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Pooja Jajoo Jul 28
She's a book,
If closed, an unknown chapter
If opened, a complicated chapter
If read, a deep thoughtful chapter rather acquaintance chapter..

If understood, known but still ..'a stranger'

Until or Unless ...

You read her ...
Not just once Twice or Thrice...

-Pooja Jajoo✍
onlylovepoetry Feb 2018
you can’t right the same poem twice

hell, yes I can
in pointy fact,
only got one,
which gets re-righted
morning noon and evening-tide

substitute a variant spelling
wright vs write vs right
and the meaning changes thrice

the only thing i can’t not duplicate is those **** love poems
each unique and writ for the woman specific,
each love one, custom jiggered,
each poem, crafted, to her pulse
each drafted, to her scent
none alike, and that’s why I believe
in the god who commanded "create him"
to make love poems in his way,
gave me millions of veins
of inspiration to pray to...
my heart altered, modified, daily

**** poems
**** love poems
**** love
2/2/2018   10:14pm
Nat Lipstadt Oct 2013
October 2013

for Maria and Logan...

you need two hands, one foot.
count my years.
each finger, worth a decade.
each toe, well, a century...


point of inflection,
point of opportunity,
presents itself,
to rewrite history.

a second coat of paint,
gift-wrapped in weak excuses.
how I lied, how I ain't,
grimm-fated fairy tales
somebody created.

invisible suits of gold-cloth
worn to my party of
past rewrit and
future foretold.

one single thought,
seizes my heart,
as I fall to my knees.
cracks my temperate ease,
renders open the
woof and weave
of recycled deceptions,
causing all to be revealed
and ask,

what if the poetry ceases?

you know prostrate?
you taste grief?

have you not but
one pain,
one act,
one deed,
one memorization,
act of cowardice,
act of desertion,
mistake maden, taken,
for which
can never
be given,
be taken,

do, does, did.

let me then
win the birthday lottery,
let floods of relief from
daily chores, not drown me,
chauffeurs to drive,
masseurs to massage,
cooks to cook,
les delicious treats,
keep theologians, logicians
on retainer, if need

none know, can provide,
still and yet, a
priestly sacred chord,
grants relief,
song of hallelujah
the ache of
perpetuity worry,
that ancient pain,
grows fresher daily,
the loss of one,
of my body,
my primal knot
everything should be
permitted to be untied,
on my birthday, no?

this day, these days
breathe through words,
molecules of vowels,
stem cells of consonants,
the fabric, the tissues of life,
veins are a dictionary
of corpuscles,
red blood cells are
nouns of nutrients.

this day, these days,
the infection of my soul
is tempered, kept at bay,
tamped down from the
full flowering
of white blood cells
of rhyme, verse.

what if the poetry ceases?

Though the bones creak,
the body they carry. resurrect
for morning, afternoon
and evening prayers.

thrice daily poetry I recite,
roses red, violets blue,
my marrow transfused.

though my prayers refused,
the poetry act immolates
the fringes of my disease,
for which the common cure
is not currently invented....

what if the poetry ceases?

but be assured, told
scientists hard at work,
on the
forgive n' forget drug.

take a bubble bath in
rosemary and mint
trap some words,
tap some words into
your cell phone bone,
the poetry heat that
provides aspirin relief.

through this poem,
on one day annual,
I am relieved, relived
the muse is feted, sated,

gone for few moments
concerns, worries of
exposure today,
agnostic's foxhole of hell
is dis-remembered,
the gloss returns,
the faux dispatched,

ain't birthdays grand?

what if the poetry ceases?

what rhymes with
could it be

bath drains, rosemary and mint
odors dismissed, the  Argentine disparu,
the Spanish Medievalists,
the Neo-Raphaelites,
all gone,
didn't they have birthdays too?

didn't know
the Renaissance come
and go,
and nobody
tole ya?

please recall t'is the day
after my sweet city recorded my
naissance in the
Hospital of the Flowers
on Fifth Avenue.

the 'crats put the datum
in the bureau with the
night creams and
the statistics
as follows:

on this day + a few,
six or twenty decades ago +
a few centuries,
a question was born,
and an ache that is
sometimes relieved,
by a poem song.

though do not celebrate,
t'is a day to calibrate,
review, edit, tinker,
rewrite, often a stinker.

always one thought recycles:

what if the poetry ceases?

