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Shofi Ahmed Mar 2017
As wide open as the sea
as resonant as the waves
splashing on the beach.
For a moment or so I was
pondering so full as the sea
what has it left to tally
with as empty as the the beach?
Dr zik Jul 2017
Sun sets every eve
Sun rises every morn
Day splashes light in dark
Seed peeps out in a hurry
Bird tweets in joy full song
Departure needs forgiveness
Arrival bows in norm
O’ my Lord!
Bless me
---------------
My dear mother passed away on Monday, June 19, 2017. May Allah (God) bless her with Jannah. Amen!

Dr ZIK's Poetry
Shofi Ahmed Apr 2017
Wide open are your arms  
the sun is a small paintbrush  
every daybreak it draws  
exposes you as new as ever!  
  
The surges in the billows  
blow out swimming clouds  
across the globe.  
No they don’t splash out to  
the starry thrillers on the sky  
they all are a dwarf bunch  
draws down to you kind Moon:  
Down to earth on the ground  
spares the heap for all
for the day for the noon.  
  
Then you are there too
far afar, where is nothing
but you the lotus in bloom
on uncharted water.  
Who can describe it better  
everyone is lost for words!
MJL Feb 22
Roll out the white carpet
Pour me some deep pile bubbly
Love to just look at you beneath the bright baby blue haze
Strut on you like big sparkly sugar stars in glassy rock candy slippers
Feel your g-glamour under foot
Stretched out for a warm frosty arrival
Check it out, La La
Everyone immersed in the fantasy for one cool coral minute
Everyone gawking at the dream wave we’re riding
Snap, snap, snap it all up
By invitation only
Swim with you
Splash in you
Bask in you
Fandango style


© 2019 MJL
CK Baker Jan 2017
.   .   .   .   .   .   .   .  .
~  ~  ~  ~  ~  ~  ~  ~  

what about the gull
                          with a wayward splash
or the balanced blend
of cirrus and ash

foghorns throw
the pock wave
sewell stragglers
and bonny boats
earn their keep
Tom Spencer Jul 2015
Summer morning -
pink jets of clouds
splash out
from the golden well of the east
falling just short
of an ebbing moon.

Streams of swallows
flutter and glide
over the garden -
they are all flying
in the same direction
as if erupting

from the sun’s waking pulse.
Just for a moment
one of the birds hangs
perfectly still -
like the top-most drop of water
from a fountain before it turns

to face the glittering pool.
Beneath them all
the hummingbird
makes her rounds
and a dove scratches the earth
below the feeder

keeping an wary eye
on the scribbling intruder.
So many summer mornings -
too many summer mornings
I have wasted
worrying about the world

and my place in it –
absent from my own body
and breath
the cage of my ribs
rising, falling, and pausing
without me. Meanwhile,

another swallow
stills her wings.
Buoyed by an unseen breeze
she is both feathered sail
and cresting wave as she slices
over my shoulder bearing west.


Tom Spencer © 2015
Nat Lipstadt May 2013
Three Minute Warning

A messenger delivers
A three minute warning
As I lay in bed at 10:30 am
(Resting in preparation for,
not from, our oops, early morning hike).

Breakfast will be ready in 3,
Get your **** in gear or else
It will be cold, I'll be mad,
And you will answer to a
Higher Authority.

No problem cause I already know
All I need is two.

Splash water on my face
Now I'm presentable
enough to the human race,
current company probably won't be happy,
But I ain't telling her, are you?

Shave! You crazed?
It is a three day weekend,
Every day a July Fourth,
Celebrating freedom from the European tyranny,
Of shaving smooth  every day!

Splash water on my head, count with me,
Five brush strokes as you can plainly see
Is a classic case of overcompensating
In my geling n' hair stylin'

Brush my teeth, well,
I hope 2 full minutes of rinsing with  CVS
Green stuff, mouthwash, will have to suffice.

Blast my deodorant both sides,
Long and strong, wearin' now
My bold blue *** husk of musk,
Cause I am a very considerate fellow
Who happens to really have stunk.

Clean T- shirt and shorts,
Yes, clean underwear too,
Leaves me a whole minute to write this scribble.

My flip flop noises coming down the hallway,
Are the butler announcing our joint arrival,
Me and my poem.

Lest you think this is paean to men
Another grand male boast,
Be advised this ditty be writty
By a man who, while no longer gritty,
Just put jelly on his scrambled eggs
And ketchup on his toast!

