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Isaac Jul 2018
There is a power that unveils loveliness
hidden in everything, even in ugliness.
An x-ray that shows you all the good
inside of things that normally would
seem so ordinary to the average eye.
You need to realise that beauty is shy.
You don't have to search the world to see her.
Just look with an eye that goes a little deeper.
Take the time to notice what no one else will.
It'll heal your heart. A truly amazing thrill!
Written 28 July 2018

When you have honour, you see things that many miss out on.
Brianna Love Jul 2018
There are hearts that break
in silence, with tears
that nobody can see.

So maybe,
                just maybe…

Some tears demand
to be written by the poet's pen,
so others can find beauty
in that which makes us cry.

           just maybe…

The tears of the poets' pen,
unveils the beauty
of love and pain
giving comfort to others
that they’re not alone.

And then again
          just maybe…

There will be times
that nobody
will understand your feelings…

Write them anyway
because they are still
so **** beautiful!!*

Shofi Ahmed Nov 2018
There is a six seasonal turf on earth.
it isn't an acre of Moon truly an earthly Skookum.
A land so unique is written in stone
as if the enduring heavenly dew
streamed down on this patch of land!

Meet here the open future shows up at the earth's
hub-moon's anew rallying to the untouching-sea
the Indian subcontinent's corner to the ancient wind!

Naturally a hidden gem its in her element.
Her very soil the complete colour wheel matches
The birthplace of the great prophet Muhammad (PBUH)!
Destined to be the golden cut above the rest.
Amusing the heaps of the mindful minds
Sylhet stands on cloud nine eye to eye with
the pivotal soil of Makkah the centre of the earth!

Ah, the deep footed earth how mystique black
beneath it every morning the sun off the heaven’s hill
spreads a new diaphanous gold-light-rug, yet to paint
a footprint, a colourless magic, let alone the centrepiece!
Listen to the morning birds sing here deep in the midst
mellifluous-shrills fill the air unveiling the dream scenes!

The times anew numerating the bounties of our land.
Craving to sip in a dew-potion on our blossoming rose
cirrus clouds dancing over the seven seas here they drop!
Banish the midday blues singing the deep sea’s song.

Nestled amidst the Rivers Surma, Kushiara and Monu
Perched on the shades of the trees each one is a canvas.
Glows with changing Bangladesh's unique six seasons
as they swing and leap in the branches of the trees
and murmur with the upstream and the autumnal breeze.

Stunned angels on their way heaven taking one more
sunset potted in the starry bowl look back at the wee hours.
They can hear pianissimo on this shrouded perennial land.
It never falls asleep is awake with a numerically perfect
circle of 360 spiritual dynamos from the centre they hailed
with a handful of earth and lived here as it matched.    

A deep seeded truth, rock solid Shilahatta in Sanskrit.
Clothed in an enduring vesture minted Sylhet loops in
with the Hebrew Bible’s Shalet, a ruler, a shield!  

The ****** earth sways moulds into a mole.
Ah, the little drops make the mighty ocean.
And with a single word on the lips
the maestros’ great epics begin to be told.
Just with a mundane handful of earth
Primed Sylhet masterpiece begins to unfold.
Keeping you on board with the whole ball of wax
lo, it unveils the mirror of the face of the earth!

Plopped still in the inside track amidst the full show
with the whole nine yards on her least hold!
Believe it or not Sylhet is cherry-picked chosen by God!
The subject matter is about a land possessing a deeply seeded truth. The prime significance of which is its scattered afar but matches the pivotal soil of the centre of the earth!
Mark Sep 2018
Remember me in spring when blossom's blush
and petals flair a - light in morning mists
that'll haze a rainbow hue - of flowered plush
to portrait mine as every bud untwists.

Upon the birding bath as robins splay
the warbling chirp shall voice as tho' from me
for you my sweet, in springtime bloom of may
shall hear the larking flute of my decree.

