reading the fire
That flickers, gleaming his bed of silk.

Ever landing on appendage quadruple
Acrobatic athlete not soiling once his back
Consummating in strict concealment marble
Couch of perpetual indulgence buried black.
Simpleton Sep 2017
In the twenty first century
Where we have been the most advanced we have ever been
Where we have central heating
Air conditioning
Online shopping
Open heart
And laser eye surgery
Never has the goal of a happy and pleasant life drifted further away
Than it has today
We have been taught how to fly high in the sky like a plane
How to dive deep in the ocean like a fish
But how to walk on this earth
As a happy and content being
Some of us, we still struggle
We can contact people on the other side of the world
But we can't connect with our soul
We search for peace
Swallowing pills to seal the cracks in our heart
To cover fear, loneliness and anxiety
Oh you who wander
Life is a drink of salty water
You are drinking for a thirst that never quenches
A hunger that never fills
On this path
Pain becomes unbearable
Calamities become intolerable
A search for peace of mind
The ability to sleep at night
Your chest will only become tighter
The dark will become darker
Until you realise
That the pieces of our heart can only be put together
When we have gratitude during times of ease
And patience during times of difficulty
Four days. Shadows now begin to lurk at the edges of my vision, my sunken eyes in a conundrum of expressions, my mind now only a fraction of that of the tiniest animal. Do you know that animals are polite? Yes. What’s your name? Yes. For four days my heart has had the stalking company of silence. It’s a nice day today. Yes. It’s almost like meditation. Would you like coffee or tea? Beer. What would I make of this peace? There’s no beer. ...Beer.

The evening darkness gives off a relaxing daze in the -ber months. That’s a doze off for everyone else. The beer runs endless here, its smooth chill on my stress-parched throat quenches my spirit, with spirits. The shadows look, they are envious. I offer them a bottle. Dude, you’re alright? Huh? I was here just a minute ago. ARE YOU ALRIGHT!?  

My friend has been very nice. I called him to ask if I could go over to his place to drink. No, I can’t. We ended up drinking anyway. Beer-Yes.  

Whoever says that cola bottles are **** has not seen a beer’s. Or they might not have yet the right tips. Day one: Statistics class: What is the scale of measurement for levels of aggression? If you seek, you are already lost. If you don’t, you will never find.    

I have a feeling I’m later going to go on autopilot again. It’s surprising how the body can remember places the mind had lost to drinking. It’s a nice evening, yes? Yes. Day two: Day three: Huh? For a certain amount, alcohol would be pleased to accompany anyone. The shadows do like their drinks; their perpetual longing for things clutched to moments almost mirrors mine. I tire of beer, bring some hard ones. They like their tips. *Yes-Yes, …Beer.
TinaMarie May 2012
Allow me...

To be your warm bath at the end of a hard day
     And wash away all of your stress.

To be the long exhale from your tightly held breath
     And relieve your mind for good rest

Permit me...

To be the light that accompanies you along your path
     And brightens your darkest days.

To be the drink that quenches your body's needs
     And the source for all that you crave.

Give me permission...
    
To be... Your dreams in reality...

                     Your fantasy in the flesh...
    
                          Your Good to the last drop...

                               Providing pleasure non-stop...Girl


Let me be this for you babe



© Tina Thompson
there is a slow burn that
irritates from within

my only relief is drinking
from the living water
that quenches my thirst
SE Reimer Oct 2015
(the native way)

~


inhale... exhale...
the native way;
an exfoliation,
shedding of
her stunning gown,
plunging softly,
down, down, down,
conflagration’s
consummation,
pregnant pause
by nature’s laws,
until...
nativity’s birth
quenches,
spiritual thirst
experiences,
renewal of her
earthen existence!

exhale...
her lines...
fairly breathed;
inhale...
a respite...
well received!
an earthen blessing,
fallen resting;
inhale… exhale…
lulled to lay
in deepest slumber,
rocking, floating,
gentle ‘lighting
‘neath her boughs
of native wonder.
inhale… exhale…
inhale… exhale…
inhale… exhale…
breathe…
receive...
sweetest dreams!

