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Cné Mar 2017
Basking in postcoital bliss, talking between the sheets
catching our breath, giggling with laughter treats

Laying in the afterglow, tangled in the sheets
sweating cooling skin, and completing greater feats

Blissful in post euphoria, feeling quite appeased
finding comfort in warm arms, putting me at ease

Still sighing, touching, tasting, nuzzled in content
reveling in the splendor, our minds and bodies, spent

Let me drink, this moment in, before we turn to clocks,
wishing only to start again, as seconds ticking  mocks.

Snuggling together, eyes and hands so locked
wishing for ourselves, more hours, on the clock
Great minds .... He brought me there. http://hellopoetry.com/TF/
Esther Krenzin Oct 2018
Strong and resolute, it stands
seeking with claw-like limbs
for sunlight and raindrops.
Leaves, crimson and gold
slip from trailing branches
coming to rest on frozen ground.
Whispering and sighing
the great oak bends and sways
in the icy wind.
Roots, beneath the surface
delve deep down
growing
strengthening
as ages pass--
untouched by frost.
The strong winds may blow
and wage their wars
brittle branches may splinter.
But still the oak stands
bending
not breaking against the forces.
-Esther L. Krenzin-
-Roguesong-
We must learn to be more flexible in life, and not let the world make us hard and unforgiving. If a tree were hard and brittle, than it would break and fall over. And if it had no roots, it would never be standing in the first place. When we are born, we are born a tree bud with roots like small veins. As the years past we grow and learn the ways of the world, our roots growing and spreading. Life may be difficult, there may be suffering, and we may become hard and splinter into pieces. But remember that everything that is broken, comes back stronger than before. I once saw lightning strike down a towering oak, causing it to fall and leave nothing but a barren stump.
After a year or two, a little tree began to grow from the stump of its former self, becoming everything it was before it fell--if not even more beautiful.
To this day, it still stands, looking as if nothing ever happened.
Life will knock you down, but it is your choice whether or not you will stand up again, or stay down.
K Mae Mar 2017
crested crag-spines rising
bones fierce of ancient dragons
calling out to Naga
~~~~~~~~~
Return
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Bloom  feminine essence, Flow !
Feed my ancient undulations

wearied now to hills
sighing down with last exhaled
memory of color
washed, washed,
baked by endless sun
Cindra Carr Jun 2011
She’s tense tight
Locked in place with Loctite
Immovable limbs of angular lines
Ripe curves stretched wrong
Tinkling shards of glassed ice
Drop shadowed hooded eyes
Kohl rimmed cries and sighing sobs
Tense tight locked down life
Soul gripping lies slid out to fly
She’s shut off and down
Tense tight unmoving cries

cc2011
Nat Lipstadt Sep 2013
How I Observed the Day of Atonement

If you are unfamiliar with day and its observance,
See http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Yom_Kippur

In a place of perfect solitude,
No crowded synagogue within to hide,
No cantor to intercede on my behalf,
I spoke words of mine own creation
To my creator who wisely empowers me
To judge myself, for knowing, none harsher,

We two,
Old travel companions,
Upon worn grayed, adirondacke thrones,
We overlooked,
A natural prayer place,
Bay and breeze, white-clouded and sun-laced.
Only the full time inhabitants, the animals,
Grayling butterflies to match and contrast,
Eavesdropping on our Greek dialogos, in this,
Palace of Perfect Solitude.

Amiable did we chat,
I of family, this and that.

He, wearied from recent travel,
To Syria and India,
Was glad for a day off,
For he had little to do,
But wait for twilight,
To then close the books.

For us no formality, easy the going,
No prosecutor no defender in residence,
For we exchange these roles intermittently,
The incriminatory, the penance, all deeds displayed,
No adult games of winking eyes, and
Hidden heart, secret chambers,
Rabbinical or angelic intercession.

He does so love his Bach,
Adagio on strings,
My soothing gift to him,
This music more than divine.

He returned this courtesy.

Warming sun to expose my chest,
Cooling genteel breeze offsetting,
The bay emptied of wayfaring skiffs and yachts.

A cooling beverage proffered,
But sighing, he said that he had yet to find
A beverage that his kind of thirst could slake.
For his eyes, tho shining, did not effervesce,
As when we shared this day in years past.

Too much killing, this year,
It tires me so to tabulate human excess,
Spoke not a word, for my critique would
Comfort him less, if at all.

Thanks for Kol Nidre, he plainted,
So I too can disavow,
The best intended oaths I took and take,
For each year, I fail more than the year before.

