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Jack Jenkins Apr 2016
Being held in your embrace,
Your head against my chest.
How could you wonder why,
I love this so so much?

It's gentle security against the:
Mind that claws itself every day,
People sparring against our hope,
Tumultuous times this life gives.

An act of love, of friendship,
Compassion and closeness.
You are my companion,
A joy unrivalled in my life.

Everything said here,
Is captured in a perfect act:
Our arms wrapping around,
Bodies pressed together.

Your hugs. My hugs.
//On her//
Yenson Aug 2018
What I bring to the table is Sensitivity, Sincerity, Compassion,
Honesty and Respect
What I bring to the table is Intelligence, Good Grace and Humour,
Understanding and Confidence
What I bring to the table is Generosity in spirit and Deeds, Calmness and Reflection, Strength, Bravery and Courage
What I bring to the table is a Caring Soul, a Good Heart and Faith,
Loyalty and Truthfulness and Trust
What I bring to the table is Versatility, Competence and Originality
What I bring to the table is the Love of Romeo and Real Passion
unrivalled..........

So tell me why I am being GREEDY if I say I do not care if I eat alone!

Am I to blame if some chose not to see
Am I to blame if stunted pride and ego blinds
Am I to blame if stupidity and foolishness abound
Am I to blame if complexes and insecurities assail some
Am I to blame if dishonesty and fickleness is more appealing
Am I to blame if envy and jealousy blind eyes and minds in others

Am I to blame if they term caring and attentive as clingy
Am I to blame if they term Intelligence and Honesty as arrogance
Am I to blame if they term Strength, Bravery and Courage as Male
Chauvanism
Am I to blame if they term Intelligence Competence and originality
as Controlling
Am I to blame when they lack the Ability to look honestly and truthfully within themselves before pointing their fingers

So tell me why I am being GREEDY if I say I do not care if I eat alone

So tell me why I am being GREEDY if I say I do not care if I eat alone
at my table..........
Got Guanxi Jun 2015
soldier of fortune, making moves on the battlefield,
chess checking chances,
Suntzu advances,
as the sun moves and dances.
creeping in trenches, sleeping in shifts,
bullets fly overhead as you hope that they'll miss.
butterflys in the rose fields,
butchered guys in the poppy fields.
broken dreams, decimated teams,
regiments unravelled at the seems
unrivalled scenes that you could never believe.
superhuman movements and medals achieved.
let go and breath, silently amongst violence and tryrants.
No man planned, for no mans land.
The best laid plans lead to mass graves,
massacres last for days, it's hard to understand.
tactics underhand, gas masks steal identies,
you must move fast to counteract the effects of mustard gas
and hidden identities.
popup cemetries, innovative remedies,
death strikes at any moment,
yet it's hard to keep focus.
Don't lose your mind.
Mistakes of mankind, repeated in time.
babyfaced freshmen turn to hardface veterans in the spaces of seconds.
replaced in moments with conscripted kids deplaced from happy homes.
men never found and no chance to atone.
warmongers amongst them that soon change there tones.
railway children leave villages in rubble.
cornered and in trouble as the bodycount doubles.
darknights spent in candlelight
children sleep in there bed as bombers glide overhead.
the bleek reality goes over there heads.
the blitz is a travesty that decimates articheture and leaves structures in travesty.
calamities in the evening and in the morning a start clarity of the destructive reality.
hindsight in bombsites, mortuaries from mortar shells
instructions to give them hell,
you believe them less as each days passes.
bodies piled up in masses, teardrops without caskets.
only dogtags identify the men in the bodybags.
men treated worse than dogs, the living skip over the corpses
of fallen comrades
peace will not come fast. hard to run fast with rations and rucksacks.
bullets start to wizz past as they proceed to fufil dumbtasks,
whiskey in hip flasks. trying to shoot back,
wishing you just get a lift back home to the motherland.
Fighting in foreign lands,
your mother holds her head in her wrinkled hands,
her husband holds her close and hes been there before you.
fought in the great war too and lived through to tell the tale
and ironically see history repeating itself.
a picture of their son sits on the shelf.
he lies wounded in battle, needing there help.
o well.
give them hell.
its just one of many stories to tell.
This was influenced by a verse by Ra Rugged Man
Shysta Mar 2015
They call her the ''Unrivalled'' ,
that she is the most confident and the most sanguine girl they ever met.
They say that not even a pinch of dejection will ever let her get crushed between the walls of miseries.
But they are yet to know the truth which hides behind the most charismatic smile of hers.
Deep inside know that she is weak.
So weak to even admit it.
So weak to dispense it to the world thinking that she is craving for comfort, that she is craving for consolation.
She'll never want people to feed on her fears.
She never will.
Who am i?
That's a secret.
Bijoylakshmi Das Dec 2019
RADHA TO HER ETERNAL BELOVED
You are my Sweetheart, I'm your Spring-spangled Rapture,
I am Creation's beginnings' First Stir
You are the premordial OMKARA.

