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 Nov 2016
Christian Bixler
I stand alone, feet bare, at precipices' edge.
I feel the wind, a gentle embrace, breathy,
Infinite caress, enveloping my soul in the
Eternity of acceptance. Irises shut, against
the gentle piercing of dawns red-gold,
tender radiance, I gaze into the
kaleidoscopic configurations of Eternity,
and see all, in dazzling brightness.

the winds caress comes now, softly, soft,
as the reverent touchings of the Lovers,
gentle in their adoration, lost in their worship,
of love, of life, of each other..

I inhale, slowly, the air warm and strange,
and infinitely tender, alive in itself,
and in its love of everything, of the world,
and of the multicolored ecstasies' of
Eternity...

I breathe, and, slowly, I grow, expanding
outwards, encompassing everything, and
inwards, becoming nothing...and I discover
the learnings of my secret heart..

I breathe...and I release, everything..
softly, I dissipate, my body released,
become one with the world; with the air,
with the stone, with earth, with life,
with love...

I remain there, awhile longer, existing in
peace, and in the love of spirit...I breathe,
deeply, once.  I open my eyes...and see
my face, there before me, smiling, out of
a cracked, and broken mirror; and there
is the light of Eternity in my skin, in my
smile...and there is everything and
nothing, in the Eternity of my eyes.
If one may gain such knowing of ones self, knowledge true, and  without deceit, then will that one gain everlasting peace, and eternal bliss; and that one may be calm, even in the face of all calamity.
 Nov 2016
SE Reimer
~

“i’m loosing my before,”
she says as she peers
o’er her morning cup,
she struggles to recall,
to separate before and aft,
it's a place where blurring lines,
become blurred memories.
where BC and AD intersect;
that place within her mind,
where she drew a line
’cross sands of time,
’til the winds of living
blew her line away.
of life before this Cancer,
living before this Cost;
of silence 'fore the Call,
that told her all was lost.
his voice no longer lingers,
in her dreams he used to come;
now he's just a vapor,
but a ghost of what he was.
for now it's only after
Dreariness, Decay and Death;
now it’s sleepless nights,
while in picture books he rests.
his footsteps all but gone,
and only cards and photographs
to remind of seasons once upon,
a time of laughter and rejoicing,
replaced by cup of bitter tears.
the after-date of endings,
of after-hearts were pierced;
after-leaves have all decayed,
the after-disappearance,
of joy that he defined.
these the after-leavings,
the dregs from life distilled;
left to wonder, life to ponder,
the “why” a heart stood still.
of a BC and an AD,
a BC time, Before the Call;
when life was torn in two,
leaving shredded remnants;
and now the AD, After Daniel,
a time to pick up tattered pieces,
to find the peace in what remains;
this the place where legends born,
when all that’s left is but a name.

~

*post script.

there are few events in one’s lifetime that mark time, a before and after, like loss.  whether death, divorce, or deep disappointment... each a BC/AD moment that our human condition can so easily let define what remains; our after.  yet too, if we do not rush it, there can come a time when we are able to redefine our losses into legend... an AD that is an after-definition of sorts; where a crown of beauty replaces ashes and the oil of joy is exchanged for the bitter wine of mourning.  (Isaiah 61:3)    

to my sweet wife and to each of you, my friends who grieve, whatever your “AD”, know this... while the heart beats, there is yet hope!  hugs, hope and health to each, to all!!
your poet friend and lover of your posts,
(: Steve
 Nov 2016
traces of being
Perched high upon burl wood roost
dangling feet swing upon
          mossy girthed heritage
                                       maple tree
Her majestic gnarled scaffold
flinches not from my nebulous gravity,
nor the weight of her unraveling
                                       golden autumn gown

Her lamentable achings  
felt in the voice
of the ripening chill
             within the campfire
                                        scented breeze
For I have climbed so blindly high,
the clinging brilliant yellow leaves
metamorphosing like these fragile paper wings,  
opening palms born to soar wild as the wind,
                                         to just let go and fly free

Waiting here patiently,
wistfully as destiny,
for the final edifying moment
                                          of fate’s unshacklement - - -;

the surrendering to,
      the moment of love set free,
               stolen by the wanton
                                         gypsy breeze


                                                        ­               *wild is the wind
Sunday morning― October 2016
...spontaneously hitting "save poem" without edit
 Nov 2016
Ramin Ara
What a blessing
Like Jesus
Ascended into heaven
Without wings
 Oct 2016
Ahmad Cox
I don't believe that any body on this site is aware of my recent diagnosis of Huntington Disease and I wanted to get the chance to let  all of you guys know and even though it has been a while since I have written anything new I still wanted to share it with you guys. I will let you guys know more as things progress but if you have any questions to ask about it just shoot me a message in this post and I will try to answer them as honestly as possible. I have come to enjoy your poetry and I have appreciated any positive comments you have left on my poetry too so I at least wanted to give you guys the heads up about it and where I am at with it.
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