If only I could sit with each,
As I do with you,
Where what needs saying,
Is said, understood, undisguised as praying.

A schooner to the dock did appear,
For him it attended, for him, it waited,
Sails, both black and white.

He stood to depart, my arms-grasped, taken, he graphing,
Measuring my fortitude, my strengths, my divinity.

I do so love this day in your company.
I shall sit with you again one year on,
Bach sweet when next we meet, please.

Soft spoke, as almost I should not hear,
Your time is nigh, no thing I create is forever.
He spoke with such sadness,
For well I knew, the intent, his meaning.

He, for-himself, saddened, for he loved
Sitting  beside me in this manner,
Since my inception, never deception,

Only He resting easy, when he atoned before me,
And I gave him his absolution conditional,
As he gave me,
mine
September  2013
D Awanis Oct 2016
Never thought I'd listen to Kodaline,
as I walk down the Memory Lane

Oh, Clementine
For when I was with you I've always been sane
You said you'd be at nine
But since you were no longer mine,
I spent all night with you in my mind
And glasses of champagne on my hand

Oh, Clementine
It's hard for me even to draw a line
Letting you go costs insanity I can't define
With countless loss of dopamine
But I guess if you're fine
I'd do my best not to intervene

Oh, Clementine
February 14th you're no longer my Valentine
Driving through the sreets I ran out of gasoline
But the time is due and I've come to the deadline
While sighing 'I'm done'
I know it's time for me to be gone
Staring at the ceiling
Feeling like nothing
Sticky stars that don't glow
The chipped polish on my toes
I don't know

Leaning barey breathing
Feaning to feel something
cool breeze from the window
The way my guitar echos
I don't know

Grieving never sleeping
Trying to stop sighing
But this heat is overwhelming
Where do I go can you tell me
You don't know
Yaser Feb 2017
Forged from the dust of long dead lights
struck by the hammers of time
bound forever to paths of space
held by tines divine

Strike once !

Strike twice!

Strike thrice!


and see the sentience bloom
of the hammer and might and unyielding sight
of his eyes of stars in bloom

Strike once!

Strike twice !

Strike thrice

again

Temper their hollow shells
Sculpted from the flesh of worlds
unto which he'll meld

Strike again!

Now soft.

[And shape them true,
and speak to them your words
and grant to them their human form
and teach them of the absurd]


to ring out their sighing dirge
and bind unto their idle forms
the mind, the soul, the search
I quite dislike the way this poem ends. Maybe someday I'll alter it.
Dark n Beautiful Sep 2018
Another Version

Hartley Forde

You can’t see the wind,
But that old mango tree,
Outside my window,
tell me it’s there..
.
I never travel with a raincoat,
Even though I hate getting wet,
Then here comes the aches and pain
And I started to wonder,
was it because I got a little insane..
I thought that I could
Have run faster than it pours
I haven’t heard of
any aircraft that outrun  a jet plane yet,
But, not so anymore,
I never leave my coat and cane,
When I am on a stool,

Oh dear, what has happened to me?
Am I aging? I am not young anymore,
Nor grey, nor old: for age is just a number,
But when the toil of the day
Merges with the aches and pain
With sighing sounds I start to wonder:

I still dance the night away, with my social tunes,
And waltz across the floor to all-time favorite of Strauss
See how I step back in time with the reggae beat,
Lighter than a feather on my feet,

Smiling, with my pearly teeth from ear to ear:
Life just isn’t fear: because age is just a number
That’s when the rubs and oil granny left me:
Come alive again in the neck of time,
to soothe the pain of my aching joints
I smile once again and said
“Oh dear, what do they say again,

Age is just a number and life begins at forty,
Because, I am just starting to be naughty:
Downhill !

written by:
Hartley Forde
Evan Backward Aug 2013
I want to look out the window
And see bright stars
Lights, and shattered visions.
I want to see
Colors and flying discs.
People thinking, dreaming,
On the edge of discovering
Always not knowing,
Always around the corner.
The timepiece etched in diamonds
Solid, imbued with living darkness
And sheltered worlds.
Pass the time along rivers
Motion, curling smoke and ladies dancing
I want to hear bells and raindrops.
Scattered droplets of rejuvenation
And solitary gongs calling into the depths,
I crave to see the night
For what it could be.

For what it really is behind
Closed doors, and open windows
Behind every mind the desire to know
Others and people
Moving flesh and deep breaths,
Sighing into one another
Haunted by control,
Thoughts of distaste for the lack of
Efficiency.

