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rachel Nov 2014
Never take shelter in another human being—
we are weak foundations
no comfort within
because we all break, splinter, crumble
at some point,
concerned not where our rubble falls
and not who it destroys
but if it falls safely
jeffrey robin Aug 2011
HERE THE WINDS ARE FIERCE
here the smiles form
complete shelter
CHILDREN!.....BE FREE!
........
we were as stupid as possible!
it made us seem safe!
...........
oh yes WE
oh YES now
we surrender
again WE love
.......

come
song and dance
mingle
WE
sing and dance
again
free
.....BLOW WINDS
FIERCE AS YOU ARE!
we shelter the children
yes we do
Heliodoro Linna Nov 2013
Pacing in endless circles
Appearing to be chasing their tails
With nothing much to focus on,
Eyes reflecting haunted souls unveil
A ghost town abandoned long ago
With no signs of life and the dust
Rising up trying to hide the shame
Of a system which failed the public trust.
Street smells permeate the air;
Sanitation becomes a four-letter word.
There's no need for appetite here,
Not in this theater of the absurd,
And, well, I wouldn't feed the stuff
To my worst enemy if I had one.
It's a no-**** shelter with defunct inhabitants.
If resiliency of the spirit be overdone,
The ability to survive incredible odds,
Look at souls forever trapped in their cages.
As if to mock decency and humanity
The signs read "Patria o Muerte."
Dark sorrow Apr 2015
The air raid siren sounds again
And fear breaks through the calm
The nearest shelter's two roads down
I walk with sweaty palms

By now I know the nightly drill
And rush to get inside
I can't describe how scared I am
There's nowhere left to hide

You never know when one might start
I think that's what I hate
I've learnt to eat my tea with haste
Or eat it nine hours late!

Explosions are the norm for me
The music of the night
Some sound so close I fear the worst
I'm trembling in fright

Then finally the planes withdraw
Their reign of terror ends
But still I fear they might return
With yet more bombs to spend

But morning comes and one by one
We file out to the street
Completely unprepared to see
The sight our eyes must greet

For while the shelter stayed untouched
The streets were torn apart
The piles of rubble, once our homes
Enough to break the heart
Francie Lynch Jul 2017
I wish to age like a wrap-around porch
In a thunder storm,
While generations tell tales,
Sipping drinks.
A porch of blinking stars,
A shelter out of rain,
With ascending and descending friends.

I will age like a tree,
Grow stronger in the wind;
Give shade and shelter to all
Beneath my ring-aged limbs.

I wish to age as a river bends,
Contiguous with all shores;
Floating everyone I know
On eternal waters,
A current winding with no rest.

I will age like a star,
Burning bright, giving light,
Something to reach for.

I wish to age like a mountain,
With secret caves and riches.
And you can rock your soul
Around, over or through,
Solid, snow-capped summit,
Beckoning you.

I will age as the moon,
In stages, full and new;
Each night different,
Unnoticeable fading,
As all who age will do.
Thank you all very much for your thoughtful, insightful and kind comments. It's a wonderful surprise and honor to be chosen for the daily, as there are so many **** good poems written by the poets here every day. And especially a sleeper like "I Will Age." I guess it's a lesson to be learned. Thanks again to everyone, and especially to Hello Poetry for giving us this marvelous opportunity to publish.
Peace to All.
Francie

The Womb:
a  sacred place,
Gifted by God, almighty,
inside the women’s body;
Where her unborn baby grows:
The only Cradle of our comforts!
Life and Love together;
Flesh and blood shared;
The place where God occupies
his Initial resting avenue !
Hence, someone who is on a
High altitude told women:
“Be productive; Possess as much as;
and shelter in your womb;
the pure shelter ;
without any hurt and dirt !
*
BY
WILLIAMSJI MAVELI
williamsji@yahoo.com
www.williamsji.com
Malayalam poem translated to English by the Author:
From the Anthology of Poems "On the Tip of the 6th Finger "
(AARRAMVIRALTHUMBTH...), written by WILLIAMSJI MAVELI.
The storm came out of nowhere,
And you were there
With wings ready to fly
And as the clouds broke the sky

You didn't leave

You were my shelter
From the rain and thunder
And when it ceased
And the wind eased

I didn't leave

The rain you stopped
Rained down your core
And every drop
Held like a store

It didn't leave

Until the gust shook it free
And you rained down on me
Cold and sharp but how could I leave
When you held it all of this time for me

I'll stay with you.
The devil’s in town today
a man in black,
a tired smile
seeking solace
from pushin’ others away
from pushin’ me away

So I’ll be here
crying for shelter, shelter
‘cause I taught him
(but he hasn’t learned)
Building walls doesn’t
solve any problem
only makes a bigger mess
Josh Jul 2017
Sitting alone on the woodchips
Steel and planks
Shelter from the rain, receiving no thanks
A roofed box
Where lovers kissed
The lonely reminisced
Promises made
Years wished away
Shelter from the rain
Marks and names
Of love and hate
Inscribed on walls
Hearts and initials
Disfigured by the same individuals
Who professed love under its roof
If it could talk, it would speak such truths
Hearts broken in summer haze
Shelter, of sorrow
Solace at night to the solemn
A meeting place
Once unused, but for trysts and trifles
Now that the sun returns so does the warmth
That little park shelter
No longer filled with the sadness of those who dwelt there last
And now it is filled with child's
Another one from my book "ivory and gold" available on Amazon.
her Jan 2015
as i stand on this street corner and watch these two roads meet, i finally feel at peace
maybe it’s because it’s my feet at the intersection of two distinct paths,
merging at a point of vulnerability
maybe because it’s a reminder of you and me
and a blissful bond we once shared.
without a care in the world,
your arms wrapped around me to shelter me from the cold.
two souls kept warm by each other’s company.
two hearts dancing in the rain playfully, two minds with the same thing in mind; you want me to be yours and i want you to be mine.
i don’t know, maybe i’m crazy.
maybe time has finally outplayed me maybe i’ve stopped seeing beauty in the little things, maybe i’ve stopped appreciating the gift life brings.
maybe i’m in over my head, or
maybe i miss the familiar contours of your body between the chalk white sheets of my bed.
i don’t know,
maybe this is normal.
maybe i stopped being myself after you left, maybe this is all a test.
maybe i failed and i
couldn’t clean up the mess
maybe thats why the rain suddenly feels colder on my skin.
maybe thats why whenever i try to apologize i don’t know where to begin or
where to end all these that I’ve typed in my mind to tell you i just
can’t hit send
maybe i ****** up and i won’t admit it maybe I’m a coward.
seems like I’ve got all the time in the world, maybe i should do something about it i mean
every minute without you feels like an hour
maybe I’m a fool for distancing myself from you
maybe that why i couldn’t end with that i loved you because for some reason
i couldn’t accept that
maybe
just maybe you might of loved me too
Found on 8tracks and i do not own any of the poem. I DONT OWN ANYTHING HERE but if you know who it is by please comment
Give me shelter
Just for one night

