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Shofi Ahmed Nov 2018
Once in all of a sudden
catching a glimpse of someone
I felt one needs not to show up.
But can steal the entire show
just at first glance!
King Panda Oct 2015
this is a medical emergency ossified
in utero part the hair to cover
pink earwax scar innervated this
cochlea this ******* that steals
the spotlight and rooster’s comb
braised sockets for teeth wired through
the rafters kissing corner braces
shallow chromium double-eye poke
like a pile of face bones stacked
paul bunyan forest slide and jump from
the peak to the pool shallow and
undisturbed to dunk your face and
see future pure voodoo spirit board
and voice box locked with tongue-ectomy
removal of cough through neck hole
cardboard cut stickers in half to
write ******, I’m done.
The Dragon steals the waters of life,
The Dragon steals the waters of life,
  The Dragon steals the waters of life,


a Hydra eats those who lie.


This is the story of
                          Darr-en Gunn,
His life was a
                             short-en-ed one.
While hunting some snakes
                                           having no lucky breaks.
Found himself consumed by a
                                                               ­   gi-ant one.

Was warned of one snake,
                                           the seven-headed Drake.
Found himself consumed by a
                                                               ­  gi-ant one.
In Old Foggie swamps lies a place
                                                           ­      he haunts.
With a hunter digesting in a
                                                               ­ Dra-gon!


The Dragon steals the waters of life,
The Dragon steals the waters of life,
 The Dragon steals the waters of life,


a Hydra eats those who lie.


All children should learn  
                                                         ­                    of a swamp that churns.
In a place where they say
                                                                 the wa-ter burns!
Hy-dra is originally Sy-dra. 'Sy' meaning 'thief' and 'Dra' meaning water so the Hydra is a water-thief. IE: it burns up the waters of life. 'Dragon' in Proto-Indo-European(the first language) was spelled 'Dher Ghen.' So "Darren," is Dher Ghen with the 'G' silent.
I am somebody
Shot in the Head...
Found the bullets.
Coroner Said.
A child of God struck dead.
Gang related disputing Fools.
Aiming cowardly bullets right at you.
I guess praying prayers just won't do.
There is no safe in these hard knocks realities' Truths.
Our Sista child!
Our mother child!
All the while the bodies pile.
Her body now adds to that 'the shootings aren't as bad as last year' body count.
Can't even stand anywhere in your city NOW?
Something has to truly give.
There's a plague of rigid legalities, relaxed moralities, and political realities stealing the 'safe' from our dying breed.
The Black man withering away in siphoning inequalities.
Doubling unemployment stretches outward like a statistical wild fire....
Our present fact.
There is a genocidal component to these criminal acts.


Copyrighted (C)

Published in the 2018 Edition of the Reconstructed Literary and Visual Journal at Governors State University.
This poem addresses how gun violence steals away the hope and dreams from the African American Community.
Amy Oct 5
she was once a 'good girl'
who followed the rules
which were created by fools
dressed a specific way
which led her astray
yet
you took that as a chance
to lure the good girl in your trance
and stole all her sweetness
and left her rotten in the end
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!
Vicki Kralapp Aug 2013
You're the best of the best,
one whom I can trust,
my inner most secrets I confess.
You have been my all in all, the best of the best.

You're as deep as the sea
and as bright as the stars.
You're the one that I can count on
for now and through years to come.