You are the torrential outpour from the firmament above,
I dwell blissful in the exalted Delight within;
Waves discordant make uproar only at the shore
I stay solemnly motionless in the deep Calm to breathe in.

It is when Earth tilts in utter imbalance
And air roars loud and violent,
I wing in Rhapsody's sweetest melody
You play the most mellifluous notes magnificent.

Up above in the mountain gulf
The demoniac Fire plays the loathsome volcanic dance,
I sit stunned surrounded by the Beauty majestic
You rejoice in your most peaceful Mystic Trance.


It is when man revels in wild joys of flesh and blood
The Divine playfield declares War of devilish wrath,
I do not die the death in this miracle profound
You herald the most prodigious unrivalled Birth.

There looms large strife and stress everywhere around
Storms and tempests in release in prophetic Ocean vast,
I sit in silence sublime of the inmost Reverie
You, busy painting on Creation's canvas your most marvellous Art.

I am Radha, Heaven's most Beautiful Maiden :
An epitome of Divine Love,
You are the Lord of recondite Ecstasy,
Forever rapt in your Certitude's embrace
I revel in your Sweet Lips' love-lorn Kiss.

All that is decrepit and fallen,
All who bring to Mother Nature peril,
All who obeys not Laws of the Unknown
Pay a deaf ear to His Fervent Appeal.

Just as a child plays with sand and clay
Gets angry, not happy with his art imperfect,
Slays all within the twinkle of an eye
His strained arduous Labour of his childhood's defect.

I, Radha being the Power and Prowess of your Sword, Sunrays-powered,
I dance in dalliance of your Moon-rapt Joy;
You are the Deathless Slayer since time immemorial
You are Supreme's the well-chosen Envoy.

I'm the endless flow of amour elegant
The Sun and stars, and moonbeams sport with in resonance;
The Creation's Sole Lover, the Captain of the Playground
For its unlimited Bounty and ineffable Abundance.

The Game of  Eternity  goes on forever
With limitless sanction to man's frivolous acts;
You secretly pull the One String in the Hour
And make all playthings meet their last chance.

I'm Radha, your Enchantress Paramour
You invade the Kingdom to make me your Empress;
To reign in Absolute's uninvaded Kingdom,
For you to rule as the most victorious Prince to your dearest Princess.

We both are well-wrapped in Golden attire of the Celestial hue,
To make the World astir and start the Brightest Life anew.
( Bijoylakshmi Das, Haridwar. 29th July 2019)
Can we believe -- by an effort
comfort our hearts:
it is not waste all this,
not placed here in disgust,
street after street,
each patterned alike,
no grace to lighten
a single house of the hundred
crowded into one garden-space.

Crowded -- can we believe,
not in utter disgust,
in ironical play --
but the maker of cities grew faint
with the beauty of temple
and space before temple,
arch upon perfect arch,
of pillars and corridors that led out
to strange court-yards and porches
where sun-light stamped
hyacinth-shadows
black on the pavement.

That the maker of cities grew faint
with the splendour of palaces,
paused while the incense-flowers
from the incense-trees
dropped on the marble-walk,
thought anew, fashioned this --
street after street alike.

For alas,
he had crowded the city so full
that men could not grasp beauty,
beauty was over them,
through them, about them,
no crevice unpacked with the honey,
rare, measureless.

So he built a new city,
ah can we believe, not ironically
but for new splendour
constructed new people
to lift through slow growth
to a beauty unrivalled yet --
and created new cells,
hideous first, hideous now --
spread larve across them,
not honey but seething life.

And in these dark cells,
packed street after street,
souls live, hideous yet --
O disfigured, defaced,
with no trace of the beauty
men once held so light.

Can we think a few old cells
were left -- we are left --
grains of honey,
old dust of stray pollen
dull on our torn wings,
we are left to recall the old streets?

Is our task the less sweet
that the larve still sleep in their cells?
Or crawl out to attack our frail strength:
You are useless. We live.
We await great events.
We are spread through this earth.
We protect our strong race.
You are useless.
Your cell takes the place
of our young future strength.

Though they sleep or wake to torment
and wish to displace our old cells --
thin rare gold --
that their larve grow fat --
is our task the less sweet?

Though we wander about,
find no honey of flowers in this waste,
is our task the less sweet --
who recall the old splendour,
await the new beauty of cities?

