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September Roses Jul 2018
Sit back and relax
Feel the waves wash over your back
In the melting sun
Looking at the clouds reflecting all the pinks and blues
Over the blooming hill, echoing white noise of chirps and crickets

Listen to the trickling of the slow water over the smooth rocks
Feel a warm wind brush your face
With your eyes closed
Enjoying the radiating warmth
And the soothing crackling of a log fire

Or sit and admire the shimmering spray
Of a waterfall smoothly crashing into the water of a sky kissed lake
Sunlight dancing through the vapor
Rainbows jumping through every droplet

Listen to the pitter patter of the rain, against a tin roof
Inside a warm cabin
Drifting to sleep
Soon to wake to the song birds chorus
And the blissful sun

Bask in it
And relax
Left Foot Poet Jan 2018
<!>
inspired by a conversation with Maira Kalman


******* a name, adopt a persona, let my fingers do the talking,
place the instrumental sharp point tip upon the blankety blank paper,
maestro baton raised, coordinating,
the first sound, the vocal chords trembling,  
the first thought, the ultrasound image, entrance of a first violin,
coalescing into, into the initializing single primary phonation,
the stinging geometry of chance at last,
throwing  down the gauntlet, glove slapping, and the
tendons tense, the mouth opens, release and indentation,
a letter's curvature, a black and white downward stroking,
a sign is televised, revealed and released

a one way only sign

time bends knee, gravity suspended, terror morphs to
expelling rapid firefights of imagery needy for spacing,
even pauses mid-word  leave just this:

where is the in in
intimate?

are you the in in
inmate,
or the jailor at the gate?

you swear never again

until committing once more,

a sentence commutation, by committing a first sentence,

and the greater toll taken and paid for,

and the in in in-nate,
questions your sanity

happily


<•>

9/17/17 10:55pm
zumee Sep 2018
The sparkling animations
of man the creator:
glitter
reflecting the inner source

The forgetful companion
forever drawn to Master's light,
remains easily tamed
by a starry night sky.
Steve Page Aug 20
We each sit in silence,
punctuated by the scrape of canvas,
and while it takes a while for me to hear you,
to taste the essence of you,
- slowly your aroma filters through
your curves,
your creases
and I cease to see your flesh and instead
I see the palette of you,
embedded in the greying of you,
waiting for this, this view,
this interpretation of you,
while you sit in your steady state
of quiet undress
Each September comes BEAT Borough of Ealing Art Trail - Art shown in artists homes. And each August poets are invited to write an accompanying poem to a piece of art. This is one of my BEAT poems.
Steve Page Jul 30
Each day I pray for an ear that will hear
above all the noise clearly His voice.
For while sometimes it's best to be serving with zest,
sometimes it's better to sit for a breather
and wait in his presence and enjoy this true essence
of sitting and being before going and doing.
So while sometimes I'll Martha I know that I'd rather
spend time being Mary, in less of a hurry,
for there at his feet I'll be more complete
and hear his clear voice above all the noise.
Serving at New Day 2019.
#newdaygeneration
.  
Luke 10. 41 & 42
41 “Martha, Martha,” the Lord answered, “you are worried and upset about many things,
42 but few things are needed—or indeed only one. Mary has chosen what is better, and it will not be taken away from her.”
Justin Griego Feb 2014
I am writing this from my usual position
For I Am Bold!
I Am Strong!
And My Bowels Keep Me Sitting
Upon This Commode
All Night Long!
(AIP)
Robin Lemmen Jul 2018
You are liquid fire
Come, sit down
let me have a sip
I do am parched
Come, lay down
next to me
Let me explore
your body made of matches
I am made of pure
burning
golden desire
Come, take me down
We do burn so beautifully
after 2 am
in the morning light
Amanda Aug 2018
Let go of the problem weighing your soul down
Lay your head on your pillow; rest
Listen to insightful words
Let my advice help you do what's best.

Slowly moving between dark realms
Tingling with faint apprehension
Entranced, stumbling in a clouded stupor
Ravenous greed beyond my comprehension.

What will it take to open your eyes?
Days are fading fast
Insecure about how many tomorrows you have
Or rather, how many you lack.

We have little time on Earth
I am screaming but you won't wake up
Hearing same opinions repeated
Broken spirit remains stuck.

Center of your universe
Drugs have your mind caged
I cannot tell which parts are real
Which are perfectly staged.

Your forgery is well-crafted now
The world is starting to see
The way you live not good or right
To speak then act differently.