~

post script.

Christi Michaels...
her exhalation, my inspiration
http://hellopoetry.com/poem/1441952/indian-summer/
no more needs said... except,
thank you, Christi!
Gracecharlie Sep 2014
Shine of Sun
      makes my morning beautiful
       it is beauty of your love
       makes my world colourful
    joy of your love is all i want
       this is a desire all i want..,,

                  Drops of Rain
     quenches every thirsty soul
this is lonely me without you all alone
          your love is my thirst
that quenches desire of my love
   to be with you is all i want
        this is a desire all i want..

          Pain of separation
           I dont want to bear
           I dont want to end it
          I dont want tears...
my love for you every sec it graces
gives a smile of your love on my face
   this is a smile always i want
      This is a Desire all i want...
                          ~charlie~






that quenches desire of my love
sheloveswords Oct 2013
You hear the vocals of my pores
Calling out for your ecstasy
Baby, will you answer me?
Annihilate my suspire
I'm craving for you to sojourn your lips unto my dermis
Floating in passion, your love takes me higher
With annimalism
Your death grip on my waistline severely quenches my skin*
I feel your thunder storming on my frame
Being pounded by my waves
Of this flash flood you made
I NEED YOU
To come and swim deeply into my ocean
Contain my legs from this uncontrollable wavely motion
Surf my waves at each convulsion
Your breath trickles down my spine
You haven't even reached your peak yet
And I have came here
And
Came
4
Times
This visit, I do not regret
I WANT YOU
To make love to me
Like there is a war outdoors
With nature and valley
A war between temptation and flesh
But wait
Not just yet
Because your cinnamon skin
***** my tongue passionately
Constantly
I melt, into a puddle
Full weight on the floor
That you lick up until  no more
I travel my lips up and down your masculine build
You feel my exhaustion
Invading your spine
Interrupting your concentration
At this hour, in this moment
You are mine
And I am yours
Finally tasting those lips I've always adored
My succulent tongues takes a moment and travel down your chest
Leaving my mist dwelling on your buff
Down to the strong man hood you possess...
You grab my neck
As you explore the soft walls
Of my saturating portal
Your head inclines back in full relieve
As I continually, savagely feast
You then explode in great fury
We collapse as if an earthquake violated our terrain
And then we lay....
But,
This is not the end
Welcome, to foreplay
With gratitude, your excitements hardens
And your eyes paint me, you feel extremely lucky
You begin to fill your lips with thanks
But  NO
Baby don't thank me
Just **** me...




                            Copy Right 2013
                                   ©Patty Ann
William A Poppen May 2015
There is just enough morning sunlight
filtering through the english laurel
for aging eyes to capture the purple tint
of carnations blooming
in the front of the rocks
jutting toward the porch

Night-time had been colorless
in the midst of a celebration
announced by a sign signaling
an event in the main ballroom

With a loud voice
a long-named minister
toyed with religion
and flirted with comedy
before the silverware
clanged against the china

Boredom captured the moment
in the middle of the clatter and chatter
Even stunning silks and satins
around bodacious behinds
failed to entertain

Now perhaps the oldest in the crowd
he carefully quenches each desire
to know the delicacies of the evening
with the efforts of survival.  He was slowly
dying in the madness of the crowd
My wife commented on this poem with "Obviously you didn't have a good time."
Grey mirror Aug 2017
You say you have found
Your remedy
You say it gives you ecstasy.
It's the only therapy
that keeps you Sane.

But my dear,
All I see is a life in vain.

You withdrew yourself from society
You said it brought you enmity.
You preferred to be cuddle
by your remedy.

It keeps you warm,
It numbs the pain.
It quenches your desires.
It lits up a fire.
You feel safe.

But my dear,
you have lost your way
Your mind is clouded dark grey.
You're blinded by foggy days.
I hope you come back
to your sense.
Open your eyes and look through
your lens.