Mmmmmmm there might be a poem
Lurking in that too...
Sigh, a true story.
Bhill Mar 2
Drip, Drop, Splash

Drip, drop, splash...
Water, as it finds its final resting place below.
Falling with fellow (drops),
Falling off the cliff side, (drip)
Falling to form very special, beautiful waterfall, (splash).
Coming out into the light.
Waters from storms aged years ago.
Making their way through the tiniest of sandstone cracks.
Having been inside the mountains above for eons.
Not seeing daylight for all those years,
What a surprise, when finding themselves
falling and falling,
to make,
Drip, Drop, Splash...

Brian Hill - 2019
Inspired by Poetry in the Park @ Zions
This was inspired by a storm waterfall in Zions National Park today while going to Poetry in the Park poetry class....
patty m Jul 2018
Beyond the reef
                     in crackling amber
the sun rises above the earth,
                     kissing river beds strewn with lovers

Passed mouth to mouth they whisper innuendo
the possibility of  living *******.
Bobbing bodies mimic boats on waves
and soon delirium penetrates a new country.

Heat and fire flare in bandied breeze
                          igniting insatiable shadow;
Pure and venial, the air incarnate
excites the ocean and ****** sing.

The quivering above ground
slithers silkily spilling watercolor rhapsody,
                         in a gush of white a fertile tsunami
reeks reckless abandon.   Once by moonlight,
they rubbed sleep from eyes, hugging hurt
as they clamored high in ghostly pallor.
Some leading the dance, hungered for knowledge,
others played shadowy roles.
Yet wafting still, comes the foreign fragrance,
fragments of spirituality,  a longing to touch,
as abundance rolls in shorelines green.
                         Offered mercies, fragile as wings,
shades of truth cascading like water, breathless
in sensual splash;
                       how tremulous
                       the image of truth,
                       the threshold of tomorrow.

Must have a goal
Go get that thing
What if I want
To stop and sing

Retreat inside
Wait out the storm

Else feel the wrath
Of nature scorned

Instead a kid
I wish to be
To feel alive
And so carefree


Each drip, each drop
Upon my head
Wish I could splash
In rain instead


I'd watch the sky
Explode with light
A warming joy
Not filled with fright

When did I lose
Sight of it all
Predictable
Pattern I fall


Start living in
Every moment
Past and future
Wasted and spent

Granted a new
Chance I'm given
Can not redo
But start living

Each day awake
Fresh start; Can be

World's my oyster
Alive and free
Written: July 14, 2018

All rights reserved.
Nancy E Tracy Mar 2015
Gentle ballerina dance
dance your way around the world
with bold precision dance
with graceful arms unfurled

Tip toe to the passion of the tune
whirling, leaping maelstrom of romance

existential exercise of poetry unwritten
fluttering, a butterfly of souls unduly smitten
with love of life and dignity stirred all up into one
resounding splash of destiny
the last breath of a swan
for my world traveled, ballerina friend Marilyn on her birthday.
harlee kae Jul 2014
because the words spew out like *****
and I am one sick child.
They flow out of my mouth as
ceaselessly as the tears
drip off my nose.
And they splash around your feet,
but you don't even stop to clean up your shoes.
Avary Jun 2018
it's another early AM when salt tears splash my face,
they sting, but they are daisies compared to the swords I have endured with you.
it's almost half a year since you took what was not yours to take,
with your mumbled excuses and your dismissive gestures.
i brace myself, the pain looms again, i shout at it to GO AWAY,
the reminder of what you did, but it is a pain that paracetomal will not subside, because the pain is a memory;
the increasing anxiety, the thought of you inside of me when i did not want you to be there.
GO AWAY.
Tom Spencer Aug 2018
up early to water
the garden

the cicadas are
already drilling holes

into the
leaden stillness

everywhere
leaves are drooping

I spray the shrubs
to wash off the dust

birds fly in to sit
on the dripping branches

begging for a shower
a cardinal flutters  

its wings and sings
and I oblige

jewel-like droplets splash
through the slanting light

everywhere
the world is ablaze

heat waves wild fires
everywhere anger

everywhere distraction
suspicion

leaders are faint-hearted
the wicked fan the flames

still my garden needs water
still the cardinal

flutters its wet wings
and sings

here here water here
here here water here

Tom Spencer © 2018
Logan Robertson Aug 2018
I fished a movie
hoping to cast a reel
that catches a keeper
hook, line, and sinker
I waded in line
smiling
the tackle box optimism in my sights
butterfly's in my net
visions of a hotrod
I look up at the marque
with a good cast and reel
my boats singing
a song that's hooked on love
I enter the theatre
among the trees
branching towards my spot
such forestry
I race past the mainstream
hotrod in tow
I take to my seat
setting anchor to a fun outing
as the lights abate
skip to my Lou
at bay
watching the cast make a splash

Logan Robertson

8/2/2018
bron Oct 2018
Look at the clouds,

soak in the sun.

