Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Alyssa Underwood Jul 2016
He sat by a furnace of seven-fold heat,
As He watched by the precious ore.
And closer He bent with a searching gaze,
As He heated it more and more.

He knew He had ore that could stand the test
And He wanted the finest gold,
To mold as a crown, for the king to wear,
Set with gems of price untold.

So He laid our gold in the burning fire,
Tho’ we fain would say Him "nay."
And watched the dross that we had not seen
As it melted and passed away.

And the gold grew brighter and yet more bright,
But our eyes were dim with tears,
We saw but the fire, not the Master’s hand,
And questioned with anxious fears.

Yet our gold shone out with a richer glow
As it mirrored a form above,
That bent o’er the fire, though unseen by us
With a look of ineffable love.

Can we think it pleases His loving heart
To cause us a moment's pain?
Ah, no! But He sees through the present cross
The bliss of eternal gain.

So He waited there with a watchful eye,
With a love that is strong and sure.
And His gold did not suffer a bit more heat
Than was needed to make it pure.

~ A.F. Ingler
ryn Oct 2014
Escape pods*
Ferried fears
  Gaping heart
   Falling tears
    Dishevelled mind
     Emotional unrest
    Watered ground
    Familiar guest
   Questioned answers
  Unanswered questions
  Glassy eyes
   Increased tension
    Dissipating hope
     Chewed confidence
    Broken spirit
   Unwelcomed sentence
  Failing health
Unstable mind
Choked fingers
Flying blind
 Pathetic plea
  Stretched thin
    Battered insides
     Uncomfortable skin
      Eventual stop
       Frightful frights
        Perceived freedom
         Within sight
        Bruised being
     Absent gods
    Relying upon
Escape pods
Don't ask...I don't even know...
Stephen E Yocum Oct 2013
The Island Moorea,
backpacking Tahiti,
In the heat, the sun,
The rhythm of my footfalls
crunching loose gravel road,
The swish of pack swaying
in conert to my measured pace.

Breeze pushing branches of Palm,
Ocean waves breaching shoreline long.
Island vehicles passing, occupant's laughing,
a man laboring under large pack, alone walking,
Who could have been freely riding,
Unthinkable to Island Folk,
in hot tropical places.

Some humble homes pasted along the way.
Greetings exchanged with smiling faces there.
Not long afterward a new sound approaching,
crunching gravel, rolling up behind me.

A lovely young girl, perhaps nineteen,
long brown naked legs bike a peddling.
Hair jet black, long to her waist, wearing
a sarong, split up the side,
Shoulders bare and brown.
Dark eyes of wonder, sparkling of youth.
A radiant smile adorning a splendid face.

We went for a time at my even pace,
looking and smiling each in our place.
"Hello there," I said, she giggled, beamed
even bigger. Perfect teeth displayed.

"Why you walk?" She asked in heavily
accented puzzlement.

"To get to where I'm going". I replied
This response producing a pleasant laugh
from the girl. In which I too joined in.

"You go One Chicken?" She asked
I stopped then and turned to her.
"Where is One Chicken?" I questioned
with a grin.

She raised her graceful arm,
one finger pointing up the road.
"One Chicken there," she informed.

It was a store/bar, sort of place,
In the very midst of nowhere.
Indeed, more than one chicken roamed,
Many chickens did and a pig or two,
mingling free and doing their thing.

We entered out of the bright daylight,
into the deepest of darks,
Like in a movie theater, when arriving late.
Eyes adjusting slowly to what lay ahead.

A few Island Beers later,
I had acquired several new friends,
The girl my invitation to the party of
already happy people a little drunk on beer.
The Music was mostly of French persuasion,
With a bit of Bob Dylan thrown in.
The Beatles also had a tune or two.
The Liverpool beat resounding down Tahiti way.

Before the light did fail, I shouldered my pack
and walked some distance from Chickens and Pigs.
Found the beach, hung my Hammock for the night.
Built a small fire and opened a can of Spam delight.

She appeared again about ten,
looking beautiful in the new moonlight.
Newly washed hair, still damp and
smelling fresh of Lilacs,
Or some such aromatic scent.
We did not speak, no words were needed,

Made love on the sand, 'till the retreat of the
tide and sand ***** did come out, in their
eerie numbers, to eat what was at hand.
I suppose even us if we let them.

We retired then both to my hammock,
A pretty neat trick if you can swing it.
And we did.

She was so childlike and yet,
very much a woman grown.
There was no pretense shown,
no false inhibitions rendered.
These were not limitations of her culture.
people that respond to their emotional impulses.
An open and free spirited people living
passionately within each minute.

