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Hussein Dekmak Aug 2018
I closed my mouth,
and spoke to you in the language of the rain drops,
I whispered to you in the language of the flowers,
and chanted 'I love you' in the language of the melody birds.

I  closed my mouth,
and voiced my feelings to you in the language of the ocean's waves,
and delivered my message to you in the language of the Wind breeze,
I conveyed my feelings to you in the language of the twinkling stars,

I closed my mouth,
and spoke to you in the language of eye contact,
and expressed myself to you in the language of smiles,
I shouted to you in my sacred language of tears,

I closed my mouth,
and whispered to you in the language of heart,
and recited to you in all of nature's implicit language,
I spoke to you, softly, in God's silent language.



Hussein Dekmak

Copyright.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2aaT3NfuM5Y
L B Jun 2018
I don't think about it any more
I take out the trash
noting
Sticks caught in the crotch of a tree
The wind does what the wind does
breaks weaker branches down
does not care where
it leaves
them
on its invisible way

Days do what the days do
they don't count themselves
worthy as they go
to release
the afternoon
to evening—
an artless
emptying
to a low spot
where tears tend to pool
if I'd let them down

“You know,
in that low spot
out there...?”
Where it's hard to see
Where its hard to care?

They take heart
out
divide it by energy
for sadness—
I haven't got

Watched the clock go round
wipe out my little plans
with relentless hands

...and I never got dressed today
6-12-18
Are you out there my Friend.? ? Somewhere The Wind is blowing..? Where your footprints are gone as soon as left. No one to know. No one Knowing.?
       Are you in the Wind? ? A voice, distant, lost in the swirl of snow and Autumn leaves.? Your way Home...unknown.
       The next step taken, but down what path.? Will it lead through this wood, or wander Forever this Dismal forest of Bramble and Thorn? No shelter in sight. No sheltering insight.
Crows with eyes bright. Plucking at your at your sleeves and dress. Catching your skin, bleeding you like a priest with a fleem. Leaving you wounded and hurt., weary and wary.
       If you stand still but a moment., cease your struggling, stumbling and listen. you'll hear my voice.
On the Wind
Calling you Home.
Safe within the walls and warmth of my arms.
For Brittney. Your looking for what you already found.
Kevin J Taylor Oct 2015
Tin whistle wind
devil leaf jinn
dance
Silverflame Aug 2018
my old futile dreams
make the windows all misty
ripping up the seams
blood mixed with ancient whiskey

a smile around the corner
lures the naive mind
******* up the world order
another death wish signed

overhead, brick by brick
the november wind stands still
heart oozing of homesick
empty thoughts keep my glass refilled

delusions cover my sight
faraway lights blink with eager
fixing the crooked night
dinner with the grim reaper
A poem I wrote last year, which I someone managed to delete with my clumsy fingers.
Lizzy Apr 2014
I've written about the wind
More than countless times.
I've always been so envious
Of it's freedom.
But now more than ever
The jealousy burns me

The air
How it moves and turns
It's free
And it can touch you.
It gets to brush those lips I miss,
And swirl around in your lungs.

It's ubiquitous limbs
Brush up against your arms
And weave between those fingers
it can hold your hands like I used to
it can do everything I can't.

but what I'm most covetous of
how it can watch you
and rest it's head against you
how it can twist in between the cracks in your smile.

the wind is my enemy
she is the temptress that mocks me
she laughs while I cry
because she lives in your lips
and you have no idea
The wind is a ****
King Panda May 2017
This is the shape I was given:

a violent explosion of brilliance,
massive,
flaring—a mouth so big that
it could swallow a
honeycrisp spreading the
red skin like
peanut butter.

100,000 years it takes to become and
I will be dead.

star—*

the harp of the wind.
PoserPersona Aug 2018
Gaze on that woman by the train.
With curves like gunpowder
that will shoot fireworks again.
As her and I once were.

Since then, of women, I've abstained.
My chest is a pyre
to the damsel I couldn't retain;
fondness that won’t expire.


You say I could never attain
and imply I'm a liar!?
Or you think either me insane
or least she's miswired?