(how will I breathe?)
Notes: my birthday was a few weeks ago. One of a number poems I've written about birthdays.  This one was modified, but only slightly for Maria and Logan.
It's such a quaint notice to understand
The very point on why Friendships are made
And you in Cheer, though Special beforehand
Was just a Concern I had to obey
This thrice on Crop's Best; And opened before
Such that Stubborn Mules fail to socialise
They only eat grass - aloof and demure
And a Good Partner most unqualified
We shared the News once. That a Good Exchange
Of Certain Facts the Telly won't disclose
How frustrating when we need a wide range
And once we did just adds to our Remorse.
Freakish Things they are, Roaches in the Brain
Unless we sweep this, infest they remain.
#tomdaleytv #tomdaley1994
zebra Aug 2018
on the dark of the moon
from strewn clippings
i ate her fingernails
and dreamt of her thrice

by the bright
was mine
from the book of shadows
nadine Sep 2017
sweetest dream

i always see your eyes at night,
in the dark, they shine so bright
when your gaze landed softly on mine
your twinkling eyes found my dreamy eyes screaming my desiresㅡ screaming you.
It was a sign.

the fire of our lamps was so close to ignite
you were so close,
but it doesn't feel right.
and then i blinked twice. thrice.
and almost thousands of times.
nothing has changed.
only the stars have welcomed my sight.
suddenly, a bitter smile was painted on my face,
it was right afterall.

in reality, you're a star.
you were close enough for me to see you glow
but not close enough for me to see upclose.
in my dreams, you are real.
for you are all the good dreams
my reality couldn't bear to hold.
maybe this was for my kpop boy
this has been
Marla Feb 15
Tempest-tossed and out of bounds,
My youthful vigor marches on.
Exiled thrice on different scales:
First from my homeland,
Then the place I called home,
And now,
What used to be our world.

Because I'm different.
Not radically so, but just enough
To have me pushed away.
It seems the fascists aren't dead
After all;
They just hide in the people
You love until they come out for-

Forget it;
Thoughts like those don't help.
Me and you have to think
Of ourselves.
Day after day,
We're led on and told we're wrong.
Truth is,
We are the emboldened ones;
Gallant and strong-
The might of light within us all.

So stand tall, my humble friends,
Our call to arms is but a prayer
Cast down to us
For the sobriety of our good nature.

Love is the answer;
For if you love all
As if all loved you,
You'll eventually find that it does.
Mystic904 Oct 2017
Grand edifices, seem pretty nice
Hoarding up money, such a heist
Pockets full, everything to boast
All that luxury, all that toast

Curtains of wealth, over those eyes
Trapped in such a state of vice
Stockpiles of silver and gold
Deal, a sign, everything sold

Wealth in reality, zero a price
Counting em, this year x thrice
Pretending to be above n bold
The stiff heart you couldn't mould

Crawling over body, ants and lice
Scorpions too, it's nothing nice
Shivering with fear and cold
The pain, agony, all foretold

In the grave, horrendous mice
Game's over for the rolling dice
No one to tell, weren't you told
To that paper now grab a hold

May it be Burj khalifa, all those malls
The huge tall towers, everything falls
Sabotag shall suffer those proud walls
The vast stage, superior than all halls
Dan Jul 13
Lying in the park, entangled, lost in a thoughtless trance- there is no need to hide, I shut my eyes. Sky chuckling, birds dancing, flowers whispering; bee’s listening. The moment is seductive but the present eludes us - I sense memorable dreams lurking, behind trees, painting its curves, feverish, envious, persuasive in its attempt to bridge us together.
We are lured in,
there are no promises...
no specter of thought.
Just today, remind me its today.

“Why cant we stay?”

the earth beneath,
carrying the weight of my tender heart, unshackled by the grip of your starving hands; kind enough to let us play and share its space- once, twice, thrice...

