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sara Jun 2018
I'm transparent like a window
but I'm prone to keeping curtains closed
to cover up my youthful,
aching, ***** soul.

I used to be promiscuous;
my essence on my sleeve.
a charming laugh; a crystal glass
from which many a fool drew drink.

A chalice of life;
warm like cinnamon wine,
soft like angel's delight.
Beheld by every eye.

But it never felt right;
I was smoke off a fire,
yet still smouldering coal.
Just a young, beautiful

byproduct of desire.
There's no smoke without fire.
Although, I tried to fan it cool;
the flames ran only wilder.

But as the old wind blows, it seems
a withered tree still grows new leaves.
A dandelion spreads its seeds
but they lie far away from me.

Now, I move transcluently-
ultraviolet invisible ink-
I speak in soothing whispers;
they travel further than you'd think.
Iridescence is things seemingly changing colour on their own- I think we all have the power to grow and move away from our pasts.

I love how fire is a destructive yet cleansing force.
Cné Oct 2017
The surf provides lullabies
as ocean echoes roll.
Too soon, the sunlight glitters
as the dawn turns gray to gold.

I wake and I rub my eyes
beside the sandy beach
My love beside me, languid lips
within an easy reach.

I whisper, sweet good mornings
as your dreams I brush away.
You stretch and yawn, responding to
requests to "come and play".

Lingered memories caress,
of last night's rising moon
with silver waves and ripples,
beyond the dark lagoon.

In shades of colors that mix and smudge
you take your time, no rush
My ******* tingle, at the thought
upon my skin, spreads flush.

In reverie, flutters reminisce,
your wanton body on mine.
Whispered moans in my ear, you ******,
"I'm yours", I hear on rewind.
When last night's... turns into this morning's
Alyssa Underwood Dec 2015
When all of worldly beauty's lost
When form and face have borne the cost
Of life's sojourn upon this earth
A greater glory then springs forth

When vanity is cast aside
With long-dashed dreams and fallen pride
At last a better hope I see
One anchored in eternity

When no one gives a second glance
Or offers promise of romance
I know the One whose love is true
Who looks beyond what most men do

When wit and charm have fled from thought
And company's no longer sought
There's still One friend who longs to hear
My every word, desire and fear

When awkwardness is more the rule
Than competence and being cool
His words I hear so gently spoken,
"Come, poor in spirit and all who are broken."

When those around me criticize
With disapproval in their eyes
He spreads His arms with full embrace
And wears acceptance on His face

When kindred spirit can't be found
And understanding's wayward bound
The One who knows me best will be
Thinking precious thoughts toward me

When foot is slipping, mind astray
From trying to fix things my own way
He rescues me with hourly grace
And sets me in a spacious place

When all my naught attempts at fame
Lie crushed beneath a weight of shame
I seek the fame of Him instead
Who calls my name and lifts my head

When youth and vigor fade away
And triumph seems an ancient day
My strength can rest in One who brings
Fresh power to soar on eagle's wings