The evidence on my brain -
melancholy, ire -
the despondent husk that remains,
need you more enquire?


...True, of her, no displays of pain;
eyes that jolt not tire,
poker voice tipping no disdain,
legs that feed desire!

For her, gone love is not a chain
hidden by attire
or flushed down a forgotten drain.
It merely retired.

Love like hers was the wind and rain
to my earth and fire.
"My woman says that she prefers to marry no one
over me, not even if Jupiter himself should seek her.
She says (these things), but what a woman says to her desirous lover
is fitting to write on the wind and on fast-flowing water."
Poem 70 - Catullus
Jesse stillwater Aug 2018
Out here in the fields of the distance
whither the wind blows the silence further afield;
roughhewn footprints show a windswept pathway  
from whence feral feet lightly trod   

Only the passing whispers chase after the gypsy wind:
that the silence be in quire, placed aloft like a sigh,
pealing through the gentle sway of sweet grass' hush

There are no walls need echo an evanescent wind-song
as each breath of earthen psalm vanishes
lilting into the crystalline quietude colour;

The callused patience still held in these hands
is frayed and tattered, but hope heals stronger
than a ream of paper wings to fly away

And I'm mindful I'm not alone again, lost in
a lingering silent storm — pensively listening —
enraptured aneath all the big skies hold
 

                    Jesse Stillwater
Thank you for reading: Out here in the distance
Seanathon May 2018
This is the wind born
As it wimpers through the trees
A willful whisper
Midst the meadow mindfulness
Willing it will ever be
To do what? To whisper in your ear of course. (:
Yaser Nov 2017
On an odd and restless night
when the stars were all but gone
I lay my head in search of sleep
and sought to see the dawn
I closed my eyes
awaiting dreams
but far from me they fled
and faces born of fleeting thoughts
stirred strange within my head

Then I heard it sure enough
my name out of the dark
It found its way into my soul
and there it left its mark

My eyes flickered hastily
and I rushed out of the door
Oh! How I wished to hear that voice -
to hear that voice once more!

A breath of wind did bid my leave
from my chamber nigh
A breath of wind that called my name
with a silent sigh

I walked beneath an empty sea
hidden to my eyes
For not a light hung in that sky
Not a light hung in that sky

I stood there then with open ear
'pon firm and lifeless ground
I stood there, still to hear it clear
That endless swirl of sound

Oh how it howled
and stirred about
that strange and eerie hour!
I knew it then that I'd stood before
an eve of rouse'd power

She sung to me
She sung to me
her silent lullaby
and with each verse
she birthed anew
the stars within the sky...
These nowhere towns,
Mountain tops snow-capped long through march,
Everywhere else,
A barren brown.

Though people live here,
And they aren't broken down.

The paint peels from the motel,
The mother tends to her daze,
The attendant ponders the insects of the sill,
Tumbleweed **** these acts of being still.

Life is good here,
In these hazy,
Background,
Nowhere towns.
Really hope I captured that picture I saw... I don't think I fully did but... It was almost there...
Tanay Sengupta May 2018
Let it be grey.
It has never rained like this before,
I like it this way.

I don't care if it is night or day.
For all the times I have felt sore,
Let it be grey.

They will not come today.
No one will knock the door,
I like it this way.

There is nothing for me to say.
I want to listen to the clouds roar,
Let it be grey.

The wind whistles my stress away.
And I have nothing to cry for,
I like it this way.

My mind wanders away.
My eyes marvel at the downpour,
Let it be grey.
I like it this way.









