"unites" poems
There's oceans, a thousand crystal oceans
above Venus and the moons, swimming in the constellations, an endless orange stream of stars and angels, falling like rain, dripping like a prayer, soaking our old home.
So dance closely with me, for upon our red rooftop, let's enjoy the slow breeze, while the moonlight unites the oceans in the sky,
and covers the Brazilian seashore;
For it heals the soul of the green earth.
All the old sycamore trees, the owls, the hawks, and snakes,
all these things run for existence.
So hold on, onto my words,
Like your wedding ring, let me hold you close.
For in the quiet broken night,
I can feel your heart beat, your emotions that run like water.
Let me hear the river and rhythm of your desires, and your ambitions that lie
awake in you.
Let this, let this moment separate what you fear,
as I listen to the drums of your heart.
here
hold my hand, then let my voice unlock creation,
Echoing and speaking the languages of your dreams and desires,
for how I do love you.
Now see the moonlight's rule over the stars,
speaking pictures of grace into the quiet night.
In such a way the power of the moonlight stands like a king,
thus I will listen, open and unlock the waves of your dreams.
Aug 22, 2017
Aug 22, 2017 at 12:21 AM UTC
(haiku x 4)
Sun hides...dips lower
Moon and stars deck the dark sky
Dusk is upon us
Lights.....softly glowing
Drawn curtains are a pale screen
Casting drooping forms...
Voices fill the air
Night, patiently hears the moans
Shame fades at dusk...for,
Dark unites shadows
Cicadas join the whimpers
Wind...comforts the soul...
Sally
Copyright February 2015
Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan
Apr 16, 2015
Apr 16, 2015 at 6:34 PM UTC
We are all equal
Our bodies may differ
As may our minds
And some may be more complicated
Than the creation of the universe alone
But let me say this
You too are different
So is the next man or woman
All with individual faults
All with secrets as big as yours
And all following their own path
For difference unites us
Difference move us on
And though it may be hard to accept
The next annoying being who crosses your path
Just think
Who do you annoy?
For that makes you equal
To that person who pokes you
To the person who is immature
To the person who you think the worst
We are all equal...
Apr 26, 2015
Apr 26, 2015 at 5:10 AM UTC
The Rockies sing to us at sunrise
when crystal snow-capped peaks
chant iridescent matins to the dawn,
the dawn of a fresh new mountain day.
Luminous pastel clouds
hover across the horizon
painting the hills and valleys below
in mysterial shades of
lavendar, amber and rose.
The Rockies sing to us at daybreak
when every crest and vale
unites in raising anthems to the dawn,
The dawn of a bright new mountain morn.
Forests and fields awaken.
A bull elk grazes by an alpine lake.
An eagle soars through the morning mist
over rainbows of Indian paintbrush.
A hilltop lake spills over its rim
and cascades down the slope
etching serpentine streams in the valley below.
We can hear the mountains singing.
In every creature, ridge and flower
They bring to us their jublilant songs
of wilderness, wildlife and wonder
.
We can hear the Rockies singing.
The mountains sing forever!
June, 2009
May 12, 2014
May 12, 2014 at 3:58 PM UTC
I survived another day.
I will rewrite the forgotten,
before it is extinguished.
Steam in my lungs.
Carbon monoxide.
We ate honey in the morning,
to tablespoons.
We kiss without tiredness.
"Bathing together unites us," he said.
Resonant palpitations.
The guitar sounds soft.
You give me music of spirit.
I survived another day
because you breathe.