Don't let your remedy
**Be your death penalty.
Dedicated to those struggling with addiction​.
Igho-Odiete Aug 2016
O come sweet Jesus Christ come,
You are the source of our bliss and happimesd
You are the path to peace and protection
the mighty deliverer and strength in times of our troubled day
The living water that quenches our yearning and taste
,the door that leads to perfect rest,
O come sweet Jesus come

O come sweet Jesus Come
Come and heal our wounds,
come take away our infirmities
,Come calm the raging storms in our lives
O come sweet Jesus come

Igho Odiete©
All right reserved
O come sweet Jesus; Come
The rimer quenches his unheeded fires,
The sound surceases and the sense expires.
Then the domestic dog, to east and west,
Expounds the passions burning in his breast.
The rising moon o'er that enchanted land
Pauses to hear and yearns to understand.
David Zito Oct 2011
Some say He is soft,
Others say He is evil.
Some say He is not visible,
Others say He has forsaken us.
Some say He no longer cares,
And some even dare to say that He doesn’t exist.
Many people say things about my God;
The creator of everything and anything since the beginning of time,
The Almighty who was, and is, and is to come.
The truth is though,
That not many people know my God.
I do not even understand fully who He is,
And I can only hope that the words written below do not insult him,
But rather, are pleasing to His ear,
Because this is my understanding of my God;
The maker of the heavens and the earth…

My God is omniscient,
Omnipotent,
Omnipresent,
And omniparent.
My God should not be underestimated,
And cannot be overestimated,
Because for any man to comprehend the power of my God,
Is impossible.
My God humbles the prideful,
And my God deserves all praise.
My God is the same God that created;
The great white shark that reigns in the water,
The grizzly bear whose one swipe can **** a man,
The tiger that haunts the jungles,
And the lion whose roar sends fear through mans bones…
And then said, “It is good.”
My God owns the thunder that shakes your house,
And my God shows the lightning where to strike.
My God can move mountains,
Divide a sea,
And wipe out the earth with a flood.
My God builds up ferocious volcanoes,
And my God carved out the mystifying caverns in the earth.
My God points out the path of raging rivers,
And my God delights in the crashing waves of the Bering Sea,
And finds joy in the force of Niagara Falls.
My God is the light so bright that,
You cannot look at Him without being blinded,
And the darkness trembles in fear at the mention of His name.
My God lodged the stone into Goliaths head.
My God sent Jael’s stake through Sisera’s skull.
My God transformed Moses’ staff into the snake,
Sent the locusts,
And promises fire.

Are you getting the idea yet?
But that’s only half of it,
Because my God has a whole other side.

My God wrote the premier poetry that is in the best selling book of all time,
That oh, by the way,
He wrote.
My God made the snow you sled on,
And the flowers you pick to put in a vase.
My God made the stars you lay out under,
And the planets and galaxies you can only dream about.
My God made the sunrise that is reason enough to wake up two hours early,
And the romantic sunsets you watch with your beloved.
My God painted the skies with the Northern Lights,
And breathed life into the wildflowers for extra decoration on the mountainsides.
My God carved out the Grand Canyon,
And my God sharpened the peak of Mount Everest.
My God put the tropical island paradises in the oceans,
And my God produced the crystal blue waters of Greece.
My God rendered the landscapes of Tuscany,
And my God created the vibrant birds of the jungles.
My God made the athletes you aspire to be like,
And the voices you listen to over the radio.
My God gave Shakespeare his imagination,
And Da Vinci the vision to paint the Mona Lisa.
My God made man and all his features,
And my God made a woman;
Who in all her luster and beauty is the pinnacle of my God’s creations.
My God brings a man and a woman together,
And puts in them a love like no other,
But still that extraordinary love doesn’t compare to His own love for us.
My God gives life to every pristine baby,
And then witnesses every moment of their lives.
My God made the water that quenches our thirst,
And my God fills the void in our heart.