The city is peopled
with spirits, not ghosts, O my love:

Though they crowded between
and usurped the kiss of my mouth
their breath was your gift,
their beauty, your life.
Kate Little Jun 2011
Celestial, heavenly queen
Beauty unrivalled
Oh vanity! ‘Tis quicksand of reason
And angry Gods speak

Purity and innocence
Surrendered
Shackled to crystalline quartz
And blamelessness the sacrificial quarry

Retribution is costly --
Though beauty shines brightly
With vanity
Comes lonely truth
Constellation of Cassiopeia; Greek mythology

June 2011
All Rights Reserved
Lee Janes Jan 2013
You removed your delicate hand away
From your *****, and sprinkled
Stardust upon the moon tonight.

While the clouds obeyed her secret palms,
She parted them enough
For her borrowed light to shine through.

Her beams glittered cataract diamonds,
As any found within Leone’s chest;
Upon boulders centred within this field.

So I approached, aloft, pedestal-like,
And mimicking David’s marble form
Gleaming bright in the Florence midday heat,

With no less than a thousand eyes
Gazing upon his dreaming stare,
I perched and mused of my lady-fair.

While above, each star hummed
It’s distant faint tune, and twinkled
Their beat towards Earths gentle breath.

I inhaled the air freezing this night;
Into, not only my lungs,
But my heart reached over to lend her appetite.

Aided by the cool soft wind,
My voice was never the more raised
Above a lonely child’s whisper.

Thus I began: ‘I thought of how
This glorious globe, with her wondrous hue,
Is the envy of all these great spheres,

‘And to muse with the ebb
Of immeasurable times flow
Over the laments of my darling dove,

‘To relay through my mind,
All the moments I could
Have been with your willing body,

‘The many scenes I should
Have been with you. Those times
I should have said exactly

‘What I felt when you were with me,
When I possessed you
Within my gaze. I rue those chances,

‘And missed opportunities. Know that
You occupy my slumbered visions
From when sleep closes my eyes,

‘Till the birds of dawn awakens them.
And as the year closes,
Since first I kissed your smooth cheek,

‘Know humbly, within your breast,
That you were the shining beacon,
A light which guided me over stormy seas.

‘I pray, realise my words,
Softly spoken from the pages sent
To your hands, were meant for your heart,

‘And your smile, mixed with glances,
Were always a true delight
You bestowed on to me.

‘I let you bathe in my soul,
And I truly thank you,
And forever sing your name aloud.

‘I sit alone here under a chilly
Suffolk night and think
The heavens bright of you.

‘Months have fled, and ease of
My sorrow toward the sky
Is a gift I must offer for my changeless love.’

And ending, ‘Take what you wish, my dove,
But please, I beg on bended knees,
Please, do not take my memory of you.’

These words were cupped on the north wind,
While the moon spread a veiled
Duvet of polished silver over the field,

Spilling dew upon the grass
Bleeding from her sheen, moist,
Velvet sheets of liquid nectar.

Before my eyes, the grass stood to attention.
A million green-eyes begged
More from my heated pores.

Amazed; for rooted to the soil,
Adding immense weight to the ground;
They calmed their sway to my measures.

Clouds rushed over to hear, even
The rested sun-chariot peeped
Back over the forbidden western shores.

The birds of day appear, crying
A chattered song for the suns yearning.
Clouds began to weep uncontrollable tears.

As a ripple from a pond, speeds
Over the smooth surface towards
The shade of the blessed river bank,

As did a wave flow from one end
Of the field to these boulders,
And with fresh breath, these blades spoke,

And graced my ears with speech:
‘Oh soon to be spirit, we can sense
What is about to come on to you.

‘Your love, you love, with every
Drop of blood that beats
Within ones heart, we envy you.

‘Can there ever be a time,
Where eagles roar; when lions fly;
Lambs bite; or wolves graze on us?

‘Ever an instance, a time to come,
Where the moon becomes the sun,
In turn, the giver of life, the moon?

‘When the earth, herself, slows,
And rotates back along her axis?
Men born old; death at birth?

‘Hills, majestic sloping hills, iron flat?
Rivers become grain; ocean freeze over;
Skies, and air, turn to solid?

‘Science; vain in being,
Predicts too much; and beauty
Is lost forever in her words.

‘May some farm boy look through
A hole in that there fence,
And sneak a peak at me,

‘May he run to his herd and tell
The leader of the flock the sight
His eyes just bore in witness.

‘For your cries; may a sudden
Rush of blush greet your lady’s cheeks;
May her legs tremble; her hips grow weak.

‘Let the once ferocious deep blue
Calm his waves, and in his face,
Mirror the skies glorious expanse.

‘The moon; may the moon, believe
That she is not eternally alone,
Swimming in the inky black;

‘Let her study her reflection;
And fall in love with her new mate.
May the stars, count not all, shrink

‘The distance between themselves,
Place tender arms around one another,
In a much longed-for embrace.

‘Finally; may Orion, when touching
Western waters; let him relinquish his sword,
And stem the rains from the bellowing east.