Sep 6, 2017
Sep 6, 2017 at 2:42 AM UTC
Words and letters are written on walls
Some as vandalization others as messages
Words and letters are written on walls
Words and sentences are written on billboards
Some serve as advertising others to arouse awareness
Words and sentences are written on billboards
Words and paragraphs are written on my brain
Some serve as inspiration others to support guidance
Words and paragraphs are written on my brain
Words are the weapons I use in a society that controls my image
Words are the only thing that can divide me from being ghetto or educated
My words are the only thing that I can vouch for like my *****
My words are the root of the intelligence that propels this sentence
Letters in my words stand close to each other eager to make a statement
If I do not show my words, my letters of cheerfulness begin to fade away
Sentences are the compound of the mind that begs to be understood
Sentences are made up of a tyranny chained down by a trendsetters mood
My sentences contain verbs, nouns, adjectives and subjects that explain a lost purpose
My sentences define the meaning of an ironical imagery that leads me to dream
Sentences paint a picture that any blind character can see
If I do not paint my sentences how will I ever show my brains art gallery
Picasso used the paint brush to express his moods and feelings on a canvas
Shakespeare and Allan Poe used ink to utter their thoughts on a sheet of paper
Somewhere in my mind the collision of words and paint occurred
Where I fused the essence of writing with the masterfulness of painting
My words and sentences have met a significant other called paint
Paint and words are my new best friend
Paint and brushes are splattered and used upon walls
Some are called vandalization while they represent artistic skills
Paint and brushes are splattered and used upon walls
Paint and words are written on subways
So the eyes of the young and old can see the traveling message
Paint and words are written on subways
Paint and words smack up at my face
So that the world sees who conveys this message
Paint and words smack up at my face
Paint gives visual to what words cannot picture
My Paint serves as a method of expressing the mind’s tears and smiles
My Paint becomes a tour guide through the loops of divine wonders
Paint is just a stepping stone to the magnificent path of beauty
A brush is just a brush depending on who holds it
A brush is like the keyboard I constantly battle with to unleash my mind
A brush can combine negativity and positivity and make peace
A brush unites celibate beliefs with those whom are perverse
Words and sentences along with paint and brushes help explain my motive
Jonathan Pizarro
Lost Cause © 2011
April 17th, 2011
Sep 28, 2011
Sep 28, 2011 at 12:42 AM UTC
I dwell on thoughts,
I examine the sum of my experiences,
Sometimes, I spit out extreme emotions.
I search in vain for something common.
I observe the struggles of all conscious beings,
looking for a universal language
that unites rather than divides.
I know…
I won't be able to ...
I won't find...
Has everything already been said or written?
Fortunately, the sun is still there,
watching over me.
Its light always finds its way
to attract my soul like a magnet
calming gently
agitated states of consciousness…
Feb 21, 2025
Feb 21, 2025 at 3:46 AM UTC
People sometimes ask me why I study so hard.
The question always stumped me.
Why do I study so hard?
Why do I stay up till the wee hours of the morning to study?
Then, I realised.
I don't have looks.
I don't have a good body.
I don't even have a good personality!
All I had was my brain, and my words.
Knowing this pushes me to study harder so that I won't be left behind.
Maybe I just want to belong.
I mean, each clique has it's distinctive trait which unites a group of people.
The good-looking (and typically popular people) group together.
The outgoing ones group together.
The athletically inclined ones group together(and they run in every single marathon that they can.)
I don't fit in any of those.
I can only hope that by studying hard, I will not only get good grades and a sense of accomplishment and pride but,
that I'll belong.
And that's all that I've ever wanted.
Sep 5, 2014
Sep 5, 2014 at 8:02 AM UTC
*
*
I watch you from afar
my greatest love in argent-kissed armour
He who dreamed of being greater than
a mere fighter, stronger that a solider,
wiser than the Kings who pass and come
He who is born with an angel's allure,
he who unites all from all walks of life
I feel your vesper gaze upon me,
ambitious, charming, wise and poignant
With a charisma, a light that outshines the
very sun, a heart warmer than gold
and softer than cotton.
I pray you will succeed
That you will find your way
For no matter how far you wonder,
and how I think of you in yonder
I know in my heart,
You will return to me once more...
*
*
Aug 15, 2018
Aug 15, 2018 at 5:04 PM UTC
The Broken Ties of happier days,
How often do they seem
To come before our mental gaze.
Like a remembered dream;
Around us each dissevered chain,
I n sparkling ruin lies.
And earthly hand can ne'er again
Unite those Broken Ties.
The parents of our infant home,
The kindred that we loved,
Far from our arms perchance may roam.
To distant scenes removed,
Or we have watched their parting breath,
And closed their weary eyes,
And sighed to think how sadly death
Can sever human ties.
The friends, the loved ones of our youth,
They too are gone or changed,
Or worse than all, their love and truth
Are darkened and estranged;
They meet us in the glittering throng
With cold averted eyes,
And wonder that we weep our wrong,
And mourn our Broken Ties.