You're the person that can hold
the wanderlust in me and keep me close;
the one who steals my heart away
and brightens my every day.
All poems are copy written and sole property of Vicki Kralapp.
jane taylor Apr 2016
in the midst of an emerald slumbering forest
laced with pungent scents of jaded wood
a burgundy blushed tail
of a chestnut hued fox
scurries as copper sunbeams part the day

a hospital lumes starkly nearby
its aura exudes hints of melancholy
commingled with faint impressions
of halcyon futures
not yet lived

at neighboring dartmouth
a student sprinting to class
drops his crimson colored backpack
the prospect of cancer
far from his budding consciousness

my beloved sits patiently
pondering pensively
his last chemo treatment
elusion of death
not far from his mind

i feign to fend off future catastrophes
watching letters scramble across my screen
earnestly writing
in a desperate attempt
to be with him forevermore

an aquamarine hummingbird drenched in tranquility
senses the inverse
its amber tipped wings stand seemingly stationary
while it steals a quick glance through the window
curious at chemical infusions meant to heal

my beloved walks out
of the austere building
with rose colored glasses i feel
that we’ll whirl on the tips of gilded stardust
dancing with another chance to fly


©2016janetaylor
Atlas Jul 7
Society is a prison.
It traps you in
And steals your freedoms.
Makes you conform.
Until you are normal.

So why don't we escape?

Because we are afraid.
Afraid of being alone.
Loneliness rots the mind
It steels the heart.

We all decided
Being trapped together
Is better than to be free
Alone.
Sutherland Jan 9
The waves pull part,
our sails fill,
our ships depart.
Off you crest,
the marble's arch.

Away, away,
the swirling mass steals thee.
Away, Away,
my sail steals me.

To opposite bay.
To differing stars.
The infinite plane,
the blue in the bars.

Away, away,
oh, gem of the sea.
Away, away,
me.
This has caught a lot of attention so I’ll give a background as I do with my other poems. My significant other and I are separated most of the year by work and study. I wrote this days ago when she left again.
RS Williams Dec 2014
broken apart
devolved to
bits and pieces,
mere shards of who
I once was; we are never
the same as we were
before—each day steals
from and gives to us
pieces of ourselves,
and by now I
know the day steals
more from me
than it gives,
and soon I'll have
eroded completely,
incandescently sifting
away in the starlit
scenery of old
times and fond
thoughts.
patty m Oct 2016
Clustered in groves
green with rowan leaves,
They dance in dreamscapes
evoking spirits akin with nature.

Stars hang from the trees;
lanterns illuminating the glen,
they cast eerie spells of longing
soft as an errant breeze.

Solemn visionaries caught
in a world of twilight
watch as the Sorcerer
makes rings float.
They spin, these magic orbs,
claiming vision,
as awareness steals away.

Pagan drummers
pound out ancient rhythms,
the druids gather, dancing in a ring.
They spin and writhe in exaltation,
pure emanation of moonlight’s gleam.

In ghostlike umbrage of the past,
the living wall heaves,
crashing to earth

As the gray false dawn
hastens day,
hooded figures halt their disport,
settling now still expectant;
with grass cool beneath their feet.
They bask in beltane dreams,
unaware of the sorcerer’s spell.
Racquel Davis Jul 2014
Imagine you are walking
Imagine
Imagine a place
A desert place
Where the heat steals your energy
This endless sea of sand ***** you in

You are imagining a place
Imagine
Gentle grassland
The full moon is enough to keep you sane
The wind whispers your name with a cool and warm voice

Imagine you are falling
Imagine
Barren sand in your mouth
Your face meets the horizon and it kicks you in the eyes as you sink
Your screams are heard by no other except the hand that saves you
And once more you are walking in the desert place again

©Copyright 2006 Written and Edited by Racquel Davis
This is an old poem I wrote in high school. It has been edited many times.
laura Jun 2018
laugh at the spring
of an innermost bud
sweep into drunkenness
an insensitive buzz
couch surfing hymns

state to state, you in your
least excellent of clothes
still steals the breath away
from the shiniest worn by most
best friends for life, safe from him
"One lie weakens a thousand truths."

"Time heals, steals and reveals."

"Karma finishes what revenge neglects."

"The future is uncertain, but we play a part in its design."

"Help when you can, pray when you can't."

"If your life is out of focus, it's time to change the lens."

"Honesty is in the alcohol."

"The only thing better than a second chance is never needing one."

"Sometimes the most valuable company is yourself."

"Instincts over impulse, always."