It all felt more akin to a dream than real,
All around me there was beauty,
Loving and being loved without hurry,
Free of guilt or even a single expectation.
Living in that wondrous moment,
of uncomplicated human splendor.
Like some Garden of Eden surrender.
A real life Gauguin painting.

In the morning, we swam naked in the sea,
frolicked like kids having a day at the beach.
Made love in the sand, I dozed in the sun.
Upon awaking she was gone.

I waited an hour or two, packed up my camp,
shouldered my load and returned to the road.
A few minutes later, again I heard the now
familiar crunch of rubber tires,
rolling road surface and there she was,
a straw basket in her Bike's basket,  
A huge smile on her unforgettable,
beautiful face.

We sat in a grove of trees,
among birds singing, in sight of the sea,
Upon a Palm log and ate fresh bread and
fruit. Drank strong black coffee (French Roast
I presume,) nibbling some marvelous cheese.
We tried to talk, but she understood little of
what I tried to say, my French was nearly
nonexistent, only adding to confusions sake .

She leaned her head on my shoulder,
the way lovers do and tenderly held
my hand within her two,
As if not wanting to let go,
Those gestures said all there was to say,
And we savored each silent moment.

We parted there, she on blue, rusty bike
and me on "shanks mare",
Off in two different directions,
Each out into the depths of our own lives,
Gone just like that. . . And yet,
Indelible, never to be forgotten or replaced.
Some days and nights, that young maiden of
Moorea does still visit me, in dreams as real
as can be. She never grows old, nor does the
beauty we shared for that one brief moment in
time immortal.

Someplace among the Islands of Tahiti
there is a woman in her sixties, most likely
a Mother, even a Grandmother yet living.
I hope she recalls as fondly the American blond
man with the big Orange Backpack, that in 1972
she met upon the road, near "One Chicken" and
loved freely and completely for two days and a
night, as that man does so fondly remember her.
Loki Sep 2018
I sit here lost in my thoughts , soaking up with the happenings

I caught A luminous face of olive white ,
the brightest eyes of ocean blue staring into mine.

Would you believe ?
Slowing down of time? I did
As she turned her head
That luminous face changed form
Barely grasping my sight,

Like the breeze before the storm,
The storm I only wish I witnessed.
Seeing her walk away in the most graceful stlye,

I wonder if her peach lips had reflected a smile !!
As she brushed her hair behind her ear,
A Sensed a gentle breeze pushing me out of senses
Was she mocking my reality ?
Was I wrong?
My spring was here a lil late
I only wish I could have taken a glimpse of her eyes
I only wish to prove myself the reality...
This is the first part of the 3
You ever had a feeling
That you wanted to die?
And acted on this feeling
And you survived
And questioned why
You're still alive?

You ever had a,
Ever had a feeling?
That made you wanna,
And acted on this feeling.

You ever had a feeling
That rids you of all reason?
And makes you hate your very being?
You are blind
And I'm searching for a feeling

Can't find a feel,
Because none of it is real
I'm traumatized
You say that it's not real

You are blind
And searching for a feeling,
Nothing like waking up after another failed suicide. Again.
JB Oct 2018
You shouldn't have told me the truth
Because now I know
How you feel about him
I shouldn't have listened
Or questioned

I wanted to hear
"Yeah I don't really think about him like that anymore"
"I was never into her, my mind was all about you"

I wish that I could take it all back before you said 'I love you'
Before I spoke
Before you both confided in me about how you felt
Not about me
But each other

So here my heart lays
And still

Me scraching at my thoat,
Wishing I never spoke
Kara Jean Jul 2016
I questioned tomorrow

Are you real or fake?
Am I afraid of you or do you make me stupid brave?
Do you love or hate?
Will you consider being easy on me?

Sadly, tomorrow had no reply

He just came

Day by day

Moment by moment

All I really can do is try to create my tomorrow today
londin Jan 2014
"How long do you think it'll take us to admit this?"
She questioned herself silently
Head rising and falling with his chest.
"Probably forever"
He thought to himself while stroking her hair and shoulder.
KiraLili Aug 2016
It's her way learn
Believing in her convictions
When yours are discovered they must be questioned
Her face you see the struggle
" how can you have no faith?"
Passionate about her beliefs
There ingrained in her DNA
When pressed on her ways she says its acceptance
All your points on science she gets
But says they co exhist with belief
The dogma of her convictions she holds tight like a dog with a bone
But you see the struggle
" what if he's right?"
She answers...
"Science can be questioned and proven. Faith is unquestioned acceptance. "
That comes from deep down
She's realized the difference
And chooses faith
How many struggle so?
Ongoing Debate on Creation and Faith over 30 years.
Ashleigh Black Nov 2014
The only things guaranteed in life are
the fall of the sun and rise of the moon
and even sometimes that is questioned.
karin naude Mar 2013
My Journey
once young i believed of a world made of ice-cream and chocolates
i believed in air castles
i dreamed of the tooth fairy
friends was best friend forever for life
long hair was important, weight unimportant
dad and mum was super heroes
the world was at my feet waiting to be conquered
volcano's erupted
wars came and went
people died and were born
poverty came and went
governments changed
i grew up, the chocolate and ice cream melted
i woke up in a sticky mess