Your hand slowly slip under my skirt, pulling down my sweet intimate,
I am wet from all the celebration,
what a clandestine surprise!
A sensational rapture,
loud as the clouds, maddening sound. Envelops the day like a tension film desperate to penetrate the savage sun,
Foolish, undoubtedly foolish.
serenade me in this shade, my little fire.
Remind me its today.

I could hardly breathe..
I suffer sweetly in your hands, oh how you make me suffer sweetly everyday.

...helpless, glued to the ground, frustrated, anhilated by the movement of your hand, those fumbling fingers tracing my delicate skin... I weep my darling..

I hear the day giggle,
their piercing eyes watching us,
intently, closely...
Ignorant of the world were in.
Ignorant of the world Im in,
drowning in your gaze,
I see a reflection of mine- deafening!
She moans quietly.
She reminds me its today.

“Why cant we stay?”

You are driving me mad, my sweet darling.
I dont want them to find us,
I remorse, I wonder, what a sentimental thrill to be close to you this way-
hidden, exposed for the taking.
what is this terror, my sweet ecstacy?

You go deeper, reach higher, my toes curling, body reluctantly surrender, melting into each other, ravishing each other, hands crawl, on my knees, my eyes start to water...
you never listen, how joyous.
once, twice, thrice...

do you hear me my lover...
Im begging, whispering, but this time
for more. Come back to me. Light me up once more, I love how you light me up again, and again, and again.

I kiss you gently, roughly, then all at once.
The sun boiling at the palm of my hands,
Im begging for its mercy,
I wish to never forget!
Your hands held me down in prayer,
once, twice, thrice...

Then all at once,
body start to simmer,
lights start to flicker,
unfolding in a twinkle,
I no longer need reminding.
Keep me alive in this place.
L B Jun 2017
I was wrong about the rain
Robins are calling for it
Fragrance of honeysuckle and pine
have joined the ozone--
Priest in swirling raiments
dangling sensor on a chain
waving it in air before the altar

clink   clink   clink

Releasing smoke that bends the mind
before the monstrance of the sun
with storm surrounding
Clouds sift through the rays and rain
Bowing thrice--

clink   clink   clink

He waves it in the air before the altar
releasing smoke
into the high and holy
Inchoate murmurs
incense hands
into the nave
As Catholic kids, we were dragged to mass pretty regularly.   Between being terrifically bored, I got my little spirit elevated by all the pageantry of bells, and music, art and statuary,  the Latin litany with its dead language, foreign sound.  I was especially fascinated by worship of the incense-- the atmosphere it created.

The nave is the main rectangular hall for worshipers. Related to the words ship and belly.
jonni inferno Jul 2018
i met her    
in a waking dream    
as i walked beside    
the sylvar stream    
whose chattering laughter    
shifted suddenly    
into a sylvar pool    
of enchanted silence    
a mirrored glaze    
in muted    
dawning rays    
her cascading mane    
a crimson flare    
sea-green eyes    
alluring stare    
my heart stopped    
to see her there    
'pon a verdant garden lee 
the misting sylvar mere    
the weeping willow trees    
dahlia lips    
whispering desire    
vermilion plunder splayed    
by her charms    
heart pounding    
i stay    
an' wi' faire
lithesome beauty lay    
'pon a lush an' vibrant field    
the misting sylvar mere    
the weeping willow trees    
we lay there    
lost in time    
in the silence 
of kindred minds    
an' i knew her name    
tho she spoke it not    
sipped i then
the misty morning dew    
from precious lips
that from me drew    
all that i    
ever thought    
or felt    
or knew
'pon the grasses lush and green    
the softly glowing mere    
the weeping willow trees    
soft sings    
the whippoorwill    
the meadowlark    
an' mourning dove    
their voices weaving spells    
for lover's yearning hearts    
in the meadow    
by the way    
where my love an' i    
do lay    
'pon the gleaming sylvan shore    
the shining crystal lake    
the weeping willow trees    
the dawning days    
were passing
when came malevolence    
a thund'ring tempest    
lightnings flashed
in ragged gashes
'cross the heaven's    
stygian passes
an' from those
gnawing caverns
a raging
demon's brood
an' down flew they
by the sylvar stream
where my love
and i
did lay
the mystic sylvar lake
the weeping willow trees
then from my arms    
vile creatures tore    
my lifesong    
my heart's blood    
my one    
and only love
her scintillating form    
they ripped    
her silent
piercing cries    
thru my soul
an' took her they  
far from this    
desert shore    
as her soundless    
chorus fades    
an' leaves me
here alone    
to lay    
'pon these shifting lifeless sands    
this sylvar lake of tears    
the weeping willow trees    
the meadowlark    
her spellsong sings    
thru ebon winter's    
the silver stream    
her laughter froze    
this heart    
once fire    
a soulless stone    
so now this raven
doth fly
to scour the bruised    
an' shadowed skies    
to find my dove    
an' bring her home    
to lay
'pon these frozen brittle stones
the darkened sylvar tarn
the weeping willow trees    
thru timeless age    
an' dangerous realms    
i followed    
her silent    
as her grisly    
mewling pleas    
hollowed out my soul    
'til at last    
i found her    
chained an' bound    
deep within    
peculiar planes    
an' baneful realms    
far from    
the laughing sylvar stream    
far from    
the weeping willow trees    
her lament    
of bitter tears    
an' fear    
thru my defenses    
a doomed    
pernicious heart    
she was    
thru deepest depths    
where madness reigns    
all hope destroyed    
hell's minions    
my dove    
called i    
my love    
'tis i    
once more    
thrice more  
and time again    
till finally    
she hearkened    
to my voice    
true love    
recall us    
you and i    
thru ageless realms    
consider us    
under heaven's wings    
at my fingertips