I need to be somewhere else
Hide away

Maybe I am wrong
But I need to go

Just for one night
Please let me stay

Tomorrow I will leave
Go someplace else

Tomorrow I will know
If I can go back

But now it’s too much
I need to rest

Please give me shelter
I beg you to have mercy

Please let me rest
Just this night, because tomorrow I’m gone
Egg Aug 2018
We are waiting to settle the rains.
As we have waited for many
many
years.

we are standing hand in hand.
Holding on
the way people do
when high-waters reach waists

The hand I hold is familiar to my heart.

soft
and sincere
And so like mine.
But quick and without callouses.
not a scar or scratch to see.

we are standing hand in hand
always.
There is no other way.
waiting to settle the rains.

And I know that I would run him away from
any harm.
Protect him
from every curse,
knife,
and word.

But I know that I am not shelter.
I am not the house to cover his head,
or the food to replenish his belly.
I cannot give him all of the things
they are taking away.

I am not shelter.

I am a heart.

I am a trip to the beach on a blistering day,
a drop of water in this desert.
I am a moment's peace in a hurricane,
a floating branch to cling to in this flood.

I am not shelter.

I am a heart.
and he is mine.
for Joshua
deanena tierney Dec 2010
The air was very frigid,
Early eve on a very cold night.
As I sat in the drivers' seat,
Waiting at a very long light.
And I heard a tap on the window,
Looked over and saw him there,
He was wearing broken glasses,
And had not combed his hair.
And I rolled it down just slightly,
And he said...do you mind If I stand?
Close to your car to feel its warmth,
And he had a few dollars in his hand.
Then he began to tell me about,
The local shelter where he did stay.
And how he worked day labor,
And of the church where he did pray.
He continued on to tell me that,
The shelter was not free,
And he needed 32 dollars,
To pay enough for his family.
He gave me the telephone number,
To the shelter and then his name,
But I never called, just gave him cash,
And I'm the only one to blame.
That later on that very night,
The man who I gave "aid".
Overdosed on crystal-****,
Of which I'm sure I paid.
Nazrawit Aug 2016
Dear homeless man on the side of the street
Begging for a dollar, a smile, or a treat
I’m sorry I looked away
I’m sorry I pretended like I didn’t see you
I need to shelter myself from the truth
I want to shelter myself from you
See I can never be a shelter to you
I could tell you there is rest
In the shelter of the Most High
I just assumed you’re probably high
I can’t handle the guilt of greed
So I blame you for panhandling
Now please let me drive by
Before I’m caught up in a drive-by

Dear homeless man on the side of the street
Begging for a dollar, a smile, or a treat
I’m sorry I looked away
I’m sorry I pretended like I didn’t see you
You’re in my blind spot
I cannot see you
If I pull up my blinds
Then I might spot you
So I stay in my dark room
Where I picture a world
Captured in imagination
And developed in reality
I stay in my dark room
I time travel with a flashback
I picture the world in just white
I picture the world in just black
So I expose the injustice
Until it’s black and white
Now I see the picture right
Phil Lindsey Jun 2015
Stranger things have happened
Than what you’re about to hear
So I swear that this is all the truth
And it happened close by here
A young girl lost her way one night
She was working midnight shift
When a stranger saw her wandering
And he offered her a lift.
She was trusting and she climbed right in
To the black sedan he drove.
He asked where she was headed
She replied, “To Shelter Grove.”
The driver said, “I’ll take you there.
Just tell me where to go.”
She said, “Around the corner, there’s a hidden drive,
You’ll want to take it slow.
There’s a gate, but it will open, and
A clearing just ahead.
There’s a gravestone with your name on it.
I’m afraid, Sir, you are dead.”

The driver turned and stared at her
She stared back with evil grin
He was terrified but didn’t know
The danger he was in.
He reached out to grab her slender arm
But he closed his fist on air
Somehow she had vanished
She simply wasn’t there.
Now his heart was pounding loudly
He could hardly drive the car,
He used his phone to call his wife who said,
“We’re all wondering where you are!
You see your brother called an hour ago
Your father passed today
They said that he was sleeping when
The angels carried him away.
Your family signed the papers, and
He’s at the funeral home
I never heard of it before,
Some place called Shelter Grove.”

That night I had an awful dream
The wandering girl’s to blame,
She said, “I was sent to take your father,
But I mixed up the name.”  
Phil Lindsey  6/5/15
Why do we envision the Grim Reaper to be a man?
Alyssa Underwood Nov 2015
Can it love you like God loves you, with a love that is better than life?
Can it connect you to eternal beauty? Can it save you? Can it redeem you?
Can it lift you out of the miry pit? Can it make you clean enough to finally feel acceptable?

