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Love Mystery Poems | Love Poems About Mystery

These Love Mystery poems are examples of Love poems about Mystery. These are the best examples of Love Mystery poems written by international PoetrySoup poets

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Details | Free verse | |

Pulse

Inner conflict dissolves under your lunar eclipse
playing across my fingertips and lips 
tracing the hoodoo of your hips,
causing me to burn down into cinder-sticks
reborn as a Baton Rouge Phoenix
by the gravitational pull of Jupiter
orbiting in your eyes.

Rising above the ashes,
siphoning-off the swamp,
I collide in a slippery mudslide
of euphoria, until steam blows off
and only spring water remains
raining upon soil sprung apart
by the Trident of Hermes,
exposing for us naked iron
to place into a flame
dancing along liquid-skin language.

The extraction of you being the exception,
leaves behind a hole
to bury our fortresses of tragedy
grappling in our roots;
now broken-apart by our roots,
until the last crumbling stone 
sprouts into untainted sheaths -
rigid - yet willing to bend

with the mending currents
of change. Becoming cleaner within, 
hanging onto a truth to be found 
in the wholesome speck of dirt 
longing for my fingertips and lips
to feel the hoodoo in your hips;
a complementary dish of duality
alongside your whispers bleeding 
into the blood-waves of my heart
merging with your lunar pulse.






.

Copyright © Chris D. Aechtner | Year Posted 2012

Details | Free verse | |

let sacred delirium flow

(in-between wakefulness and dreaming, in-between free verse and prose....it flows - I wouldn't trade it for candy-coated couplets, nor silky sonnets set in cities of gold, for my delirium is uninhibited, unhinged, freely flowing) delirious non-linear shutter-frames capture us over there, here now, before - a nuance, a taste on the tip of my tongue leading me towards need without a name nor face. Prying open other people to see if you were inside. Searching for a known desire with an unknown label, to find something never actually lost - to make it more palpable - closer. Crawling out of my skin, out of my skull, slinking through invisible trees, you appear: a jungle cat licking my mind - you always made love to my soul first, before enticing me with a liquid growl off-set by the pitter-patter of paws and purring. Your purr, your velvet purr rumbles for my submission. Willingly I accept the invitation of vulnerable humility bowing towards a fearless trust lush with a luminary borderless meshing, catching up to right now. - Right now - Your black-light curvaceous muscled trembling licks my mind, my body, my hands and mouth glide across your skin, testing the earth for stability. The tectonic plates of my belly quake resettle within your womb. Inside-outside, outside-inside a lotus-soul union, just as ancients had hinted, dissolving, letting you devour me, before I drink from your salty grail. Over-stimulation leads to an un-thinking deep rhythm, waves pushing out - in until the shoreline and tides become indistinguishable, a backdrop to a pace quickening. Outside-inside of you, you are outside-inside of me, there is no longer the need to fear unknowns, for the unknown guides us higher, guides us ever deeper, until even our release merges with the flow of ancient rippling rhythm. .

Copyright © Chris D. Aechtner | Year Posted 2012

Details | Haibun | |

Kindred Spirits

~(tanka haibun)~


    Awakened from my walking reverie by movement ahead, I spy a Red-Tailed Hawk perched upon the wrought-iron railing of the flood-wall. The hawk is regal, stoic beauty. I stop walking in hopes of urging the bird of prey to stay its perch. It does, filling me with a sense of relief. I wonder why it let me get so close; if it was my calm, thoughts-up-in-the-clouds, meditative stroll that somehow rendered my thoughts and steps silent enough to catch the bird unawares. We eye each other, a bitter gust of mid-winter wind blows against my face; ruffles the back-feathers of the hawk. I am overwhelmed by a sensation how the two of us know exactly what we are, who we are, what we are supposed to be doing overall, but we are presently caught in a moment of unknowns, letting these unknowns erase the lines that keep us separate -- beast from human. 
I take a step closer, causing the hawk to finally alight, and I am struck by its vibrant feathers adding a dash of colour to the surrounding monochromatic grays. 
The hawk flies only a short distance ahead before landing on the railing again, so we re-enact the scene of this play. I come closer, closer, closer, until the hawk lifts up, flies a bit further along the river-walk, before landing again, until eventually it probably decides, that indeed, this human is going to traverse the entire path, for the hawk flies up into trees located further ahead. As I walk past the trees, the hawk launches out of an evergreen, with twigs in its talons. The bird flies over the river; a river made tumultuous by ice-melt.