When my last breath some day I take
Death's shadowed crossing, hence, to make
Upon Christ's nail-scarred feet I'll fall
To kiss that One who is my ALL
"Therefore we do not lose heart. Though outwardly we are wasting away, yet inwardly we are being renewed day by day. For our light and momentary troubles are achieving for us an eternal glory that far outweighs them all. So we fix our eyes not on what is seen, but on what is unseen. For what is seen is temporary,
but what is unseen is eternal."
2 Corinthians 4:16-18

~~~

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gtzAciGlgKE&spfreload=5
Christian Ek Jul 2015
The power I get from your personality.
You're a lion, a natural born leader.
King of the jungle, in this barren valley you give me hope.
Hope in a savior, in a presence so uniquely rare and strong.
I want to be like you, I want your charisma.
You make everyone seem so simple.
Far above average, your capable of emancipating glory.
A righteous and kind soul.
Your energy spreads through the beastly sinners and compels their spirit to change into something beautiful.
For my best friend
CK Baker Oct 2017
Iron bench, open sore
dragon rock, three in score
flesh on body, tortured soul
arms high, in ****'s hole

Corner bulb, neon light
drake hotel, second flight
jolly pop, rizla plus
open flame, behind the bus

Broken fixtures, tully hat
channel swimmer, at the bat
blind alley, words of cuss
dealer waving, in a fuss

Grim reaper, boys in blue
super bee, armored shrew
****** sips, swollen glands
potpourri, on demand

Black death, huddler's arch
beat the cold, and summer parch
toothless grin, ****** glare
obituary, to be shared

Dead of night, decontrol
cheeva tar, black coal
east central, chinatown
mr. freeze, is coming down

Foot soldier, skidder row
chicken feed, and white blow
silver spoon, casted hand
demons surface, on demand

Frantic sounds, below the glass
poison waiting, to be passed
***** pipes, over coat
bodies flat, begin to float

Gospel sounds, from union square
friends gather, deep in prayer
guardian angels, now deployed
thornton park, without a void

Covenant house, in holy charm
welcomes all, with open arms
salvation spreads, on chapel row
kindness that, cannot be sold
Cné Jan 2017
Deep love within the heart
Ignite luscious flames aglow.
Spreads vast with just a spark,
Desires down below.

Keenly tantalizing,
Flawless colors and hue;
Unbridle free flying,
Loose reign while dreams come true.

Spreads rapidly, bright blaze,
Gold lighting of hope
Alive, aware, un hypnotize,
Curious Kaliedoscope.

A journey to enjoy
Burning fire devour
Life's burdensome's toy;
Amid a horse named Wildfire.
My artist's statement I wrote for an acrylic painting I painted of a horse.
Nereo Cafolla Jul 2018
Over the icy hills you hear a breath;
As this field sinks in the frigid blue
It spreads in the soul a fear of death.
The hope to return still lives in you.

How can you be so blind not to see?      
That even your worst foe could be      
                  
Your best friend behind these lines.       
A scream drowns in the darkness,
Now he is rotting as the moon shines.
There are no heroes in this grey mess.
Is it worth to waste human meat?
What is victory but a lucky defeat?
aj kamari Jul 2018
life full of meaning
when your name enters my mind.
screen of black lit up with your simple calling,
a token of your thinking of me.
smile spreads across
and stomach becomes uneasy...
i want to shout;
shout it to the world
this gut feeling.
it whispers to me:
"you love him.
you're in love with him.
tell him. tell him and he's yours."
only i can't say anything.
it's simply not my place to.
one of the hardest thing is loving someone you can't be with...
Shofi Ahmed May 2017
She is pyramidon spreads down the pyramid
Led by him up the pyramid that keeps climbing high.
Continues to straighten his straight line but her
curve off the top embraces full is an enduring spiral!

Off the apex of the pyramid the butterfly has slipped out
Still a circle still a cut whatsmore is concealed in the pi?
Future is in now, deathless in death only a pi away!
Jayantee Khare Jul 2018
¿ ¿ ¿
¿ ¿ ¿
¿ ¿ ¿
¿.  ¿  ¿.  ¿
¿  ¿  ¿
a cup of poetic tea
now becomes ready
when emotions simmer
       on a flame dimmer  @
           with subtle swirls       @
            twirls and whirls         @
           added with words         @
          the aroma spreads        @
      strained out the waste  @
the perfect taste
and here it's ready
the poetry ...the tea!
Tried the shape poetry
Alyssa Underwood Jul 2017
When all of worldly beauty's lost
When form and face have borne the cost
Of life's sojourn upon this earth
A greater glory then springs forth

When vanity is cast aside
With long-dashed dreams and fallen pride
At last a better hope I see
One anchored in eternity

When no one gives a second glance
Or offers promise of romance
I know the One whose love is true
Who looks beyond what most men do

When wit and charm have fled from thought
And company's no longer sought
There's still One friend who longs to hear
My every word, desire and fear

When awkwardness is more the rule
Than competence and being cool
His words I hear so gently spoken,
"Come, poor in spirit and all who are broken."

When those around me criticize
With disapproval in their eyes
He spreads His arms with full embrace
And wears acceptance on His face

When kindred spirit can't be found
And understanding's wayward bound
The One who knows me best will be
Thinking precious thoughts toward me

When foot is slipping, mind astray
From trying to fix things my own way
He rescues me with hourly grace
And sets me in a spacious place

When all my naught attempts at fame
Lie crushed beneath a weight of shame
I seek the fame of Him instead
Who calls my name and lifts my head

When youth and vigor fade away
And triumph seems an ancient day
My strength can rest in One who brings
Fresh power to soar on eagle's wings

When my last breath some day I take
Death's shadowed crossing, hence, to make
Upon Christ's nail-scarred feet I'll fall
To kiss that One who is my ALL
~~~

"Therefore we do not lose heart. Though outwardly we are wasting away, yet inwardly we are being renewed day by day. For our light and momentary troubles are achieving for us an eternal glory that far outweighs them all. So we fix our eyes not on what is seen, but on what is unseen. For what is seen is temporary,
but what is unseen is eternal."
~ 2 Corinthians 4:16-18

***

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gtzAciGlgKE&spfreload=5

***

Repost
Dan Quigley Aug 2013
A sigh in the dark.
Past my jaded lips it rises
like a ghost, and I the host
of thoughts enamoured but unwanted,
unresolved.
Night takes my sight and unleashes vision
I watch (not my decision) the memories bloom to life.
Ethereal and hazy, those lazy summer days
Of hasty plans, promises, platitudes made;
childish to dream it could have stayed
the same.

