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Cné Feb 2018
Much has been said
against me
however,
I will not be spiteful
or allow hatred,
the beast of darkness
that resides
in the black jungles
of arrogance
and ignorance,
to infect me;
for that is no reason
to give way to anger.
So I refuse to let anger
**** my heart;
for anger
is the scorpion’s poison
of peace
and love, it’s sunlight.
I choose light
contentment and happiness,
as poetry’s not a contest
of winners or losers;
it is the essence
of a poet’s soul.
Peace, love
and harmony
reigns over
anger, hate
and contention
Lexi Harwick Jan 2016
it's been 43 days
since we last talked.
the worst thing is:
you still don't care.

it's been 43 days
of throwing stones
and the pain
I cannot bear.

it's been 43 days
of suffocating;
without you,
there's no air.

nothing matters
to me anymore
besides the fact that
you're not there.
Umi Apr 2018
Silicate, emotionless sedimentary,
Darling, it is cold, doesn't care wheter it breaks or if it is swept away in a stream, cut into small pieces by the sharp rush of flowing water,
While it may hold no emotions, it can be the bringer of hope, bliss, happiness, sadness but also spite and envy, or a simple fulfilment,
Look at the wedding-rings, their stones on top to embellish beauty such as the insurance to be with the other through thick and thin,
Some diamonds are rough, but they are stronger than stones, if that is enough, harder and almost unbreakable, sorted in line moliculary,
When the kiss of death puts us to rest, a tombstone is the sad, cruel remembrence of a former life, sprouting blossoming and blooming, before returning to the soil it once had found its origin, its beginning,
I will try to be your wishing one, your shooting star, racing through the glory of the starlit nightsky to catch a moment of your passion,
Burning up within the atmosphere of your warm embrace, dearest.
Drawn by your gravitational impact on me, I will be your comet, returning to you each day without burning away as rapid as a meteor.
Darling, alike a blazing Sun you make me melt.

~ Umi
I am sorry for these love poems, I can't help it sometimes <3
Robin Lemmen Nov 2018
You leave pavements ******
And graves dug but without bodies
Learning tricks of manipulation
You know how to wrap us around
The small of your finger
With bloodshot eyes and a mouth
Full of sweetened poison
You kiss girls and leave them hungry
Foolishly hoping that your touch
Just might heal them
You leave pavements cracked
So we are all left skipping  
Hoping to save your back
Isn't love unkindly blind?
Tom Spencer Jul 2015
I had not been born yet.
Still, I can see you at your labor -
alone, scouring the meadows
for the stones -
lifting their gray shoulders
from the moist earth -
pulling them from the
green grasp of briars,
goldenrod, and
Queen Anne’s Lace.

The smell of the earth
must have filled you with
your own childhood memories -
of plowing fields
and cold mornings
trudging across barn yards
mud thick on your boots -
promising yourself
that someday you would leave
and never return.

I can hear the pick axe -
the sharp strikes
against the stones,
and the dull thud
when the earth
swallowed the blade -
and the deep exhalations
when the stones tumbled into
the old wheelbarrow – new then -
that now leans rusting
against my garden shed.

Some of the stones were so large -
far too large for one man –
how did you move them?
I look at the old photographs
and you seem so young –
so much younger
than I am today - and so thin –
staring off-frame beyond the camera.
What were you looking for
in those fields?

I can see you sorting the stones,
stacking them -
building and unbuilding
and rebuilding the walls
and  terraces
until the walls were true
and the terraces level
and planted with dogwood,
birches, soft grass for bare feet,
and bordered with roses.

Did you know
that you were building my castle?
That the highest terrace
would be my tower and keep?
I remember calling out to my
knights, my legionnaires,
and tribesmen –
rallying them in defense
of the citadel –  ready for
the coming siege.

I also remember looking out
across that verdant kingdom
for the last time -
no longer a king or a boy –
and miles away, across the river
to the west, I imagined
the new home that awaited us.
I couldn’t know
how far away it would be
or what it meant to leave.

This morning,
as I looked out across
the garden that I have built,
I felt the weightlessness of time
and its gravity
settling me into place.
For a brief moment I had
the sensation that I was standing
on the shoulders of
gathered stones.