in Winter's gray light
a Red-Tailed Hawk paints the sky 
with its feathers,
my soul lifts, follows the bird
over an ice-gorged river

The hawk lands on the base of a church steeple, and disappears behind an ornately carved corner. It appears as if the steeple is attempting to pierce the snow-clouds with its tip, trying to tear gashes in the sky, until spring blue bleeds into gray. On this Tuesday afternoon, does the church seem personified because it is devoid of Sunday parishioners milling in and out of its thick wooden doors? No matter how hard the steeple tries to break-apart the clouds, the grand sky dwarfs the church, causing it to look like a toy model. The church fluctuates between looking like a miniature-scale model, and an architectural feat.

with defiance
the steeple pierces clouds
looming overhead -
the snow-laden clouds
make the church appear small

Passing the church, I find it ironic how today the church is empty inside, yet on its steeple and roof-lines, countless animals are nesting, making this House of God their sanctuary. Slowly making my way home, I ponder about the hawk, how it is not only a predator amongst prey, but a predator amongst predators -- it flies around in plain sight, yet also hides right in the middle of the city. Coming up to the path leading to the back-door of my home, I scan a small trail of footprints in the snow. The footprints vary, but all are familiar to me. 
It is at precisely this moment that I fully acknowledge the Red-Tailed Hawk and I to be kindred spirits; how similar we really are.

the path leading home
is a winding snowy trail
of few footprints,
for only my loved ones know
where I truly live



.

Copyright © Chris D. Aechtner | Year Posted 2013

Details | Personification | |

Umbrella

There she stands 
Centre stage for all to see
Tall and slender 
Precariously she balances.

I reach out for her
Draw her to me 
My hand skims her body 
Slowly reaching her skirt.

Playful fingers find hidden areas
Delighted her legs spring forth
Displaying the very beauty
Of her delicately adorned skirt.

Gaily she dances around
Dizzily twisting and turning
In the brightness of day shading
She gently tends to my needs.

Personal ballerina takes to toes leaping
Merrily bobbing up and down
As emotional to her performance
Clouds cry a thousand tears for her.

Reaching our destination
Slightly shaken, she leans
Watches me quietly drips
Against the wall.

Reminiscent of the day's fulfillment
We acknowledge one another silently
Restful knowing we shall be
One once more.

Copyright © Anna-Marie Docherty | Year Posted 2008

Details | Free verse | |

Isle of Bast

Memories of the North Sea
sift in like sand kernels 
on a fast, frigid tide -
events that transpired outside 
the confines of rhyme,
instead, unfolding exactly 
as they were meant to.

I had never before seen
so many shades of gray.
This monochromatic splendor
was awe-inspiring,
within an absence of sunshine
that was perfectly fitting,
instead of being bleak and bleary.

The smell of salt and seaweed
awoke deep within me 
something dormant and eternal - 
a surging desire to flush
stagnant disease
from out of my blood
with an inverted force of pride.

Salty blood and water
coming together in a communion
of distant relations and movements.

A flash of bright red 
digging in the sand beside me.
My child is wearing the only
vibrant colour to be seen for many kilometres.
The colour matches
her enthusiasm and energy,
as she moves from one spot to the next
like a dancing flame.

My own fire burns in my eyes.
I had unconsciously dressed
in the same colours of the sky and sea,
blending into the scenery
as a chameleon --
an illusion thicker than clouds,
an illusion of stone
for me to melt and reinvent
at the spinning speed of thought.

I look over at my daughter
who is wearing a wide smile of wonder,
for she has not ever seen the ocean before.
She can see the chameleon
walking alongside her in the frothy surf.
Together, we collect shiny stones and shells,
our pants rolled-up to the knee
as we wade through waves.

I wonder if people onshore
can only see a solitary dash of red out here,
or if the chameleon is more
noticeable than I had thought,
while we watch sea-birds
cover the steep cliffs
in a blanket of black and white feathers.




~(2012 North Sea Remix)~






.

Copyright © Chris D. Aechtner | Year Posted 2012

Details | Free verse | |

Midnight...You Are My Sun

In all the earnest buds
                  that long to open…..
and ambrosial May promises

I tried in the silence
and the rush of the storm
that rages wild and unkempt
to fight this consuming
                        To cease the feeling….
To halt the sticky sweetness
(berries on your lips)

I can’t stop it…baby
 
It’s there in every hour
In the breaking of the dawn
painted pink and washed in fire

In the turbulent waves of blue
and salt rain on my face
In the way you speak 
                           and caress me
and the way your eyes just mess me

In the stark speech of branches
and the reawakening of flowers
The breeze that teases my hair
and tosses it carelessly

It’s just always there
stroking and breaking
                   and rebuilding me
Crashing me to jagged rocks
and yet spreading my wings
to fly your passion sky

In the dream of something
came the reality of you

In the fantasy of a wind’s embrace
                came your precious face
and now I am powerless….
just helpless to stop this

My exposed heart blasts out
this eternal hankering……
this infinite crimson crush

A war against the pitching
A battle against this tumble
A railing combat…yet….

