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Shofi Ahmed Jun 2018
If I am gone  
vanish like pieces
into the atom.

It ain’t complain
lets drawback
spur in rhythm.
Shofi Ahmed Jan 8
Every atom is lenient towards the human being
streaming up from the deep root they spur
laying down the perfect descending of the stars.

They can take on the stellar in their deep club
that shows up opening the windows up in the sky
and down on to the earth cast their eyes!

The slim fit sharp atom knows all the shortcuts
constantly vibrating not a single star can catch nor will it ever
thin out – it has the extraordinary stroke of luck.
But the eyes are on the humans not over the amber. 
Dreaming to be physically absorbed within the human being
to be in the human’s divine proportion ever transcendental
a far cry from the sun and the moon but with it both gel together! 

Once they came so close almost touched the dream
they rose to the occasion, squaring the circle,
laser scanning through, as above so below, so humble.
Submitted them without waxing lyrical took the brush off
the colour bowl of the day then blindfolding the moon
in the night reached out to the paragon of the phi mania,
flawlessly made to measure, numerically perfect Fathima!

Presented themselves before her as pure blank
whereon she can jot like her chalkboard
or do as she please like she could show up
taking it as her shadow in silhouette, she exactly did that.
Touched down on the earth, in the veil
and revealed her as above so below.
The ocean moved stirred the water but none saw the sunshine
behind the full moon in bloom that steals the starry night.

Day in day out Fathima did all in a veil she lived and gone.
Keeping the atom on its toe ever honing tracing the footprint
in its own shadow as once a human being without a mark
crept in it lived in pi magic and leaped out!
Lazhar Bouazzi Jul 2016
It rained last night while he slept
in the chair, waiting for her -
I mean for the rain to bedeck
the olive tree with her silver perls
and cause a stir
in his reason and imagination -
a spur.
But the rain came while he slept.

She came and came and came -
for nothing.

© LazharBouazzi, Carthage, May 17; revised on July 30, 2016
All I am asking you for
is a hint to your metaphors,
What's written on the papers you tore,
'Cause I always seem to want more
All of them, even neithers and nors.

Another thing I want to enquire,
If you're in a place that's oh so dire,
and need a shrink who's free to hire,
Any work I have, meh, I will retire!
To spur you on, all humour & satire.

If you give me but a glimpse into your world,
Cross my heart I'll show you mine unfurled.
I'm neck-deep into this person, she already knows how i feel. It's been 4 months since my confession, and i still couldn't find a way to get over her. She's found someone and i hope she'll always be happy, so here's a piece to always remember her by. To R. You're the only girl i've ever loved with all my heart, and know that you'll always have a special place in there.
September Roses Nov 2018
What harm could it do?
To play around one's breathe
To grip something tightly
An innocent gesture

Passion so involved
It's just a spur of emotions
A moment of breathlessness
What's wrong with cutting off some air?
People are poisonous anyways
***** and sick
You're just polishing
Taking them somewhere brighter for a moment

Can you feel their veins
Can you feel their pulse
Hear them cough,
Is it really that bad?
Tighter and tighter till the knot is tied
Feel air struggle in their throat

Something might sizzle inside you
Now dont be alarmed
The adrenalin of life flowing under your palms can be overwhelming.
It's only normal
To feel excitement
At their strained

Isnt it almost like a melody
The raspy struggles?
Notice the resistence of the gasping
Clench your fingers
Weigh them down
Feel the life leave their lips
And the pressure leave their lungs
Let them choke
Almost satire, but not really? But satire? But not?
See them standing on the podium of promises
Tickling us to wed them into power
As we stand under the burning sun, sweaty as ever
All ears to their flowered words of which they caress
And powdered our minds with.
They donate maggi, salt, wears and the root of all evil,
To further blind our minds and instinct.
Like goats following a hand with a palm fruit,
We chased them with high hopes to the polls,
Like Esau of old we repay their donation with our votes.