‘We feel your pain!’ And they ceased.
They too, felt my joy.
For my wonderful words spun;

Mingled with undiluted wine placed in a
Golden goblet from a heart-stricken tongue;
Which lapped the chilly air while I spoke freely.

‘I knew once a sweet tender maid,’ I began,
‘And without diminishing
The daughters of this night away from you,

‘I will swiftly say she became my voice.
And as the buds burst free
From winters icy hold; and as around

‘Earths eternal prisioned orbit
Spans another of her quarters,
When the sun strikes intense onto Saharan sands;

‘I was with her, and she with me too.
She graced my songs with galloping mane
And eagle striking ***** of wind.

‘She tenderly flowed through my veins,
As any stream from high sacred fountains;
Any river that deposits into sea;

‘Any artists stroke from his brush
To canvas, that paints oil drenching
Figures of unrivalled beauty.’

I paused my strain, and glanced
At our moon, hung high; hung also;
On my every word, halting her route.

‘And with this’, I continued, ‘and your tones
You gifted to me upon these boulders,
I take this poisoned flower from out my pocket.

‘My young blood presented this to me,
Long ago; for the sun has yoked
His steeds passed four full moons since.

‘He too, my brother, calls aloft
To the tunes of music; he too,
Guides his hand to the strums of natures beats.

‘Against that aged oak, with acorns
Spread at its feet, my brother, leaning
His back to its wrinkled trunk,

‘Plucking in harmony strings which,
In his blonde presence never lay slack;
And flinging away his melodies on the breeze,

‘Spoke thus; “If any time on your travels,
A day presents itself, when you find
Yourself sitting upon those boulders there;

‘“And the moon in her glory,
Glows a frosty crystal white, and the voices
In their millions sway to your laments,

‘“Eat this; for your time has come.
One night waits for all of us and all must
Walk the path of death, and walk it only once.

‘“Look to your moon, and bade it goodbye.
Glance at the grass, and bid it adieu.
And say, above all, farewell to your lady.”
So I eat, and sing farewell my love, with a kiss.’
Nadia MDG Nov 2011
To think for ye self,

solely and unrivalled.

-aye, Victorious!



To sculpt a smilen

on others' visage;

-ye ne’er crave.



But,

the kin’s desiren

hath thine

becometh.
*Got influenced by the language used in Oedipus translated version. This is my first attempt to experiment with Middle English. The actual issue was prompted by my surrounding but the words used at the initial point were given a second thought. So, some words are revised, they aren’t really impromptu.



P/S: I’m open to criticism.

http://ridiculousme.wordpress.com/2011/12/01/ironic/

December 1, 2011 · 3:22 am
A maidenly form with goodly balcony:
Chic design of an unrivalled Architect.
Finely balusters decorate her dreamy
Shape--especial from fore to aft.

As the Shulamite's apples in Solomon's
Pleasing courtyard is her love in my
Heart, exchanging thus my flagons
With her berries on the bed of sapphire,

Until dawn choruses enter the day's ear--
Heaven's chandelier beams into the bower.
Lee Janes Jan 2013
The mighty Atlas, father of those seven sisters,
Bears the weight of heaven on his broad shoulders.
And even one of the brothers three, lives eternal;
In Chaos realms, Tartarus' black abyss, in which
No soul returns, to gaze upon life's light once more.
Although, forgive me, I lie; a few, a few selected,
Have returned from amidst heavy woe, pushing
Down their sorrows. Orpheus ventured,
With sweet song, motherly ordained and with divine,
Unrivalled skill on his lyre, seduced Hades himself.
I too, challenge his great powers; and with her skirt
Flapping with speed, ride on Auroras saffron chariot,
Cooking the sky's dark covering wings, to a baking red,
While the sun gallops up, stampeding behind our cart.
I play, not keen, to act the fool, and lay these pale ivy
Laments in front, which my lips have yet not touched.
I place you in the centre, forests following, clear streams
Flowing as crystals sway on its surface; and yet,
I have not put them to my lips; but keep them by.
I praise not this, but sing, because together we sit
On this soft green grass; now the woods are leafing,
Now the year is at its loveliest, the cheeky girl
Pelts me with apples. Presents are laid up for my Emily,
I myself have observed where doves make their nests.
I'll pick ten apples, picked from a woodland tree,
And for you, I'll pick ten more tomorrow.
You breezes waft a word or two to the gods' ears
And to my pure white seraphim, for her to hear.
I love my angel most of all, for when I left,
She wept and said ‘So long, love, so long.'
Wolves are sad for the folds, rain for the crops,
Gales for the trees, and Emily, me for you.
I love my muse, let him who loves you share your paradise.
Let honey flow from him, let roses blossom
From his pores, to pick flowers and earth born strawberries,
To dip you, in springs of tears myself. My love is ruinous
And the sky extends no wider than my heart.
Say, in what lands the flowers inscribe your name,
The name of goddesses; for who fears the sweet,
Or feels the bitterness of love; let them drink their fill.
Joell Bambi May 2013
The anger swells inside me; a hurt unrivalled, do I wish to seek out revenge?
Revenge on who?!
The monster smothers me until I can no longer see, hear, breathe!
Controls me.
I am no longer sure if it becomes me or I become it,
I see no beginning and no end.
Infinite aching so deep within my chest that it threatens to consume me until there is no longer me!
Can't they see?!
It's drowning me in an ocean of tears and pain and confusion.
It's too late.
A star
Is to be born,
Unplugged
From its conspicuous flesh,