Can it delight your soul to the core? Can it take your breath away with its faithfulness to you? Can it paint both sunrise and sunset across the sky to beckon your attention? Can it cause the breeze to blow and gently caress your cheeks? Can it send hummingbirds and wildflowers across your path to romance your heart? Can it parade before you the starry host and call them each by name?

Can it probe you to the depths and fill you with itself?
Can it rush to your aid riding on the wings of the wind?
Can it satisfy your hunger and thirst with bountiful things?
Can it give to you feet like a deer that you might dance upon the heights?
Can it arrange every detail of your life to draw you and drive you to itself?
Can it pursue you with all the resources of the universe?
Can it know you through and through and still desire you?

Can it raise you up and seat you in the heavenly realms and bless you with every spiritual blessing? Can it supply your every need out of its glorious riches? Can its grace be sufficient for you and its mercy help you in your greatest temptation? Can it pour overflowing comfort into you through all of your troubles? Can it reach down to draw you out of deep waters? Can it set you on an unshakable foundation? Can it bound across the mountains to come to your rescue? Can it make you lie down in green pastures and lead you beside still waters? Can it walk with you through the darkest wilderness and never leave you or forsake you? Can it carry you when you are weak or have fallen? Can it let you rest between its shoulders when you are weary or burdened?

Can it escort you to heaven’s banqueting table
and spread its banner of love over you?
Can it hide you in the shelter of its wing?
Can it be your daily portion and immerse you in the boundlessness of itself?
Can it clothe you in robes of righteousness and garments of salvation?
Can it give to you praise in exchange for mourning?
Can it bestow on you a crown of beauty for ashes?
Can it turn your wailing into dancing?
Can it flood you with peace like a river?
Can it fill your heart with joy in the worst of afflictions?
Can it know the way to lead you home?
Can it refine you in its fire and bring you forth as gold?
Can it capture you fully even as it sets you fully free?

