Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
ryn Aug 2014
Sanctuary is here; hiding in plain sight
Bedimmed beings step into the light
Stumble upon you may; hear us you might
All is welcome; no guard dogs that bite

Step inside, matters not armed or unarmed
Come as you are; steady or alarmed
Sip and drink from our collective fountains
Rest your eyes on our self painted mountains

Come on close and meet us all
Under shady trees or beyond the knoll
Some of us don masks or hide behind names
Some come naked but we're all one and the same

See our lives, spun from heavy layered bales
Woven intricate telling fantastic tales
Weavings we let fly, to catch each other's fables and stories
We admire them for what they are and the seed each carries

Be aware... Should you not understand
We may bear similar signatures but wear different brands
We, the people, trade in euphemisms
Broken sentences and long forgotten idioms

We are weavers, dreamers and scribes
Pouring here the outside world we imbibe
We are unguarded hearts speaking in metaphoric tongues
We provide safe haven for bruised souls with punctured lungs

So welcome traveler, shed your load
You might like it here in our coveted abode
Revel in the monochromatic sights you see
Where freedom of thought is revered in this here Sanctuary...
At the end of the road lies a haven of peace
A place to rest .A sanctuary
Hoping one day this war will cease
With a hope and possibilities.

No more sound of bombs and guns
And that dreadful feeling of fear
The saddened times will be over and done
As the end of this nightmare draws near.

The future is looking hopeful
A new horizon it lies ahead
But somehow things look doughtful
With all the blood that's been shed.

There are tents food and clothing
Waiting at the end end of the line
But it's the fear of the unknowing
That is disterbing  to the mind.

Then it's the same the whole world over
When a calamity it does strike
Nations get stronger and bolder
So people can sleep at night.

Now listen to what they are saying
To the the plight of the refugee
Keep on and carry on hoping
And one day you will be free.
A sad reality that many displaced people
Are faced with.
Salsa Nov 2018
Dirt to Adam's ale.

As the ripples trace my skin,
the circling cyclones of my crown
lull and quell with my sinking breath.

The deepness of the blue
guarantees my sanctuary.
I swim and swim until I am free.
I've always had this almost supernatural connection to water. I adore it with all my heart. Whether it's the sea or a pool, I'm instantly at peace when I'm near it. The only time I can be truly happy is when I'm swimming. I live by the sea, my ancestors were pearl divers, water carriers, coast guards.. the list is endless. Even my name is derived from water. It just seems like a sign that it's where I belong.
Äŧül Dec 2013
Roar!
The sanctuary roars,
Some of its many beasts seem angry,
They all feel hungry.

Roar!!
The roar is sadder,
Some of the advanced beasts feel sad,
They all miss hunting.

Roar!
The roar is full of sorrow,
Some of its beasts can't contain the sorrow,
They all miss their families.
My HP Poem #504
©Atul Kaushal
Kevin J Taylor Sep 2015
Depths of green—from canopy to forest floor
In streams of raucous livingness
And there, and where about, a sanctuary
Falls in heaps, in stone walls run aground.

And with, nearby, afar, by ins and outs
Through every place (perceived)
Wherever listened for—vibration.

A single voice in Pali—a single voice
Leaping, leading, dancing, sweeping.

Hello. You greet me.
Inspired by (Founder of Scientology) L. Ron Hubbard's poem, Hymn of Asia, and by my memories of long ago.

.
Not all poems survive. I've lost a few and let others go. My current collection of poems is available on Kindle. It is called "3201 e's" (that is approximately how many e's are in the manuscript which is a very unpoetic title but a reflection on the creation of poetry from common things.)
Briar Ren Jan 2018
I have built a nest in your heart,
made of down and daisies.