For I fear acceptance,
To accept a flaw,
A spiraling flood of color
A crack in the shield of dawn.
The weeds pushing up through
Concrete,
Trees, skyscrapers grasping at the atmosphere.
Shadows beyond the fences
And your eyes when I've asked too much.
I want to feel the night for what it is.
Not for what it could be.
veritas Jul 2018
girls and boys and girls! its
a sultry summer, swinging, sighing, swishing hips by mine
slipping elusive behind stone arches, cursing on my lips, **** (whispered, softly)
glazed cherries in a glass bowl they drip and melt, and oh hell
my fingers are red and sticky and sweet but i love it i love it and
she's smiling like a dream
she's saying goodbye until next summer
until another year, another dream will find her way to me.
summer vibes
if given the chance to relive my days  
would I sacrifice to choose that which I left sighing in the Sun
I do not truly know if the love I chose to abandon
would have survived the years
would have burned through the days of darkness
our mornings wrapped in warmth
I shall never know
and I shall never see again
the vision of you etching your soul
on canvas
silently opening your heart to me
a moment in time beneath the Sun
oldie - for Yve
Nassif Younes Mar 2016
We were born screaming
And will die sighing.

At some point in between,
Our energy
Our passion
Our optimism
And our pride
Was forced
Into premature expiration,
Leaving us afraid,
Hopeless
And totally functional.

With our fully trained,
Sterile imaginations
We wake up
At the same time every day
Accepting, perpetuating
And then sleeping
In the same place we woke up in.
We despise it but we do it anyway -
That’s the way it’s always been.

Where wars are a pragmatic business scheme
And the lives of others, expenses,
Where politicians promise with one hand
And ****** twice as fast with the other,
Where the money you paid
To drown your sorrow
Will line the pockets
Of the man who robbed you,
Where forests and oceans are stacked on shelves
To be sold for smoke and steel
The way it’s always been.

Where advocates of peace are cowards
And murderers are heroes,
Where the creation of art is useless
And destruction by toxic chemicals is economically necessary,
Where voices in uniform are voices of truth
And our neighbours are not to be trusted,
Where we wish for difference
But concede it is just a wish
The way it’s always been.

Born screaming,
We will die sighing
The way it’s always been.

But every now and then,
Enough becomes enough
And we realise that the dream of one
Is just a dream
But the dream of millions
Can become reality -
The few becomes the many,
The way it’s always been.

Every day, strong people
Protect weak people,
Compassion is chosen
Over conflict,
One person falls
And another picks them up,
A child grows up
But never stops asking "why?"
Never stops screaming
Until a lonely cry is answered,
And a lonely hand is held,
The way it’s always been.

And, in their arrogant binge on prosperity,
Our Leaders –
Our Bosses -
Our Masters -
Our oppressors will forget
That all empires fall,
The powerful become powerless
And a new world grows
On the grave of the old -
That’s the way it’s always been.
Umi Apr 2018
A dazzling sough,
The wind blows through, across the stunning white clouds, to Earth,
A dearness of the whistling, carrying a, warm breeze makes it worth
Worth but to say nothing less than; praise the new coming day!
Rustling the leafs, shaking them, letting them dance, then sway,
The wind is a transient traveler, rushing through this worldly life,
Gathering clouds together, a delicate drizzle is what they strive for,
Distorting, carrying, leading them towards the ground, wettening them in a scenery of a wonderous sight, fertilising the soil more,
Howling in a showering yet intimitating sense of the changing scene,
Blowing over each drop of pure water on the green coloured grass,
Spring is truly a season where dreams can sore,
It gives us the idea of something greater, something more,
Coming with ups, then downs, it gets carried away by the wind,
Until finally, the sunny days of summer are to come,
Sit down with me, listen to the sighing of the wind, don't be lonesome
By the sound it makes, the gentle song which blows through our ears
Can you hear it whispering ?

~ Umi
Sam Hawkins Oct 2015
What's your take on walking?

My body serves my soul
and tells me how to go.

My heart, affixed -- aims to show.
These ways I’ve walked in my shoes and stockings.

I've looked to heaven’s stars, to daylit clouds,
when I've stepped out, or dropped my gaze
to track the ground.

Yes, it is true—whoever passed me by
could have taken offense and supposed
I lacked my confidence.

And ofttimes, I've strode out straight and true
as if toward a far mist horizon.

Any un-manifested future,
even peek-a-boo,
can be comprehended? 

I should doubt it.