Oh ! who in such a world as this,
Could bear their lot of pain,
Did not one radiant hope bliss
Unclouded yet remain?
That hope the Sovereign Lord has given,
Who reigns beyond the skies;
That hope unites our souls to Heaven,
By Faith's enduring ties.
Each care, each ill of mortal birth,
Is sent in pitying love,
To lift the lingering heart from earth,
And speed its flight above;
And every pang that rends the breast,
And every joy that dies,
Tell us to seek a safer rest,
And trust to holier ties.
4.4k
the backyard is home to a field of flowers
amidst the roots the family dog discovers skeletons
the petals stick to themselves; the weeds spread
it's found that the flower-bed holds its secrets
with curiosity and wandering eyes comes a child
in innocence, he opens his arms only to receive pain
he drops to the earth, writhing in pain
his light form crushing the weeds and flowers
the dog barks at the screaming child
and tries to release him from the skeletons
the strength of their grasp is that of their secrets
you see the effects spread
across the child's skin they spread
his face warping under the pain
opening his mouth, he began releasing his secrets
telling only the ears of the crushed flowers
and the arms around him, those of the skeletons
look at the helpless child
the bones are engulfing the child
grabbing and pulling, faster they spread
the boy becomes one with the skeletons
he becomes one with his pain
his body sinks further down into the flowers
and the flowers promise to keep his secrets
the weeds overheard his secrets
the boy looks less and less of a child
as he settles in with the flowers
making room for him, the flowers spread
the suffering subsides, decreasing pain
he's almost as the skeletons
his body unites with the skeletons
the ***** age keeps his secrets
no longer is there pain
no longer is there a child
into the ground, his limbs spread
into the roots of the flowers
the pain no longer is in the child
because the skeletons stole his secrets
his bones spread among the flowers
Apr 18, 2011
Apr 18, 2011 at 1:59 PM UTC
All are limitory, but each has her own
nuance of damage. The elite can dress and decent themselves,
are ambulant with a single stick, adroit
to read a book all through, or play the slow movements of
easy sonatas. (Yet, perhaps their very
carnal freedom is their spirit's bane: intelligent
of what has happened and why, they are obnoxious
to a glum beyond tears.) Then come those on wheels, the average
majority, who endure T.V. and, led by
lenient therapists, do community-singing, then
the loners, muttering in Limbo, and last
the terminally incompetent, as improvident,
unspeakable, impeccable as the plants
they parody. (Plants may sweat profusely but never
sully themselves.) One tie, though, unites them: all
appeared when the world, though much was awry there, was more
spacious, more comely to look at, it's Old Ones
with an audience and secular station. Then a child,
in dismay with Mamma, could refuge with Gran
to be revalued and told a story. As of now,
we all know what to expect, but their generation
is the first to fade like this, not at home but assigned
to a numbered frequent ward, stowed out of conscience
as unpopular luggage.
As I ride the subway
to spend half-an-hour with one, I revisage
who she was in the pomp and sumpture of her hey-day,
when week-end visits were a presumptive joy,
not a good work. Am I cold to wish for a speedy
painless dormition, pray, as I know she prays,
that God or Nature will abrupt her earthly function?
3.7k
Sometimes i wonder,
Wondering wonders of wonderful
World,for i living in this awful
World,spiral of life with terrific
Surroundings.
Unholy acts to the victims of
Xenophobic attacks,violence
Turns an everyday speech.
Government revolts gathers.
Towards poverty-stricken.
Diseases classic collide,remittance
Assassins rendered for intensely
Militancy.
Objection!!my lord,
Shysters bailing out
Evil-doers,juridical system
Not pertained.Poverty-trap
Pounding,chemical gases
Filling lungs of little
Ones.
Somebody play nice to
This,God play part to
This,denote dualism of
Good and evil.
Yesterday they gang banged
One of your children.
Drugs co-operate infection of
Young minds,youth gangsterism
Uproar.
Father herd your sheeps
To the right path,we seek
Guidance from above.
Family horror-strucks unites,
Matrimony rending day by
Day,onto religion segregations
Strickes by ??????.