Their desires were met, now in power
At serious battle against their promises,
Our faith getting lean, our hopes bleed in response to their policies.
The opposition jubilant for the failure of the electorates.
Soon, they awoke into reality, spur to abort incumbent reign.
Some took to bombs, guns, cutlasses, few to the streets.
The opposition soldiers are thugs, always hungry to ****.
The masses weapons are their mouth, placards,
And solidarity songs, they walk and sing.
They say when elephants fight the grasses suffer
I wonder who are the elephants or the grasses indeed.
A  place that suppose to be our home now a battle field
Where everyone fights for self survival
Forgetting the unborn, our toddlers, our heroes past.

It is high time we talked and sack the thugs
But who will moderate
Who will faithfully give audience, who will sincerely talk?
The elite, the elected seems like they are war ready
They have well set up their political troops
A war they won't stand to fight
But escape through thinning air off our sight.

In a molding  state
Pigs dare to preach sanity
In a world of questions, ignorance remain the worst cancer
And the apex poverty.
Let not fold our hands and live to die in this doom
If your lips are scared, let your pen speak.
Let not throw in the towel
Until we justfully elapse the reign of the unwanted in one peace.
The inspiration for this poem came from the power struggle in my country and how  we have been very unlucky in getting a leader that all can fully accept. Our leaders here barely keep their promises.
L Jan 4
Want to rip my hair out. And cry. And drink.

Whats even wrong.

Did He spur this?

Its been so long, i can bearly remember what it feels like.

Do i want to feel it again?
emeraldine087 Sep 2016
When you had to go, I sorely regretted
    every word I didn't say,
    all the things I didn't do,
    the debt of gratitude I didn't pay.

The years have been long and trying
    and I miss you every day;
    still I don't have the answer to
    the question: "why couldn't you stay?"

When you left, I promised to achieve
    all our plans and dreams, come what may,
    and for the most part, I believe
    I've fulfilled the vow that I made.

But I always think about what things
    would've been like if you'd been here
    to guide me, spur me on,
    scold me or waylay all of my fears.

Then I realize that you are here
    in every dream I live or trial I get through
    for you taught me everything you could
    and you always said I was the best of you.
So, really, I don't have to miss you every day,
    yet I know in my heart I'll always do.

*(c) emeraldine087
For my mom who was taken back by God on this day, 14 years ago...
Her Spark
His Bliss
Her Smile
His Peace
Her Grace
His Muse
Her Vibes
His Spur
Her Future
His Dream

Her Goal
His Goal
And they call it eclipse
Genre: Romantic Observational
Theme: Less is more
Whit Howland Jul 22
Buttered boards

sturdy frame

in front
a gi-normous

next to it
big boot shiny spur

lassoing huckster
towers above
elicits tautologies

it is what it is
what you see is what you get
and either the steak is good
or it ain't

to further impress

broad  bold brush strokes
sells the tickets
moves the iron
and always wins the day

whit howland © 2019
Sam Hammond Sep 2018
Well, that's it, my brain is now rotten.
Lost in its fungus are feelings, forgotten.
A spur may occur, on a scarce blue moon,
Of energy telling me I'm back in tune,
But really it's vacant and harsh little lies.
Synapses shooting a brain as it dies.
Misery fruiting on mould colonised
From grey matter, shattered behind fading eyes.
Now just a hollow man, left with no bang,
Merely a whimper with such little whim.
Watching as slowly the old me is lost
While filling the blanks with a bad pseudonym
And sealing them over with mushrooms and liquor,
Though quicker and quicker the struggle gets bigger.
Sick and then sicker, from fluid to rigour.
Stuck in the mould, now forever disfigured.
Monika Jan 1
my thoughts are peanut butter
sticking to the roof of my head
when i can’t find a glass of milk.

my voice is like syrup
sticking in my throat,
never pouring out of the empty cracks

anxiety’s tendrils coil around my ribs
and spur my heart to run another year’s drag race.
White dove
The hatred wall
That estranged cousins
Have begun to fall
When love
Incarnated in white dove
Started to fly high
Over Ethiopian- Eritrean sky.