And you, in turn,
erected a temple
in mine.
will19008 Jul 14
these perpetual winters end
in stark February glimmers
bringing incomplete spring gardens
moss, violets and waterfall spray
bathed in deafening indifference to me
here I find a calming refuge
Lord, grant me tender isolation
ryn Jan 2015
I have never intended to be found

existing in my sanctuary that freed me
unbound

shedding the mask of anonymity I've sought to maintain

am i still the king of my sanctuary, my realm, my domain...?
I always seem to place myself in your hands like a porcelain doll.
Ready to be placed on a wooden shelf.
But your hands always wither to the touch of my glass skin.
I am real to most but when it comes to you I am a rose petal ready to be plucked to see if you "like me, like me not"
But that shelf has become molded overtime and the cracks on my glass skin have begun to show.
Your hands are not my sanctuary anymore. You left me alone and on display except for when you needed me.
Except for when that curiosity in your mind said "grab her"
But she is not yours anymore
Her glass skin has become more human by the day. Until suddenly she stood by herself and walked away.
Ready to be her own sanctuary .
I see their arms in the air
All the way down the road to sanctuary
I hear voices that tried to care
Amid sighs that held on for centuries

So tell me again, is this the end ?
'Cause I see their arms in the air
And I feel back home again

The signs are all around the road
It's lighten up written in bold why can't you see ?
Your veil, it really never moved, did it ?
It's a wonder how you can see at all

But please tell me again, is this the end ?
Now I hear their voice in the rain
And I feel back home again

Now, it's time to pack our bags, you see
Life is meant to be spent on the run
But no, I don't think you're coming with me
Either you follow me or you die here

I know exactly where I am
And I think you know who brought me here
And I see your arms in the air
And I just feel whole again
At lot of people lived and died in my head. I don't remember any of them
Donall Dempsey Sep 2018
SANCTUARY

this one perfect moment
time rearing up like a wave
that never ever breaks

the train's scream
the dog's bark
chiseled into the silence

dancing to
the bandstand's music
a flock of flags

birds
writing themselves...unwriting themselves
across a page of sky

this moment
flees from time
claims sanctuary in my mind
annh Mar 8
She used to count the stars with me at night,
Until the darkness became familiar,
And no shadow was left unknown.

Then, kissing me gently on the forehead,
She would whisper in my ear:
‘Know yourself and you shall know the sky.’
SANCTUARY

this one perfect moment
time rearing up like a wave
that never ever breaks

the train's scream
the dog's bark
chiseled into the silence

dancing to
the bandstand's music
a flock of flags

birds
writing themselves...unwriting themselves
across a page of sky

this moment
flees from time
claims sanctuary in my mind
jeffrey conyers Jul 2018
Strange, then maybe it's me.
All these kiss-up politicians in commercials against sanctuary cities.
Remind you they wouldn't assist anyone in need.

Probably wouldn't offer them food or clothes.
Really!-probably not a thing.
Many would have instantly supported that ****** dictator in his conquest.
And left many concentration victims in camps.

We, required to help those seeking protection.
Not attack them because of their heritage or skin color.

But notice highly with a truth that many ministers hide instead of assisting those they need to be trying to recruit.

Scriptures, states the poor shall inherit the earth.
Nothing at all about the successful.
v V v Apr 2013
The autumn sun slides low
against the hours,
peaking over the day
as if barely begun
and almost finished.
There is something familiar
here in the half light,
not quite vertical yet
bright enough to see
the path I ride is not as rough,
the wind is not as strong
and my heart is not as hard
nor encumbered
as days since passed
where in hind-sight
I peddled for sanctuary;
sanctuary from
a morbid kind of half-sight
held tight by a half-life of
loneliness and lies
now long lost
and finally made right.
This poem has been published multiple times in multiple places.
O fast day that trembles at the sight of Moon -
when will your warm arms bend again
the night's thick armor
that shades the world of joyous muse?
 
It is most facetious in its illusion,
that renegade of pale indifference,
when daylight dwindles and leaves more to imagine
than can be seen with naked eye.
 
Beneath the gaze of Her taunting face,
people do not walk as done in light -
suddenly, trudging and stumbling are the hip style.
Faces covered in guilt, remorse, fatigue -
all the things Sun can wash away with a simple,
lucid grin.
 
If brightest light were set ablaze in midst of night,
would not the people be plucked from false sanctuary
which darkness so convincingly provides?
Then many a Lost could be freed;
if only to see clearly through effervescent haze.
 
