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KiraLili Sep 2016
She reads in a rocking chair
Massaging corporate feet she's had in heels all day
Rumi poems and the latest Coehlo
Savouring one glass of white
Silence she craves
It's fall and she can see the leaves curl on her cherry tree
It's also football season
He's in the other room
Preps playing the East
It's game night every night
Beers flame his cheers and wings stain the couch
This is where he will sleep

The nights she's in the den
And he the man cave

She dreams of Florence
He books ***** cruises to stadiums

Yoga retreats four times a year she gets
Four golf guy weekends for him

He hoots at cheerleaders louder each year
She craves interesting conversation

At parties the ladies are off to the side
As men throw on a game

Even though they work together
Miles apart in the same place every day

And each year another mile is added

You can be completely alone right next to someone

One can feel her longing for all by just looking in her eyes

Married but completely separated by rooms
Middle aged observations of some contemporaries
Mykarocknrollin Feb 2015
when our eyes meet
it's like burning gold
and now i will say to you
it's painful to see that
once our eyes meet again
you're hesitations gone wild
are gone for me
Kale Apr 2015
Goodnight my love,
Even though the moon's
Greeting comes
to separate us,
I will always love you.
Our bond that was
Formed by Fate
Can never be broken
Because with each
Setting sun
You enter
My dawdling mind
And my heart begins
To sing songs
Like the birds of
early morn
Seanathon Oct 2018
The rain falls heavy on my heart
Directly and fervently
With a subtle patter to be heard in part

Reflecting only as tired can be
In being our separate, you and me
We are bound by these, such worlds apart

With ribs thrown open like lighthouse doors
And parted seas, as shallow as these
Such broken chances leave their marks

In pouring self out ever slow, in all these ways
The rain, it falls heavily every day
My life is kept from you apart
Perhaps separation is a matter of perspective. *Nods* And this may sound terribly dramatic. But context. (:
Sutherland Jan 9
The waves pull part,
our sails fill,
our ships depart.
Off you crest,
the marble's arch.

Away, away,
the swirling mass steals thee.
Away, Away,
my sail steals me.

To opposite bay.
To differing stars.
The infinite plane,
the blue in the bars.

Away, away,
oh, gem of the sea.
Away, away,
me.
This has caught a lot of attention so I’ll give a background as I do with my other poems. My significant other and I are separated most of the year by work and study. I wrote this days ago when she left again.
Dr Peter Lim Oct 2018
Ordinary men and women
each lives a life separate
an island and a mystery of its own
in hidden secrets and heartaches wrapped

common humanity yet the heart bleeds and weeps ---
by destiny trapped
life's lows out-strip highs by miles
too few indeed are enrapt.
I used to think that no one can ever love me until I met you

It was a sunny morning
Sunlight beaming and kissing my pale skin
I was deeply in love
Fallen head over heels
Moved mountains for you

A storm shattered my soul
It continued to hunt me
A ghost that was created by you-- who I truly trust
You caused me so much pain and yet I stayed

My love is greater than your flaws..
I said
I loved you unconditionally
I helped you change
Be better
Did everything and whatever I could
To save what's left of us

I never knew then
I was going downhill
Rock bottom
I was empty
Something has changed.. I realized
I cannot give anything now
I tried to control everything
Nothing is working--
                Nothing worked...
                                ...and so it ended

                                            - Ella Salvador
(c) February 2018
Erin Suurkoivu Nov 2017
and between you and me is the world

and between you and me is a language

and between you and me is culture

and between you and me is a war

and between you and me is religion

and between you and me is a wall

and between you and me is perception

and between you and me is ourselves
Is there any chance can we hug one last time, like the way we used to be !!!!!
No worries no confusion
No stress no pain
Just love and happiness all around.
Hg Jul 2018
take me back
to the first high

to the first time
that she and i

sparked a bit
of indica

euphoria
dilated eyes

take more hits
to revisit

before we split
to separate lives

take me backwards
reverse time

to my first love
to my first high
©Hg
Ally Aug 2
Unsettling reminders
Painful memories
Heartfelt tears
Helpless

Beautiful bond
Soulful hearts
Sharing
...........pain
And
...........loss

We exist
For each other
...........in separate lives
grace Feb 15
relying on somebody else
all hope had deteriorated
misery
trouble bearthing
devastation
something was obliterated
her single sustaining thought
you are alone
suicide
a variation of a recent black out poem i wrote
Nobody Sep 9
You show me your heart,
you hold me close;
you tell me your secrets,
you say you
love me the most.
You push me away,
you take back your gifts;
you spit in my face,
You have another fit.
You’re up and down,
you’re day and night.
You give me a smile,
then pick a fight.
You make me laugh,
you make me cry.
You make me angry,
you make me sigh.
You fill me up,
then throw me away.
You want me to go,
you want me to stay.
Let’s makes things easy,
and just go separate ways.
Aaron Combs Aug 2017
There's an ocean, an ocean of fire in the sky,
flowing down,
for the moon stretches down to us.