Polite and awkward we shuffle in the light of day,
you think before you act and mind what you say
and if lucky enough you might get away
without blurting a thought from your head gone astray.

Why do eyes so bright bring such dark thoughts?
Why do we fear to take what we want?

A sigh in the dark.
Across chilled skin it spreads
like fire, this unspoken desire
between whispering sheets. Fingers grasp and twine,
I feel hers, she feels mine, as we search in the dark
together.
This night air we’ll share,
in passion, with vigour,
seeking the trigger
to release.
To resolve.
Tommy Randell May 2017
When terrible things are done
Beauty is ripped from all our lives
But hating ugliness is not the answer
Hate spreads like flame through dry forests

'Go placidly amid the noise and haste'

When innocence is casually butchered
Red becomes the colour of darkness
But screaming for revenge
Just makes the day darker

'Remember what peace there may be in silence'

I won't do it, I won't become them.
I will not **** poison into my own world
I will not let their cancer cross over
Into my bones as I walk through their fire

'The dull and the ignorant, they too have their story'

I won't do it, I won't condemn my children,
My family, my friends, to loathing and execration
Saying they are all the same because they are not like us
You are wrong, they are just like us, look at yourself

'In the noisy confusion of life keep peace in your soul'
The terrible event at Manchester arena this weekend happened the day I met my newly born Great Grandson. Named for me (Tommy) I was granted a glimpse on my immortality as a Father, Grandfather, and beyond, in name & in spirit.

It was a truly humbling experience. I will not join in the witch-hunt of other cultures & religions happening now in our media and countries. I want my children to know there is a better path and if Poetry can be the pavement of such a path into the future, the better we are for it.

The quotes of course are from that iconic piece of writing from a poster in the 60's The Desiderata by Max Ehrmann - Which was written I believe in 1927. Thank you for Reading ***
Troy Jan 2018
Welcome to the new age .
Where your new god is your T.V.
Like mindless blobs
You sit
Transformed
Mezmerize
Hypnotized
Fixed on the  Misery of others
As its
Teaching our young to hate.
     Kneel down
Give praise to your new god
The TV.
as the news spreads hate and fear.
It's all washed in lies.
Come people stand in line .
It's black Friday
As you punch and trample over
Your mother  
For the low price
On your god the TV
Your kids are brain washed
Taught to hate
Hypnotized
And taught to live in fear.
Your God in an instant spreads lies to the masses.
As you sit Hypnotize
mesmerize
Listing to lies.

People turn off your god
get up off your sofa and go out side
There's a beautiful world out there
Full of amazement and wonder
Listin to the river flowing
The birds singing
Smell the roses
In the soft wind blowing
Listing to the Laughter of the kids playing.
Remember when this was you.
Laughing.
Turn off your TV
Go out side
Be amazed
It's a
Beautiful world just
Open your eyes
Love cost nothing
And hurts no one.
Turn off your
Tv.
K Balachandran Aug 2013
A poem nebulously arrives
at the precincts of mind
like in every pregnancy
it changes a whole lot of things

A firefly with a drop of
oily yellow light so feeble ;
but one gets lost in the
happiness it brings

I haven't ever known
a happiness similar to this.
In the days of my childhood,
I used to sit in a room opening
to the vast green rice fields,

At the sunset, when light fads in to darkness,
the gloom that spreads around
makes one ask, 'what if the moon
wouldn't appear tonight?'

A drop of light appears from nowhere,
flies to a bamboo grove,
this I couldn't foresee,
it turns out to be a  firefly, its light
pulsating like a coded message,
to more fireflies so shy and want
the pain of darkness to foster them,
I close my eyes and wait for the sound
of  their wings flapping in my subconscious.

Now, they come in swarms, a spectacle
one can't explain, all I know is
that I was yearning for their presence.
They are guests for this celebration
of light,  I crafted with my pain,
and love, the antidote, for all that angst.