White dove
You are an antidote
Border dispute to solve.

White dove
Ethiopia's  port problem
Eritrea's financial-return
You are sure to dissolve.

White dove
Tourism and trade
Must spur ahead.
So to wipe out
Dislike's filth
Let us put a glove.

White dove
To make up for
Lost resources and chances
Also the two cousins
From dislike to absolve.//
Ethiopia,Eritrea have resumed friend ship after 20 years no-war-no-peace situation
Carmen Jane Mar 5
She pours poetry in her drawings
When her age is only four
Answering her talent's callings
That were never seen before.
Zealously she churns the marker
Into spirals,into circles
Making scribbles on the paper
And connecting miraged circuits.

Should her teacher see her now
She probably would interupt her
Would hold her hand to show her how
“Let's draw a flower!” she might spur,
"Let's glue these neatly precut shapes!"
And then her muse might start to flicker,
Her talent steadily reshapes
Just for another “well done” sticker…

I am ashamed, I almost stopped her
But then I felt  the rithm in her hands
Saw  her rhymes in her joyous  stir
Picking her idea’s strands.

“Look mama, it is a cyclone!”
Finally I see the meaning,
In your poem that you've drawn
With your wide smile, and eyes gleaming
You add quickly Dorothy's house
A triangle on top of square,
Reminiscing ‘f old type schoolhouse,
Your poem starts, right there, mid-air...
True story of today
Nyx Sep 2018
They say that good people
Are meant to stay away from people who are "bad"
They learn that their pity towards those people get them nowhere
They come to know that they should push those who are bad away
Those people who are outcasts, Who are loners
The players, delinquents and rebels
The people who spit venom when approached
That talk or dress in a particular way, who have this "look"
That say hateful things, and do things that hurt others
Destroying every piece of happiness that dares enter their lives
The 'Good' learn to avoid these types of people
and many times its for good reason

Though I believe that there is a reason behind every action
When a person is driven to hurt others
its because somebody has hurt them too
Those people who seem cold and push people away
Those people that say hateful things in a spur of a moment
The people who act in irregular ways from a 'normal' person
Its to those people that we should be kind
Though through your kindness you must be sincere
As merely fake kindness will only hurt them more

I believe that the people who do bad things
They know what they doing is wrong
But I believe that there is a reasoning behind them
That many people don't seem to want to understand
Its something that they don't want to see
As much as those people don't want to believe that people can be truly kind
Forcing themselves to believe that the world is truly so cold and cruel
And that there is not a trace of anything beautiful

Be kind to them

Sincerely An outsider
I'm not too sure where I was going with this one
I just had the thought on my mind and wanted to get it out
Apologies if it doesn't make much sense ahah
Timothy Chen Aug 2018
a tumblr full of rocks
a pour of ichiro malt
and a stir
gan bei
to the yamazaki and nikkas
i am in the land of the sun
i go down to the land of the dead
mei hi ko
casa amigo,
to my brothers in arms
jose, i must have my agave
cheers to the alamo
to the land of the prohibition
yippee kay yay
spicy rye kick
spur to the horse
giddy up, giddy up
riding off into the sun
set to kentucky
tom ford west
make your mark
with maker’s mark
bottoms up
and now i am staggering
vichi patia
better than grey goose
aunt jiin
and all the cult gin
navy strength and **** juice
getting rowdy
like irish bloke jameson
and that **** scot
and his gang
oiban, glenfiddich, and
I am livid
at that *******
son of peat
another round
i am monkeying around
monkey 47
sun set
sun rise
*** on the beach
i see kings and queens
louis thirteen
i am going to sleep
pappy van winkle
100 years
like rip van winkle
don’t wake me
stir and not shaken
good night, mama
sweet havana
a shot of don papa
i go to sleep
this is my ode to drinking
Lae Mar 3
Now i was left alone

Alive and breathing

Feeling all kinds of drowning

The second i breathe, the harder i feel

and from that i knew... i might never recover.