Nonpareil soul--vibrant colours
That mesh.

Unrivalled,
Big,
Brilliant and unique
At core,

Eternal splendor--growing
Forevermore

A light so brilliantly bright,

An energy
So powerfully electric,
But ever so light.

Free,
Reborn into infinite life,

The sun and moon
Extend their immediate family,
Just, as husband and wife.

A star
Is to be born--metaphorically
Speaking,

Death of flesh...
A soul transitioning,
No longer in pain,
No longer seeking.

Immortal in God's domain...

Eternally free of pain.

By Lady R.F. (C)2018
nivek Jan 2020
Winter rules and we sit it out
-more, thankful for warmth and shelter
given space to marvel at nature
-her powerful magnificence
and all her unrivalled artistry.
jeffrey conyers Nov 2012
Astonishing
Beautiful
Caring
Dazzling
Exciting
Fabulous
Generous
­Heart-felt
Implicit
Joyous

At the moment, I have name ten qualities that makes up you.
And those that knows you would agree are true.

Keen
Lofty
Marvelous
Nice
Original
Perceptive

These are six more reasons that keep me loving every part of you.
They represent you.

Quietude
Reliant.
Sensual
Tenacious
Unrivalled
Valuable

Th­ese are six more things people can testify about you.
If they know you.
Or dont.
They will spot this within every part of you.

Worthy.
This quality alone any many could see.
And come away believing it.
It just shows.

X
In my life.
This you'll never be.
You simply means the world to me.

Yearnful.
This I admit is my weakness.
When it's you.
You has this control to create this feeling within me.

Zest.
Again, you shows it.
And anyone that has been in your company knows it.

Twenty six words of loving qualities.
And love wasn't used once except in my ending of this message about you.
NeroameeAlucard Mar 2015
Equally at home in the streets and just as gifted in a suit with a delicately done press.
the smooth operator Is one of the most dangerous creatures we've yet encountered
They're found everywhere, coast to coast, from NY To Chicago, also spotted up north in Canada and down south in Key Largo.

The smooth operator is equipped for any encounter with eyes that pierce deep into the soul and can approach anybody with a confidence level unrivalled by none but their own kind.
There is only one, Nay Two known deterrents of the smooth operator, either a pathetic Roger Rabbit like nerd, or a spilled drink.

careful out there ladies. it's a jungle.
Just giving a little advice
nico papayiannis Mar 2016
I find it easy not to love you,  
but after all these years, that only lasts about 30 seconds
For it is your love that does beseech my innermost thoughts, takes a grip on my senses, never to be set free,
Your beauty , not a parody,
unrivalled in its power to render human flesh lifeless, statuesque I stand,
You found me,  I was hiding,
you love me , I am now alive
Paige Wright Mar 2012
Some don’t believe our souls are meant to find a mate.
That no matter what, we will be left utterly alone at the end of the day.
You have you and I have me.

Until you wake up and discover that all this time, every part of yourself you considered your own unique piece, your personal treasure – well, it doesn’t actually belong to you.
Because after all, who are we but reflections of all the beautiful things we see in the world; smeared and speckled slightly by dirt and grime we either attempt to clean or condemn.

And yet neither beauty nor ugliness would exist in complete isolation.
Myself and my soul are me because of you.
Every tiny little ray of goodness that exudes from you has become a part of me.
For the beauty of the world lies not in the hands of I; but rather can be found in the crux of every different strand of companionship.

The chapters you have written in my life are extraordinary and unrivalled.
And though the eroding forces of time may one day leave those pages yellowed and torn, the stories they tell have been permanently imprinted in the most precious depths of my memory.