"The greatest comeback is the one least expected."

"Fear is a light sleeper."

"You can't change the past, but it can change you."

"Some are born with a silver spoon, others with a pitchfork."

"Even the smallest of pebbles has its place in the sand."

"The humble voice resonates the loudest."

"Write your failures in pencil, your triumphs in ink."

"Scars speak every language."

"Two things you should always trust: your gut and your God."

"Every tear leaves something behind."

"Courage brings you to the fight, wisdom wins it."

"Relationships start and end, but the lucky ones get to begin again."

"The devil doubts. The angel accepts."

"Biggie makes you dance. Tupac makes you think."

"Justice is money green."

"The only thing better than good friends are lifelong ones."

"I'm in a fight with life and I'm losing on points."

"We are remembered for three things: the times we did good, the times we did bad and the times we did nothing."

"Every underdog wants to be top cat."

"Love never travels alone."

"Dreams reveal what thoughts conceal."

"The problem with the world is the wolves outnumber the sheep."

"You can't spell tragedy without rage."

"Focus on the valley and the hills will disappear."

"When you ignore pain, it ignores you."

"The past and future are distant cousins."

"Hope is always listening."

"Moonlight is for lovers and devils."

"Nothing will get you in better shape than a breakup."

"Time is a tattletale."

"Sometimes all that's left is a penny and a wish."

"There's a special place in heaven for those who suffer on earth."

"We are connected by smiles and tears."

"The mirror mimics what the mind imagines."

"If infidelity was a crime they would have to build more prisons."

"What the blind man sees, the sighted man seeks."

"The ego is a phony friend."

"Luck will take you as far as fate allows."

"Two things that never forget: elephants and broken hearts."

"My train of thought has no conductor."
JB Claywell Oct 2018
Waiting for what?
Nothing much is happening here.
Still, there’s nothing wrong
with waiting around for a while.

The air is amazing tonight.
Damp,
cool enough to make
the earthen odors
mean a little bit more
than they might otherwise.

There were two ravens
on the street lights
earlier this afternoon;
we looked at one another for a minute.

They had their sodium lamps
to roost on,
passing judgement on us below,
but there were other errands to run,
no time for further inquiry
as to the harshness of the gaze they leveled.

Still, we looked upon each other,
it was like they knew something unknowable
to anyone else at all.

We ate a tripe supper,
with beans and onions.
The smell of the tripe was a pleasant,
but readily acknowledged
barnyard smell.
As I chewed, I knew doubtlessly
what I was eating.  
It tasted fine.

After supper came a pair of cigarettes,
some time to walk.

There was no real destination.
The only task was to avoid the torpor
that comes all too readily
once the belly is full.

Now,
the house is asleep.

All but me.

I can still smell the lingering smells
of fried ***** meat and onion.
Now harsh,
a bit unpleasant.

I’ll make enough use
of such a small displeasure,
so as to stay awake just long enough to finish these lines,
take another short stroll
into autumn’s savory fragrances
before sleep steals what’s left
of tonight’s living wage.

*
-JBClaywell
©P&ZPublications 2018
Sharon Talbot Sep 2018
Mourning

Mourning is an eerie thing,
Not always tied to death.
It may celebrate or sing,
May widen eyes or lighten breath,
May bring unexpected things.

Sometimes it is a wayward thief,
That steals among the tombs;
It can alter feelings, and twist beliefs,
Searching for less bitter rooms,
Yet it brings a strange relief.

The heart may not know it,
Nor the mind accept it,
But it may be for the best.
As it guides the sorrowful away from grief,
To a long and healing rest.
Re-reading this, I was reminded of some of the riddles in JRR Tolkien'ts "The Hobbit". I'm fairly sure these were based on the word-play of either Anglo-Saxon speech or Middle English, that Tolkien knew so well. Perhaps I worked some of this in unknowingly?
Nico Julleza May 2017
∙∙∙◦◦•◎•◦◦∙∙∙
Blue kite soaring up high on cotton clouds
gently rolling by, and trees gazing up the sky,
A sound of singing lovers, a harmony so grand,
A song no one can sang.

