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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 ***** 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.
Marina Kay 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.
ryn Jan 2015
I have never intended to be found

existing in my sanctuary that freed me

shedding the mask of anonymity I've sought to maintain

am i still the king of my sanctuary, my realm, my domain...?
Donall Dempsey Sep 2018

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

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.
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!
Annie Dec 2018
Ask me if I'm okay
I'll tell you I'm fine
It's a risk I want you to take
Outside the blurry line

It'll take a lot of strength
To break the wall I've made
But don't forget, sometimes
The saver wants to be saved

Talk the sense out of me
Untangle every piece
With the touch of your fingers
Make the time cease

I'm the fallen grace from heaven
A sinner who likes to revere
Stay here, to ******* tale
I'm distant —yet I'm near
Ciel Noir Aug 2018
I took          a trip
I took                a look
That tree could read me
Like                      a book
And                 open me
Like a             library
Cipher      in the
Still deeper
Inside the place
Where           secret
Knowledge         hides
The twin snakes ladder
Necklace              chain
Make life        by any
Other           name
D Awanis Jul 2018
Darling, who ever told you that home is made out of bricks?
Home is whenever your heart feel at ease and be at peace
Home is whenever you go to places and in love with the streets
Home is whenever you listen to the music and jam to its rhythm

This two-story building made out of bricks,
is a place that shouldn't be burden off your shoulders
is a place that should you reminisce in joy instead of grief
is a place that should be a sanctuary rather than asylum

Darling, who ever told you that home is made out of bricks?
Home is whose eyes were jet black with a heartbeat
Home is whose smirks feel like summer in winter days
Home is whose touch melts away even the toughest iceberg

"Well", you said, "this two-story building made out of bricks,
is a place where I hear more yelling than laughter
is a place where my dreams died and buried deep
is a place where I used to shamelessly call as home"
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 ***** eye.
Beneath the gaze of Her taunting face,
people do not walk as done in light -
suddenly, trudging and stumbling are hip styles of mobility.
Everywhere faces covered in guilt, remorse, fatigue -
all things the sun can wash away with a simple,
lucid grin.
If brightest light were set ablaze in the midst of night,
would not the people be plucked from false sanctuary
which darkness so convincingly provides?
In that case, many a lost mind could be free;
if only to see clearly through effervescent haze.
O blessed Sun!
With your arousal, Truth and Freedom will also reprise -
until again that blank, daunting stare casts its malevolent glow on Delusion.
Prose from a street-lit bench.
zebra Aug 2018
i was told not to read that book
it said right there on the cover
that if i did
i would become a scourge
like a hidden genies dagger
the sight of which would terrorize some
and draw others to me
those strange few
who cry to feel it wound their flesh
and crave its rupturing cold edge
an obsession in motion
demanding they lose themselves in the rapture
of dangerous weapons of pleasure and pain
their kiss an obscenity

sure i thought

and as i read it anyway
it's words  
where like a cocked gun blasting
a slow-motion bullet
like a bomb in the skull  
shattering brains
with a storm of licking tongues
and kicking feet

my death scattered me
into a great light that casts a long shadow
of headless prancing nymphs
their menstruum,
kaleidoscopic winding red ribbons
fruits of both heaven and nightmares
like a river of elastic mouths
shifting form like chewed gum

thunder filled the house
a dark paradise found
lost in the realm of the senses
quaking and torn
this gleaming blade

its caress a sanctuary
pulled tight
over searching fingers
that roam for damp places
in a flickering daze
hiding a frozen scowl
impossible times
dandelionfine Sep 2018
I have a perfect lunchbox mom
Crusts cut off
She leaves me love letters on my napkin
So that when the bathroom stall became my cafeteria
I wouldn't be so lonely
I have a perfect marathon mom
She runs to the beach and back just to show that she can.
And when she says she's all gross from her run, she somehow still smells like fresh air
My mom is fresh air,
She fills my sister's lungs with life
And every exhale is love
My mom is fresh air.
She is a sanctuary, she is a nest
She is rest
I have a perfect lunchbox mom,
A "Honey, what's wrong?" mom
An "If you're not here, the day's too long", mom
A "Wonder if God knew what He gave to Earth" mom
I thought God kept track of angels
She is everything
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