Maybe I don’t believe in a higher power than that of ourselves, but somewhere within me resides the belief that sometimes true love has a way of finding its way back into our lives.
Back to the people and places where the most pure forms of bliss and happiness dug their deepest roots.
Amanda Francis Oct 2021
I wonder if this is how a snake feels when it sheds its skin.
A cold blooded, fearsome creature, stretching in unrivalled freedom of its new found unprotection.
Revelling in the glorious vulnerability of being alive, growing.
Understanding how close to death and out of control it is and knowing that these moments, so heavily punctuated with danger, are what makes it feel alive at all.
T Dec 2020
He awakened my eyes to an unrivalled love,
Insomnia grips me,
I stare at him,
Lovingly,
Intoxicated by his very being.
In that moment,
I never thought I'd ever have to watch him,
leaving.
2014
WAli Dec 2013
I was sure
Sure of myself
Thought I was above clichés
Live to please someone?
Psh i'd think "it'd never come to that"
But then he was there
He'd been there a while
No stranger
A comfortable smile
I kid you not
It came to me like a slap in the face
This sudden urge? This unrivalled adoration?
It felt so out of place
Its the simple things
Your little gap between your teeth
The effortless and energising teasing
I began to see see parts of me within you
The quiet thoughtfulness
The smile you had for everyone
Always a thousand times more beautiful when directed at me
Prathipa Nair Mar 2017
Grief has pierced her from childhood days
Today she is forty but still the same
Nowhere to go, no one to protect
Surrounded by eagle eyes to tear her
Scared of her own breath now
Heart gravely asking this world of dirt
Is her birth responsible for this?
Merely because she is a girl,woman ?

Tired of survival in this butcher’s world
Chanting God ’s mantras has become the unrivalled option
God, losing His patience seeing her grief
Came to her with a helping hand
Enough of your tears in this inhumane earth
Come with me my child
Taking you to a world where there’s no human smell
Waving goodbye to this fateful life
Doors of her eyes closed calmly
Mothers,daughters,wives,friends and many women undergoing this situation and scared of survival ! Let us be more bold ladies :-)
Andrew Maitland Dec 2019
The sky is dark. Hazy. Dark. A crack of thunder interrupts the sound of rain penetrating a collection of lonely pines near the edge of a cemetery. It guides an unescapable moment of numinous silence. For one single instant the sky ignites. Hot, bright, white. Just beyond the long shadows cast upon gloomy trees along Locust street a figure comes into full view. Mary dances capriciously upon the grave of her unrivalled faith.

For them, it was a happy day. A ****** trip upstate for an ivy league education. A proper baptism for their eldest granddaughter among waterfalls channeling the firm redemptive grasp of the finger lakes. Before these days of welding fumes and urban decay.

She hid among the books. Projecting her unstable mind upon rows of cast iron shelves to watch them fall three floors below. Her safe existence dissolved slowly while the pages called forward the thrill of pure undefiled truth. And while her peers were busy building an empty cardboard box container faith she slipped from her own eschatological resting place.  

She vanished desperately into an ethereal fog that night. A divine curtain culminating her ignorant adolescence and prophesying dangerously about the upcoming winding Pennsylvania interstate.

She wiped her face and pushed through the dark with nothing in her grandparent’s 4-Runner but a hastily gathered selection of clothing stuffed into a black garbage bag. She spent months watching her fragile soul become slowly crushed by the weight of an immovable system, fraudulent and morbidly obese. She had often contemplated an effective means to quicken her own spiritual suicide but as long as this 4-Runner was moving she would press on.

The state forrest mocked her as she drove. It called her a fool as she began to second guess the decisions she made which led her deeper into this self imposed exile. As her mind began to wander from a state of useful diagnosis into the depths of self deception a white tail flashed quickly across the front of her windshield. That was all it took to bring her face to face with the gravity of her situation. Life and death intersected ten miles beyond the intersection of Windy City Rd.

Mary pulled glass and blood from her hair and struggled desperately to turn the key as if she were running. Not running away from but toward something. Running headlong into a redefinition of life as she believed it to be.

She ran headlong into the temporal seduction of looming blast furnaces beside the rivers of steel. They would drag her search for authenticity through an unholy descent into the lasting clutches of addiction.

Now through abandoned lots Mary walks. Every morning. Every evening. Up steep forgotten streets. Crumbling asphalt, red brick and stone layered inappropriately upon each other. The decay revealing a necessary and unmistakable ode to generations of forbidden deconstruction. At Electric Avenue she would often rush to cast her sins upon the curb of the Hollywood Show Bar.

Day after day this perpetual state of filth quickly stained her hands black. Tar black like the God ****** wasteland she suffered for every day. Maybe a heaven doesn’t exist? Is this is all there is?

She turns the key. Guiding an unwelcome wave of optimism toward the rusted grey Toyota 4-Runner parked in an empty lot beyond the edge of the cemetery.

Through another strange land of death could this rusted out faith still carry her away?