And if I wished to address an occasional
in-the-dumps, lost-at-sea feeling,

I'd shut my eyes, and walk backwards --
owl-like, 360 swivel my head.

Backwards blind circumspection seemed worth a try --
Who am I? I'd story where I’d been.

In my most spontaneous of nature foot-trafficking,
in roulette walk; my spin of gun chamber click--
ant, spider, beetle, and the occasional sighing snail
must have fled my shadow shoe?

As slow drift clouds in a sky game would play
with the sun to hide—creatures had sought me out,
sung their farewells?  (it was an excellent day to die)

Let me tell it, as it had happened today,
and truth says how.

My feet, they had gotten to waltz-walking.
O how my body and soul
danced a-fancy free.

Love was brimming out of me; happiness
whispered her wordless name; and
my tongue tripped nonsensical.

So if, at last, you've kept up a pace with me
in sympathetic striding, then perhaps
you'd surmise:

there never can be a flat-footed walking me, abiding,
especially when I spout off with poem-talking.

Now, what’s your take on walking?
Wanyun Gu Apr 2015
While tufts of gloom engulfing the sky,
With no space and time between
Us, you and I,
soak ourselves in the stationary delight.
Like a hypersensitive scheme,
Yet an irreconcilable vibe,
You smoke, and I sigh.

While others argue to be or not to be,
You and I, standing in front of Robert Frost’s fork
—to smoke or sigh
Without hesitation,
You choose to hold a cigar in hand,
I choose to release an unknown in mind,
And sigh.

We then, ask each other why
You say, if you ever woke up in evisceration,
You would quit smoking
I say, if I ever woke up in nonentity,
I would stop sighing

Basking in the glow of flickers,
Inhaling the essence of meteoric laughters,
We look into each other’s assuring eyes
—I respect your choice,
as much as you respect mine.
Palpably, we’ve educed a compromise
It’s neither you smoke, nor I sigh.
Tommy Randell Sep 2017
The 2 miles of beach from Whitby to Sandsend curve away westward. Beyond Kettleness Point seals play in the kelp-beds, barking at echoes, and stones roll together at the cliff's edge, making sand randomly. This is a place my mind is drawn to when I am far away from here.

Treasure comes to this place. Here someone once spoke a poem in my ear, a poem about Love and for once about me. Here, I  found a whole case of French wine washed ashore, and drank it in a week with two friends. I came here before I had to have my dog killed and again afterwards to throw the collar and lead far out into the darkness.

On summer evenings with a clear sky there is a Blue in the heart of the sea here that shines through even closed eyes. They say such a light can actually be tasted, they say by cupping your hands out in front of you and then passing it to your lips you can actually drink it. They say such a light can be heard sighing like liquid glass in the waves' curl.

The locals warn you must never drink it, you must never listen – that if you do the Blue from the heart of the sea will lodge in your heart and you will never again leave this place. In life your dreams will come here from far away, in death your Soul will pass to the heart of a grey seal to be brought back to Kettleness barking at the cliffs all the long cold nights until, finally, all the Blue you have become will be the Blue in the heart of the sea breaking wave upon wave to the long sands' sweep as it curves away westward from Whitby to Sandsend ... from Whitby to Sandsend ... from Whitby to sands' end ...
http://www.wonderfulwhitby.co.uk/wonderfulwhitbyblog/whitby-uk-sunsets/
Umi Feb 2018
By the time as it passes endlessly without coming to a halt.
Each human has been gifted with wealth, wether that be material or
not is of no importance, some possess more, some do possess less.
However, the most valuable wealth which is in a clear recording,
Is neither chosen to be owned, nor can one choose to abandon it.
Some tend to waste it, according to others by their individual opinion.
For some it is a cruel fate, as it runs out quicker until the life has reached its destined point, fades away into the embrace of death
Some use it for their advantage, to gain success, renown, luster.
Are you able to guess what it is, has the obvious been pointed out ?
Tick, tock, time passes, to never to turn and change it's path
As I am getting lost in emotions, such as tremor in my thoughts, I have stared into the pocket watch, its motion which gently calms me,
Thinking about the seconds which pass, I am locked in this angel's
sight with no chance to flee, digging deeper into the structure of my mind without minding the time which is escaping before my eyes.
Tick, tock, self reflection, thinking through actions, this time I spend staring is far from being wasted, far from being thrown away.
Until finally, I close it, sighing in relive

~ Umi
In memoriam of my pocket watch: Angel Zadkiel
As he walked through a forest he knew so long ago,
He sees a withered oak.
A proud thing.
A proud memory.