what happened
i forget the most important ingredient of all
god my father, my keeper, my salvation and joy
as it all came crashing down and storms whirled he held my hand
even when i questioned my creator and accused him of doing a bad job
his love and dedication never wavered
thank heaven for that mercy

i've searched my life time for unmovable inner peace and joy
though i was a bad made when i could not find it
now i know
money cant buy
only god the father can lead you to it
only the father can restore my air castles, my world of ice-cream, chocolates, cappuccino and balloons
i left he tooth fairy behind
i was blessed with new better friends
and my super hero's was re employed :)
i am truly living my dream without the crowd, competitiveness, chaos and speed of modern life

the future awaits
my captain is at the helm
what more can a girl ask for
the criminal element is lost
have you fought with your boss
each day is fraught with challenges
but that's what makes you stronger
all along the water's edge
the waves break and connect
like threads of poetry
lines of beauty
curving at the moon
luminous intrusions
before we are fallen
dreams seethe
with colorful landscapes
and i am a blade of grass

threads of astral fire
aspire for the sun
my magic is beyond recognition
it ignites the silence
and burns bright as day
words are living
breathing entities
families of sounds
consonants and vowels
are relatively harmless
unless you dare
to speak them out loud
control your tone
and let aspiration resonate
this assonance is rather transient
so lets embrace our scansion
mansions of impermanence
lands of intransigent transients
its tragic really
how the lead of vehemence
can spread so rapidly

sentient powers stake their claim
in soil that remains dutiful
despite your shame
have we gone insane
its quite likely
or are we still the same
that remains to be questioned
better to drop this game
and keep up your crazy vision quest
Some moments I stop and think:
I'd give in to it, just to give myself purpose.
Turn it all into a sick game of chasing the dragon.
Then I ponder a ******'s destiny and it hurts wondrously,
Like a super-massive black-hole. I want to dive in and lose control.
Wonder how long I'll last;
Until I get curious,
Get bored.

What are those depths like?
What will it look like
from the bottom?
Lying on my back
looking up at the sky.

I'm not religious, I'd rather be apathetic.
There's a difference,
My indifference;
It's a privilege.

Pray thee, tell me I'm wrong:
That curiosity will not be the death of me,
That my venturous nature will not **** me.
But is there a better way to die?
Herein the proving grounds arise:
I'll not seek death again.
My fear has been quenched
by the acceptance of an inevitability.
Death is no grim reaper, rather, a great equalizer;
It is predictable.
You ever considered suicide?
I'll level with you and tell you I have.
I questioned (with) my life, at a point in time
You can't start living
until you've made a conscious decision not to die.
But what'd prompt an affirmative to life?
In short, why?

Hah, I dunno.
Were you really expecting the answers to life
from a teenage ******-to-be.
"Who's the more foolish;
the fool or the fool who follows him?"