an' i  
drew her then    
into my arms    
ambrosia lips    
her sweet alms    
from her dark pain    
i did drink    
of her    
malignant sorrow    
i did partake  
my questing    
thirsting hunger    
did i sate  
gathering all    
her shattered pieces    
from those altered    
now broken    
i carried her
'pon wings    
of true love's    
sylvar light    
far from    
these darksworn legions    
the dawning night's    
farthest regions    
an' there    
close by    
the laughing    
sylvar stream    
lay her gently    
'pon the verdant flowing shore    
our gleaming slyvar mere    
our weeping willow trees    
under glimmering    
starlit heavens    
the whippoorwill    
the meadowlark    
an' mourning dove    
whose soulful songs    
for yearning lovers    
charms of hope    
where pools    
the laughing    
sylvar stream    
whose mirrored gaze    
draws us deep within    
as the wind    
thru our hearts  
as we lay entwined    
'pon a verdant garden lee    
our misting sylvar mere    
our silent    
willow trees    
p j upchurch
Pooja Jajoo Jul 27
Read her..
Not just once,
Twice or thrice..

Know her
Protect her
Feel her..
Feel her emotions
Feel every bit of her


Being around people
She is 'FORLORN'

She is fighting so long...all ALONE..

-Pooja Jajoo✍
brenda c Apr 2017
as the night started to glimmer
and i was sitting at the balcony
curiously seeing a city of madness
wondering the tragical tragedy
that could happen for thrice

my eyes could barely see
a rhythm that keep spinning around
on the sightly stars

my soul was trying to reach out hardly
but still trapped in this seductive frame
words by words were running through my teeth
on this peculiar night of nights

then the fact that i smiled
even wider
meant to the blissfulness
upon this endless grief
Once the world was pure in design
Twice the air was sullied
Thrice the demons came forth to dine

Once the world was pure in ideals
Twice the water grew red and muddied
Thrice by the angels who broke the seals

Once the world was pure in responses
Twice the earth was spilt
Thrice the gods of man spat nothing but nonsense

Once the world was pure in expansion
Twice the flora and fauna were made ashes
Thrice the world was thrown into hell’s mansion