Can it ever truly be your Everything?
~~~
JR Rhine Jan 2017
I broke up with God
at our favorite eatery
in our favorite booth.

We settled into familiar creases
and asked for the usual.

My eyes lazily staring at fingers
stirring the straw around the ice cubes,
God cautiously spoke up:

“Is something wrong?”

“Nothing.” (Thinking about the dormant phone
concealing behind the lock screen
the open Facebook tab
lingering over the relationship status section.)

They silently mused over the laconic reply,
til the waitress showed up with the food.

“Thank you!” God blurted with agonizing alacrity.

I received the sustenance lifelessly
and aimlessly poked at the burgers and fries.

The waitress eyed me with vague inquisition,
popping a bubble in the gum between
big teeth, refilled my water
and pirouetted hastily.

We ate in ostensible harmony,
the silence gripping like a chokehold,
the visible anxiety and subdued resolve
settling like a stifling blanket
over the child waking
from a nightmare—

Til we couldn’t breathe,
and I ripped back the covers
and looked into the eyes
of my tormentor.

“It’s not you, it’s me.”

God, taken aback by the curt statement,
dropped their burger with shaking hands,
silently begging with wetting eyes
a greater explanation.

So I elaborated:

“It’s not you, it’s me.

For your immaculate conception
was created by human hands,

your adages rendered obsolete
by human words,

your purpose and plan for us
distorted by human nature—

I cannot hate myself any longer.

I cannot pretend to know you at all.

Who my mother and father say you are
is not who my friends think you are,
nor my teachers, my pastor,
the president, Stephen Hawking,
Muhammed, the KKK, Buddha,
the Westboro Baptist Church,
Walt Whitman, Derek Zanetti,
******,
and Billy Graham.

I am told you care who I bring into bed (and when),
and what movies I watch,
and what music I listen to—

I have not heard what you say about
child soldiers, the use of mosquitos,
or the increased destruction of the earth
which you proudly proclaimed your creation,
or the poverty and disease and famine
which has ridden so many of your children—”

God interjected,
“But you’re chosen!”

I snorted,

“You say I’m chosen
to spend eternity with you—
why me?

Why’d you pick me among
thousands, millions, billions?

I’ve been told I’m ‘chosen’
since birth
by others like me—

those with fair complexion,
blue eyes,
blonde hair,
a firm overt ****** attraction towards women,
and a great big house
with immaculate white fences
delineating their Jericho.

I’ve already fabricated eternity
here among the other ‘chosen’
and there is a world of suffering
right outside the fence
and I see them
through the window of my bedroom
every day.

Am I chosen,
if I don’t vote Republican

Am I chosen
if I am Pro-Choice

Am I chosen
if I cohabitate with my girlfriend

Am I chosen
if I never have kids

Am I chosen
if I say ‘Happy Holidays’

Am I chosen
if I don’t want public prayer in schools

Am I chosen
if I don’t want a Christian nation

Am I chosen
if I don’t repost you on my wall
or retweet your adages?

I’m tired
being the ubermensch,
for it has not brought me
happiness
and I blame you.

I will not ignore
the cries of the suffering
believing it is I
who is destined to live
in bliss.

I will not buy
Joel Osteen’s autobiography(ies).

I will not tithe
you my money
for a megachurch
when another homeless shelter
closes down.

I will not tell a woman
what to do with her body,
or a man
that he is a man
if they say they are not.

I am neither Jew nor Gentile,
and I will stand with
my brothers and sisters
of Faith and Faithlessness,

Gay and Straight,
Black and White,

and apart from these extremes
free from absolutes
the ambiguous, amorphous
nature of Humankind
which I praise.

There is much pain and suffering
in this world,
potentially preventable,
but hardly can I believe
it’s part of your plan
to save
me.

I will not be saved
if we are not
all saved—

not one will burn
for my divinity.

The gates will be open to all—
and perhaps you believe that too,
but I’ve gotten you all wrong
and that cannot change,
as long as there is
mortality, and
corruption, and
power, and
lust, and
greed.”

God whined, growing bellicose,

“It is through me that you will find eternity,
I am the one true god!
I am the God of your fallen ancestors,
it is because you have fallen short
that you need me!”

I replied, growing in confidence,

“We have all fallen short,
yes,
but we are also magnificent.

We have evolved,
we have created,
we have adapted,
we have survived.

We have built empires,
and we have destroyed them.

We have cured diseases,
and we have created them.

We have done much in your name.
We’ve done good,
and we’ve done evil—

And unfortunately it’s all about
who you ask.

Your name is a burden on the oppressed
and a weapon of the oppressor.

You are abusive, God.

You tell me you are jealous.

You tell me apart from you I will suffer for an eternity.

I’m scared to die, yet want to die,
because of you.

You have made life a waiting room
that is now my purgatory. It is

Hell On Earth.

So you see,
it’s not you,
it’s me—
a mere mortal
who has tried to put a face
to eternity
and it has left me
empty.

And also,
it’s me,
for I have learned to love me,
as I have expelled your self-loathing imbibition,
and the deleterious zeal
I have proclaimed
through ceaseless
trepidation
and self-flagellation—

I have learned to love me
by realizing I am not inherently evil,
that my body is not evil,
that my mind is not evil,
and, ultimately, that
there is no good
and there is no evil.

My body is beautiful,
my mind is beautiful,
this world is beautiful,
and we are destroying it
waiting for you to claim
us.

I leave you
in hopes to see you
again one day,

and perhaps you will look
different than I have
perceived or imagined,

and in fact
I certainly hope so.”

Just then the waitress strolled back up
with a servile smile:
“Dessert?”

“No, thank you,”
I smiled politely.

And with that,
I paid the check,
and took a to-go box—

walked out into the evening rain
to my car,
put on a secular song
that meant something real to me
and drove off
into the night—

feeling for the first time
free
and alive.
Shyanna W Apr 2015
You are my shelter,
hiding me from the storm of my mind.
When the darkness begins to take hold,
you are the light that shines my path forward.
Dear friend,
You have saved me
Written in 2013
Evan Hoffman Nov 2014
Memphis got real high in the 50's.
Those honeycomb bathroom floors decided to become streets
them city kids got the buy bug knocking at their knees.
Problem is: They never dream.
Teachers just learning to write
using pens filled with interrupting ink
telephone poles gossiping about the trees,
they hated their branches—always loosing their leaves
office administrators on Section 8 Housing
while the vacant houses are out on the streets.
People swarming the sewers
forgetting: a bomb shelter is no home
while drainage floods the alleys.

If you could see this place with your own eyes
and not the ones you bought at the drug store
you would wish you were blind.
The word 'loosing' is intentional.
Poetry by MAN Mar 2014
Wake up Mi Amor..enjoy the Days to Come
Life isn't a sprint it's a marathon run
Hold yourself together through the good and bad
As we ride the roller coaster of happy and sad
Emotions like the weather here comes a storm
Take shelter in my heart I'll keep you warm
We can take a trip..don't worry about money
Lounging on the beach..I'll feed you when you're hungry
A picnic for two with a good bottle of wine
You can relax read a book as the day unwinds
Refills of morning affection overflows your cup
Clear your daze..Feel my gaze..Baby it's time to wake up..
M.A.N 3-25-14 Just a fun a way to wake up loved one..;)
Jon Tobias Nov 2011
I want to go back
To when I was a child
And I didn’t know what it meant
To be self conscious

When beautiful was synonymous
To how nice a person was to you

When I used to fit in the smallest of places