There you have it:
My God is both ferocious and gentle,
Dangerous and loving,
Strong and merciful,
Powerful and overwhelming,
Mysterious and mystical,
Everlasting and present,
A guardian and a giver,
A warrior and a romantic,
A designer and an author.
My God is the lover of the rejected,
The judge of the high court,
The strength for the weak,
The defender of the defenseless,
The shepherd of the flock,
The general of the most opulent armies,
The savior of the broken,
And the redeemer of the lost.
My God will not leave,
But instead will always be by your side.
My God is devoted,
Dedicated,
Unwavering,
And unchanging.
My God is not threatened by your god,
And my God is supreme.
My God created the heavens and the earth,
And my God created you.
This is my God,
The God; Father, Son and Spirit.
I hope that everybody can see my God and find a relationship with Him through our Savior Jesus Christ.
Stanley Mungai Feb 2012
Upon the arboreal dozed and limb,
Extended coccyx serpentine loose,
Throne of inspection, tenet and dumb
Stillness hunts akin stealthy Mongoose;

Except for the natal locomotive
Soft deep sufficiently immense purr
Emanating from some industry; effective
In the cover of the thick supple fur.

The lord of his unconquered empire,
Thrives on flesh and quenches on milk,
Wintering unperturbed reading the fire
That flickers, gleaming his bed of silk.

Ever landing on appendage quadruple
Acrobatic athlete not soiling once his back
Consummating in strict concealment marble
Couch of perpetual indulgence buried black
Debra A Baugh Jun 2012
Did you behold my form Milady?
then, well you know
the intensity of these coal black pupils
that flame with inner fire
or look away
and claim victory,
smiling memories
whispered sighs
moving ever onward
exploring
mastering all their ways
my hour approaches
grinning broadly
teeth clinched
to step forth
clothed in shadow

yes, indeed, Milord,

I couldn't advert thy eyes;
from the vestiges of
your smile, such memories
leaves traces of love
forever in my heart;
as each glimpse beckons
a taste from your sweet
mouth, fore, our hour
has arrived, casting
warmth within
bodies entwined;
languishing in light
of morn

by the light of the blue moon;
I made love to you,
amazons naked between earth and sun;
the only way left, the only position never tried
and we went together,
to a place of ancient curses
and secret runes
an island
in the sun

fore, which, I cradled you against
thy breast, whispering liltingly
of your tenderest touch
teasing thy entirety
as each breath upon
me raises every cilium
in ecstatic bliss
sealing our hunger
as lips and
tongues french kiss

and kiss to kiss return
hungry to taste this moment
from thy lips such sweet nectar
awakens in me a deep burning lust
to consume and be consumed, fore,
in some cataclysmic consummation ******
encompassing want

translucent you become
your hands a shimmering touch
your breast as crystal goblets glow
when cradled in each hand
your lips of wine quench my thirst
but kindle my own fire
my skin in fire itself erupts
and melts my heart's desire
a transformation has begun
this path the only key
to hot torrid love that
all the same erupts in fire

igniting in thee flames
of thy lust burning
with excitement as lips
touch upon sweetness
of thy petals blooming
accepting nibbling nips
to sepals quiver in want
of feeling bedewed
mouthing, sipping
its nectar as a bee
hovers ripened blossoms
as thy thirst quenches
in inebriation of honey

makes me wanton to taste
the salty taste of your
******* and the trail of
our love down to your navel,
then your thighs, as my
hand is damp with your essence
sliding gently up your inner thigh,
my beard becomes a
thousand sparks of
power on your petals bud,
your lips slide easily open
to my fingertips,
my tongue swims deep inside ~

within our throes of passion
you've fulfilled thy hunger;
I pant and gasp clinging to our
pleasurable ride, as in thy delirium,
you cuddle me within your embrace
still loving me from neck to waist
at a hungered pace; entwining
again in haste

I kiss your neck, your throat your lips
as my manhood ease within lotus petals
sipping sweet nectar covering him with
dewy freshness and your lips suckle mine;
thine own nectar on thy tongue doth grace
deliciously; pushing shoulders downward
I feed upon you thus, fueling our lust all night

within your gift of pleasure; thy body
shivers from each tentative touch so, soft
light, re-igniting deeply with each
******; manhood feeds thy lotus
thou nectar, fore, in thou wetness
I cryingly moan appetitively in succor;
as thy hands roam, thy lips find
thine deepest desire of want

as thy mushroom flares it's gills;
I'm filled with rushing sensations
all wetness I welcome, slide in
passions gush to meet
stroke for stroke, tongues
fight greedily, ******* taunt
stretched to limits of erectness;
screaming for pain, squeezing
hard between thumb and finger,
between lips and teeth;
lotus awash with rhythms that
cling to thy arms like boughs of oak
in trembling waves we crash against
rocky shores

blushing in sweet-sounding joy...