Aye! In the night that steals the sun
In the clouds that whisper achromatic hues
and the freesia and lilacs 
                     and violets….. I see you
You are there just waiting
Always……relentlessly….I fall

Oh baby, I just can’t stop this

I fall, hard in a breathless fumble
Into your waiting heart

Like a trembling cat
I curl in your lap
I am so in love with you…

Copyright © Christie Moses | Year Posted 2009

Details | Free verse | |

Cornflower Blue

(a conversational collaboration with Christine Ueri)



"remember the dream I had when we were 10?
(waves and waves of cornflowers everywhere)
about the boy and the closet?
(sunflowers, circle, glass house?....closet, yes)
cornflower blue
(the closet was cornflower blue?)
the light in that dream was cornflower blue
(the air, the atmospheric light?)
yes, especially in the closet

I had that dream for so long
I'll never forget
little boy blue and the kingfishers --
the blue and white china plates
with the bridge and the lovers; the two doves in the willow tree,
that made me look for japanese letters....horse.
 
the funny things we do as children

(you are writing a poem....)
catch the words, my love
(you already wrote a poem up there; bridge it together --
I dried cornflowers with dandelions in a blue and white book; but it wasn't a dream.
Well, in a way it was, because at the time, I was floating in the clouds)

he wore a blue and white striped top in my dream

and I remember him
when I look at the sky,
the clouds and the golden sun --

I caught the words!
(yes! did you string them all together?)

not yet!"



                                                                                 
                                                                                



August 29th, 2012


Copyright © Chris D. Aechtner | Year Posted 2012

Details | Ode | |

Pleasures of Moving on Moon

Pleasures of Moving on Moon


You have always charmed us by your beauty, O Moon,
Sometimes fascinating Heer and Ranjha*, and sometimes,
Mesmerizing Romeo and Juliet.

Sometimes you have spread your charms, on the monuments of Love, 
Alluring the beauty of Taj*, in the full moon light of Purnamasi*
O, Moon how many faces of Love and Beauty you have,
When you stroll silently on a snow covered maintain,
The beauty and your grandeur becomes envy for the heaven.

For Poets and Writers you have immense stories and inspirations,
For Lovers you are more precious than gold and diamond,
For singers you are like the soul of their songs,
For Boatman’s, you are their sole companion of their silence and turbulence.

While watching you so intensely from earth,
I felt, as if I was wondering on the silver surface of you O, Moon,
Moving and feeling, no gush of wind,
No moisture of Rains and dryness of Sun,
No falling of leaves, in the season of Autumn,
No bending of rivers, flowing from mountains to oceans
No murmuring of birds while mating and chatting,
No change of seasons to engage my mind and heart,
Still I was fascinating to move on the silver surface of you, O Moon.

Walking on your surface was a strange experience for me O, dear Moon,
As I was trying to feel the unique pleasures of earth, 
While moving on your silvr surface, O Moon.

Ravindra
Kanpur India 22nd November 2010
Soon I will post this as My Photo Poem with the Photograph of Moon on my Blog and on face
book, which I took on 22nd Nov. 2010

•	Heer and Rangha. The Indian Lovers like Romeo and Juliet 
•	Purnamasi.      The Day as per Indian calendar, when we can see the full Moon.
•	Taj.                  Refers to the world famous Taj Mehal monument of Agra, India.

Copyright © Ravindra K Kapoor | Year Posted 2010

Details | Free verse | |

Lantern on the Water


Place my mind into a boat
doused with kerosene.

Create a lantern on the water:
light the boat a-flame
and push it out to sea.

Then my heart will be more free.






04.06.2013




+/-

Copyright © Chris D. Aechtner | Year Posted 2013

Details | Personification | |

Goddess Of The Night

Dusk calls out to the Goddess of the night,
coaxing her over tree tops, she's shining bright.

Within tonight's twilight, her white light is full,
the one evening of each passing month
when she drops the veils of mystery,
exposing her true beauty for all to see.