The air steals a gentle bliss
from where their feet kissing the hazy mist,
A mint of scented moss, that sets the mood,
From gray rocks to pink balloons.

It was never a waste of time to be there too,
But those who only looks upon the moon,
In true heart’s desire, faith requires,
To see what true lovers often do.

Underneath the starry night
deaf ghosts sailing by, meant nothing to harm,
But just to bid goodbye, so tenderly they sigh,
For a moment in one summers night.
#kiss #love #stars #ghosts #summer #night #son #sky

This is my first ever poem Published in HP

(NCJ)POETRYProductions. ©2017
Jack Chicago May 2015
o halogen light with CD
and cassette holder
how your ribs they envelop
a promise of symphony
as you stand tall and straight
like a guard at the gate
you relieve all my troubles
with your blinding light bubbles
you brighten my day
keep the shadows away
though your color is lightless
you make me so nightless
your a wiry lifeline
steals perception of time
how quick the hours fly by
i'll never know
top of your glow
to the tip of my toe
your electric insides
could frizzle the tides
and your mental effect...
well...
it gives me good rides
hahaha good times! i wrote this at 15, baked as hell. skippin class to find enlightment.
meqan Jan 21
anger tends to creep up silently,
much like a cat would to its prey.

anger dwells in the pit of your stomach,
slowly eating away all other emotions.

it steals your happiness, your pride,
your everything.

until you’re nothing more than
a ball of anger and sadness.
free verse poem.
Stu Harley Jun 5
the arc of time
steals the flesh
from
our bones
when
time remains
and
breaks
through
the
chant in your eyes
Andrew Rueter Jul 2017
I started on the rooftop
The empty sky above was all I had
And all I needed
It was pure
Like a blank page
Waiting for a story to be written
But at the first sight of clouds
I fled to the top floor

There were fun and simple things on the top floor
Like Pokémon games
I got red, white, and blue
The monsters seemed so banal and repetitive
But nobody else would acknowledge it
Sending me into a dragon's rage
I tried using flamethrower on Charmander
Ending in futility as I ran out of burn heals
I looked out the window in frustration
Rain was falling outside
Inside
Patriotism was buffeted by the hail
So I devolved into a lower level

Going further down this building
For ***** and giggles
I found more ****
Less giggles
On a floor with a TV displaying the news
I was eager to learn about the world
Only to learn everybody hates each other
And nobody talks
Or cares
And the smartest person in the room
Is the one I agree with the most
Unable to view the tokens in my mind
As anything less than treasure
And those who try to persuade me otherwise
Are thieves
My spite steals tranquility
Like the persistent storm outside
My solution is shelter in lower levels

My experimentation on communication
With the general population
Had rained on my playful parade
But I felt very comfortable on a floor with friends
Until they saw through my charade
Discovering my emotions in disarray
As the people who made me love this building
Made me curse it's walls the more I loved them
I searched for the peaceful embrace of solitude
Once the storm outside transformed into a typhoon

I found that solitude
In a tiny bare room
With a syringe and spoon
I was unaware
That room was an elevator
That lowered me down the concrete void
As the hurricane outside rattled me violently inside my box
Trapped and lacking all agency
I resigned myself to wherever the elevator chose to take me

After the elevator finished pulling me into the basement
The tsunami seemed to cease
But I was buried under debris
I had to burrow out of my tomb
The dig was tedious and *****
My perseverance was heroic
But triumph was thwarted
When I reached the surface
To discover only wreckage remained
And when I looked up
I saw the building I inhabited
It's damaged facade
Made it clear
I would never visit those floors I missed on the elevator

Above my building
Hangs an empty sky
It's purity is a lie
The page was never blank
Just constantly written on and erased
To lure innocent readers into a tome
Ciel Dec 2018
War
War.
One syllable.
Three letters.
Such a simple word.