thus, satiated...
A collaboration with PABruce & NVMeeks aka Goddess of Sensuality aka Debra A Baugh
Makenzie Marie Jul 2018
You call yourself fire but you are the water that quenches my flames
You are the dirt that snuffs out the coals
And Buries me.
And the dust that coats my throat
Until I’m choking
And coughing up the coals
I swallowed
Trying to keep the flames alive

But it worked
And they are still flickering inside me.
Keeping me alive

Because I am fire.
But only for myself.
Though I’m sure I have left a few flames in my wake.
I wonder if they’re licking at you
Threatening to swallow you?
I hope instead
you take them as a lend
Bottle them up
In your darkest hour
And until my light, I’ve left in you,
Flickers out,
I hope you let those flames
Left in my wake
light your way.
Daylight 4U2C Sep 2014
Give me the freestylin', free-write.
Give me the stuff that makes you see day and dream at night.
Give me the highest peak,
give me the valley pit,
and if you can't give,
then try and don't quit.
I'm sure the words you say,
you say so fast,
you don't really mean.
And if you do it often,
then they call you 'queen bee'.
If you don't say enough,
they call you not tough.
If you will talk and talk,
they just ignore stuff.
You're not a rock.
You could still try and try
to change inside yourself,
but they will never change.
Saying they don't really care,
and you should listen to what they say"
?
But if you hear them out,
what favors are you doing,
all that turkey flying out their mouths,
is surely cooking.
Give me the sour slice.
Give me tongue-tied.
Give me the Gatorade that quenches me on half-time.
Give me that sunny side,
when hills are steep *****.
Give me the love life,
that steamy"yes",
and cold"no."
There's nothing I don't want to hear so,
if you can give me something here,
I will listen real clear.
I will read your thoughts,
or compliment for talking about your fears.
I'll be here patient and calm,
awaiting something,
soon as I see it there,
I will be observing.
And when you pull away,
I hope you recall,
all of the comments I made,
that made you feel real tall.
Freedom rest in the air, it's just a matter of how you get it out of there.

Any ideas to add or remove? Critic and stuff? Personal comments?
Eli Nash May 2014
Tears of creation
fall from the overcast blanketing
of the billowy, white fields overhead,
blended with a requiem
that only the absence of dawn could manifest,
and kissed upon
by the ever-fluorescent canvases
of smoke, and flame
that carelessly intrude
upon the horizon.

Oh,

how fastidious is the misting
that blesses this premature day,
invoking a spontaneity
within the mundane clockworkings
that symbolically define
the average,
the everyday
and the norm.

Glorious is this sight to behold.

Not only by our soulpanes,
but through the remainder;
our entire spectrum of sensory awareness
that we are so gifted to have received,
yet,
rarely do their values go little more
than depreciated.

The refreshment
that quenches our starving skin,
and slowly enfilms us
with the caressings of unrequited purity.

The dampening of the air
that perpetually enthralls
even the most tolerant
resisters to aroma.

The crispness;
unadulterated,
and without perversions of the modern day;
enrapturous are the resonant entrails of the strata
that ever so gently envelop,
and awaken our slumbering buds.

And finally,
but without conviction,
the resound of symphonic harmony,
abound with the alluring enchantment
that,
in seamless refrain,
could only be achieved
by such a reverent miracle of nature.

These are the moments in which I revel.

And blessed be Her,
who benevolently grants us
with such an immaculance
of cornerless beauty.