Channel the nerves in your body

And feel.

Feel all the emotions

Surrender those which bring you down

Embrace those which give you wings.

Find a balance in the dark,

And learn to close your eyes

When the lights shine too bright.

Look into the mirror

And learn to love what you see.

Be real.

Love real people .

Be honest with others

And with yourself.

Be mindful.

Dont waste time

Life is short

So dont waste time.

Cherish the sunrise

And be curious of it’s setting

Notice it’s colors

And appreciate it’s beauty

Dance to songs of rain

And sing along to songs of thunder.

question everything

But also be vulnerable to many truths

Jump into life

Be loud

and real

find someone who you want to share the stars with

Someone who will listen to love songs with you in the rain

And drink tea with you at neat little coffee shops.

Look into the stars above

See all the possiblites that the sky holds

and all the possibilities this life holds.

Be forgiving,
Be true,
Be loving,
Be passionate,
Be kind,

Stop wasting time.
I made pillsbury croissants the other day. They were very good but tasted exactly like the pillbury biscuits and didn’t have the essential flakiness of a croissant. That’s life for yuh.
this is what comes next,
we have learned
to wait for
this.

The world, the environs of me i see,
have changed
or become

other than I imagined in the illusory phaze

visual-real-aural-real-terror-real ah,

no
right no holy terror here, we past that.

title-mebbe Ignorance is a choice, it is vain,
the effing efforting to ig nobel so high a wave as mine.

Rock and roll poets with scientific magi making tools
that obey our virtually

every
whim. Imagine that. We did. What now?
or ance, re ignorance
mebbe

a dance,
a wee twist that tugs us back to unem,

we chuckle. You know, if you have not thought
how happy after right now,
might work if it were your might that makes it work,

then. This is that. In a poem. A poem puddle the flow flowed to.
No joke, life has become very jello-ish in its real-feel here, for a while.
Tammy M Darby Feb 2016
Why poets are overcome by the need
To scatter words across the universe
Many wind-blown seeds.

To splash their sadness on paper
Paint black their rage,
A sea of raw emotion
Where melancholy rules as queen

I often wonder
If they ever desire to escape
From the fantasy worlds
Sometimes willingly created.


Relaying their loves, dreams, and trysts,
Oblivious to the reality
That in truth they don't exist
They are after all only a projection of light in the dark
  Simple words of the poet.
The artist of thought.


This poem is copyrighted and stored in author base. All material subject to Copyright Infringement laws
Section 512(c)(3) of the U.S. Copyright
Act, 17 U.S.C. S512(c)(3), Tammy M Darby  2/3/2016
Bison Jun 2016
Sand chokes my sea blue eyes
Heat like waves invite Delusion's rise
My wandering soles worn to pride
But I won't give up on paradise

'Cuz I know
There's an angel waiting
To welcome me to the oasis
And I know
I can make it to your cool shoreline and
I won't waste this, my new horizon

There's the ocean just overhead
I'm not dreaming, no, I'm not dead
I'm just hoping for a splash of rain
Some clouds to wash away Thirst's looming dread

I'm collapsing and it's not enough
I'll be buried before the sun is up
And you will never know if
I truly loved you or if this was all a bluff

'Cuz you know
I'm no angel gracing
St. Peter's golden grating
And you know
I don't know to give up my hallucination and
return to your old foundation

I may die with my bones
Exposed in blistered sunlight
But in my hand
there'll be an old photo
Of you and I
Calli Kirra Sep 2018
Standing tall and warm,
You can be so hard and hold so fast
And I’m still trying to break away from the mistakes I’ve had to taste,
They linger on my tongue
I overflow
I pour into the grass like a garden hose
Sometimes you set your metal bucket just before the flowers
Like you worry that my rivers will drown us
You just appeared as an ocean to me
I waste my ink
Writing on the wooden gate you’ve built on the beach
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