And just as i was about to jump to the shallows,

a hand pulled me up from my obscure state.

Telling me how dense i was

for trying to jump in an empty hole.

I asked myself.. Is this what i get?

For giving my all to the one i love?

A voice replied to my side

Saying that there's nothing wrong with having vast dreams

If a man truly holds you dear

He'll understand your every aim.

And in a spur of moment

I found myself in a reverie

He held me slowly

like how the wind caressed my skin.

He told me things i didn't know

Including the feelings i've never felt before

If he was the end of me

Then i would gladly accept my fall.
Dawnstar Feb 2018
I should have smiled
when I entered,
dusted like a corner table
with flakes of Maine ash:
grandiose visions of what
I sought to be.
Passing long marble rows;
walking briskly to comfort;
ushered in by the chill.
Neighbors might see me,
but I am cold,
so I do not smile.

In the longhouse,
they celebrate man's
dominion over time.
They pluck paper crafts
by their roots,
and fashion a little gift for me.
Oh, I am merry inside,
singing of renewal,
but I'm tired,
so I do not smile.

In open theater,
upon the carbonite stage,
I find myself
balancing on a tightrope,
while the audience roars and jeers.
I could play their games,
and surely they'd accommodate,
but I am bare,
so I do not smile.

Then, I'm out in the quarry,
cutting stone into thirds;
sweating from the hot sun.
A family sits across the way --
see how they laugh with one another!
If I were born
under a different sign,
I might join them;
but as this is my duty,
I do not smile.

No, I'll walk in circles
like the rest.
I'll make certain
the boilers are filled,
without time
for green-speckled wishes,
or chatting with friends,
old and new:
It's up and down
the stairs with you!
...To see that crescent
creeping through
the winter sky
would do my heart well....
There it is,
alight on the trail!
Yet still I do not smile.

On the road to destiny,
stuck behind two sisters on horseback....
If I were free,
I would slow
to hear their pleasant conversation,
but as I'm in a hurry,
I spur my horse onward,
my eyes set straight ahead;
my cloak whips as I pass,
and I do not smile.

At the great meeting of chieftains,
we are all
seated in the hall.
I feel the weight
of approaching weeks,
and the cold desert river
that awaits.
My face rises and falls
like the tide on the Aral Sea.
In soft surprise,
I feel a presence behind me.
Surrounded by circling vultures....
No wonder I hesitate
to expose my flesh.
Sands penetrate my eyelids.
I take a quick glimpse,
but I am watched,
so I do not smile.

Soon, I come upon an oasis.
The water soothes
my parched throat,
and I,
a forager,
A hunting party makes camp
on the opposite bank.
I peer out through the shrubs....
Only a simple request
would rescue me,
but I am principled,
so I do not smile.

Watching fish jump by the water,
I long for that fading mornglow,
in tattered pots
and cairns,
by shuttered blinds,
where my emotions were kept.
All my love
is cradled in the shade.
Time moves on with haste,
and I do not smile.

At day's end,
I gather my belongings.
I rush to climb the peaks,
that I might meet her on the path.
Again, my heart lifts!
Her face appears in the distance.
With joy, I walk close to her.
I smile a little,
but does she notice?
How can one day's expression
erase those months of melancholy?
Now, my whole body forces a sigh;
I listen quietly to Otemoyan,
and I do not smile.
Written January 19, 2018.
Edited February 21, 2018.
alonia Jan 24
My desires grow stronger.
Before I sleep, I think of you a little longer
Eating away my hunger
But maybe feeling a whole lot bitter.