Graceful, and sacred is the oasis in the sky.
Brycical Sep 2011
Coalescing, cuddling life
swimming inside.
Cleansing, like a mother
would a child,
scrubs away
collected  stains.  
An attention to detail
rinses, washes food,
blessing it into our bellies with an aqua kiss.  
A coolness douses the summer heat,
A relief quenches thirst
Of human and animal alike.
A babbling sound, bubbling
into a relaxing,
lazy Sunday…
Wrote a companion piece to this that can be found here... http://ww.hellopoetry.com/poem/water-rage/
Kara Jean May 2016
Lonely is the only emotion I feel, sitting on the counter
Plopped down, flicking guilt
Remanence on paper, I use to heal
I chose to be ill
I'm the unattached ****** desire
Conversation not required
Tormented love, consumed and killed
Around this pole, twisted and unthrilled
Patiently waiting on something
My ******* body feels nothing
Still insanity quenches the thrusting
When will we finally become ***** and musty
I can no longer conceal our secret, smiling
Annoyed with me, I'm done hiding
Tonight I'm not grieving
Deceived, here is your rope of control
I need to find the cover for my gaping hole
Dawn Treader Jan 2017
At the apex of the Empire State Building
Beneath a resilient misty gray sky,
A perfectly dreary day to die
She's at her lowest low
In heeled shoes a mile high,
Youthful skin, but nothing behind dead hazel eyes,
Rose red lips which never spoke their mind,
A purse full of pills she'd rather leave behind
Beneath rich chocolate curls,
Helena's madness quietly unfurls
Her courage to jump, her fear of death
Weighing the outcome of future incomes
Against the agony of piling debts
She came down from her delusional high
When daddy's substitute for love called money ran bone dry
With the sky the limit, her mind is trapped
By the lie they told Helena as her life was mapped
Line by line they fed her from birth:
"A scholarly piece of paper and a lovely figure will define your worth
Choose wisely little princess, or your life will be hell on Earth"
Turning her back to the street below
Her courage to end it begins to grow
She closes her empty hazel eyes
Cranes her neck towards the sky
And whispers "Death do you hear me? No longer am I shy"
In her delusion she heeded Death's reply
"Come now dear angel, let's see you fly"
A rush of adrenaline was met with demise
Now nourishment for the maggots and the flies
Antidepressants mimicked the body of their owner,
Fractured bottles, tops open, pills strewn all over
Beautiful bones shattered against the pavement
Released she was, from her own mental enslavement
Trickling down the drain, carried by unrelenting rain
Into a New York sewer towards the darkness below,
A bright crimson flow
Quenches the thirst of a starving rat king
Entangled in thirteen tails as he lay dying
Grateful is the king to Helena's sacrifice
For he is trapped in this sewer and awaits his own demise
A glimpse he tasted from the world above
Bitter-sweet is the blood of a girl without love
I wanted to try a long story in poetic form, seemingly minor things are the difference between life and death to others.
Star BG Feb 2021
Eyes they set on beauty,
as morning sun quenches moment.

As ears aligns divine birds
that sing with orchestrated music.

As breath rejuvenates
to see mirror image and smile.

My heart beats in beauty
mirroring in heartbeat own magnificence.

Mirroring the radiance of the soul
that reveals a lotus flower.

That vibrates to guide my way
in steps of dance.

Thoughts they understand
a spark of Divines perfect lives within.

I be co-creator of thy sea.
inspired by Sarita Aditya Verma a gifted poet.
Li Oetoriya Oct 2013
When the war of the beasts brings about the world's end
The goddess descends from the sky
Wings of light and dark spread afar
She guides us to bliss, her gift everlasting

Infinite in mystery is the gift of the Goddess
We seek it thus, and take to the sky
Ripples form on the water's surface
The wandering soul knows no rest.