Upon our red rooftop, let's enjoy
the slow breeze,  while the moonlight
unites the oceans in the sky,
and covers the Brazilian seashore;

   For it heals the soul of the woods.

All the old sycamore trees, the owls, the hawks, and snakes,
all these things run for existence.

So hold on, onto my words,
Like your wedding ring, let me hold you close.
  For in the quiet night,
I can feel your heart beat, your emotions that run like water.
Let me hear the river and rhythm of your desires,   and your ambitions that lie

awake in you.  

Let this, let this moment separate what you fear,
as I listen to the drums of your heart.

    here

hold my hand, then let my voice unlock creation,
Echoing and speaking the languages of your dreams and desires,
for how I do love you.  
Now see the moonlight's rule over the stars,
speaking pictures of grace into the quiet night.

In such a way the power of the moonlight stands like a king,
thus I will listen and unlock the waves of your dreams.
As a response for the moon eclipses, I have revamped this, enjoy!
Kevin J Taylor Sep 2017
Reminding me
of my first trike

The poetry of
red and white

The poetry of
pedaled motion

Piston footed!
Vision frozen!

Head and hair
gone separate ways!

Freedom found
on summer days!

Down the sidewalk
runway riding!

Faster! Faster!
Out of hiding!

Faster! Faster!
Spirit! Gliding!

Faster! Faster!
Up! And free!

My body can’t
catch up with me!

Somewhere in
the days between

I left my trike in
rusty scenes

Traded life
for lesser stuff

Left the trike
and kept the rust

Until a friend
came to my door

With gamesy thoughts
that life is more

Than failed hopes
and rusty bits—

Pointing skyward!
Tag! You’re it!
.
Not all poems survive. I've lost a few and let others go. My current collection of poems is available on Kindle and in paperback. 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 by common means.)
Joseph Miller Dec 2017
One glorious moment
God said to me
"I am here"

Tears of joy
washed away my fear
as he lifted the veil
revealed his face
radiating the essence
of all things
a cosmic oneness
filled with love
beyond imagining
the mystic sees
the infinite connection
of the ultimate power

But I a mortal being
consumed by form
it seems
God withdrew
left me standing there
in a world separate
where matter divides
and boundaries form
to close the mind
and hide the truth

Yet I am blessed
to seek the light
and find myself
witness to God
true story
Bandhana rai Jan 2015
Laying in a bed of roses,
He and me,
Laying in a bed of roses,
Me and he.
The flowers are our pillows,
Truly.
The clouds our
Serenity,
Let no woes shatter,
We.
Let no Devil tempt,
Me.
Lest separate
We be.
Luz Hanaii Jul 2018
In pain and suffering, we feel the lash of correction
At times we don't understand why?
We see others laugh and carry on.
Yet we only see outwardly, what they wish us to see,
but they too have gone,
or will eventually go through the refining fires.
None of us can escape the molding hands.

The more we go through the easier one
-can relate to other's suffering and pain.
Pain educates the spirit if open to change,
conserves us humble and compassionate.

It is such a gift to be able to express your deepest feelings.
This is a special world of poetry with many dear hearts,
it's an oasis that keeps us sane.  To be part of those who have
loving hearts unspoiled by the harshness of the world and those
who dwell in it,  it's truly a blessing from above.