Tanay Sengupta, Copyright © 2018. All Rights Reserved.
I leave this poem to your perception. Feel free to interpret it the way you want to. Happy reading!
Annabelle Lee Apr 2014
Miss Annabelle Lee
Such a pretty girl;
Her tall, thin frame
Her long, blonde curls

Miss Annabelle Lee
As light as a feather;
She drifts in the wind
Through the tough, stormy weather

Miss Annabelle Lee
She hates what she sees;
She's melting away
Blowing off with the breeze

Miss Annabelle Lee
Now so frail and so weak;
She needs to be thinner
But her body's calling defeat

Miss Annabelle Lee
Rest in peace, my dear friend;
You got your last wish
Now you're gone with the wind
I myself and people close to me have suffered with eating disorders, so they can be personal and touchy subjects to me. This was written about anorexia and some of the things the mindset can bring.
Jesse stillwater Aug 2018
.
I’m just a lonely traveler
   on this earth
Sometimes it feels as if I'm
waiting for the sky to fall
with each passing breathe
       of wind

   Standing alone,
   a windswept tree
   leans downwind;
conspicuously wrought,
   naked and bowed
   by the grinding
      silent forces
  at nature's whim

Rootless tumbleweeds
roll by randomly:
    broken off,
spinning clockwise,
never looking back,
timeworn and tired
of resisting the prevailing
    high desert wind
and its unheld temper

Rattling the tinder
   dry sagebrush
like songless wind-chimes;
    voiceless fugitives
wreathing a bellowing silence


    Jesse Stillwater
Thank you for reading
Dangling bangles in rhythm of light,
colorfully shining right into the night;
Caressing my ears with magical tones,
dancing on air while my mind gently roams.

Lovely to hear and so sweet to see,
the motion of sounds in a song that's free;
Notes call to the sky with a fresh melody,
my very own voice sings the harmony.

In Autumn we sense those mystical sounds,
of spirits awakening this time around;
Each breeze sends the chimes out into space,
with pleasure and smiles no cloud can erase.
traces of being Mar 2017
Once I had a friend
    and soulmate,
we were dreamin’
we could fly away
    with the wind;
    but knowing
wings are for angels,
we stood transfixed
  beneath the light
  a sky full of stars


hanging onto a dream      
we clutched so tightly,
      perched high
      on the edge
      of the world,
wondering how far
     and how high
the great wide open
     sky blue skies
           abide


believing the power
  of kept promises ―
you said you’d forever
   catch me if I fall ―
letting go of the fears,
 blindfolded hope
clinched so deeply,
    hanging onto
a wing and a prayer


I guess I wanted it
     far too much
     reaching out
  like a thirsty fool
grasping for a mirage ―
teetering on the brink
    unspoken love,
   a vast unknown
  threshold beyond
          wings


with eyes wide open
throwing caution afar ―
   in a leap of faith
I reached ― out of reach
   into the mystic wind ―
    believing in dreams,
      in destiny's tease:
       I’d learn to fly
         before I hit
        the ground


but now I’m perpetually
          free fallin’
  I see the empty space
   all around me pass
a fleeting lifetime lost ―
   still  you’re nowhere
       to be found ―
    and I remember
what’s been forgotten:

       how far down
  rock bottom befalls
  when your spinning
    round and round
      like dust eddies
        in a fog bank
      lost in the wind                             .
March 31st 2017 — words in the wind

"And I see losing love
Is like a window in your heart
Everybody sees you're blown apart
Everybody sees the wind blow"
― Paul Simon
.
Donall Dempsey Aug 2018
A GHAOTH ANEAS!
( O SOUTH WIND! )

My six year old father
stares from a photograph

splendid in  his sailor suit
standing outside time.

He will not survive
Ypres.

There is no photograph to show
him as a soldier.

Mother couldn't bear them.
Burned them.

She forever talking to
him in her head

loving his Devonshire
accent.

A thrush is singing from behind
enemy lines.

Spring can't understand
humans and their ways

dresses the trees
in their freshest  green.

"Jack...Jack Jack!" she cries
to the wind from the south.

A Ghaoth Aneas!
( O South Wind )

"Sin chugaibh mo phóg ar rith ins an ród
Leigim le seol gaoithe í."

( Here goes my kiss to you rushing along the road
I send it on the wings of the wind.)
South Wind was written in the 1700s by Domhnall Meir-geach Mac Con Mara( "Freckled Donal Macnamara" )in homesickness for his homeland( after he was banished for some 'misdoings' )in County Mayo. This sublime melody has a very Carolan-ish air about it...essence of my Irish childhood. I used to hum it to myself for comfort when my sister Junie was killed in a bus crash back in the world of '67.