The starter clicks rapidly in anticipation of a crack of thunder, interrupting the sound of rain penetrating a collection of lonely pines near the edge of the cemetery. Just beyond the long shadows cast beyond gloomy trees along Locust street a figure comes into full view. Mary dances capriciously upon the grave of her unrivalled faith.
Mahima Gupta Aug 2015
You skip through my mind
Every second
Half way then to the extreme
And then it goes back to normal

With your unrivalled spirit
Untenable, you daunt around
Your playfulness and optimism
Giving my life an aura or freedom

With every step on the nature's vein
You rouse a feeling of an unbridled passion in my mind
Roaming about exploring jungles of
my innermost thoughts
Influcing me and my psyche with your cheeky demeanour  

And I know that I'll be in debt forever
Because of your unquenchable love and heartiest grins
You little monkey, this will be the way to our humble plight.
Joseph C Ogbonna Aug 2019
Intrepid damsel,
a heroine unsung.
A willing martyr
with courage
unrivalled.
Unransomed captive
with a ransom
infinite.
She gladly faces
death with eternity
in view.
Like her lover before her,
she chooses to be
a sacrificial lamb
to the slaughter.
Leah Sharibu,
the heroine unsung.
She that chose to mortify
her passions
for timeless paradise.
Hardly daunted by
Kalashnikovs and
thunderous explosives,
she inherits a world
deemed abstract by
unfaithful adherents.
A poem honouring one of Nigeria's greatest martyr and heroine, Leah Sharibu. Held captive by Boko haram.
ƛrtie Apr 2017
As a gentle pulse of my verdant heart,
caressing my gracious unrivalled dreams,
you are the color to my shallow art,
I observe you and at once my soul beams.

You were the nitid glimmer that saw me when I was in the purity of dark,
as if your captivating eyes told me
between us lays love's invincible spark.

Honey, your love shuddered my withered heart,
like the breeze that crosses rills and shakes oaks,
with the abscense of you my world falls apart,
to the ashes of our warmth die my hopes.

Roses are red, violets are blue,
I'm out of my head while thinking of you.


  


Steph Oct 2014
you are so unbelievably oblivious,
even by my standards.
I sent you that picture
yeah, I know you have it.
love,
I wanted to talk to you.
I wanted you to whisper in my ear
all of the things you told me this time last year
but apparently
you don’t feel that way anymore.
but I have evidence you once did
when I can't sleep, I type into the search bar "love"
finding bittersweet comfort there,
burying it somewhere among the tears I shed
over what isn't anymore.

2. you are so unbelievably clueless,
even by my standards.
because yes, I took your picture
because you make me happy.
I also took your picture
because I love you
because I need you
because don't know how to be without you -
you’re the only person who’s heard about my writing,
and never asked to read it.
ask, love.
ask.
please ask.
I think you’d be surprised as to what you find.

3. you love, (or, loved) me so unbelievably much
by anybody’s standards.
you held me those nights under the stars
I know you’d not held anybody like that before
love, I could tell.
but love,
every night I lie in bed and I go back to those nights
I’ve never been able to replace them since.
those nights, drunk on moonlight,
I lost, drunk on ***** -
will they ever come back?
darkness is so empty
when I am trying to hide from pleas(e) -
these days I am so very afraid of tenses.

4. our lives are such different paths -
even by my standards.
how I fooled myself for so very long
thinking you were no fork in the road
believing that our walks were parallel tracks
willing my way of thinking to envelop you and change you
part of your appeal, love, is that -
compared to me you don’t know what you’re talking about.
I’m just more careful as to with whom I talk about it.

5. you don’t care as much as I do.
but, by my standards, nobody does.
“right.”?
I’ve poured my heart out to you many a time-
“right.”?
oh, but nothing's changed between us-
"right."?
when you wanted to talk to me
your words fit mine like you were made for me.
now you don’t-
I’m always the one to send the last message.

6. you are not different
even by my standards. and by that I mean
you held on for long months at a time
still seeking after me in the ways that you know how -
and now, as if it had been prophesised months in advance
my fears have been coming true and
you are slipping between my fingers
like sand, faster than I can catch you
and I am so scared.
I never wanted to lose you this way
but the truth is you are not different
you are not special
you are not unique-
not any more so than anybody else.

7. but you are unrivalled.
by anybody’s standards.
the day I stand by and say “I loved you.”
will be the day I cease to fear tenses
and while that day may well come-
that day is not here yet.
until then, love,
I hope we keep seeking each other
in whatever way we know how.
but these things will take time to sink into my heart.
Picture this Jul 2015
Her stem a rod of iron
proudly holds a pearl
a rose with many petals
flowering in the girl

Skin softened by the silk
of kindness in her veins
innocent and on the brink
of taking up the reins

Essences flow within
her beauty is unrivalled
flourishing into womanhood
declaring her arrival

Flowering rose of honesty
threshold of youthful verve
exceptionally stunning
blooming on the verge

Her perfume radiates
oozing from her heart
the rose intoxicates
with promise from the start

Flowing locks encompass
her graceful heavenly flare
not yet a woman
this pretty rose is rare
Simon Monahan Mar 2018
Springing, a wooden fountain clawing up and seizing handfuls of sky,
From a seed, once pierced, flooding bark and vein and leaf,
A flash-frozen image witnessing centuries of inching growth,
Earth’s womb births a living monument to the beauty of tireless patience.