For those of us who are constantly challenged in many ways,
I send you my sincere prayers and love.
May you always be at peace, no matter the storms.
That no illness, person, situation or abuse
-can ever separate us from His loving and saving grace.
Fully clothed from head to toe,
bare I lie with my own sorrow,
this sadness that has followed me
in aeroplanes across the sea.
I wish to draw honest breaths,
and meet my precious life afresh.
I’ve tried and tried to keep this pain
away from me, to my own gain:
I have sung Luthario’s song,
and found myself loving the wrong;
I’ve allowed distraction to wreak
havoc in both my work and sleep.
I have let entire days
burn away in the fire’s blaze
singing songs of suffering,
ignoring the joy life can bring.
Yet I read pensées written by
Krishnamurti, an Indian guy,
and there’s this special thing he said
one day, and now it’s in my head:
“you are the suff’ring, there is not
separation, you are the thought!”
And now I think I start to see
just what this sentences means to me:
it is absurd to put away
this sadness for another day–
there’s beauty in communion,
in an eternal union
between this guy I think I am
and this pain within my hands.
But if I am the thing itself,
what’s there to do? Can I be helped?
There are answers my mind craves,
yet instead of being enslaved,
I’m going to run with this one:
that there’s nothing I can become
that will get rid of all this hurt
that I’d so like to trade, or worse.
So here I go, please wish me luck
as I enter a living ruck,
and reduce the space between
the real world and my own dreams.
Ken Pepiton Aug 2018
A pocket of thought, ideas.
Impulses, has beens

epi-phenom-enal-con-currencies-synchron-icity
sorting places, thens and nows vying for attention

you see
we till stories in search of true tomorrows
not true
yesterdays (till, I said, not tell)
we **** the hard rows no one else will ***
so seed lies sown are never lies told, if the lies are never taught
or if the liars are caught before convincing the
intended crop to lie and swear a common liege Lord,
or die
for lack of knowing. Non-nascence, simplest
symptom to not see.
Whose death is yours to respond responsibly
to? My child's, or yourn?
In the early days, we knew less than we know now
about how knowing and growing were all
intended
to cost time. Ticks, ono motto whatever, the sound
gears and spiral springs pushing cogs
tick, one tooth tick at atime make

this rough, un polished, un glossed, is it wrong or

as I imagine a diamond in the rough must seem to a share cropper
experienced in diamond hunting, diamond prospecting,

prospecting expecting inspection to permit
seeing a 3.2 specific gravity,
specific
specify

species or spectacles,
spectators or special-if-eye-cation
value-en-abled. Weigh your mind in balance
with mine. I claim the mind of Christ.
What are the odds?

A wandering path, injoyable enable if-i-abble,
pacing is

everything, timing is everything, time is the test.

Time is the metagame.
Take your time. One word formed sylabble at a time.
Babble on, your confusion makes you mortal, to my mind.
Tick.
A quanta of time. Does time come in bits and pieces cernible,
but undiscernible from reality?

Babble.

Of course, time will tell. We learned that in our sleep, did we not?

Aesop taught us more than Moses, no,
Aesop taught us less than Moses.

But, we could learn to walk bearing the weight of knowing what
Aesop taught,
while we could not stand under the weight
Moses was said
to have taught.

Caught you, Jewboy. Whatchewknow?
The moral of the story.

THE IDEA is to win.
Beware the concision decision.
incisive devices, witty inventions.

Flip the shell, roll the bones, cast the runes and,
as luck might have it, die before your time.

Why factors are lies more oft than how factors.
Benefactors rule malefactors or
how or why would we invest our time in seeking reasons
to believe?

Is this the polished piece, the gemstone of specific gravity
(which currently means nothing to you. Here, you find too light
or too heavy, too weighty on the scale of specific value.)

Hard. Value hard, diamond hard, on Mr. Moore's scaled model of
Knowing exploding for reason's sake, raison d'etre, eh?
Too hard?
Not Mohr,
don't get me wrong.
We been Moore's law breaker all along.
We be manifested destinatory stories of heroes gone wrong.

Outlawed
knowing exploding to be reasoned with, by kind
children destined to become
written in stone, scarred by lies

Diamonds cutting diamonds, iron whetting iron
on eternity's edge.

Babylon, was it Bel's gate or fusion from below rising?

Magma fountains with diamond claws tearing the lands asunder
Is asunder still a word?, let me, allow me to define...
"into a position apart, separate,
into separate parts,"
mid-12c., contraction of Old English on sundran 
Middle English used to know asunder for
"distinguish, tell apart."
From <https://www.etymonline.com/word/asunder>
----

mumbler's humbler PIE, bowing before the knowers who
know nothing of my work.
Set apart, art thou holy aware?

Hermit me, meet the rest of me. The true rest that remained.
We live, you and I. Trust me, next is worth the wait.

Suffer needs no pain to make its point. Waiting is.

Grokk. WHO would believe that idea could live
through telegraphese to be tweet meets for the
Cosplay clans. How never grokked a rock,  why even less.

Strange, not be long in this
place. if
place this be. Odd
set aside
torn asunder
blown away.
Awake, little birdie, tell me true,
what's a man like me to do?

