Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
 
Another bright day
Is testimony to the human spirit
Large sea of humanity sweeps over
Yesterday’s sorrows and tribulations
Shedding all the tears to cleanse
And light of day passes through the hearts
To bring about the most beautiful rainbow
It’s a bright and beautiful day
Adrift in dark and foreign tides of time
I sought to live among the winsome stars.
Between the shadows of the elder moon—
In mountains lost from any source of light—
I wandered lost below the purple sky
Unmoved by that well-expected night.

Oh fate that leads to live the dawn of night!
Oh life, that filthy pool to squander time—
But what a joy to see the starlit sky!
The sun consuming dust from foreign stars,
To see the ocean's mirror cast out light—
Project an image of our lovely moon.

Indeed I feel I hide behind the moon,
In shadows cast by dreadful ghosts of night:
And curse my eyes if I walk into light.
Forgotten shores of childhood lost in time,
Embracing seas of solitude in stars—
A well-known fate in death of burning sky.

Will death thus raise me to the highest sky
Or drive me to the loudest raging moon?
I’d rather find diversion in the stars,
Forsake my wisdom of that sacred night
Than face the painful claws of passing time—
I find demise when I stare into light.

I was revealed the mysteries of light,
Yet hide below the comfort of the sky
As I transcended boundaries of time,
Forever hidden in the woeful moon
And blind upon that everlasting night,
Hunting pleasure in the short-lived stars.

Illusionary joy, deceitful stars:
You guided me to death away from light!
And whence was born this novelty called night?
I thought that safety reigned below the sky,
That I could hide from truth behind the moon—
I curse the painful wings of passing time.

When sunless time arrived upon the sky,
And Moon became a frozen lake of light,
Woe to me, whose night devoured the stars.
A sestina on the diversions and distractions of daily life, and their ultimate, utter irrelevance compared to life and death, and to the true meaning and purpose of humanity.
Do you feel joy when joy has left the world?
Do you know all the mysteries of life
That fate bestows upon our flimsy heart?
The noise of crowded streets and busy days,
The wails of suffering, the cries of pain;
The sighs of love abandoned and of death,
The tears that fall when innocence is lost—
The endless joys of youth and of old age,
The laughter children laugh from day to day;
The day of birth, the night to pass away—
These songs that every day we sing again
Are those that that sing of pure humanity.

For what is joy without a mournful day,
And what is life without a time for death?
And what is peace, and purity and hope
Without the perils of despair and woe?

Now turn your heart to transcendental gleam,
And close your eyes to live that endless dream.
On the joys and wails of everyday life.
 Aug 2015 Sabbathius
Joe Cole
I listen to the sound of the breaking waves
Smell the salt tang in the air
I watch the graceful seagulls
Ride the thermals way up there
No sound of human voice, no strident car alarms
I sit in natures solitude enraptured by her charms
The sea reflects the sinking sun in hues of red and gold
I'll never tire of such things though I grow grey and old
The first gleam of the evening star appears in the ever growing dark
And the golden crescent of the moon begins her journey through the night
No words of mine can best describe natures perfect charm
This is peace, a perfect peace, tranquillity and calm
This was my very first attempt at writing and was written while I was sat on the rocks by the sea
 Aug 2015 Sabbathius
Aditi Kumar
I want my words to be beautiful.
Beautiful like yours.
I want to see ordinary things,
Find the magic in them,
And put the magic on a page, for everyone to understand.

I want to have a way with words.
I want every poem of mine
To become a masterpiece.
Just like yours.

I am not broken.

But you are.

You see the world through pain,
And pain makes the colors brighter.
It makes the value of feelings
Climb higher.

Sometimes I wonder
If I should be broken like you
If I want my words to resonate
Like yours.

Sometimes I wonder,
If it will be truly worth it
In the end.

I wonder what it will be like,
To cut myself up to pour out the beauty inside me.

Just like you.

I imagine that you
Raise the blade
Slice your feelings open
And write your masterpiece
In red.
Can only sad people write good poems? Can only broken people find inspiration in anything?
Next page