Once the world was pure
Twice it fell
Thrice was made no more
Part three
(They’re exerpts from my book)
Umi Feb 2018
What might it be that doesn't let me compete to three verses ?
Perhaps it is that I tend to write longer poems, perhaps the lengh
shouldn't matter so much as the message is carried through.
From mind to heart, then to ones soul I try to reach out with no goal.
Yet am beaten, brought back down, by three verses which show up
with such malice, ominous, threatful aura, they have approached me.
I pretend not to mind, I pretend not to have seen it, yet the simple,
silly, broken stream in my thoughts has already engaged it.
So that it once again, cannot repress, envy on such a level.
My writing style might have been through changes, might have
come to a disliking to those who prefer a clear, structured, yet well
recorded, beautiful and magnificent rhyme pattern.
That should surely catch one's eye, perhaps fill them with glee and
bliss, happy thoughts that they would miss once they are gone.
But no, I cannot turn, this path was chosen, locked, destined to be
walked upon on an journey which has become endless, by time
which had stopped passing anymore.
So now it became unrecognised, forgotten, left in an abyss without
any light to expose it to the world outside my head.
Such is the fate, which I will gladly bear with, for this, has been
a  route, from which I learn and educate.
So go ahead, you can take my flame thrice, even if I might not be
able to burn this image into your eyes, this ember, about to go out
from the cold, windy, airless area, will only burn brighter.
As it rises from the ashes and yet again, goes ablaze

~ Umi
Heavy Hearted Jan 16
My heart is heavy at the gates
Where I was caught before;
Could catch my breath beneath the light -
Kneeling at the door
Gothic bars locked from inside
Thrice absent as sorrow states;
Alone theres nowhere left to hide-
My heavy heart beats; at The Gates-

Waged war unto, through words themselves  
Im obsessed with this fight,
My heart is heavy at the gates -
Forever sealed despite.
Kore Nov 2018
I will
         the sky

         just to

the stars
       your eyes
Vandy Madireddy Sep 2018
I walked into a church today,
One I wanted to visit for days,
I passed by it, saw the huge doors open
Inviting me in daily, but I just didn’t go in.

I’m a Hindu by religion,
Indian by birth,
I have an older sister,
My mom and my dad obviously.

Why am I telling you this?
Well because I’m everything but
Happy, calm and sorted,
Just angry, irritated and anxious.

They fight, my mom and dad,
They love each other, or maybe they don’t,
But they fight and argue,
They don’t hold back on concern either.

They talk a lot, my sister and him,
The guy she’s seeing but not dating,
The guy she’s serious about but hasn’t met,
She’s always on the phone, sharing every bit of her life.

I entered the church,
Felt nothing, felt the same as usual,
No excitement, disappointment, nothing,
Temples don’t help either.

I love my family, they love me back,
They care and support me, a lot!
I don’t want it most of the times,
It both keeps me alive and suffocates me.

They are always there,
Standing right by me,
If not in person, then by spirit,
Always a call away.

I talk to them every day, thrice,
Twice at least, message my whereabouts,
It’s a habit, a want, a need
To let them know everything about me.

They are fighting now,
I got an email this time,
Not a phone call, nor message,
Mom lied, that she’s got her migraine.

Dad’s left the family WhatsApp group,
Blamed it on the work stress,
But I know better, we all do,
I may be the youngest, but I’m 20.

My sister’s fed up with me,
Well she’s not the only one,
I shout, scream, screech rudely,
Loudly, with no sane reason.

I know I need help,
We all do, for anger,
To love and feel loved,
But it’s never going to happen.

I am a psychology student,
I want to let the world know,
With my research that depression and anxiety,
Can’t be beat with medicines nor by expressing.

My sister’s a Human Rights student,
Who wants to help people,
Support and care for them,
You can’t, nothing will end human suffering.

We are the sole cause of it,
Human suffering, the ones with fuel,
The ones with the extinguisher,
Yet, each time we choose poorly.

My family is broken, ******* up,
It’s surviving on a thin string,
But it won’t break, ever,
We’ll all just drift apart.
Shadow Puppet Sep 2017
In that moment I couldn't believe the words you'd spoken to me
Something is wrong you said it thrice
As if you were saying something new about my life
You're really clueless
It's kind of sad
What makes you think I'd tell you my problems
When you're like 20 years older than my 48 year old dad
You can't stop me from drifting away
You can't make me not escape a place I was bound by chains
My feet were not made for shoes
And I refuse to be caged
You can make dust out of my dreams
And it'd be used by fairies
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