Could I aid your hand somehow?
Each attempt met with resistance
Say the same phrases each time
From each other grow distant.

Honestly it has been over for awhile
I have given our love my all
Though I wish we could be together
It hurts too bad to sit back and watch you fall.
Its painful to watch an angel fall
Obvus2 Oct 2018
Its easy to crack a smile
even that will go a mile
picking them off of the ground
there will be no reason to frown

Its easy to sit and stare
your judgement will go no where

its easier to love than hate
for most people that's their mistake
its time to open our hearts  
respecting everyone is a start
Sara Kellie Dec 2017
My name is Sara, a transgender chick
Wanted a *****, was given a ****
I hide it in knickers of satin and lace
before sitting down to make-up my face,
Next the prosthetics, I'm using two bits.
Stuck to my chest, they'll do as my ****
Now for my legs I'll put on false tan,
I wouldn't do this if I were a man
Alternative nights, a t-girl delights
to sit on her bed and pull on new tights.
I'll put on a dress, a cute one no less.
Then for my shoes, high heels I choose
A sandal style shoe as every girl knows
not only looks cute, they'll show painted toes
A bit of eyeliner, eyebrow definer,
lipstick and blush, I'm now looking lush.
I stand in the mirror all ready to go,
there's only one question I just have to know.
"Does my *** look big in this?"

Poetry by Kaydee.
I wrote this poem in 2010 shortly after introducing myself as Sara to the world.
sara Aug 2018
I'll see what I can make
out of the leftovers I have.
Although, it's never too long
until the milk turns bad,

until a love turns sour
in an online second;
since, an online minute
wastes a real-life hour.

But in a snap-shot moment,
I can find life for weeks
on my stash of sugar truths,
until I forget to eat;

forget to breathe;
'til I don't even need to sleep
because the lovehearts on my photos
sing such soft melodies.

And despite the fact
that often I can't sit at ease,
somehow this perfect madness
always tastes so bittersweet.
a poem about the addictive nature of social media
Ashleigh Black Apr 2014
She saw how the angry, greyish ocean
crashed upon the shore
with such fury and disgust
and couldn't help but compare it
to the endless nights where
she'd sit and stare at that
hateful, taunting piece of glass
with a reflection as grotesque
as the image of the waves
while they aimed to devour the coastline.
I don't feel pretty today. It happens.
September Roses May 2018
Once we were on fire
Young    rebeliouse   free
We stormed the castles and took to the skies we flew we dreamed
We were ablaze our light setting raging screaming fire to the world around us
When our thoughts could not sit in silence any longer
When the kids were engulfed by a wave of fury of the injustice done by this world before we were even here
We screamed and demanded
OUR VOICES WOULD BE HEARD
But now it rains
Now the cold heavy water blankets the restless
The fire has been drenched in worry and stress
The brutal downpour has distracted all with false life or death
The blaze once 100 feet high now nothing but a charred soul

And all the ones put out by the rain
to tired to fight again,
pray on the generation next
That their fire is enough to best the storm
September Roses Jul 2018
As the sun slowly sets
The precursor to the week
With deadlines,
                            Orders,
                            ­               Oh so bleak
The calm before the storm
  Too restless to enjoy
For everybody knows
     It's sunday's melancholy ploy

    Responsibilities loom overhead
     Our heart as heavy as the air
      The world has now gone silent
              We sit in subtle fear
Daniel Quigley Nov 2017
By the sill sit still;
Listen to the wash on the roof;
Specks and sheets form a symphony
so complete to hush you quiet,
Even still.

An inundation.
This libation to parched earth has
been a meditation since birth;
to ponder under the pitter-patter
hiss and swish of exponential scales
At the wrongness of raindrops in a sunbeam.

Sit still, brood like the clouds that came
to darken a June day, so silent they gathered
over a land hard with memory,
With fear for passing years and
worries that grew like weeds in summer showers.

Brief as thought these drops like jewels
are set ablaze then strike the dirt; done.
They flash for an instant in time,
with no way back to an azure sky.