Why then does it have such an immense power?
The power to break people.
The power to annihilate.

It rips children from their parents,
Tears lovers from each others’ arms.
It steals our youth
And smears our last days.
It divides the most united people,
Destroys the most beautiful of countries.

It is the greatest of hypocrites.
Some claim to fight for their countries,
Some for their oh-so-loving religion,
And others for their family's honour,
But all are driven by none other
than their own poisonous ego and pride.
And if not the individual,
The institutions sending them
To their certain demise is.

It kills most,
And those who escape it
Are left with a fate far worse than death:
An eternity of guilt and sorrow,
Of agonizing memories
And restless nights
Wondering what could have been.

It is filthy, corrupted and tainted.
Tainted with the crimson blood of the fallen,
The deep scars of the survivors,
The shrill cries of the mourners,
And the money of those in power.

And the greatest of its crimes:
The innocents pay the highest price.

You see those fancy politicians with tailored suits
standing in front of the crowds preaching
about the bravery of the people
who are being desensitised to killing
and taught to not feel or think but just obey?
They are not the ones who lay awake at night
too scared to close their eyes,
too afraid of their own minds.
They are not the ones who were told they were heroes
and yet came home to find themselves without support
sleeping every night on the cold concrete
in front of some big-name store whose owner probably
profited off the same ******* war that led them there.
They are not the ones who will try for the rest of their lives
To heal the generational trauma they inherited from their parents.

No, see those fancy politicians are going to go home tonight
to their big fancy house in their big fancy car protected on all sides.
They are going to have a great night of sleep
knowing they have just gained new funding for their campaign
by sending innocents to the slaughterhouse
so that the CEO of some oil company can make more money.
They are content knowing that
they have successfully put a price on a human life.

War.
A word that should evoke negative feelings
and yet has been so normalized that we no longer respond to it.
War.
A word that describes the most atrocious of realities
but that has somehow been made into a badge of honour.
War.
A word that should be feared and despised
but is instead weaponized to manipulate the people.
War.
A word that should never be the first option
but has become a shortcut for greedy rich people
with political influence to obtain more power and become richer.
War.
A word that was said to be associated with "barbaric", "uncivilized" people
but has somehow mostly been used by the "civilized" ones
and is now one of the pillars of modern capitalism.

War.
One syllable,
Three letters,
Just a ******* word.
Pagan Paul Dec 2018
.
Kalypso sports within the waves
luring sailors to watery graves
but if they make it to her isle
there they may tarry for a while.

Food and wine are given a'plenty,
they are rocked into lust so gently,
Nymph, Maidens, Bacchanalian revelry
lead the sailors into darkest devilry.

*** and sin are openly displayed,
a salacious procession, ***** parade,
And all men their vices expressed
seek the comfort of Kalypso's breast,
her hospitality soothes, allays their fears
as she slowly steals away their years.



© Pagan Paul (05/12/18)
.
Azuraine Feb 2018
To the moon and back you professed. But…..
The Crescent moons edge drains me as it pierces my flesh.
To the moon and back you pledged. Only….
The new moon is heavy now, smothering, as it presses down on my chest.
To the moon and back you alleged. Except….
The full moons beams blind me as it steals my fight .
Luminously I am led to my emotional death….
I love you to the moon and back, he said
Spenser Bennett Mar 2016
Rough hands caress her soft skin
Lilac and lavender brushed against
Smooth lips so warm and wet
Perfect strangers still not met

And it's a fury, a madness in slow motion
Torturous passion of ****** oceans
And we cherish it in the worst way
We crave it even on our darkest day

To be returned brings fiercest joy
Gentle tears of your little boy
Unrequited it steals our quiet
We feel our chests become silent

But oh the world she runs on
Like nothing has ever gone wrong
But we're stuck in time, stuck frozen
Love is a drug best left never chosen
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