Keep holy to this life *Life
Testimony* and paste
Amen...
Oct 12, 2015
Oct 12, 2015 at 4:32 AM UTC
“Oceans Above Venus”
by AR Combs
There are oceans—
a thousand crystal oceans—
above Venus and her moons,
swimming in constellations,
an endless orange stream
of stars and angels,
falling like rain,
dripping like prayer,
soaking our old home.
So dance with me—close—
upon our red rooftop.
Let’s breathe the slow breeze,
as moonlight unites the oceans in the sky
and washes over the Brazilian seashore;
for it heals
the soul
of the green earth.
All the old sycamores,
the owls, the hawks,
even the snakes—
they run now,
chasing their existence.
So hold on—
onto my words
like your wedding ring.
Let me hold you close.
For in the quiet, broken night,
I can feel your heartbeat,
your emotions
running like rivers.
Let me hear the rhythm of your desires,
the pulse of your dreams,
the flame of your waiting ambition.
Let this—
let this moment
separate you from fear,
as I listen to the drums
of your heart—
here.
Take my hand.
Let my voice
unlock creation,
echo in the languages
of your dreams and desires—
for how I do love you.
Now see—
the moonlight rules the stars,
painting grace
into the silence.
And just so,
in that power,
like a crowned king,
I listen.
And I will open—
I will unlock
the waves of your dreams.
Jul 18, 2025
Jul 18, 2025 at 10:41 PM UTC
In a hammock
On the eve of final exams
There is a scent of caffeine coursed bodies pacing
the distances of Starbucks and the library,
an unusual sight at eleven at night
There is peace
In the fraternity- I think begins with a Sigma-
running around playing a vicious thirty person game of tag
Yeah, I witnessed that wipeout and it was hilarious
There is heat condensed around the height of brains
Struggling to realize dreams that require
Busy work man! It's just like six hours of nonstop busy work
The guy on the bench behind me whined out cooling breath of brown leaves
There is energy in the fractal jungle above
The towering umbrellas of Palm trees which grant me the magic of hovering
I see through waving leaves Orion's Belt.
The light pollution overpowers his body but
he reminds me that there is more in the astral world
Ibis scour the ground
Some would read the tea leaves
that bravest of birds has crossed my path
And I will survive the tests that I allow to define possibilities in life
There is closure to my left
Two girls in a hammock, bodies combined like a turtle in a shell
Only they know what goes on inside,
and all I witness is the harmony that the trials that students go through that unites
Aug 7, 2014
Aug 7, 2014 at 6:35 AM UTC
For you have betrayed
The Dark Angel.
I was bound to have loved you.
Your words invite me,
Unite me,
And still betray me.
Is this how you repay me!
Say you will stay with
Me until death,
Just one life time.
Your voice calls to me,
Unites us within my dreams,
But you have drawn back
Within fear.
In all my fantasies
I have always knew,
The angel above was you.
Your power grows very strong
Over me infusing me with desire.
The desire to love,
To love the angel.
With this fallacy instilled
Within my dreams you
Still betrayed me, my angel.
Why my angel,
Why is it that
You have betrayed me.
I the dark angel had needed you,
You the angel of the night.
You shall curse the day you
Betrayed the dark angel.
To many years fighting
Back the tears,
And now my blood,
Nears to an end.
You my angel shall
Turn to meet your fate.
The time is too late,
There is no debate,
No way to change your fate.
Jan 23, 2013
Jan 23, 2013 at 12:53 PM UTC
But in the end
what unites us is not
the menacing sins of the past
but the braving hope
for the future
Oct 24, 2014
Oct 24, 2014 at 1:23 AM UTC
Music is my Deity
and so benevolent is it!
A mystical Tapestry
woven upon Silence and across Time,
what about that is not Divine?
Music doesn't divide, it unites.
It attracts expressive minds, creative minds, empathic minds, logical minds.
It creates an abstract temporal psychosocial middle-ground;
You don't have to be a virtuoso
to drum along or dance or vocalize.
You don't have to be a virtuoso
for practice to reap it's rewards.
We speak with Music:
Language is a Musical thing;
it employs Rhythm and Pitch and works through Time.