When I'm with you,
I think of nothing new
If only you could say "I love you"
These things might be too good to be true

The daylight in my heart wanders as I see you smile
It feels as if it's for you, I could cross a thousand mile
The bliss of your eyes left me beguiled,
I just hope it wouldn't last for a while

The way your voice echoes at the sound of my name
Lingers in my head; desire grew stronger; monster I cannot tame
This war is a game I never wanted to aim
"Please make it stop, this is too lame"

But the sense of your skin as it touches mine,
Makes me want to hope I could spare some more time
And through daytime,
My mind jumps through things I call them "sign"

How I am when I'm with you,
A scar of nothingness and color blue
Then a spur of blood and anger I don't want you to view
Scares me to death, I might even break you too.
Everlasting Feb 5
She said, “randomness is non-existent, right?????”

I replied while quizzically looking at her, “I supposed...”

Then she went on to say:

When I was at the bus stop, I looked at the blue sky, and suddenly, birds were flying into my mind, but there were no birds in the sky. There were only clouds, and these clouds, were shaping my thoughts and the way I experienced my reality.

Anyways, while observing these birds flapping their wings, I saw feathers rain upon the sidewalk. These feathers tickled my senses to the point that laughter took a hold of me and made me sputter nonsense to the guy who sat beside me. Eventually, he looked at me soaked in bewilderment, and subsequently, ran to the next bus stop to dry himself out of the fear I had drenched on him. Meanwhile, the feathers gather together in ponds, and a small child who stood silently behind me, jumped to Splish-splash them upon the air. Everyone around him got wet in amazement. Their eyes wide-opened while their mouths wowed as the child in the spur of the moment looked as if he grew wings to fly towards his mom who just minutes ago had called him, “Angel!”.

Sigh she took a deep breathe then whispered in a excited tone, “it was a magnificent sight.”

I looked at her puzzled and when I was about to utter a word, she looked at me attentively as if inspecting every hair on my head then she went to ask again:

“Randomness is nonexistent, right????”
sandra wyllie Feb 17

these things like butter sliding
on hot toast, like gravy pouring from a bowl,
lumps and all.  Spread them in the wind
like dandelion seeds. Have them push their way out

like a catapulting sneeze. Spread these things
like wild fire blazing through the forest. Spread them
wide and far like a virus. Have them repeat and repeat again
like lyrics in a chorus. Have them swim

like ***** searching for the egg. Have them
fly overhead, like a vulture circling
its prey. If they don’t penetrate, infect, spur,
impel I know I did not serve them well.
See the pains tears adhere listing fears peer
Pressure steers the hardest from the rear
I use to coast the host of a space ghost close
To myself was my heart that didn't boast
I was caught up in a champagne toast dose
Way over far from sober hoping I'd love over
And over again but pain strikes again and again
careless whispers in the wind deciphering
My rotting thoughts that was already brought
Sizzling to a froth holes in my heart part
By the swarming moths and slow sparks
Set forth in the darkness of a church ministry
Looking at myself looking at me gloomy
But roomy far from spacious sagacious
To my surrounding see the fog clouding
My ever conscious so clear from downing Everclear
Gave me much more to appear see the Spears
Pinching inching every wound and soon
To be kissed by the leaking stabbing grooms
Orange blossoms to blooms let the stars zoom
Its the spur of the moment standing firm
Burns desire every turn oh how I yearn learn
From my past mistakes of taking intakes wait
I was rushing to hard to create a hate fate
Was following and swallowing me wholely
Two broken vessels hoping to coupe thresholds
That the flesh holds but notion the molds
crafted scolds towers of sadness scaffolds
Blind folds even though I can see vividly
I thought me and you and I was meant to be
Fastened to sanctity with no seatbelts
Welts felt on the back of my mind kind
Was one of my closest homies til you burned me
Without lighting a fire now my brain rewires
Your provoking words thrown my swords
The mighty pen ascending devils grinning
Magnitude of rude record breaking crudes
How could you ever walk away from me and flee
The everlasting love trinity through divinity
Now I gotta guard my soul with golden gloves
Of stress and agony that surfaces chaos above
Loki Sep 2018
It was the around the month of August, 8 years ago.
We had just finished class and were about to go home , we had to walk a little distance to catch the bus.
To reach there we had to cross a huge junction , as we we walked out without any warning the sky went dark instantly ,
puzzled by the happenings we rushed to get to shelter before it would start to pour down ! (Wellthere was nothing special in what was happening , but it was because of her .
Yes she's my first rain , the one that could spur a smile from oneself with just a grin eagerly splashed from her face,
her presence could cast silhouettes in the air drawing me to her closer than ever,
such was her pristine yet delicate voice ,
I can never describe words of her unending charisma which knew no bounds such was the power of her presence)
we managed to get to that busy junction ! All we would think was to get that shelter ,
as we were waiting for the signal to turn green, it had already started to drizzle,
she turned her face towards mine and her crystal voice said
"when the lights turn green we will Sprint across the road!"