Luna is my spiritual mistress of the witching hour,
cooling off the tempers of my Sun's burning power.

Enraptured by her teasing splendor,
as she flirts with night creatures.
When she becomes a perfect circle
dancing across the velvet dome of night,
showing off her full, pale, curvaceous might,
these are the very moments
that the primal animal inside,
patiently waits for, 
with a building, beastly crescendo.

Tonight,
I watch the Goddess of the night
disrobe amongst the jealous stars,
flaunting her suspenseful bloom,
causing the very darkness to swoon.
Gentle light of the moon
caresses my skin as a lover,
filling up the spider's web above
with a ghostly, incandescent glow,
that hypnotizes me with a glimmering flow
of passionate, gleaming brilliance -
slowing down earthly time
for just a moment's soft brush
of a pulling, tidal communion.





*Inspired by Dr. Ram Mehta's  "Luna- The Goddess of the Moon" contest

Copyright © Chris D. Aechtner | Year Posted 2010

Details | Rhyme | |

Half-Lit Moon

Haze up in the heavens encircles this orb.
Half-dark, half-light, shines from above.
Twinkles of light appear to absorb.
Fractions of darkness within lighted glove,

Speaking to lovers held in each other’s arms.
Answering questions of science to some,
Floating around spreading blessed charms,
Listening close at times, hearing a hum.

Lovers for centuries, graciously, captured by,
Sweet serenity and magical mystery,
Others entranced with secrets, which fly.
From words written and spoken in history.

Satellite, orb, lady, they are all the same.
Mythical goddesses, gripped in flame.
These tales have spread so many games.
This object seen most nights has no shame.

Copyright © cecil hickman | Year Posted 2010

Details | Acrostic | |

Sunglass Envy

Siphoned light gropes passengers
Hopeful for luminescent hearts,
Arching underneath bombazine drapes
Dusted with passionate legacies
Of original sin and the primogeniture son,
Wicked for nighttime plots savouring
Spicy love, exponential in a vivid darkness.

Copyright © Melissa Schwartz | Year Posted 2005

Details | Pantoum | |

The Blue Rose

Blue velvet was the rose gifted my heart.
Poet was he and blue the blood from his thorn,
a rose as blue as the summer skies
a rose as blue as his ice blue eyes.

Poet was he and blue the blood from his thorn.
So gifted was he with the blue roses form.
a rose as blue as his ice blue eyes,
with thorns as sharp as his beguiling lies.

So gifted was he with the blue roses form
a rose as blue as the summer skies
with thorns as sharp as his beguiling lies.
Blue velvet was the rose gifted my heart.

Copyright © Debbie Guzzi | Year Posted 2010

Details | Rhyme | |

Remnants

Sad Heart, now thou art wither’d from the Sun,
What man, or god, will near thee run?
Wrought in twist like branches in Tempests' gasp,
What Comfort, or Gauze, shall be near to grasp?
True ones begotten are the ones now Rotten
And the ones now Rotten will never be forgotten
They are merely sad remains of assiduous Tears
That have been meddl’d with and tatter’d Raw throughout the years

And thou, cruel Mind, that sat’st still thru toiling trail of Night;
Must dream your broken Dreams; thou’rt a sanely flight!
Can thou extinguish passions of Fire, Disease, or Rain?
—tho thy distinguish’d influence trains to abstain
Thy Remnants brought to debris in thy Empty street,
Devour’d by Vultures, their bestow’d beaks entreat
Merely are they cleaning an inexhaustible Mess
Alas! Leaving thy rudiments of Identity to redress....


Copyright © Laura Breidenthal | Year Posted 2012

Details | Free verse | |

Only You....

.
 in the aromatic silence
         flowers scent the air
candle flicker glimmers
        supple soft shimmers
of pale tangerine 
      and swirls of pale rose 


in long slow sensuous moves
yes…soft compliant stretches
I lay supplicant on satin sheets
      I await you, my love

in the moonlight in moans
        I plead for you

    hair in erratic disarray
  rusty tendrils fall unruly....
         and body taut
    in love stricken passion 
      drugged still seconds
        my breath caught
          I long for you 
I pine for your dominant eyes

   touch me on a bed of blue
       whisper those words
             “I love you:”
 and trace your tender hands
                 blindly
          down this body
   starved like a hungry cat
                for you
that’s right…..only you will do

      just you can ease the agony
            and just and only you
can wreck such havoc on my hungry heart
 wretched from the pain of loving you

you break me and make me
    
     feral rivers of tender petals
                 hot lava and liquid lust
particles of me lost in storm tossed dust

by your own creation
           I became your slave
in breathless bondage
chained to you…..weak and wanting
          (a heady thrill)

my tongue so parched I  thirst for you
       quaff from the lake of you
        dark and brooding… you
your primitive eagle spirit draws me
     like a fluttering helpless moth
                  (desiring)
drawn inexorably to your raw flames

        can you feel me my love?