Like in the cupboard under the kitchen sink

I never imagined it was anything other than
Underneath the kitchen sink

But I felt safe there
During bouts of my father’s fury

Like a mouse in a jar
When the dog’s tongue could still lick its cheek
Close enough to understand
The severity of teeth

In my living room
there is a hole in the floor
From a house fire
Just big enough for me to fit into
If I took the shape of a ball

I know I could never fill the hole in your chest

But my heart
Is a bomb shelter
Big enough for the both of us

And if beauty really can be synonymous with nice
Then call me gorgeous
‘Cause it’s all I got

No

Call me, Gorgeous
Why don’t you
You should have me on speed dial by now

I mean
I can bullet proof vest your lonely
And if you tell me I am handsome
I’ll probably fall in love with you

I mean
I am too awkward and lunky to fit anywhere nowadays
Other than a hole in a floor
When cigarette ash crop circled my fears back to life
And I realized that being a man means

Really

You have no place to hide

Unless

It’s in a bomb shelter
I built in the back of my heart

Probably

We could be safe there
I don't know what I am doing anymore.
C James Mar 2019
"Hide in here."

I shut the shelter,
securing my sister

within the hanging
fabric shells,

shrouding her
in my protection.

The first bomb erupts,
shattering peace into pieces

of cheap glass,
coating the floor

like ice on a bridge. Danger,
bridge freezes before road.

Mom begins to wail,
but the siren signals too late

to escape the collision:
His words—Her heart.

And I will never fear
Sticks and Stones.

Instead, I will fear
Words. Disgustful

syllables strung together
to guillotine my mind.

I wish it had been me
sealed inside the shelter.

"Dad is home."
Feedback always appreciated, whether public or private.
Fear* had crept in quietly,
         and she had unknowingly
     let it take shelter,
where it could breathe new life
    in the dismal recesses of her mind
Frankie Gestone Mar 2013
He woke up in a rapid sweat, darkness surrounding him, his soaked pillow was pressing up on his neck as he could feel the uncomfortable stabbing cold run right threw his whole body. His mouth was dry and his body was in great pain. He lay there practically naked, but not just physically, also emotionally. It was like a catatonic state where the person’s body is paused in reality, but the actual person is far away and isolated even from himself. He wondered why he was so comfortable being uncomfortable and remaining frozen in time.  He saw nothing but the subtle moonlight that peaked through the blinds of his window. A point of existence, he feels nothing because all he has ever felt has drowned him. His numbness was being accepted and he embraced that if he remained this way, he would never have to feel hurt or heartbreak again. It’s better this way, he confirmed.

Eventually he got up out of his bed, walked outside to a nearby empty field. He looked up at the infinite night sky and contemplated the moon, the stars, and the endless space that sustained all of its existence. A tear fell down his cheek as he remembered the beautiful wonder of life and the universe; his realization that he is just a small spec of dust compared to all that is and all that is wonderful. Whatever happened to that universal happiness he used to feel? The feelings of the unseen, the cosmos, the mysteries that remain unsolved were all love. He then felt ancient and brand new at the same time-always being around all that is, but recently born into the unknown. The silence of the night swarmed him, and he suddenly embraced all the things he could not accept. The lullaby of the wind put him to sleep.

When he awoke, it was twilight. The sky was a lighter, deep blue and the sun in the far distance was rising in a fiery halo of mixed red, orange, and yellow colors, and the early morning clouds were clear and transparent. He heard the sound of a train horn in the far distance. He followed the sound with his ears as the sound became slightly louder and louder. Then, suddenly he could see the light of the early morning train.

The train had stopped as he approached it, and he hopped on with no hesitation or looking back. This runaway train was going to take him to where he needs to be, and he blindly and faithfully accepted that his fate was out of his hands now. No more heartbreak, no more reminders of the past, and most importantly no more drowning in his tears. As the train proceeded to move forward, he could feel fresh air gently touch his face, and all that he saw and ever knew were now flashing lights disappearing into eternity.

It was hours into the late morning when the train made its first stop. He listened to the train conductor speak out over the intercom, almost incoherently, say, “This is Brightstone Park. Next stop will be Riverhead.” A nostalgic feeling suddenly came over him as he could remember that his very first kiss was in Brightstone Park with Jessica Garzi. That was not his first true love, but his very first heartbreak. Riverhead was a forbidden memory, as he knew a classmate who had committed suicide off the Riverhead Bridge. He had not returned there in five years because of his haunting memories that would always come back to remind him just how cold and frightening the world really is.

While lost in thought, he felt a rough, sand paper-like wet feeling on his forearm. He looked down and it was a black cat, but not all black. The paws were all white like socks, and the chest and stomach were snow white. The loud prominent purr was a very peculiar reminder of a cat he once owned. Her name was Midnight. She was not the friendliest cat to strangers, but she loved him, especially when he massaged her paws. This cat was practically identical to Midnight. Midnight was put down three years ago though. As he began petting the cat’s back, it ran away and jumped off the moving train. He looked out in a hurry, but it was gone. It was just like everything else he loved. There for one moment, then gone the next. The strange thought that has one wondering if anything had actually existed that is now no more. A person, or a thing, could mean everything to you, but once they slip away, they become like the wind: occasionally brushing up against you, but never revealing its form.

On the train he began to wonder how he got where he was, and in general how the smallest decisions he made lead to bigger events and all in all, everything was all connected. There are no isolated events, or isolated people- it is all proven fact and science. Everything depends on each other to survive. The trees depend on the sun to keep themselves alive; we give off carbon dioxide to the trees and in return, we receive the oxygen we need from the leaves of the trees. He thought about the potential of a seed-for example, a tomato seed. Within that tiny seed is unlimited potential of life: The seed may produce one plant of several tomatoes, and within all those tomatoes are countless other seeds. This is all from one seed. Then, one may take a couple of seeds from a picked tomato and plant them throughout the yard creating a garden. That original seed came from another tomato seed inside a tomato on a plant, and that seed came from another seed. When did this cycle of reproduction begin and when does it end? Is it just another form of the infinite? When a person eats a tomato from that original seed, he receives certain essential vitamins his body needs for surviving and sustaining good health. This good health will effect his offspring and so on and so on. When he defecates, that will all return to the earth for potential fertilizer used for other tomato seeds. This is the same when he returns to the earth again. His dust will fertilize the same world that he came from, for all things come from it just to inevitably return to it.