With my trembling tone I whispered
"I'm scared to cross the road". This time with her Stark grey eyes staring into mine,
she held my hand , my senses shook not to be rattled by the Strom but by her warmth ,
with all this going I felt a drop of rain touch my hand , yes the one she was holding,
so rejuvenating I never thought I could've appreciated the rain as much as I do now,
the magic of her touch had awakened my senses!
As we crossed the road all I could do was Wonder what was happening ,
Was it the rain? Was it her? Was any of this real?

We finally reached the shelter, she was no longer holding my hand ,
Yet I still had the same feeling wiring me into flashes!
Since that day rain has never been the same ,
Every time a drop touches my skin I can still feel the flashes thatI first felt the rain!
Nathaniel Aug 2018
I remember under the willow tree that one night everything was alright
All stress and emotions was gone from my chest we were lost in the moonlight
That one moment I took to when I looked at you, that’s what inspired me to write
And your deep brown eyes looked whiter than snow and brighter than headlights

Call me hopeless fearing emotion when I was younger but now I’ve found another
Person that understands me, calls me names other than my mother
And when that cold air hit your face I was there to warm it a fire
Not quick to think but when I find someone great I don’t want to push them futher

Now I wonder of someone I don’t know as well as I should
Love sounds great but in this era it burns faster than wood
But the way the light hit your face next to that willow could
Remind me of pure contentment, only know else place in childhood

So in the spur of the moment I placed your lips on mine
I couldn’t see but I imagined everything around clearly and the stars aligned
My mouth felt compassion and my heart dropped to the baseline
I knew under the willow was where I wanted to spend a lifetime
Mr Ree Jul 9
if i had a horse i’d call it peony
a foal white, raised sand by sea
far from spur and saddle
then i’d let her go free

beauty walks down by the water
whilst flowers wilt at her door
i saw a trader the other day who stood out by the road
and in his basket he had many fruits and vegetables for sale
i spotted plantains and chayote
and asked how much they would cost
he held out his hand and waved to me
and said he wouldn’t take a penny
I asked him why this sudden spur of generosity
and he said not to worry
it was a gift from the heavens, truly
and it’d be best if i left off this inquiry

so i thanked him profusely
and said goodbye humbly
he just smiled and i could see his essence shining
he was more than a simple trader
he was truly a divine being
who had incarnated as a merchant
in order to disguise his fruitful deeds
Matt Shaw Nov 2018
I look to stronger people in my life
For better ways to hold myself.

I'm a spoiled rotten whiner with a melodramatic tongue,
Trying to snare my sloppy thoughts in lazily spun nets and throw them on the fire inside me.

You could read it on my face sometimes and catch it in my speech,
If you were really looking for it,
When I pause and my engine shakes briefly
Trying to find a smoother if not happier track.

These stronger people
They have tools I can study and take to my shop
Make blueprints and integrate into my machinery.
I want to be a better human,
Smile in the face of adversity
Make myself efficient and spur others on their way to heaven
And contain my personal catastrophe.
I don't want to atrophy.
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