There is no telling the distance,
How high these clouds climb.
Just the sound of falling rain,
Listen.
September Roses Jul 2018
A little box
Without a key
You hold an air
Of mystery
To sit and glare
Right up there
Flashing red in front of me

I am the one who fills it
And I fill it with myself
No one would guess what's in you
Sitting up atop my shelf

I have thought of your discovery
The pros
And all the cons
But looking at my history
All candidates are wrong

So I suppose you'll stay a secret
I'll keep you to myself
Painted red,
Flashing dread
Little box on my shelf
Please forget you saw this
Yall feel free to tell me why you guys all like this poem so much. Curious
Embrace yourself
in your own cocoon
if you must,
Vent yourself
And howl
at the moon's cusp
Cry me tears
That wash you clean
Make peace
with things
You may have seen
Sit for awhile,
come have some tea
Share your thoughts
And dreams with me
I will listen
Will give you my time
And when you leave
You'll be just fine
September Roses May 2018
Thick, warm, fuzzy air
Radiates against your skin, making you want to doze off
You sit on the front of a low red car that looks another era, leaning on the glossy hood.
I want to put your lips on mine
The world feels yellow, and orange.
It's as if clear smoke has filled the air
My eyes are dimmed through thick sunglasses, my body absorbing the warmth through jeans and a small black shirt
I'm in a lucid daze
Looking at you through a curtain of straight black hair, not bothered to move it from my face.
You're eyes the crisp refreshing blue in a world tinted amber
Like fresh water, so cooling as I gaze in them.
Like a spray of water on your back
After hours of sunbathing
We sit there
We say nothing
We take in the sun
   We don't need anything else
Kasti Mar 14
I am solemn.
It is quiet.
No signs of life or any noise floods my senses.
Deep, dark silence.

A light flickers on from the corner of the room,
a door slowly creaks open
or so it seems to be
it motions to be, as I beckon it's call.

Walking towards the door,
dread floods my heart.

My blood is on the floor,
as screams tear flesh apart.

No love, No joy, No peace
Nothing I've seen has shown such violence
and now, with no flowers nor bees,
Just deep, dark silence.
I don't know where you came from
Sophia Jun 2018
As we sit down to our dinners,
as we open our romance books,
people die.

We sip our water;
their guts spill open.
We study our notes;
their planes crash.

We live;
they die.
We breathe;
they suffocate.

We are testaments to chance,
to luck, to possibility.

We are not products of God.

We are blind goats trotting on our path
before we perish, suddenly,
and vanish into death.
Nat Lipstadt Mar 21
~for Star BG~*

the visualization exists and persists like a pea burr
under a princess mattress,
the old poet in confession reveals he is a 180 degree sinner,
hail mary, yeah baby,
but the 90 degree was deemed so correct that blessed as right,
intuited and taught as the first of the geometric earth geo-phases,
first even before,
the Kabbalist circles found in early man’s cave
star drawings

who has time or patience to lean on a base tree trunk,
sitting, becoming an emboldened line compelling complimentary,
a human addition to seal a natural right angle,
blessed are they,
good luck to all of us,
for he who feels peace, brings it forth,
no messiah required,
when humans use their bodies and trees,
to make a rightful peace sign,
humans breathe the forest oxygen
preserving both
3/21 10:11am
a thank you poem.

in every comment and message,
you seed the next one!
Alice Baker Jan 2016
I am a canvas
Painted in harsh strokes
With kind words
Mistakes blend in
Over time and diligence
But are never erased
They sit quietly
Under layers of oil paint
Built into my foundation
Nobody Jul 2017
Don't stumble, forget to hide.
Don’t bring them down,
don’t make them cry.
Once they hear,
they’ll need reasons why.

I know you didn’t ask for this,
stop sounding so sad.
We said we love you,
you're not happy about that?

You just sit alone in here,
dwelling on silly fears;
no we won’t sit with you,
but it doesn’t mean we don’t care.

Sorry this burden is yours,
you can try and bleed it away;
but there is no escape,
this is how you were made.
We are proud individuals
who feed into bold lies
spoonfed like we're blind
through hands of our deceitful leaders
still they rise.

Technology is forever shoved in our face;
"hurry up n buy it!"
(before it reaches expiration date)
consuming gadgets at such a fast pace
may that be the devil
that determines our fait.

In the hands of the media we lay
side by side on a sinking ship they say
far, far and further away
we depart from real life
and sink into a screen of shame.

Our children can fake a smile
but their tears don't lie.
and though we let them remain on those sites
we sit, we sigh
and spin our glasses of wine
all the while wondering why we see them
with blubbering hearts and watery eyes.

Our elderly generation
worked all their life
hoping in their older years
that they could relax for a while.
Instead they have to sit there
with frail hands and ghostly smiles
overlooking us poison the planet
and see it turn cold and vile.