(for my father, Guy Spencer.)
Tom Spencer © 2015
kevin hamilton Oct 2017
northern window
breaks from the inside
there will always be others
for you to skin
and starve and overflow
with tacit permission

the ground
parts for me this time
i would rather stay awake
but my eyes are heavy
and dimming fast
dearest, let me lay
in this tidal pool of blood

i am always left alone
after last insipid words
whispered thinly
from a ring of stones
Purcy Flaherty Mar 2018
A shallow being that simply consumes, discards and then moves on to the next host!
Every good or creative act is designed to mask that simple fact! This creature presents a chosen character and sexuality for reasons pertaining to social image.
*** is simply a tool for manipulation or pleasure!
There is no love!
Just stepping stones!
people using people
Joanna May 16
The river flows to the ocean, releasing in me the freedom to love like never before.

Beckoning me, to immerse myself in rays of light that pierce the dark waters below, and wooing me to let passion grow.

he river flows with beauty and charm, removing dullness of vision and adding length to years.

Bringing forth a new tributary it draws me near, similar, and at the same time all its own.

This river flows forth with strength, out of a foundation of stone.
To read more of my writings go to: http://reflectionsoflight7.wixsite.com/home
Marta C Weeks Jun 2017
The mind
when immersed in memories
of yesterday carried by
hopes of tomorrows
and thoughts that like stones
on the surface of a lake
skip from feeling to heart
tracing ripples of emotions
as from nature's beauty
to the smallness of self
is a universal totality
brushing wind over water
to wave onto shore
a life that lost on Earth
helps grow the next wave
that reaches beyond
into the horizon
where some go to sleep
while others wake
are born or take last breath
to be born again
matters not if the sun shines
or the moon reflects on its surface
glass only gives back
the reality of what is
not what one wants
the universal blanket
over and under
above and below
into time on end
not wavering not changing
to accommodate humanity
sustains eternity
what was and what will be
wishing to be more
is as a mere leaf that falls
over an oak seed on its bank
majestic in the passing
before and after us
is where we take part
of forever

Marta
06/01/2017
I edited.:
ryn Oct 3
I am but a stone
just skipping across a body of still.
I get a taste
yet never fully drenched.
Not until I lose all momentum
and mobility - I sink.

Submerge...

And then drown.
Alexis Oct 9
it’s my fault really
I gave you the sticks
Taught you how to throw the stones
and you broke me .
Twigzy Sep 2018
Your children are a precious gift so innocent and pure.
At their birth you have the hope of love, lasting evermore.

You spend your waking days attending to their needs,
Waiting for the next smile and sound of utter glee,

And when you sleep you dream of them and wait until the dawn,
Rising before break of day to greet them in the morn,

Your babies grow and soon become your little girls and boys.
You exchange all their play things for larger, bigger toys.

You’ve learned about mothering and matured along the way,
But your relationship with their daddy isn’t turning out ok.

There are ups and downs and you expect that to be true.
But underlying unhappiness begins to escape through.

Daddy doesn’t seem to be all he is meant to be,
Late nights in the lounge, is he watching the TV?

Your children keep you happy though, just look into their face,
They make you smile, they make you laugh, and they fill you with grace.

But underlying unhappiness cannot be washed away,
It’s growing like a tumour, just waiting for its day.

You are not sure what it is, but this one thing you know,
No matter what happens now, you enjoy watching your children grow.

The pre-teen years are nearly over and the high school years draw near.
Then one child beckons you and whispers in your ear.

“Daddy’s been molesting me it started when I was four
All those times you were asleep, he came through my bedroom door
He put his hands all over me I couldn’t make him stop
I wanted to die many times, to fall down and drop!

He hurt me with his ***** mummy, I am so ashamed
I was too scared to tell before because I was to blame
Once, you were in the room mummy, I could see you sleeping
He molested me then and there mummy, I could hear your breathing

My heart screamed out to you mummy, but I did not exist,
My soul began to suffocate and death seemed freedoms bliss.”

The words your child is speaking echo through an empty void,
And darkness falls around you, encumbering you like a shroud.

Someone just stuck a knife into the heart of what was sacred.
Your precious children have been filled with someone else’s hatred.

You need some help, you need to grieve but who can be trusted.
The fear the shame the hurt the blame your heart is torn and busted.

You collect your shattered children and hold them very tight,
You hold them ever so-close, you hold them with all your might.

Flashes of the years gone by ignite before your eyes,
And you see so clearly, all the torment in his lies.