A poem is born as a dome of effulgence
these fireflies create in pitch darkness
that meditates alone only on light .
nish Jul 2018
his eyes are warm, a hazel brown
upon his head the devil’s crown
****'s fire reveals his true intention
it's why the lord refused his ascension
his **** it flickers, a candle in the storm
mine burns for him, undying, unnerving
he doesn't love me
he never will
but oh he's a man when he grips my thigh
he spreads me open and makes me sigh
asserting dominance he whispers sin
i cry for god but my voice runs thin
he's had his ***** way with me
I'm tainted, ruined, marked and done
he's finished with me, had his fun
yet
sometimes in my wildest dreams
I yearn for him and that wicked gleam.
© M.H

this is an anti-poem, it’s written based off another poem I recently read but completely the opposite.
2018
King Panda Jan 2018
gnaw red your bone
in the aliform of dream
this

allocation of my
guts spreads lips
onto stained paint buckets
I

never meant for
us to be beautiful
adding

music
to every line
that came out
your mouth—

a moth-springing
butterfly
its

wings no longer
dusted but

dried and wasteful.

it was the
paradox of doubt
and

I cried through
painkiller night
Caladrius Oct 2016
I wish that one day the meaning of the words we speak would touch our lips.

     Would they feel s o f t like a down coat?
Would they bite like tongues of fire?
          Would they seep like bleeding scars?
      Would they boldly march down to our throats and into our minds?

Don't ask me
      I am as guilty as the rest
flinging them around like a bakers dough
       thrusting     them      into the air in spinning circles of confusion
               though often
when I mean to catch them
                           I miss--
                            and they fall quite harshly on life's filth

and along comes another one of us
                                                                --maybe it was you?
        this time they pick up the fallen dough
                                                           kneed it
kneed in the dirt I left
                   like yeast the filth spreads

           and yet
                             look here,
here comes yet another
       arms reach for the blacked bread and put in on the stone
  rising from the flames within the oven comes the smell of the baked bread
                   of marred and useless words
delicious

               Hands reach for the bread from the baker
     mouths eat the words that have no substance
                    hungry for more ---
            empty thoughts only fill the dead

I wonder how the words taste now.
         Is there still some meaning in words left bleeding and alone
                                                           ­   -- like crumbs left for the ghosts of mice
And yet we proudly call these crumbs our own
Copyright © 2016 Caladrius All Rights Reserved
Shofi Ahmed Nov 2018
There is a six seasonal turf on earth.
it isn't an acre of Moon truly an earthly Skookum.
A land so unique is written in stone
as if the enduring heavenly dew
streamed down on this patch of land!

Meet here the open future shows up at the earth's
hub-moon's anew rallying to the untouching-sea
the Indian subcontinent's corner to the ancient wind!

Naturally a hidden gem its in her element.
Her very soil the complete colour wheel matches
The birthplace of the great prophet Muhammad (PBUH)!
Destined to be the golden cut above the rest.
Amusing the heaps of the mindful minds
Sylhet stands on cloud nine eye to eye with
the pivotal soil of Makkah the centre of the earth!

Ah, the deep footed earth how mystique black
beneath it every morning the sun off the heaven’s hill
spreads a new diaphanous gold-light-rug, yet to paint
a footprint, a colourless magic, let alone the centrepiece!
Listen to the morning birds sing here deep in the midst
mellifluous-shrills fill the air unveiling the dream scenes!

The times anew numerating the bounties of our land.
Craving to sip in a dew-potion on our blossoming rose
cirrus clouds dancing over the seven seas here they drop!
Banish the midday blues singing the deep sea’s song.

Nestled amidst the Rivers Surma, Kushiara and Monu
Perched on the shades of the trees each one is a canvas.
Glows with changing Bangladesh's unique six seasons
as they swing and leap in the branches of the trees
and murmur with the upstream and the autumnal breeze.

Stunned angels on their way heaven taking one more
sunset potted in the starry bowl look back at the wee hours.
They can hear pianissimo on this shrouded perennial land.
It never falls asleep is awake with a numerically perfect
circle of 360 spiritual dynamos from the centre they hailed
with a handful of earth and lived here as it matched.    

A deep seeded truth, rock solid Shilahatta in Sanskrit.
Clothed in an enduring vesture minted Sylhet loops in
with the Hebrew Bible’s Shalet, a ruler, a shield!  

The ****** earth sways moulds into a mole.
Ah, the little drops make the mighty ocean.
And with a single word on the lips
the maestros’ great epics begin to be told.
Just with a mundane handful of earth
Primed Sylhet masterpiece begins to unfold.
Keeping you on board with the whole ball of wax
lo, it unveils the mirror of the face of the earth!

Plopped still in the inside track amidst the full show
with the whole nine yards on her least hold!
Believe it or not Sylhet is cherry-picked chosen by God!
The subject matter is about a land possessing a deeply seeded truth. The prime significance of which is its scattered afar but matches the pivotal soil of the centre of the earth!
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