There is no hate, only joy
For you are beloved by the goddess
Hero of the dawn, Healer of worlds
Dreams of the morrow hath the shattered soul
Pride is lost
Wings stripped away, the end is nigh

My friend, do you fly away now?
To a world that abhors you and I?
All that awaits you is a somber morrow
No matter where the winds may blow
My friend, your desire
Is the bringer of life, the gift of the goddess
Even if the morrow is barren of promises
Nothing shall forestall my return

My friend, the fates are cruel
There are no dreams, no honor remains
The arrow has left, the bow of the goddess
My soul, corrupted by vengeance
Hath endured torment, to find the end of the journey
In my own salvation
And your eternal slumber
Legend shall speak
Of sacrifice at world's end
The wind sails over the water's surface
Quietly, but surely

To become the dew that quenches the land
To spare the sands, the seas, the skies
I offer thee this silent sacrifice
Marieta Maglas Oct 2015
(Cruz and Pedra were talking in the bedroom. Cruz had started to recover and his wound began to heal.)


(Pedra said,)



'' Pedro uses the morality to achieve his immoral,
Hidden goals, but you provoke the people to become
Immoral, considering them to be hypocrites; '' ''don't quarrel!
Criticism is something you cannot avoid; they're just ****.


(Cruz continued,)



You're the one who breaks any spiritual barrier
To overcome some secret limitations; you like
This concept of master-slave morality; you're a harrier.
I'm an old man, and I don't like that, sometimes, you're ready to strike.



(Cruz continued,)



Carla is your antipode; '' ''Do I spy? Did you question Ivan
About passing such a barrier between two powerful
Countries to do business? '' ''Their run just means survivin'.
I admit that I'm very curious; '' ''You think it's wonderful! ''



(Cruz said while smiling,)



''I want to change everything around and do not know how.''
''If you were not so morose and introverted, maybe
You would succeed; '' ''I'm not an orator, but I'm still alive now.
I speak too briefly and concisely, but I love you, baby.''



(Pedra replied,)



'' You're a very good observer and you think objectively.''
''I consider that you've found my way of being in the world
And this is why our marriage works so well; you're effectively
My friend; our life didn't fall apart when the lies were hurled.''


(Pedra said,)


''We have an organized family, and even when
We are not together, we are a team; '' '' I understand
That you have learned from the power of Aphra Behn's pen,
But, when you are with me, your ideas lose command.''



(Pedra replied,)



'' Maya appreciates my knowledge about botany
And history; '' '' She's a lonely woman, an unlucky one.
Between some passengers, she created a dichotomy.''
''Did you ask her some odd questions as you had done with Ivan? ''



(Cruz replied,)



''Maya is a war survivor and she learns to overcome
The poverty; '' ''she's an introvert but friendly and humane.
Although old, she works well and fast while needing to become
A talented cook; she's healthy for her age; doesn't live in vain.''



(Cruz said,)



''She needs to manage her anxiety by trying to control
Her reality; she views this ability as a matter
Of survival; '' '' she appeals to the evil powers for her goal.
To make this force be an energy field she uses the water.



(Pedra continued,)



She's a widow and her brother, Naimah, is rather clumsy.
He's not strong enough to overcome the difficulties in life.''
''How to keep fear under control she likes to study
And she's a kind of quack using plants to cure this inner strife.''



(Pedra replied,)



''She had fled war and chose the water as the primordial
Element instead of accepting the fire; then, those forces
Followed her to set this ship on fire 'cause that danger was mortal.
She thinks that these elements feed on her chakras sources.''



(Cruz replied,)



''The water quenches the fire, and when the water is dangerous,
There is no escape; '' ''Carla told me that Maya talked to her dead.
She's afraid of exorcisms; '' ''she cannot endanger us.''
''To bring Maya to Allah, Geraldine has a wise head.''



(Cruz replied,)



'' Geraldine has been pregnant while needing help; she seems to be
A fighter, but in reality, she's peaceful, frail and helpless.
You are a totally different person; '' ''no loss is known in me.
To help Surak after abandoning her kids was useless.''



(Cruz replied,)



'' Maybe her children are strong, but her nephew needs help.''
'' Maybe she needs purity to get her protective energy
While entering the unknown; '' ''stop turning my brain to kelp!
It's intuition. If I wasn't in that gun-room, we would die.''



(Cruz began to tell her about the person who had saved him from death.)



(To be continued…)



Poem by Marieta Maglas

— The End —