O blessed Sun!
With your arousal, Truth and Freedom will also reprise -
until again that blank stare casts its malevolent glow on
Delusion.
Prose from a street-lit bench.
Planejane2 May 19
The temple of my soul,
I humbly apologize for taking advantage of you.
Negative down talking you.
Letting unhealthy things enter you.
Attracting the same demons over & over again.
Letting just anyone enter you
Sometimes not allowing you to move,
Being still in the bed because I didn’t think you were deserving to show the world
Moving too much, misjudging your strength & underestimating your need for rest.
Letting my mind get so sick that it resonates with you too.
I’m sorry, I promise I will be better to you.
helenbreeden Jun 2018
She had been so busy locking away her feelings,
She couldn’t see her mother’s concerned face.
Or her boyfriend’s heart shatter at the sight of her in that body bag.
She had given up in everyone and wouldn’t let anyone in,
She got to the point of taking her own life instead of losing someone else.
She had not thought of how it would affect them.
She thought she would be forgotten but wasn’t.

A memorial was placed for her inside her own home.
Her own front porch,
Became her mother’s sanctuary.
In days time her family's lives have been turned upside down.
Their little girl gone.
Without a trace of what caused this.
If only someone was there when she needed them the most.

While standing there,
In her clouds,
She falls to her knees,
Broken in the afterlife.
Who would have thought that this jewell had a devilish mind of impure thoughts.
She knew the feeling of regret but never fully felt it until then.

“It was suppose to relieve me.
Not hurt me in the long run.”
She cried out.
“Mom I’m sorry,”
She looks at her boyfriend from up above,
And cries out to him.
“I’m sorry i’m sorry!
I never meant to hurt you”

She laid there crying for hours,
Until she could no longer breathe.
“Doctor! Doctor! She is waking up!”
She opened her eyes to find herself in a hospital room.
Monitor at full working rate.
Her boyfriend who has never looked so pale raised his eyes to meet hers.
She was weak and couldn’t say a thing.
But he knew exactly what to say,
“I love you”
Evangeline Ashe Aug 2018
I've found a space nestled in
this gnarled and craggy tower,
which hums in deep and velvet green,
where atip each weathered, gently-laden bower
hangs a fragile canvas pale beneath.

Here a little haven even opens when,
on dewy mornings and after rain,
you can gaze just for a time
as memories rivel along the veins
in pearl and crystalline.

Whispers and howls from outside to come down
but I think I'd like just to sit,
and ever more reside,
between the fresh and fallen leaves
and write my notes on their underside.
ᏦᏗᏖ Jan 5
Motherly earth you are beautiful.
With your green pastures.
And your crystal blue waters.
For the living creatures, you provide sanctuary.
A place to call home.
  From the dangers of the world, you provide a sheath of protection.
With your winds acting as a weapon.
You are beautiful.
With your divine skies, It creates bliss.
A feeling of gratitude.
For you give us everything.
We owe you nothing but our thanks.
For we will continue to care for you.
Even though it may not seem as so.
We owe.
For without you there would be no home.
No living creatures, that you behold.
No precious flowers.
Or the fresh air, that comes from your trees.
There would be nothing without your beautiful existence.
Thank you, mother earth.
Deep Oct 2018
Occasionally, I seek Sanctuary
In a place where the Life Force glows.
No rush, no clock faces; with time just a gentle flow in space,
Time to nurture, heal and grow,
In a place where the Life Force glows.

Occasionally, I seek Sanctuary
In a place where I lose my ego.
Listening to make my body loose,
Releasing feelings, space for growth,
Uncoiling my body and energising my core,
Brings awareness to tenseness that serves me no more.

In a community, I seek Sanctuary
Where gentle open people flow,
Authentic, selfless, caring folk with hearts as precious as gold.
Shaking off trauma and sharing universal truths,
Clearing our monkey brains ancestoral wounds.
Vibrationally protected.  And intensely connected.
In a place where the Life Force glows.
K Balachandran Dec 2018
Crazy nomad soul
Finds sanctuary tranquil
In poetic flights!
Mara W Kayh Jan 21
My life is a virtual battlefield
complete with hidden traps,
layered atop cowardly assaults

between highly guarded spans of peace,
Inside my house
chairs and walls
are coarsely blown to bits
by verbal bombs,
and stark fists of shrapnel.

Behind that simple smile,
semblance of solid love
so easily shaken,
lies a ripened mine field

I tread on tiptoes
yet it erupts under
calloused feet unprovoked,
blasting glory to grey
as sacred sanctuary
falls to scarred terrain.

Spears lodged inside ribs
I peel myself from the ground,
shake off soot,
wait for dust to settle
before I march forward, again.

yes I lose the battles
But I will win this war.
Reminded me of the song by Pat Benatar, "love is a battlefield"
But again, hate seeps in as well.
Next page