Music is a Linguistic thing;
it communicates things that otherwise cannot be said
while also having room for Language itself.
Music is no singular aspect;
Music is not defined by medium,
nor is it defined by orchestration.
Music is wholly Abstract,
relating only back to itself.
Music is defined by context;
Music is a matter of perspective.
Footsteps are music, in 2/4 time.
Heartbeats are music, in 3/4 time; this defines "swing" feel.
A Clock is music, in 1/1 time at 60 beats per minute.
A year is music, in 365.25/1 time at 1 beat per day.
The duration of the Moon's orbital period and Day are a Unison; 1:1.
The four Galilean moons of Jupiter orbit with the resonance of Octaves; 2:1 ratios of wavelength.
The ratio of the lengths of Mercury's Year to it's Day is nearly a Perfect Fifth; 3:2.
Music is implicit.
Music is mystical.
Music is a Metaphor manifest,
for the nature of the Universe;
even the very word "Universe"
means "The One Song".
Music is truly intrinsic;
I am a Shaman of Music.
It is an Honor.
Jun 30, 2013
Jun 30, 2013 at 2:03 PM UTC
The crowd
Of decaying walls
Whose roof that united them
In common interest,
Belief,
Prosperity,
Has collapsed into the ground
Leaving them stranded:
Searching for someone to blame
As they crumble in the rain.
Out of isolation come the walls
To stand in city streets
Chanting slogans,
Holding placards,
Walking alone
Though with each other.
Between them
All bonds lie broken:
Each one stands
In contradiction with the crowd,
But walks with it
In self-righteous anger
That divides them even as it unites.
This movement stands afraid
To question
To answer
To find
An answer to their anger
For fear of what it might unbind…
Apr 4, 2013
Apr 4, 2013 at 10:57 PM UTC
i want you to remind me
how the moon and the stars above
glance and hides how shy they were
whenever your voice soothes the trees and living creatures, reverberating the paradox of joy and sadness in your giggle
i want you to remind me
how the ends will never be the means of loving and that saturating my soul with your presence is more than i could ever receive, a reality unmet with circumstances of chains upon ourselves
i want you to remind me
how long it would take to consume the universe on your palm or the life in one single breath, or the night with a hymn that lights up my way home
i want you to remind me
of remembering goodbyes and hellos
the mellow sound of now and the agonizing tomorrow swifting its way to uncanny sound of laughter and sniffed tears
i want you to remind me
that there are more to life than we ever thought of: death, absence, nothingness
i want you to remind me
that i could always see the mirror of myself in your brushed short hair, chapped lips and past you never left behind, just the like the songs i've made to remind how unusual semblance of people unites hearts and eventually tear them apart
i want you to remind me
of the days where i loved deeply and without hesitation or fear of falling behind or the anxiety of losing what i never had in the first place
i want you to remind me of the days like this
where the smile in my face meant the world, home, and happiness from your single hello or the way you tilt your head and stare and smile and laugh or when your cheeks blush and swims together with the universe in your eyes and the waters deeply engraved in your fingers how the waves strum the music in your spirit and soul
how i want you to remember,
the way i will remind you:
i will remind you of how i love seeing you mess around and make everyone happy, your vain and cuddly smile behind the tint of the sun, along the banquets of academics and artists
i will remind you of how assured i was that you were whom i prayed for to a nonexistent deity of the wind and beauty; how i wished to feel its rush as i roam around, and steep-down the wheels, continuously weighing down unafraid of a valley of morality and questions
i will remind you of the philosophy of the meaninglessness of existence and how life was never the meaning but pain of waiting for death; you made it bearable and the ample grace of your heart is what i'll keep to my future journeys of seeking what i would trade for life itself enduring the morning commutes and cruelty of mischievous eyes
i will remind you of the day i saw you, and how tall you stand as me or how shy i was whenever i was in front of the crowd, but most of the time you give me the strenght to brush off what everyone would say
i will remind you of the day, and the days to come
i will not ask for more or less, it will be enough, and i hope with that, i will be enough, and i, hope you would always remind me #
Mar 21, 2018
Mar 21, 2018 at 3:35 AM UTC
Footprints so carelessly left in the sand:
So varied, haphazard, yet one common band.