A proud day.
A proud history.

And yet all he feels now is the darkness of the shadow it casts.
He sees the leaves the rain soaks.
He has no song to sing.
He has nothing to be.
He has gone no way.
He has her in his dreams.

The rain continued as his clothes get wet, smiling at the memory of their first kiss.
It was like this...thing.
He can’t say it another way.
It was something to see.
It was something to light their day.
It was something meant to be.

He sighed and sat down under the far reach of the branches and watched the drops float down slowly; watching them made him happy, and yet they made him sad. They reminded him of the way the were happy, then sad. He laughed at his deep, philosophical banter. Is this not like our love, my dear?, he thought. One moment you’re soaked to the bone and trying nothing more than to run away when all you’d want more is to rush and play in the mud with eachother like children? Hm...and when the cloud are done weeping and they’re once again light with joy, what becomes of us? We simply dry our selves and go on with our full lives again....
Although...if it were meant to be...we'd simply fly and run in the field and let the sun have its way on our skin, no matter how sweltering it makes us feel.

And with that his thoughts were clear as he sat in that knoll.
Under and on that withered oak.
Its leaves laughing with the memories.
Laughing at the two of them.
Sighing at the sight of them.
Praying for the child of them.

And with that rain, each drop gave life to the leaves.
That grand oak.
Withered under its memories
Laughing at its own roots.
Barely a look under mans boots.
And yet, still strong enough to give its support.

———————_————————__

She walked up to that tree they used to love.
And found him lying there.
His skin still so fair.
But pale in comparison of what it used to be.
So she played there with him. Laughing with the tears of the sky. At what they used to be. Then in each other’s arms, they die.

The sun shines, and a shadow under them begins to bloom, letting the sun do what it pleases on their skin. There will be no joy for them this time though; they ran their last the day before.
Part 1
ryn Jul 2014
A thousand things that run amok in my mind
Issues of present time that seem unkind
But if closely examined, this whirlwind of thoughts
Glimpses of rainbows, unicorns and gold-filled pots

Embedded within this maelstrom of uncertainty
Promise of niceties, of peace and serenity
Picturesque views of limitless artistry
Bring forth such joy and love and tranquility

Like a book of thoughts offering surrealistic images
A barrage of scenarios as I flip through the pages
Images that spoke of untold alternate endings
That is borne out of the heart's delicate beginnings

Engulfed in a blissful torrent of emotions
Caught submissive, in the riptide of affection
Frame by frame I could play, pause and repeat
Document joy and sadness, victory and defeat

Stories told that could happen in another plane
Series of eventual outcomes that I wish to gain
Wondering the things each other is doing
What is seen and what is heard, in this world you're living

Possibility of walking beside hand in hand
Dancing close, eyes in lock in a strange foreign land
Drive up into town to watch a romantic show
Sharing a milkshake or playing in the snow

Standing at your doorstep, an unannounced surprise
Bearing sunflowers and chocolates, for my beautiful prize
Running through a field, in love with frenzied craze
Lying on a mat, eyes locked in a deep, loving gaze

Two kissing silhouettes with a sunset backdrop
A scene, frozen in time that I don't want to stop
Marooned on an island, all deserted and bare
We bask in the sun and at the stars we stare

Sitting across of each other so close
In a cafe, whispering love and jousting toes
Being in love and intimate in a hot steamy shower
Sharing a Parisian landscape atop a well renowned tower

Snuggling close, sighing in the arms of my lover
Kissing through the night letting the heart take over
Cupping your cheeks, tasting the lips so sweet
Wake up sweet darling, good morning I would greet

Ferry you to work, plant a kiss that'll melt your knees
Be at the bay, together we look out into the seas
Talk on the phone and missing you right after
Texting endlessly, professing eternal love for each other

Such thoughts are brought by dreams and wishful thinking
Ideals that me give hope even when my boat is sinking
But I'll never ever stop wishing it'll all come true
Because my dreams were conjured for it was meant that I find you
Crow Jul 2018
Measure my love in starlight
And set the sky ablaze
Measure my love in words
And eternal speak my beloved’s praise

Measure my love in raindrops
And overflow the seas
Measure my love in sighing
And make storms from a summer breeze

Measure my love in music
And hear all the world’s choirs sing
Measure my love in riches
And make every pauper a king

Measure my love in heartbeats
And deafen every ear
Measure my love in laughter
And banish every tear

Seek to measure my love as some might wish
By consulting the learned or wise
But each effort will fail, because such a scale
No mortal thought can devise
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