Come find yourself, then
we'll see who's laughing.
-Line Thirty-Nine and Forty delivered by Obi-Wan Kenobi (Sir Alec Guinness) in Star Wars: Episode IV: A New Hope
harlee kae Feb 2014
Back before anyone knew
there was something between me and you.
It was a secret kept,
for just us two.
I would hold your hand, given the chance,
And no one gave us a secod glance.
They didn't think it was strange or queer
That when you were around, I was near.
You weren't filled with anger.
I wasn't filled with hate.
And march the 12th wasn't even an important date.
Back then was the time that you and hattie were the best of friends,
And sleepovers weren't questioned with "i don't know... depends"
Now my life is different.
Your life is different too.
I really miss the time when it was only me and you.
Carter Ginter Jul 2013
I'm sorry that I'm not sorry
That I can't love someone who's caused me so much pain.
You ask that the bad out weighs the good,
But you really have no idea.
You have no clue as to how many deep seeded problems I have,
How many issues that could have been avoided,
If you could have just picked me.
If you could have seen the life slipping out of your daughter,
The pain every day brought;
It was deep and kept burrowing,
Deeper and deeper.
Into not just my body but my soul.
Now I pay for it with anxiety
With violence
And don't forget the depression.
But it wasn't my fault right?
Not my fault that I can't break these bad habits she burned into me?
The borderline eating disorder
And the inability for any emotional stability.
So they wonder why I can't let people in.
Hell even I questioned it.
But then I realized,
That in those 5 years of hell,
Wanting to take my life at the age of 12,
I stood on my own.
And I fought my battles without help from ANYONE.
So how can I change that now;
Convince myself that things have changed,
That I'm allowed to be weak for a little bit?
I'm going to fight for this,
Until I'm my own person again.
And I will NEVER be like you,
Or her,
I'd sooner take my own life than to witness that result.
Finally let some of this out..I guess it's too hard to explain. Just a ******* up family and not any better now even though that's the way it looks. Then again it never really looked bad in the first place did it. Never left any bruises, no proof. But memories never die.
Kara Jean Jul 2016
Her long symbolic hair caressing her body
Her torn jeans representing her dignity
Sentimental to the teen rotted inside a lifetime ago
Tears making her smile
Her pink apple suit case was confiding
Hiding in a storm, where rocks were thrown
Bruises and scars across her knees
Killing the young girl
No longer innocent eyed
She's a a straggler
Structure tried
She runs away searching
Fresh start is an opportunity topped off with profanity
Odds pushing her down
A constant, as the sun raises its eyebrows
Her cards she never questioned there quality
As he touched her fingers
She has one chance
Contemplative perseverance
Old write fixed up a bit
Skaidrum Jun 2016
Spare me, if you would

It's a foreign land but a familiar street,
red broken teeth and alabaster snow;
I remember it fondly.

Sober winter and blue cloth;
I still see us there.
I'm almost certain, that
St. Petersburg questioned our youth.
just a little closer
"Dance with me, Kirusha?"

All those years ago,
and we still drink up this disease.
The sour love of iron and wine
with shots of homesickness.
Russian rouge
American Dream
"Why did you have to leave?"

I ache to recall it,
because those gates still leak with cold.
This value withers in the white noise;
"Don't you ******* dare say that his death was just an experiment."
'You failure'

I sought it,
the ribbons of old confidence
while the stars looked on from their chairs.
I never found what I was looking for.

Go ahead and criticize;
the way we baptized my betrayal.
Knot up all the love you wasted
and send it overseas.

All that matters to me, Romichka
is that Death paid no mind to you.

Ruby apples at my doorstep
flowers that need blood instead of water.
A sense of hunger in this forsaken city
does not comfort me.

I just suppose
I've been thinkin' too much
And the bitterness let itself in again.

So when you find the time,
Write whatever's left of me in the fire;
along with all the other things.

I want to see you again
© Copywrite Skaidrum
Yanamari Apr 23
In bringing to light
The darkness that surrounds us,
I understood more about you.
In the things that you do for me and
The way that you treat me.
I had always questioned why you did
What you did;
Was it an act of indebt?
I want your sincerity
Something that I've never really felt deeply...

Thank you for these acts.
I hope that you reach a point of sincerity
So that in the future,
I can understand why I was willing to be
Close by as you
Tread at a distance lightly.
One instance that I do remember that I was closer to feeling a person's sincerity towards me was when I was told that I influenced a person to step out of their bubble. I'm thankful that this person told me even though I don't fully understand how.

The Aura Series: IV
Asena Seleno Oct 2017
It was the darkest hour of night
With deadly silence and full of fright
My body was hurting
And in pain, my soul was writhing
Under the bare sky I was lying
Knowing that I'm dying
Was getting echoes of flashbacks
Was hearing horrific and dreadful clacks
Sensing seizer of souls howling around
Ways to escape I knew I wouldn't found
Was thinking about the days, I used to spend
How I forgot, everything 'll be questioned at the end
I begged, O God, please one more chance
My life, my deeds, I'll enhance
But it was too late to pray
I must had to pay
Naptural Mermaid Aug 2018
Poison Ivy.
I must admit, I always questioned your ability to reciprocate the love that I deserve.
History has it that your charm and poison has a way of shinning through to people just like the way you got me.

Poison Ivy.
What was it that lured me to you? I think it was the way you pulled me in. As gentle as a dove and as wise as serpent. With every smell, every touch, as innocent as they appeared you took my breathe away.

Poison Ivy.
Will my last words ever be as sensual as your first touch? Did my eyes light up as my adrenaline rushed? Poison, friendship, love.... these words have become mundane and such.

Poison Ivy.
Will you still care for me? Is it better that we’re no longer friends? Even after I’ve chosen to die  and become vulnerable for you?
Next page