         your body I worship
              and I wait….
        tied up here….I wait…..
           for just and only you

Copyright © Christie Moses | Year Posted 2009

Details | Rhyme | |

"Walls Between Passion"

written by Michael & The Mysterious Lady of Soup


                                                 Michael
                            The walls are tall but I know your there.
                          I hear your voice and the thoughs we share.
                                 So close but can't touch your hand,
                 all I could do is spill out my words and let my pencil land.
                                              Lady of Soup
                         I can feel your heartbeat beyond these walls,
                                one tear drop and my pencil falls.
                           The image of you vibrates my desired needs,
                            every thought about you inside me exceeds.
                                                 Michael
                                   I press my palm on the door,
                      just to feel your hand makes me want you more.
                          My chest is beating to your song of desire.
                      To be inside your body and feel your waves of fire.
                                              Lady of Soup
                        I take a deep breath to feel your essence here.
                           In my mind, the image of becomes so clear.
                             I can not calm a single thought about you.
                  I place my hands on my chest in hopes you get through.
                                                 Michael
                        Soon this door will open , and all shall be revealed.
                     So many things to be said, will start with kisses sealed.
                           To see you standing in your beauty and appeal
                              I have to have you as our passion will steal
                                             Lady of  Soup
                      The time has come for us to be in each others arms
                  before you opened the door, you had me with your charms.
               Lets throw these notes away, and feel the desire for each other.
               Lets keep this a secret between us, my dear poet and sexy lover..

Copyright © Michael J. Falotico | Year Posted 2010

Details | Sonnet | |

As Night Descends...

Beckon these eyes a whisper in trees
Scarlet passion in hot molten heat
With your fiery touch I will hit my knees
Fevered oscillation on warm amber sheets

This skin awaits your raw carmine kiss
Breath…indrawn from smoldering flames
Inside deep eyes of sweet chocolate Swiss
In searing red throes I call out your name

Trembling in the blazing torch of your touch
I whimper blue....a shattered disarray
A blistered journey…you are my crutch
A bursting heart pulsing crimson display
--------------------------------------------

         Morning awaits a crushed coral flower
                     Entombed......inside an ebony tower

Copyright © Christie Moses | Year Posted 2009

Details | Free verse | |

A Lover's entrée to March

How far can you fall and get back up 
How high can you jump
And keep your feet in the sand 

To touch grace and fall from within
Next to you I was out of my skin
I missed you yesterday and you leave tomorrow

A life spent in the shadows of lushly tint 
Smoke your waves 
Exhale the freshness of your menthol scent 
Home is what you call shelters that need no defense 

I’ll send 
You’ll say goodbye
I’ll send again
You won’t reply

If love 
Is the appreciation of another’s existence
Then goodbye
Is the anticipation of seeing you again

You and I, we’ll cruise the shores
Together we’ll settle with the wind 
The joy of a small hut, a lovers den

You’ll send
I’ll wonder why
You’ll send again
I will not reply 

"our songs for sale"

Copyright © Jerry Golden | Year Posted 2009

Details | Free verse | |

Come Back To Me

The Ink Bottle sits, alone,
It’s only Companions,
The Feathered Pen,
The Paper Pad.

The Desk, once alive,
The Words,
No longer,
Written.

Love, abandon,
But wanting not,
The Freedom,
It has.

A Wooden Chair, dusty,
Reclines not,
For the Comfort,
Once given.

Time, a mystery gone,
With passing,
Never to be recovered,
Longing.

Days of gloom, waiting,
Shine not, The Light,
The Heart,
Once brightened.

Come back, to Me,
My words, of Joy,
Of Laughter,
Wisdom, once known.