Time has passed you by and your children have grown
But it feels only yesterday you were crushed against the stones
This was how the my first marrage ended.
Our family has survived. My children have become brave adults, they are my heroes
Lilith craved Ficus carica,
Mr. Robot brandished
a branch of Olea europaea.
Would either care to comment
on the state of the world? Their intentions
clear. Is it that "all the world's a stage"
or that all we are is a mirror?
Should it matter that I feel the motions of my mind, and
long to escape without the aid of their counterparts.
Subtle contrarian. Every reaction has its equal
in emotion; each moment has its fulcrum.
Quote:
Line Six from William Shakespeare's As You Like It, spoken by Jaques in Act II Scene VII.
Monika Layke Aug 25
I have rocks in my heart
and a river on the brain.
My eyes, no they won’t cry.
I left that body long ago.

Didn’t know what time it was
when the lights were low.
If you can sparkle I may land tonight.

I’m not the person that you see.
My eyes, no they won’t cry.
Tell me a joke so I can laugh ’til I blubber.
I don’t believe in fear, don’t believe in fake,
or anything you can break.

I’ve got my hands tied, eyes wide.
Come on and kick me, I go weak
when you daze me in the knees.
If you can sparkle I may land tonight.

My eyes, no they won’t cry.
I left that body long ago.
Thorns Sep 2018
Thinking about you  
What you said
You asked me what I see in you
You asked a question and now I’ll answer
I see wild eyes as they stare back at me,
Like burning sapphires, a longing glare
To ask me that question right then and there
Was totally unfair
But now I'll answer a long time after
What do I see in you
I’ve asked myself every day
But oh how stupid I was being when what I see is right there
Now that my answer finally clicked
I see a nice guy kind with blue eyes and brown hair
Now to say that to you I could not
So I wrote it down instead
You got your answer but you didn’t care you even admit that you threw it in a puddle
But a week or 3 later say you kept it
Since you asked me that question and I answered so long after
I asked you that question in which you didn’t take your answer seriously
When I asked for a serious answer you said my response took 2 months
And that yours would take the same but there isn’t 2 months left of school and time for that
I tried you ignore me
I'm in tears
Please
I beg of you
Please don't do this to me
Please Stones
Stones
No...
Look at your eyes harder than ever before describe in nature, an element what you see....
CK Baker Dec 2016
The napalan man in a violet cape  
descended the stair with a lopsided gait
a wretched procession, subscribers in cue
rattling off as they stream from the pew  

sounds and smells from a shadowy place
a catholic priest to gin up base
lanterns strung from bolted doors
cobbled streets and wooden floors  

stepping stones and iron bell
fortified by the citadel
hallowed halls and sepulcher
dragon cane for the horse drawn tour

castle turret,  archer holes
centaur scribed in chamber bowls
garden columns in courtyard view
the blood ballet and hullabaloo  

ancient tombs on warrior grounds
gods and saints who made their rounds
goliath still with battered scythe
knelt in prayer and mummified  

battle fires and crowds that roar
gallows, caves, abysmal war  
gargoyles flock the terraced *****
pearly gates to bring on hope  

serpents, snakes and burning ash
lava bombs and trident clash
mariners drift in absentee
as neptune rises from the Tyrrhenian Sea
Lyn-Purcell Jul 2018
The world is dumbed down, dark
with roads made of glass for
which we caused and keep
One little mistake, one
little crack, people
will throw stones
and laugh and
point when
you
F
a
  l
    l
Nowadays we have to be perfect and correct about everything or else you get backlashed.
I just find it ridiculous because WE AREN'T PERFECT!
Sheesh... You wanna throw stones at others but you hate it when people do it to you.
Tammy M Darby Nov 2018
Where cold the bodies lay
Pledged their loyalty and honor to a lie
They shall nevermore say

Sacrificed their lives for the red,white and blue star covered flag
While covetous politicians  
Piling high their spoils
Washed the blood from their hands

The children mourned the white stones
Where the cold bodies lay
Little boys and girls tears flowing down their cheeks
Throughout their lives remember this day

The proud American died for his beliefs
He shall nevermore say
Vanquished
Silent
When the sun rose orange
Sleeping quietly in marble grave

The widows mourned the white stones
Where the now cold bodies lay
A few loving words by those close to the heart
They shall nevermore say

It was their duty to act as they swore and pledged
A soldier they follows commands
Leaving their souls forever in the golden deserts
While politicians
Washed the blood from their hands

@ copyright Tammy M Darby Nov. 8, 2018
Moksha Dec 2018
I stand solid, the fabric flows against the folds of my marble skin
I watch the fires of angst burn this beauty away so -
Now I am a black, burnt crust from forces that force my feet into the floor and,
As I sink against the fluid tiles and the trippy nightmare of reality
I ask, have you ever seen a statue cry?


M.
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