The confidant jogger, the beach-combing wren,
The legions of desperate women and men,
Each of them leaves behind wet indentations
For those so inclined to survey and relate them.
How heavy the footsteps of those bearing burdens,
While almost an outline from those sans diversions.
These footprints so often abandoned are strange,
For they effect any who come into range.
How so many strive to make some path go noticed,
When often the same ones leave marks out of focus.
Ghosts of the efforts of steps left behind,
Yet lost to the ages, anonymous finds.
But one thing unites all the grainy debris:
These footprints will be swallowed up the sea.
Aug 13, 2012
Aug 13, 2012 at 7:12 PM UTC
No more vibrant bazaars with vegetables lined across carts
No more shouts of vendors piqued with anticipation for the day's sell
No more selling of fruits and poultry to the hordes of families lining near a mandi
I must be on the wrong street, my memory fails me.
No more spices being sold for a day of solace from the midnight cries of a mewling child?
No more rabble of vendors that belong on fields, away from home and from their wives?
Is this even Delhi?
Oh! Look a tricolor map on a desolate stretch of empty push-carts
Why does that torn flag that unites us all hang low in humility?
Where are all the people of the city?
Is that my India putting on a broken disguise?
The only thing holding me together is my dignity
Jan 26, 2021
Jan 26, 2021 at 12:43 PM UTC
most of my life I have tried to keep
appearances and show the world
that I was a strong confidant young man
I smiled my polite smile as I was dying inside,
so afraid to share with any other human being
all the shame and guilt I kep buried deep inside
I have a fellowship of people today,
where our common weakness unites us
and we find strength in mutual vulnerability
when I embrace my weakness,
I allow God to enter into me
through my wounds
how easily I forget along with the rest of the world
that God chose to meet us face to face in weakness,
in a flesh like mine
Aug 19, 2014
Aug 19, 2014 at 8:33 PM UTC
To join something that unites
A brother and sisterhood
Together for eight grueling weeks
Learning to work together
To fight side by side
Gain the experience
That can save each others life
At first we felt and seemed hopeless
Homesick and lost
Feeling all alone
Days went on
Days turned into weeks
Finally like a light switch
Everything started to make sense
We came together as a division
We came together as a ship
We came together at the command
We can begin to understand
The meaning behind being a United States Sailor
Ready to go to war
Ready to make peace
Ready to save lives
What our forefathers taught us
Fought and died for
We are proud to serve
This great nation
The United States of America
Nov 8, 2014
Nov 8, 2014 at 11:50 PM UTC
Society's light is one of oppression,
It hides in the shadows the manipulation,
Of likes, favourites and ratings,
And of course, the TV stations,
That tell us how to live.
But there will be a time,
When someone opens up their mind,
And notices the signs,
That dictate our every step.
Why not today?
Let's smash up the light bulbs,
And pull out the fittings,
Let's switch them off at the mains.
Let's wreck up the power stations,
And cut all the wires,
So only darkness remains.
It's time to listen to the crying stars,
It's time to listen to the silent cars,
It's time to listen to the city at night.
Because the city at night is shouting:
*Louder!
Louder!*
And the rain on the pavement's calling:
*Stronger!
Stronger!*
And tribal rhythms,
Inspire the buildings,
To get up and walk.
And driving heartbeats,
Persuade the dark streets,
To rise up and talk.
*"It's time to stand up for what we believe in!
It's time to show the world how we're feeling!
Because the light has blinded them from our point of view!
From our vantage point beneath your feet,
We've observed the city that never sleeps,
And realised it needs to change and let the darkness through!"*
And all the onlookers and sympathisers,
Respond with a chant,
That shakes society's foundations to bring it down.
*We don't want to fit in!
We don't want to give in!
To peer pressure within
Every waking day!
We all want to regress!
To when we all had less!
When money hadn't quite messed
Up every word we say!*
As every light goes out,
Each with a bolder shout,
Those in charge watch in awe as the revolution wins.
The entire city unites,
To bring about the night,
A dusk to match the dawn of humanity's sins.
But in the morning the sunrise,
Brings the reform to its demise.
And light obscures the strings that control our minds.
Dec 5, 2014
Dec 5, 2014 at 5:42 PM UTC