He continued to think about how matter is never created nor destroyed and the same for energy. Nothing ever truly dies; the form changes into something new, like how water becomes a cloud and the cloud becomes water. Though this comforted him, he noticed that a few feet away from him was a former coworker and friend, Natasha Karev. She always infatuated him and they became close friends, but he always wished it had continued and gone even further than it did. One night, only a couple of years ago, they were at a friend’s party. Both were drinking, but not so heavily. That night they bonded and got so close, that she admitted she loved him. He was never quite sure how real that “I love you” was, but it was burned inside his heart ever since. That night there were moments she would tell him how much she wanted to make love to another guy at the party, Kevin, but was afraid to approach him. She told him she desperately wanted to lose her virginity that night to somebody because she was eighteen and only getting older. This was like a sharp knife slowly penetrating into his heart. He remained speechless for quite a few minutes. Finally he decided to go up in a bedroom alone. To his surprise, she followed him up and kissed him. He felt her clothed body up and down, and she touched areas not many have touched before. She told him she wanted to have *** and that she wanted him to rob her of her virginity. He was speechless, but extremely excited. Then, abruptly, she told him she could not because everything was happening way too soon. Why couldn’t she just make up her mind? He sat frustrated in the darkness, again, all alone. After that night, they spoke and remained close, yet that night was never mentioned again. It was as if it had never happened. After about two years of an on and off friendship, they just went their own ways. There were no fights or disagreements. Life just separated them.

“You’re just a figment inside somebody’s dream. So far from reality, you are a dream within a dream within a dream.” Startled by this soft voice, he quickly turned around to see Natasha smiling at him. “Ha-ha! I knew I could scare you. Were you abused as a kid, or something?” No words could come out at that moment, but he hugged her tightly. She explained to him that she is getting off at the next stop to meet a friend. He was sure he wanted to follow her and see where life would take him. She reminisced and told him how she had been away inside her own cave for several months, but is now very happy to meet up with everyone she had lost contact with.

The next stop arrived, but he did not catch the name of the stop he was getting off. As he got off with several others, both he and Natasha met up with her friend, Valeria, who he found quite cute. She resembled Natasha a bit in that they both had ***** blonde hair and blue eyes. They walked right into a giant street fair with a crowd of people looking at the foods and desserts, the trendy clothes, cheap jewelry, and children play rides.

As he looked around, he began seeing many familiar faces. He saw Kevin, a childhood and grammar school mate there with another co-worker of his, Jenny. Jenny was a Colombian beauty in his eyes and who was a flirt and tease to him, but never actually gave him any time alone. Incidentally, he knew both of them at different times in his life and had no idea they knew of each other. Kevin stopped contacting him during high school without any arguments or disloyalties that would tear a friendship apart. Keeping his head down, he walked a few feet to discover another childhood best friend, Jack, who was with a mutual childhood friend, Melanie. Melanie was a best friend of his and also a first childhood crush who also had a crush on him. He thought it was odd because even though Melanie and Jack were also best friends, Melanie never liked Jack in a special boy/girl way. He felt a moment of heartbreak, but quickly turned away and kept walking. A little further up the road, he saw two more childhood friends, Chris and Jimmy, who as children did not get along that well and only hung out with each other in the company of him. How peculiar it was suddenly seeing them together after ten years, and as seemingly best of friends.

That was not all. Things were getting stranger and stranger. It was like all the people who had made an imprint on his life were now coming together around him. He saw his two therapists, one he had gone to as a teenager and the other as a young adult, stand next to each other selling prescription drug samples. Both stared at him with a blank face, but with a prominent smile. He could barely nod at them. Natasha directed them to a local bar. Inside the bar was huge and also had a second floor. He noticed the music playing in the background was, Nocturne In E Flat Major, Op.9 No.2, by Polish born Romantic composer, Frederic Chopin. He became fixated on the elegant eighth note, left hand arpeggios, and the sweet and peaceful fast moving seven, eleven, twenty, and twenty-two notes from the right hand. If he thought about the most beautiful song ever written and all that is wonderful in one, this was the song.

They all took a seat and began looking at people and laughing at their behavior. Everyone was wearing masks. Social masks. They observed how different people act when they are in social gatherings, and how if you carefully study their body language, it will become clear that what they are saying and trying to put out is not what is actually being expressed through the body. One young man was frantically shaking his right leg as he tried to flirt confidently with a young woman he had just recently met. His face began to turn noticeably red, in an embarrassed flush, and he was making sudden hand gestures and quick eye blinking. She, on the other hand, pretended to be interested in what he was saying; yet her eyes would often look around the room and her body was a good distance from him with her arms folded.

Then as they were all laughing, he abruptly stopped and looked ahead to see two drunken women making out two tables away from them. As his eyes focused in on them, he realized they were two of his former crushes, Claire and Veronica, who he had no idea knew of each other because in fact, they were from different time periods of his life. He began seeing former teachers and professors from each stage of his school career, laughing hysterically with one another. Some of his most inspiring teachers and professors were gathered with other teachers and professors he despised. A young, tattooed hipster woman entered the scenery with a little Cairn Terrier that had an uncanny resemblance to his recently passed dog, Petey, who was put to sleep when he was away on a vacation, unexpectedly. His sorrow began to overwhelm him for not being able to say good-bye and see him for a proper last time. Everything about the dog’s high energy, playfulness, and watchdog attitude was exactly like Petey. A tear ran and fell off his cheek from his left eye right into the hand of Natasha. He looked up at her and she said, “Your tears are my tears. For what pain you withhold, I take and share with you.” She then wiped her right eye with the hand that held his tear. Natasha’s friend began to speak slowly into his left ear in Russian. Though he could not understand a word she was saying, it sounded just like a poem based on the pattern and rhythm’s consistency. It made him feel free of melancholy, but then thought of Angela Antonaci entered his mind.

He thought that the last painful experience ended with the break up of his closest best friend ever to play a part in his life. She was his girlfriend for the last three and a half years. They had known each other for ten years before they broke up their entire relationship. She was thirteen and he was fifteen when they first met in a park. She was always all over him like a little schoolgirl and he would often get frustrated with her obsession over him, for he believed he was no big deal. She was the first person to ever make him feel special and important, and even though he would resent her likeness towards him, he could never keep his eyes off of her or stop himself from always coming to her when he felt lonely. After about seven years, he realized he was in love with her. He had always been in love with her from the first time they met eyes. His long road had always lead back to her home in life. Every time he tried forgetting her and moving on, they would meet again. That person people search their entire lives for, he had found.