Copyright © Kenneth Fordham | Year Posted 2008

Details | Free verse | |

Look at Me

i curl your 
long dark hair in my fingers
at your neck
as I pull you down
I wait to feel the rough end of day
beard
on my face
your eyes close a little then open
to watch me
look at me, I whisper
dont stop
looking at me

Copyright © Veronica Joseph | Year Posted 2009

Details | Free verse | |

Laughing Atmospheres

Laughing Atmospheres




It floats in the morning dew
Settles with diamonds
On cobwebs who
Catch dreams on their threads

The sensual quiet of dawn
Imbues
The grass blades are whispering
To the sifted chanting
Of being One

In a glittering pool
The sea
Dances every possibility
Day bright answers to the
Begun
Shafts brilliance of the sun

Calling loud
With its perpetual anthem
Loud call
To the rest of the world

And here it comes

The daybreaks begin
Leaping from my chest
It seems
Rushing to laughing atmospheres
Peaks
On white bathed angels
Wings expand

Sends me out
Higher than the light
In my eyes

Gathering to the quintessence
Point
The beating monument
Of my heart
Single holds on to intense
Shudders delight
Through every sense

I am soaring skies

I see her eyes

I
Left unbound to the anchoring ground
I
Hear the word
The catapult of love
Universal soundings climax 
Imparts
Beneath the eyes of God
When we both were created
As one

She holds my cheek
And the ghostly press
Of lips meet
I 
Confess my soul
To the indomitable
Flow
Of love

And the orchestral designs of morning
Send this rockets emotive
Burning
Reaching
Powered to pinicles
In a cavalcade chords
Goes racing
Cavorting

Climbing every space
My spirit
Has loosed upon the chase
To its welcome home
For such an exuberant ride
All on its own
Takes it place
At her side

I

It is there
Where I belong
You see
Every atom
And concept of me
Has always been
Since God created us
Both
As one









Copyright © colin mitchell williams | Year Posted 2009

Details | Rhyme | |

Sickness in my Soul

 I’m in such a state of confusion,
I don’t understand what I’m doing
I know your there
And I know you care
But I can’t see you
I can’t hear you
I just don’t know what to do
I know your there in the stillness,
Waiting to heal this illness
 
There is a deep hole
A sickness in my soul,
Disease in the depths of my heart
 But How to fix it
I wouldn't know where to start
How it came to be
Is a deep mystery to me
 
 I know that I am broken
We all are in some way
But rarely are these things spoken
Rarely do I have the courage to say
The secrets kept within
The depths of my sin
 
But if I hide it how can it be healed
 How can the healer heal?
If I keep my heart sealed
What if I let down my shield?
 
Will I be attacked or disgraced
Or will I be embraced
I’m too scared to find out
To be found out
So I hide my face
 
I only let people see part of me
I only let people get so close
I don’t want them to see
I don’t want them to know
And so I end up alone
 
I’ve been to the bar, the clubs,
All the social hubs
But no one cares about my hurts
 Life’s all about chasing skirts,
Fancy cars and nice shirts
 
Or is there something beyond drunken nights, and flashing lights
Is there something really worth living for, an open door to something more?
An invitation to a new destination
A path to peace, a sweet release
A new life to claim, an escape from the shame
I believe there is, some days I forget
But my life isn’t over yet
 
Tomorrow is a new day
I can live life your way
With love and peace
With guilt and shame released
With a new heart
And a new start
A reason to live
And something to give
To this broken earth
Of invaluable worth
 
At my very core
I know I was born for more
Than to live and to die
Without knowing why
I don’t have it all figured out
But I know without a doubt
That the world needs love
And that love comes from above
Because human love is not enough
 
That is why there is a deep hole
And a sickness in my soul
But to me has been revealed
The way to be healed
 
Now I have a mission
A reason for existence
To bring healing to the earth
To the unloved, the broken, the rejected
And tell them what they are worth
So that Jesus’ love will be reflected
And this love will give birth
To many people being resurrected,
Redirected and completely accepted
To a wonderful and glorious rebirth

Copyright © Roland Fleming | Year Posted 2013

Details | Ode | |

the chair where you were sitting

my angel you are with me
in a way i never knew
just sitting here thinking
and spending time with you

we recall the good times
and lessons that we learned
sneered at the bad times
and hours that they burned

both learning truths
as God helped us to see
a little something about you 
a little something about me

we were brought together
it was our destiny
and just like all beautiful stories
ending in tragedy

but only just today
have i found you in my mind
and now something tells me
that you were there all the time

my spirit has accepted 
that your body has gone
but everything you did
in my mind lives on

you made me someone
much more than i am
giving me presents and presence
being my biggest fan

i could never win anything
more valued than you
my gift from God
i was given to you too

the chair where you were sitting
beside me so so well
for a while it held an emptiness
a little piece of hell

but i have learned for the good
perhaps in the nick of time
that i can fold your little chair
and put it in my mind

and place it with my treasures
things i've had since i was a boy
with my most treasured memories
horses and toys

