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 Nov 2016
nivek
What one word from eye to heart
will make you act more kindly?

What small song heard in the soul
will make your own soul sing also?

Be kind to yourself dear poet
and sing of love and beauty

For in so doing you share kindness
with all others listening out for its sweetness..
 Nov 2016
nivek
I travelled for decades to sit and hear you sing.
wrap the house around you,

then                            leave it.



out into the only world you

know.



anxiety comes with           the

unfamiliar.



they call down the chimney.



reminding us that some things



stay the same.



sbm.
have you seen the old house

tucked at the corner by the

abbey.



swallows at the barn opposite

have flown.



the dog barks.



rain drops slowly.



she said it is sold at last,

that someone will look after



it.



i drive away.



sbm.
more than that with promises

that faded into silence.


i woke this morning the same,

a taste of autumn,

mists and biblical sheep

resting.


a new grave here,

a new grave near,

while all is growing,

there.


a cloud  hangs in the valley

sbm.
there it is in the background
as always, yet no one comes.

tea.
 Oct 2016
eunsung aka Silas
days arise
and fall
like the
ocean waves
crashing ashore
 Oct 2016
mk
there must be a place where broken words go
the ones without a limb
not fully formed
not spoken right
not heard

there must be a place where broken words go
the sentences left uncompleted
the trailing words that never left the lips
the "but" and the "and"
that were always left hanging

somewhere between silence and speech
there must be a place where broken words go
full of stutters and writers block sufferers
somewhere between the "i love"
and the "you" that never followed
or the "wait"
that was whispered into the air
the "please come back"
that made peace with dying
on the corners of a turning mouth

there must be a place where broken words go
the words spoken but never heard
the letters written but never posted
the train of thought that crashed into the clouds
the words in the bottle that traveled the sea
but sunk to the bottom before it could ever reach

there must be a place where my broken words go
the stains on my diary that didn't come from a pen
and the letters on my thighs that don't make sense
the things i could never say
and the things i said that came out all wrong
all the broken alphabets in my song
that cry for salvation
for one more chance

there must be a place where broken words go
there must be a place i can call home.
 Oct 2016
SG Holter
Norwegian Autumn.
Black as voids.
Leafless trees.
Sunlessness. All
Slightly alien still,
After all these years in
A country you never
Grew up in.

My hand is a shield
Upon your Dark Season
Fatigue. Energy to spare.
Sharing fire. Here:
My coat is your blanket,
Scarf your pillow.
Sleep safe, little sister.
Summer is where the heart

Is.
I'll never lose you to
Winter, or his
Dark and windy sibling.
Ear to my chest, hear the
Ticking of time.
Ticking of time. Ticking of
Time until Love.
 Oct 2016
SG Holter
All the ones I
Love the most have

Someone they love
More than me.

The truth of it is
Beautiful;

That lonely knowing
Sets me free.

The legless fly,
The voiceless sing.

There's love in every
Living thing.

And in that love
I bask and laugh,

Composing my own
Epitaph:

All gods are real, and
Therefore none,
and

Hell hath merely
Room for one.


All the ones I love
The most

May barely know a
Man from ghost.

I love their rains, their
Suns and soils,

Their loving others form
The spoils that go

To me right where I
Stand to see:

I need not even
Me.
 Oct 2016
Pax
I am not in pain
but I’m standing in the hard rain.
The wetness makes my feet numb
I succumb to be dumb
a foolish playfulness
hiding my crudeness
-  I roam around in happy commotion
                                 A complete illusion.
The eye of the storm will come my way, someday
I hope not too soon, but in the distant future
For I am not prepared on the messiness it harbors in its back
The harsh judgments that will pour heavily on my shoulders
Then flowing water will flood my sane world
I need my time to organize
My mental, emotional and physical stability
To stand the outburst of the tempest.

© Pax 2013
The fiery wind burns our skin
this simmering summer noon
but our resolve is not paper thin.

the river is all ours
I tell her
and she whispers love notes.

When we retreat under the banyan
she scans the grey for clouds
and I her eyes for a mystic hint.

how lovely it would be
if it rains now

she says.

it would
I swear by the river.

We walk away
dreaming good crop
swaying in the river wind.
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