Did you meet the famous Mr. Blake?
I cleaned his chimney, way back when, chimbly's whut
we called em. Smoke stacks belchin' black
makin' black moths invisible to voracious
gulls.
Now the peppered moths are free
to be white-ish, for better or worse.

----

right, now, do right or

miss the mark,
the specific mark you made, maybe,
imagining, abstract obstructions missed
by the skin on Job's teeth as you run past

right now to more. You know?

----=

Story telling was the same as lying when I was a child, to me.

Telling stories was my gift I never took. Or am I lying? or mad,
in the old way.
Chailot's rag picker was my best friend.

No noble thought ever found it's home in my head, once
I thunk it, it stunk to high heaven, for me stinkin' thinkin' it.

Po' ems sang sour to fiddles wit' one strang and drums with no
cymbals
Screamin' he owed m' soul the comp'ny sto' bang bang thud.

I died, he lied, and lived to tell this story, ****** if I know,
****** if I don't.

True as true can be. I am lost, but once was found,
lyin' rough, uncut in acres of unseen gems.
----
* Voltaire refused to teach me any thing I could not define:
late 14c., deffinen, diffinen, "to specify; to fix or establish authoritatively;" of words, phrases, etc., "state the signification of, explain what is meant by, describe in detail," from Old French defenir, definir "to finish, conclude, come to an end; bring to an end; define, determine with precision," and directly from Medieval Latin diffinire, definire, from Latin definire "to limit, determine, explain," from de "completely" (see de-) + finire "to bound, limit," from finis "boundary, end" (see finish (v.)). From c. 1400 as "determine, declare, or mark the limit of." Related: Defined; defining.

So, imagine facets unseen, I am at least a meme, a bubble rising on the tide. Think, as you will. Amen?
Incorporating radical (root-related) definitions via cut and paste is my way of acknowledging that I have no ex-uses left for using words in a wrong, thus lying, way.
Brain, brain go away
Don't want to listen one more day
Already lonely and afraid
Feel insecure and full of shame

Brain, brain don't act this way
You're always angry; Filled with hate
You know we're joined; Can't separate
Yourself your punching in the face

Brain, brain what can I say
To make it so you see things straight
Don't know how much more I can take
Of constant warring and debate

Brain, brain it's getting late
This journey's not some endless race
Life's flying by and at this pace
Forget a win; Not gonna place

Brain, brain let's medicate
I'll feed you drugs and we'll sedate
The only way to mitigate
Discrepancies we generate

Brain, brain we sadly waste
This outcome feels like it was fate
But never was there a sealed date
Fulfilling what we self-create

Brain, brain so much we faced
Success so close could almost taste
Instead our tail we always chased
We'll die alone sad and disgraced
Written: March 6, 2019

All rights reserved.
[Iambic Tetrameter format]
Naomi Sep 2018
I cried my eyes out today.
I drowned in despair.
And I floated in air.
Two eyes shed a different tear.
One, warm and forever - remembering the childhood friend.
The other, craved a forgotten person.
One reminds the other  of how happy she should be!
The other, weeps in silence as it endures memory de-fi-cit.
Falling simultaneously towards the ground.  
Quiet and unnoticed/ drenching and drowning.
Why is it that I go back to such horrible thoughts?
I live in them with a colourless splash.
I am happy, I believe. I was happier, I recall.
Salsa Oct 2018
I've heard that distance makes the heart grow fonder;
but somehow it seems to me,
melancholy is the mislaid piece,
for the pangs in my chest
have only grown stronger.

We're 3000 miles apart,
on separate time zones and continents,
your absence from my eyes
captivates my consciousness.

Replaying our memories
in an infinite loop,
my mind plays its tricks
to remind me of you.

As if I could forget
that spellbinding time we spent,
on the days and nights
right after we met.
Missing Jordan.
The Rogue Poet May 2016
On days like today

weary I lay,

The delicate flower
is how I am portrayed,

I pray & I pray the rain & wind does not ******* away

I brace myself as I sway with roots gripping the grains.

I grip & I fight in hope of a better tomorrow & today

As I feel as I am just along for the ride,

I start to lose faith through hours of the day.

the clusters of ghastly dark clouds begin to separate,

& The rays beaming through the clouds are breathtaking.

With light & warmth I begin to bloom,

& so do the emotions that were gloom.

When I was in doubt my feelings became frayed,

My experiences helped me blossom from The Delicate Flower I was portrayed.





{RP}
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