Copyright © john loving iii | Year Posted 2011

Details | Blank verse | |

he is leaving home

                            
                  In great respect of the band I grew up listening to
                       as sure as Mom passed down Saturday Chores 
                      for I had been chosen to scrub bathroom floors `

                    Yet a familiar sound would bring me to keep scrubbing
                       The red album, The blue album , The White album 
                        Then .. Abbey Road , always remembering the sad look on
                  Ringo's face ,  something hard to understand underneath~
                       
                      I get it now, what you were saying all those years ago ,
                    the many sad lonely tears , secret tears , secret fears 
                    For Maxwell's Hammer was a real one . It wanted silence

                    Going back ..remembering when John Lennon died 
                      I was in Arkansas saddened with the world .
                      Then seeing his face saying " Drag isn't it " 
                      No .. this was not my hero in music and song .

                      he was a stand in hired William , he filled his shoes 
                      bringing diversity to create so much beautiful music from loss

                       One left standing , alone;; grief struck on back cover ~
                       The other identity hidden, tried to be part of ..coming together
                                                                                                                                                                        
                            his  world of secrets
                        He to suffers today , in fear , Faul~
                       
                        Too many years gone by .let us tell the Truth. Let us be free
                         The very sad long and winding Road ~
                         Let us Bury our real Paul. 

                         No more " Mystery tour "
                             No more fear 
                                Let him be in peace ~


           Inspired by " The Last Testament of George Harrison , Is Paul Dead ? "

                





Copyright © Shanity Rain | Year Posted 2013

Details | Romanticism | |

Arrow Kiss

You are my soul's hinterland Huntress
methodical in seduction
beautiful in bashful entrapment,
capturing this man's mania for erotic offering
leading me into open fields of forbidden fantasy,

Disrobe my desire, denude my fire
that spires hot for you,
you are my naked rose
the tempt in my nose,
study me into your curious and craving eyes
steady my focus for inescapable caress,
take notes of my heart
make love to my every part,

You are my love Muse
the woman I choose
the pulse I use
a breath and skin
I savor to bemuse,
no other woman
shall shade and confuse
our loving views,
this face is yours
my tongue adores your shores
my Quill explores all your doors,
grab me needily
where the throb for your grip is thickest,
spread petals silken pinkest
lay wide your pleasure purest  -

J.A.B.

Copyright © Justin Bordner | Year Posted 2014

Details | Free verse | |

To My Ex-Boyfriend

And if I have learned anything from our love, 
it is that things do not break in even pieces.

The way I still catch you glancing in my direction
or searching for the words to start a simple conversation from time to time
makes me believe that maybe you left with a piece of me after we fell apart. 
And you can keep it
because I want to be the ghost that lingers in your heart
over the years and the many of miles that will draw us farther away from home.

I want to be the girl you think of late at night as you drive among city lights,
the one you think of when you hear your favorite song.
I want to remind you of all the little things you loved about the world:
full moons, bike rides, long road trips through unknown places. 

I want to be the girl that evolves into mystery;
a girl who may wander off to places you can not find,
but somehow she never leaves your heart. 
I want my memory to feel like the first time you jump into the ocean,
all the times you’ve blown out birthday candles,
your first time climbing a tree and seeing the world from a new height. 
I want you to feel like every moment of your life is a thrill, 
a possibility,
or an adventure. 
I want to be the girl who taught you how to live in a world that only knows how to survive. 

I want to be the girl you wonder about every now and then,
the girl you call late one night to see if she is the still the girl
who never keeps her feet in the sand;
to see if she is out chasing sunsets just like she said she would.

Copyright © Kaitlyn Fox | Year Posted 2016

Details | Iambic Pentameter | |

My Own Little Mystery

I think it was your eyes, they are to me,

So beautiful, serene, a perfect dream.
 

Wound up, flustered, lost, amazed and alive.

More so than anyone could imagine to be.
 

With your skin of copper, that tastes so sweet,

Along you hips, for your sweet ecstasy.
 

Blinded by my own hidden reveries,

What it is that gets me, I still can't see.
 

I know you've been hurt, I hear your plea,

Open your heart and give me the key.
 

I don't know what they say or do or see,

But I promise, they don't get you like me.
 

See, sometimes your body makes me wonder,

About how perfect you feel against me...

Copyright © Daniel Ashcraft | Year Posted 2012

Details | Free verse | |

Of Rabbits and Raven


Rabbits always digging, 
digging deeper, cutting into truth's marrow....