The dancing leaves shall tap and Ivy's birth
and Snowdrop's bow as daisy eyes unveils
as fragrant, olive air shall scent of mirth
that once were lost, now shrines as spring prevails.

Vernal rebloom shall stream that pulse of mine
then seek that earthly glow, and there I'll shine.
Zoe Mae Jan 2018
In idle hours of the night
Chains of worry wrap me tight
Only in sleep is there relief
But like all moments it is brief
Dawn unveils to reveal
What wasted hours never heal
Ormond Jul 2018
In dusk a cloud moves,
Barely are there any stars
And the sheet drops, sinks,
As lovers we came to this
Gentle pond without guile
Under the willows green,
Set on the banks of whin,
In sight of a stone bridge
And settled in to watch
The swans arrive and go,
Like windy arcs of bounty
Under great falling blanket
Of indigo and gold sparkling,
Enameling eyes of the heavens.

Now, I come to visit alone,
Only memories gliding slow,
Love has fled near after song
The sweetest spring awakening,
How time unveils dark truths,
My hair, it falls in the wind
With the groping willows,
The godly eyes of the skies
Are now mere stars that flash,
My love is betrothed to another,
Still, the cool white swans at dusk
Ride in waters turned shallow, murky
And black as their eyes in day fall,
And yet they remain wondrous,
White rose of my soul,
Drifting away.
awknight Oct 2018
the push of my mind
falls into lavender fields
velvet night brushes against cheek bones
exposed skin floats in time
ecstasy is exposed through the flow of cold

the day unveils things too warm
instead, fall with me into the dark
as my mind incandescently
illuminates the world

Have you ever read the most beautiful famous lines
in the world of poetry,
what a poet's or poetess bleeds.
When you open a book of poetry,
You can almost feel what they feel
your heart is so touched
by those famous lines
that truly come to life.
Oh, how those painful times
where sorrow and misery finds love
painful times of one's life
makes beauty in ones writing of truth.
Hardship is the art of one's soul
the beauty of letting the world know
when pain brought on so much rain
yet, had to learn to dance all over again.
Life is like a poetic seed
what unveils the true soul
of what life has sown
the good and the bad
Yet, we still learn to forgive.
When you open a book of poetry
the prose and the cones
where life still moved on,
Yes, life can make your soul grow weary
yet, make you strong through meager storms.
Yet, life can show you love
and happiness.
Love and life is a gift to us all
were suffering and death comes along
like that old famous love song
the heart must keep beating on.
where delusions and confusions
takes its own stand.
Where the poet's and poetess' heart
creates art to the readers' minds.
Were pain truly dwells
and love and sorrows lived
in a place called the reality of truth.
We live, and die,
yet, we cry, and love
we grow to be strong or weak
we eat and sleep
soon come dreams.
Poet's and poetess write those sad
and painful lines
were fantasy comes to life,
Were dreams can
empowers the mind.
So, what is poetry without pain and love
life would be nothing,
poetry is about life and death
we live it and we breathe it
so why can we not read about it?
each and every day
we see the gray
we see the light of life
we write truth and fantasy
to give rest and peace.
Because this is the way
true reality is,
artists of poetry are what one bleeds
it is the life long stage
we see every day
For the whole world to read
What it is the poets and poetess bleeds
because we are human
just like anyone else
Life isn't an easy place to live
yet, we do our best to live in it
and that is what you call reality
in what a true poet's and poetess write
whatever comes to their human minds.

Poetic Judy Emery © 2000
Copyright © Judy Emery| Year Posted 2000
Arianna Mar 1
Affair of the mind,
Soul chemically modified
Beyond repair.

The best kind of broken:

                    Broken free

From stagnant synapses reeking with regret
And resentment for what could have been.

These days, it feels we are children again —
Let us tread new paths,
Transforming heart through mind through heart;

Sleeping, dreaming butterflies
In the tiny universe of our shared embrace,
Arms becoming wings

          As the world turns,
          As the stage changes scene,
          As the Moon unveils a new face
          And smiles knowingly.