He rose out of his seat and briefly said goodbye to Natasha and her friend and went upstairs. He wanted time to be alone and walk around until he suddenly saw Jessica walking towards him. He stopped and waited for her to say hello, but she walked right by him, as if he had never existed. He felt a little insulted, yet relieved as any awkwardness that would arise was avoided. Looking ahead, he saw Angela’s two best friends, Kate and Julie, with her high school crush, John. John was playing an acoustic guitar on a lounge chair, singing to the two friends, almost enticing them with his eyes and voice. His jealousy overcame him, as Angela had been infatuated with him on and off even though he had played with her feelings throughout high school and college. John would tell her he loved her and make her believe he was a romantic, then when she fell into his words, he would leave her and keep a distance for long periods of time, leaving her in despair.

The conclusion occurred to him that maybe she was nearby. He searched throughout the entire bar not finding any other clues that she was around. When he went downstairs, he saw Natasha and her friend asleep, as well as most of the bar, except for the bartender. It was like everyone just passed out from the alcohol or possibly inhaled some type of knockout drug. The bartender was watching the news forecast of a tornado watch and dangerous thunderstorms. The bartender looked at him and said, “It’s better if you stay in here. It’s dangerous out there. I recommend you don’t go out!” He just listened, but decided to leave to the outside anyway.

He walked three blocks through the heavy rain and strong winds. He took a moment to stop and look at the black and gray clouds above him. As he looked across the street, he saw her. She was with her mother, sister, and mutual friends of theirs, Chrystal and Mike. He also saw behind them, his own mother and sister. He ran across the street to her and she shockingly with excitement screamed, “Hey!!! Oh my God!! Please stay with us. I missed you so much. You have no idea. We have to get to a shelter away from this storm. Hold my hand…” Smiling, he kept walking with them. They walked for twenty minutes and entered a giant field. After ten minutes of walking restlessly through the field, they all stopped to catch their breath. Angela’s mom ordered everyone to hold one another’s hand. An enormous gust of wind pushed them all to the grassy ground. He began to shake violently as he felt the touch of death nearby. He wondered if this would be the end, as he felt unaccomplished and left with so much left unsaid to her. Thoughts raced through his mind like a speeding highway about how to get to safety. Unable to control and remain focused on one rational thought at a time, he blacked out for a minute.

Then there he was right in the middle of a storm. In so many ways, he realized where he was ending was where he originally began. All the imprints from all he ever knew came back all at once to watch him finally leave all he ever knew from this life. And in the last moments, he found himself with her. He held her hand, while she held his, and the hands of their family and friends. The world was so dark and cold. The wind became much more rapid and an enormous bright light from it came within just miles of them. He kept looking up at the dark black and gray clouds over them, never as frightened as he was now. His focus was on the great strength of the wind. Whatever melancholic thoughts he had of his life, he would not give up hope. Maybe he was just hopelessly hopeful, but holding each other tightly might, in some miraculous way, save them. Then suddenly a deep peace began to sustain his very being. He remembered whose hand he was holding- the only woman to ever understand every level of his being. He looked down at her big, precious eyes pouring out tears. Their eyes locked, as she had been watching him the entire time. No words needed to be said from one another. They knew exactly what they felt and meant. For the first time in his life, everything was all okay. All was beautiful. The whole situation was beautiful, not tragic. In that moment, he understood this was where he was meant to be. This was where he wanted to be, for only in such a life altering moment does one comprehend the very nature of love and life. To just glance into her eyes and see the same person staring back in suspense, while all he ever knew was being born, growing, and dying simultaneously in complete acceptance. They began to fade and disappeared into the light.
Namir May 2014
As it started to grow even darker, and as the sun began to set, The Snow Leopard nudged the Little Fox awake again softly saying to her "Come on. Wake up. It's time to get going before it gets too dark." The little fox pulled herself up groggily and almost toppled over herself in her half awake state, "But I'm tired" she whined softly, nuzzling herself against the leopards side. The leopard smiled and chuckled, "Then get on my back, and I will carry you" he said as he waited for her to move. She smiled at him in her half awaken daze as she clumsily climbed onto the leopards back and layed flat, her legs dangling off his sides, nuzzling her face into the fur on his back, smiling and resting. After she got onto his back the snow leopard stood up carefully and slowly, making sure not the let the little fox fall off, and startedwalking back to the direction they came. As he was walking with the little one on his back he kept looking around to find clues of the direction they went. But everything seemed to look different, Had I taken the wrong path? He thought to himself since he didn't pay much attention to where he went when he rushed to her aid before. Even if we are lost I have to find a safe place for her at least. He kept looking around for any type of shelter for the night, even if it was too small for him and he would have to keep guard. As he kept walking he took a few turns, keeping an eye out for anything that could be considered 'shelter', A overhanging rock, a cave, even a small tunnel, anything. But he didn't seem to find anything. He started walking a little faster but kept care to make sure the fox wouldn't fall off his back in her slumber. Time went on minute by minute, and as he started to feel like he wouldn't find anything he saw a small, but not too small cliff with some overlaying trees and rocks. He stopped for a moment, It's... Not to safe looking... But its better then nothing. he thought to himself as he walked over to he cliffs conclave alcove. He softly nudged the cliffs side with him paw to see if it was sturdy enough for the night, which it seemed to be. "Hey, Come on. Wake up." He said as he shook his back very slightly just to nudge her awake. The little fox yawned and groaned again, "are we... home?" She whispered as she rubbed her eyes. "Sadly... No," muttered the snow leopard softly, "but this will have to do for the night. Just to keep up sheltered and safe. I want you to stay in the corner over there to stay safe and I will stay right here to make sure you will be ok." said the snow leopard with a slight smile. But the little fox didn't like that idea, "..Nooo..." she said with a frown and a whimper, "I want to stay with you, I want you with me... Please..." She started clinging to him as if her life depended on it, She didnt want to sleep without him wrapped around her. "Alright. Alright," the snow leopard sighed with a smile, walking farther into the small alcove of the cliff. "Come on. lets get some rest for tonight. and tomorrow we will find our way back home." He said nudging her off his back a bit. The little fox hopped off the leopards back and curled back into a little ball on the ground. The leopard then curled himself around her with a smile, nuzzling his cheek softly against hers, and said "Goodnight little one. May you have sweet dreams till the morning sun rise," though making sure to keep an eye on the entrance to the alcove. The little fox smiled and snuggled up to him while staying all curled up, Muttering under her breathe without realizing and while falling back to sleep "Thank you... I love you..." The snow leopard smiled brightly as he heard and realized what she said, then softly muttered back into her ear as she fell asleep "And I love you," he then closed his eyes and layed with her until they were both asleep peacefully.