We screwed a mirror into the ceiling
of the Temple in our skulls,
jumped up through it,
discovered a world turned backwards,
sideways, upside-down.
The deeper we dig,
the higher we climb,
the rabbit hole stretches forever on.

And I smile.

An Alchemical wedding, 
an Illuminated union
shedding light upon ancient footsteps
moving into the future -
a vow of: "From before our birth,
and even after death, into a new birth."

Immersions,
conversions,
inversions merging, 
joining into a Sacred Shield.

We dine upon postcards of the Nativity,
steaming off faded stamps,
adding a fresh coat of colour,
chuckling at Raven stealing
the Gold, Frankincense and Myrrh.
O what a Trickster!

Raven drops pearls into our eyes,
tastes the sun as lemon wedges,
passes on the seeds to us.
We water seedlings with tears
of vulnerability and fading fears,
feeling shoots sprout into trees,
feeling unfolding mysteries.

The ancient footsteps 
ignite a futuristic beat.
Above, 
cities burn,
the world is on fire,
but the drums do not cease
as we keep jumping through mirrors.

Mirrors reflected in dilated pupils,
dilated pupils reflected in mirrors.
No matter the course,
stars shine on,
shine with souls,
souls become stars,
stars are seeds for even more trees,

and pearls continue to drop into our eyes
as we navigate the twisting burrow,
meandering along a path where Raven flies.









July 8th, 2012

Copyright © Chris D. Aechtner | Year Posted 2012

Details | I do not know? | |

The Unanswered Questions

How ironic? Has God ever fallen in love?
I am sure the supreme power does have a clue about love.
Then why are many struggling with questions that have no answers.
If certain sensations are not meant to be then why does one have to go through it?
Or is it a good way to put a check list on Karmic activities. 

One’s feeling doesn’t seem to make any sense and the restless notion only brings discomfort.
Even though some things seem so right and pulls one toward a make believe world,
Attempts and efforts don’t seem to fade away.
It is with the tornado of genuine feelings that keep the tingly feeling of love alive.
So does God understand this?

Even though modernization has struck onto the minds of many,
The devotion and willingness to surrender to that person develops a passionate and overpowering desire.
The sweet and sour, or bitter and sweet emotion creates fear or questions fate again and again.
Once the brave feeling has been awakened and humble efforts have been tried upon,
One cannot fight destiny, but can hopefully open a new change to Karmic policies.

As time goes by, one notices that it is no more days, weeks, months, but years that has shaken the foundation of a belief that finally love will conquer over the negativity,
Love is the feeling that has no answers but only a precious sensation is felt.
Again no answers, but more questions and experiences are shown and learnt in every way.
There must be something better stored for everyone that is why one walks through a chain of tests.
Happy living and sustain that positive attitude.

Copyright © Bhavna khemlani | Year Posted 2012

Details | Couplet | |

When I Leave This World

Inspired by the song "Last Kiss" by Pearl Jam


You had just gotten your first car, a 1957 Chevrolet Bel-Air,
We were only seventeen years old and neither had a care,
You came over after school and asked me to go for a drive,
We longed for freedom of the road, we never felt so alive.

Always the gentleman, as you opened the powder blue door,
But, after tonight you would be doing this for me no more,
I remember how the moonlight shined off of the chrome,
When you picked me up and I would never return home.

I cannot ever stop thinking about and replaying our past,
I still remember your soft kiss, and it would be our last,
Because, this tender embrace would never happen again,
There was no way that either of us could've known it then.

The impact was so sudden that I felt almost no pain,
As the car swerved out of control into the other lane,
It all happened so fast, there was no time to scream,
Now my existence is a nightmare, just some bad dream.

My body grew cold fast, but I could still feel the heat,
Of the warm blood dripping down onto the leather seat,
I lay there silently, nearly lifeless, held against your shoulder,
It was then I realized that I would not be growing older.

The radio faded away as I closed my eyes for the last time,
What happened to me was an accident, and not a crime,
I will wait for you on this spot, by the very same tree,
Where most people don't notice, but some of them see.

It's an anniversary, it will be 58 years around midnight,
The misting rain and lingering fog will keep me from sight,
As the headlights go flying by, shining from modern cars,
I'm hoping one of them will be you to take me to the stars.

When I do leave this world, side by side we will stand,
And this bad dream will finally be over as you take my hand,
I am waiting to go to heaven, only you can bring me there,
In your brand new, powder blue 1957 Chevrolet Bel-Air.


Copyright © Kelly Deschler | Year Posted 2015