May our colors run free:
Turquoise, violet, and bordeaux.

My blood is tinged with seawater,
And I carry you
In all the shades of Blue
That grace the Universe,
The color of Infinity,
The color of my Love for you, Sweetest One,
Flying free now from my arms.

          You are not mine.

You are your own,
You are...
I don't know what happened, but... Finally, we have come to the sequel:
Ms Noma Dec 2018
Fresh greens sprout anew
Shaking off the morning dew
Waking up to a golden kiss
Whose magic touch unveils the mist

Born again post-winter death
Branches bud with each new breath
Their leafy splendour slowly grows
As Mother Earth within them flows

Something magic is in the trees
Their quiet quivers, the dancing breeze
The birds are chirping, the winds are singing
In celebration of new beginnings
#newgreenbeginnings #newbeginnings  #trees #nature #motherearth #trees #life
Heave! Heave! On every breath
Leaving his body in unstaged scenes

Grabbing for air his lungs deflate
And he curls as a new born in a crib

His hands sweat and and his face fades red
toes curl from the tingle

With scrunched face he reveals white teeth
and hides his joy-filled eyes

Laughter unveils his just jubilation
or there is just a happiness in his means
SassyJ Aug 2018
Teach me to be human
to shake and take stakes
to be vulnerable and regenerative
to stay calm as the sun sets

Is human living just vanity?
a trespass of mindless thoughts
colluded in a pathway of the burnt
enlivened by the patterns of the world

Bring me to a beautiful shore
where I boil before the simmer
crawling to the rise of existence
hurt and disapproved by meaning

Teach me to be human
as the soul unveils the way
responding to a youthful mind
where right and wrong is an illusion
Ndumbi Nov 2018
Ever felt
Slowly, quietly
Sinking deeper
Inescapable quicksand
Swallowing you up
A whole?
I have, Same case
Felt demons raging
In legions and millions
Inside of me
Each night devouring
A piece of my dignity
My beauty diminished
Yet the answer, O so clear!
Why, O , why Lord-
Do I choose the Bible to fear?
My only glimmer of hope-
In a vast sea of shadows!
Slowly reaching out
Swallowing so hard-
It feels I might go numb.
But only until I skim
Through psalms
Or acts
Or proverbs
Does a tear srteak me cheek
As light unveils
And darkness just fades.
Went through a ghastly cycle that neither the internet nor the world was able to break.
A random word from the Bible did!
John Jan 18
Plodding down the deck of dreams

A wall of smoke intervenes

Hopping through the misty barrier

Thrashing down like a ghost it seems

Coarse to the touch yet full of fragrance

An effigy emerges from the dusty accumulation

A muse unveils from the ill-defined presence

Flaming like tinder

And diffusing with an unbalanced essence

Fiery and fearful

Glowing with energy

It claps like thunder

Resonating like a forgotten melody
bulletcookie Jan 5
Through sheer curtain casts a diffused light, thread bare
wispy Wayang perform behind; parading shadows
as curious sleight of hand unveils today's vane weather  
past glass pane doubt at morning's province

that foreign sun filtering through clouds of grey
parting enough to blue where dawn begins and ends
while pocket-sized birds dip and dart across garden flora
fulfilling their native chirp charged larks

saline winds straddle mist to settle dew on green:
moss, grasses, leaves, do cushion a fallen limb
its clinging lichen, in common leap, adheres their bond between
each stegnon layer, iris, to the next

thus fixed in this fabric's fiber, spirits
decant Pandora's brew imbibed from age to aged
as staggering marionettes **** and stumble on stage
scenes unfold on scrolls of old, this day's mystery at midwife

Wayang: a form of puppet theatre art found in Indonesia and other parts of Southeast Asia, wherein a dramatic story is told through shadows thrown by puppets and sometimes combined with human characters.

Stegnon: Biological chinking, a general term for all sessile microorganisms and meso-organisms that grow on or within the non-aquatic surfaces of the world, including rock, soil, and vegetation.
- Trevor Goward

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