Part 4 of the short story series "The Leopard and The Fox"
Made by Myself for a very special young woman.
Don't seek shelter from the storm, life is about rebuilding.
Erin Lewis Jan 2013
I stood watching the rain
From beneath the shallow shelter
Of a ledge outside my doorway

They said it was nearly freezing
But the cold didn't touch me,
And the rain barely brushed me

I stood watching the world
From beneath the shallow shelter
Of my wealthy life

They said children were dying
But the worry didn't touch me
And their pain barely brushed me

I stood watching the icy rain
But the only thing truly frozen
Is the place where my heart
Lies sheltered beneath a shallow life
Of cold money and lies
King Panda May 2016
the river is
drinking it
sequins
blankets
the river runs past
hobos
unidentified
water fowl
two trolls
taking shelter under
the bridge
there’s conversation
in another language
fiendish brains connecting
fiendish yet
beautiful
thunder
tampons
a turtle
a naked boy
on the patio
rain
definitely
rain
unmatched
and the steam
coming from the
bridge
once there was a troll
on my face
and I swatted it
with a broom
but it came back
it came back
with you

laughter pounds
with the rain
laughter that wears
emotion like
skin
soft
elastic
still pink
bouncing
on the river’s surface
breaking
absorbed
sustenance for
the trolls
like fiends with faces
like minds with names
these two connect
with spark
and the rain
falls
the stillness under
nature’s
machinery
Arcassin B Aug 2015
By Arcassin Burnham

Mother nature would be pleased
At the way we cut her trees,

Fascinated with the way
We bring machines to her domain,
That's a shame,
We bring her to shame,
Leaving her in pain,
Why do you do that?

You can't survive in the wilderness alone anyway,
if you want some shelter tonight ,I'd advise you stay,
You can't survive in the wilderness alone anyway,
people don't wanna die alone nowadays,

Sometimes we can't replace
All the things we take away,

Replacing nerves but
Can't take away the pain,
Must be a game ,
To you,
Maybe to gain fame,
Making love ones feel the strain,
Why do you do that?

You can't survive in the wilderness alone anyway,
if you want some shelter tonight ,I'd advise you stay,
You can't survive in the wilderness alone anyway,
people don't wanna die alone nowadays.
what's next mEP
Irate Watcher Jul 2014
Pants hang from my tree;
so please knock —
before bothering me.

I'm not homeless.

The park is my shelter
The grass, my bed.
The wind, my comforter
and sunny California,
my adopted mother.
Peter Balkus Aug 2018
Her soul is a shelter
where I hide
from strangers.
Terry Collett Nov 2013
She'd run
from the shelter
of the old

corrugated shed
to the shelter
of the trees

you followed
seeing her ahead
happy to be away

from school
a job lined up  
and you too

glad to be away
from the brain washing
and having that job

at the garage
to begin
and she ran

through the narrow rides
of the wood
knowing you

were behind her
looking back
at you as

she ran
and past
the small pond

and she stood there
looking at it
the pond water

discoloured
by cast away tins
and *******

and she said
not what it used to be
and you stood

beside her looking
at the still pond
the brown water

and she said
I used to come here
as a little girl

and bathe here
with my sister
wish I'd known

you said
before you came
she said

anyway
we were only 8 or 9
as were you

so it wouldn’t have
amounted to much
depressing seeing it

like this
she added
let's go elsewhere

you said
go to the our lake
she smiled

yes you remember
our name
for the large pond  

so you both
walked on
and over

the wooden fences
and across the field
by cows

avoiding cow pats
and over
by the lake

where she sat
on the grass
gazing

at the clear water
the ducks swimming there
fish under

the water's skin
just visible
do you remember

when we first
came here?
she asked

you nodded
we were so
shy together

we just about
found words
to speak

and our fingers
nearly touched
and I blushed

and it was
so innocent
so white

and silky
and that first kiss
that was so magical

so non-******
and she laughed
and you sat beside her

and said
are all first kisses
like that

do you think?
ours was
she said

you thought on it
so unexpected
so unplanned

under
a full moon
lips warming

softly wet
and she turned
to you there

sitting by the lake
and gave another kiss
deeper

longer
more tongue
and warmth

more ******
and sensual
and the ducks

and fish
beneath
the water's skin

cared not
if it was love
or lust

or grace
or sin.
she's got a light
deeply sheltered in sin
to keep her face from shining bright
her scars, they glow
her pain, it shows
Far out from the edges
of time and space
there once stood a beacon
in a sheltered place
she has lost her sight
and that beacon has died
now she's left to sink down into madness
She feels her lifelines slipping away
as the storm rolls in
another attack begins
beating her down
building a shelter to hide her light
and block out every sound
The silence prevails
as her voice fails
her once strong shelter
is now a cage of winter
no longer can the light survive
it will die
as she lies
deep inside
her inner prison.
© 2010 Lindsay Marie Williams
Anoud AlQahtani Jul 2014
Have you ever thought of the life you are into
Have you ever thought of the child you used to be
All you needed was a toy, to bring the joy
You had missed

You see people die, you hear children cry
Homeless people pray for the end of their day

You used to say a heartfelt words to some people you have met
When all they needed was a milk
To feed the starving kids

People are killed, people die, and children cry
You never went to see the suffer they are in
You only watch a broken TV screen with half a light

You thought your own suffering was too much
And that you had a hard time figuring out your hopeless life

You don't need nobody to get you from the life you are into
You have a shelter and a strength to build an empire for you and them
But you never thought of the life they are in
How come!
When you already didn't think of yours

What a shame
A selfish with a shelter
With no aim or maintain.
Robert C Howard Oct 2015
Three parts treasure hunter
to two parts scientist,
the archaeologist
with picks and brushes
sifts through shards and ruins,
echoes of ancestral time,
burning for answers:

How on earth did we manage
to carve out shelters from the crust
tilting the scales
of survival in our favor?

A cliff house here, a cathedral there
a village by the river
chronicling our escape from
the shadows of pre-recorded time.

We wonder where they all went
and why they vanished, but the real question
that haunts our paleolithic selves,
is who are we and where are we going?

*October 30, 2015
Pleased consider checking out my book,  Unity Tree - available from Amazon.com in both book and Kindle formats.
Lee Banks Aug 2014
Give me wings
Burn them onto my skin
Ink them upon my arms
Let them shelter me from harm

Give me wings so that I may try
Give me wings so that I may cry

Give me wings
Let me fly.

— The End —