His grip streams also downwards, cascading away from the light,
Roots surge, a backwards tree, a forest to gravity submissive,
Sundering stone and breaking bedrock, juggernaut tendrils,
Disdaining gold and diamond to drink deep decomposed dirt.

Come summertide, branches bow and bend, saluting the forest floor,
Spring flowers fall and seed-fruits swell, the weight of promised life,
Fecundity unrivalled, to feed man and bird and wasp and deer,
And to charge the earth with secret plans of sprouts for future days.
The first line is taken from another poem of mine, "Lauds Arboreal": https://hellopoetry.com/poem/2206491/lauds-arboreal/
Prathipa Nair Oct 2016
Fear haunting me of dark evils
Visions chasing me to asunder
Nowhere a heart to protect me
Aloof a saying women are God's gifts
And no life without them
They remain beautiful as quotes
Searching a place to hide
Staying secluded from stray dogs
Abiding in a thought of suicide
Afore surrendering in their hands !
Unrivalled request to this world
Words nevermore protect us
Prove it through your actions
We are your gift in this life !
Prathipa Nair Sep 2016
Missing you abaft of breath
Albeit lacking of time to miss you
When I am alone, you remain
constant in my thoughts
Like a vast blue sky surrounded everywhere
When all around, you struck
first in my eyes
Like a shooting star being near the moon
When I am with you, unrivalled you remain in my world
Like a meditation in a calm world of nature
Is it a white magic else black magic?
Is there any love chip connected to my body in your name?
Seeing you in my eyes, on my lids
Love to spell the letters in your name
Loving everything apropos you
Dreaming with my eyes open to tryst again!
Prathipa Nair Oct 2016
Sharing my grief wetting her shoulders
Taking my pain letting into her through tears
Listening my words keeping her calm
Wiping my torment putting me to sleep
At any time consoling, my unrivalled buddy, the pillow !
Riz Mack Jul 2019
She shines like a rainbow in the night
a light, unbounded and free
Her warmth is a welcome respite
thawing the deepest freeze

Her lips a red velvet chorus
I can't help but overhear
She glows with the translucent aura
of a picturesque sunset sea

Buttercups turn to greet her smile
she'll lift your head with ease
Trees send their leaves for thousands of miles
just to be in her breeze

Her eyes are an ocean of opalescent blues
inviting the bold to dive in
and swim to a world of untold hues
her sparkle is unrivalled

In her violet dress and violent heels
The Devil would bare his soul for free
and so might I, for just a taste
the chance to lay her light to waste
first time I've gone back and edited a thing into a (hopefully better?) thing
PS Nov 2018
I still can’t find the words
Because, perhaps, a part of me feels
That you’ll look at me like I have ten heads
If I say how I cannot heal.

Perhaps I don’t want to heal at all,
Now I am a vulnerable, scorned thing.
The looks of realisation passing over their faces
As I tell my sorry story, my frightening fabula.

The tale of poppies and lilies and
The coldest winter I have ever known.
I was skin and bone with a ******* coat
And I didn’t like who it was that I was.

The tale of glassy eyes and cold ones
And throwing yourself at me
The tale of black and white pudding
Of Brett Ashley and Daisy Buchanan
Of ostentatiousness unrivalled.

I still can’t find the words
I’m angry, sad, tearful in public alone
Confused and bewildered.
Is that how you love someone?
Or claim that you do?

Is that the ‘nice thing’ you’re holding back?
Is that the swivelling chair or the casting couch?
Is that why I cannot seem to get over it?
Not over you, it.

And you say you weren’t well at the time.
I supposed we were both stuck clinging to each other
To broken to move away, to scared to be alone.
But no, this isn’t an excuse.

I still can’t put it into words
How profoundly odd I feel these days
You didn’t hurt me but you hurt me
And all I can see if your smirking face.
‘Calm down, you’re gorgeous.’

Oh, I could hate a hurt like that.
My sorry story, fantastic fabulam
Is it too posh if I speak outside English?
Why do you care? You knew who I was.
You know who I am.
You know.

And I’ll bet you also can’t find the words
So you hide behind cheap drinks and albums
And everything scummy because you despise who it is that you are.
Hoi polloi, the common man.
Whatever ‘common people do.’

I still can’t put it into words
And I don’t want to.
It’s too complex and I don’t have the energy to tell a story
To tell the world of the war I won
The hollow victory, the end of our empire.
Red lips, red boots, silver shoes.
Go to sleep, it’s over now.
Pretty sure I can’t speak Latin but who cares?

— The End —