We drink until our heart is liquor
we love until our love turns bitter
our emptiness then begins to spread-
until on the inside we all go dead-
and it spreads quickly
and painfully
like the plague
and everyone is too far gone to save.

"Men are to be machines"
We say with a hand on their shoulder
as we push them out the door
off to a war
which will scar them so much so
that they won't want to live anymore.
And while not even a trace of a scar
sits on their skin,
the blood which seeps from their bleeding hearts
soaks and stains deep within.

Mass confusion;
we look to the sky
for the answers we need finding
within this cold society.
We disagree until we die
about matters of no relevance to you or I
but fury is the new joy
and may we fight until all is destroyed.

So many harsh whispers in the streets
so many expectations no one dares meet.
Some go insane
just to be the same
but just who is this madman
that we all aspire to be?
Does he have a name?
Has be ever been seen?

If now was your time to die
would you be happy
with the content of your life?
Or would you be regretful
that for the most part
you were entertaining society's lies.

If you're not happy with the way of human progression
then be the light in a sea of grey
and this horrible game of modern day
you will no longer play
and instead serve now to define
a new society.



Jazmine MacIntyre
12.05.2019
Inspired by 'Iron Sky' by Paolo Nutini.
Autumn moves fast through the tunnel of love
Push from the top; bottom falls from above
Dangling leaves are flexing about
Dreaming of hope is a nightmarish shout

Cackle of ghouls; a shivering spine
All that is due will be due in due time
Whispering wind softly kisses my cheek
Lifetime of searching; know not what I seek

Darkness emerges as light fades away
Tried to hold on knowing no one can stay
Feeling alive only once I am dead
Listen but don't hear a word that is said

Roar of a flame, the warmth of the light
Fireball streaks interrupting the night
From the ashes we rose and to dust we return
Heart made of ice will not sooth what’s been burned

Holding my breath and not rising for air
Promise to no one the nothing I share
Hugging and squeezing a cuddly toy
Faded reminder when I was a boy

Roar of a racing car traveling fast
Linear stories that live in the past
Afternoon stroll through the paths in the woods
Wasn't enough when it’s all that I could

Didn't regret not regretting a thing
Perfectly still while I sit on the swing
Lazy and careless; the problem I tackle
Chained here forever without any shackles

Future and past presently now amuck
Free man who's also imprisoned and stuck
Roaring, the waves speaking softly to me
Shouting a message using secrecy

Cackling rooster call to end the day
Adult you become but your parents can't stay
Ending's begun and beginning ends near
Enveloped in fog; then it all became clear

Through stutter and stammer, I clearly can speak
World’s strongest man; I am fearful and weak
Worldly observer, I travel through life
Don't leave my house; Live alone with no wife

Peacock with confidence strutting my stuff
Have had my fill but not yet had enough
Nothing I fear but much fear have for it
Blowing out candles that never were lit

Bellowing cheers of "hip-hip hooray!"
Round of applauds for those who've died today
Subtle of strikes from a blatant attack
Gift you are given; already took back

Slapped with audacity right in the face
Composed with the utmost politeness and grace
Then without allergy, still my body reacts
Calmly I sit through a panic attack

Telling a lie until it becomes truth
Speaking with stature his words are uncouth
Deafening silence rang shots from the gun
Finished a race that has not yet begun

"Rule" one time "Golden", now covered in rust
Did what was needed but not what I must
You can be anything but yet nothing you are
Traveling often but didn't go far

Properly set for no expectations
Biased perception began at creation
Feet on the ground and head in the clouds
On display while naked and exposed in my shroud
Written - April 6, 2017

All rights reserved.
s Nov 2018
Egg
you sit on my back
like a chicken on an egg
with a mocking flap,
shuffle and a wiggle
tucked and stacked -
chuckle and a giggle.
both - joke and cuddle
- die as they're written though;
but could I risk to memory -
forgetting that tableau ?
--

as I sit to study
our curiosities -
creating patterns & poems
of contradicting absurdities;
listening to the jugalbandi
of predictability & tease,
instigating the battle
between curiosity & belief,
how we manoeuver differences
with a pursued kind of ease -
love sits quiet,
amused but revealed,
its appetite appeased -
with a wholesome kind of meal.
Knit Personality Aug 2018
Here I sit unbroken-hearted:
I tried to ****—and did—and farted.
Here I sit by fate or chance:
For *******, sitting's the proper stance.

On water from the toilet:
Before you drink it, boil it.
If it's not slick enough, oil it.

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