A Ghaoth Aneas!

A Ghaoth Aneas na mbraon mbog glas
A ní gach faiche féarmhar
Bheir iasc ar eas is grian i dteas
Is líon is meas ar ghéagaibh

Más síos ar fad mar mbínn féin seal
Is mianach leat-sa séide
Cuirim Rí na bhFeart dhod chaomhaint ar neart
‘S túir don tír sin blas mo bhéil-se!

Sínim aneas ag díonamh cleas
Nach ndíonann neach san saol so
Mar íslím gaimh is scaoilim leac
Is díbrim sneachta as sléibhte

Ó taoi tú ar lear go bhfuí tú mo neart
‘S gur mian liom do leas a dhéanamh
Go bhfúigfe mé mo bheannacht ins gach aon tslí ar mhaith leat
Is choíche i gCathair Éamoinn!

A Chonnachta an tseoid, an tsuilt ‘s an spóirt
I n-imirt ‘s i n-ól an fhíona
Sin chugaibh mo phóg ar rith ins an ród
Leigim le seol gaoithe í

Tá mise beo i mboige na seod
Mar a mbrúitear gach sórt bídh dhom
Ach is mian liom fós tarraing d’bhur gcomhair
Muna gcluine mé ach ceól píopa!

O South Wind!

O South Wind with the soft clear drops
You that make every sword grassy
Bring the fish to the waterfall, give heat to the sun
And abundance of fruit to the branches

If it is far to the north where I once lived
That you are minded to blow
May the King of Power preserve your strength
And give the taste of my mouth to that country!

I blow from the south, performing feats
Which no one else on earth can do
For I lay winter low and scatter the ice
And banish the snow from the mountains

Since you are in need you shall have my strength
And I want nothing more than to help you
I shall leave my blessing in every place you choose
And always in Cathair Éamoinn!

O blissful, joyous, sporting Connacht
Home of gaming and of wine-drinking
Here goes my kiss to you rushing along the road
I send it on the wings of the wind

I am living in splendid luxury
Where every kind of food is dressed for me
But yet I am fain to draw towards you
If I should hear but the music of the pipes!
Spenser Bennett May 2016
Wind laughs low tonight
Flays skin to the blood marrow
Keep listening, smile
The wind beats against my window in the night, seemingly mocking, seemingly spiteful, full of love, and infinitely caring all at once and then not at all.
Pagan Paul Jun 2018
.
Standing atop this lonely hill,
my heart slow, breath near still,
tall and straight, arms out wide,
I summon the Wind from the skies.

When she arrives nobody knows
how much of her passion blows,
whispering zephyr, soft cool breeze,
or gale to strip the leaves from trees.


© Pagan Paul (18/06/18)
.
One gorgeous Spring day
we gathered on my deck,
a few friends and I,
to sing and play
some beautiful music
loved by us all.

My home, on a remote ridge top
of the Sierra mountains,
offered a panoramic view.
Not a single house
could be seen--
only the vast forest
surrounded us.

We accompanied our voices
with two guitars,
a flute, and a
small harp.

As we sang,
the air grew still,
and the tall, fragrant pines
encircling the house
seemed to lean in,
listening.

After awhile we paused,
to savor in silence
the sublime feeling
created by the music.
The harpist stood her harp
on the table.

Just then,
a gentle breeze came up
and the harp began to sing
as the wind's fingers
caressed the strings,
enchanting us all
with a heavenly music
unlike anything
we had ever heard.

Would that my heart
were as that harp,
responsive to
Your lightest touch--
singing endlessly
of love.
Copyright 2010, by Michael S. Simpson.  All rights reserved.
Polar May 2016
The silence roars...

No one can reach me.

My soul calls out to an empty void.

Do you hear my cries?

I am like the lone wolf

Howling into the night

Going out of my mind

For the company of my kind.

Like a ***** in search of a friend,

I'll just keep whistling to the end.
Ins
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