It might be a tragedy,
Might be something unethical,
Might be a disaster,
Waiting to happen somehow soon.
It is no bigger than a cyclone,
But it overflows tremendously.
It might not be just a slaughter,
But it might be something physical yet emotional.
There might be a paradise,
There might be a homicide,
There might be a genocide
In the mind of an idiot.
There might be blood on white satin,
It might be chaos within;
Something so cynical,
Yet it looks like a miracle.
This is the breakthrough,
From the surface to the veil underneath.
I wanted to tell you this secret for so long,
You might know it from the very beginning!
My secret,
which I bury to hide it deep down in myself.
It lies in my chest,
it hurts in my heart,
and it haunts my mind.
It haunts my mind,
the secret itself,
and the knowing of that,
I destroy myself.
Knowing
the hiding won't help.
It won't help me heal the secret I have.
This wound
I have for myself only,
so lonely.
You were just
Meant to be
a summer dream
A secret to keep
Never knew
I would fall so deep
Never knew a fairytale
Would become so real
Coz now u have
Swept me off my feet
We are
What we are
Never too much
Just enough to be
Wish the summer never ends
A dream from which
I don’t have to wake
A secret I can share
With the world
That you are now mine
I’ll let you fly high
Reach the stars
I will always be there
And I know you will be too
We are
What we are
Never too much
Just enough to be
It was written on your body
written in your soul
to keep them all laughing
keep their small minds whole
you painted over it
you take it as it is
living off a captured kiss
to keep the neat bow tied
inside on a friday evening
what is it achieving
I know you want the relief
I tell you the secret
so don't forget
the night’s not over yet
Dear Secret Love,
Love is a many-colored arch
displayed by rays of sun
and best seen in the wake of clouds
just after storms are done.
Love is a rosebud reaching up
to drink its fill of dew
that it might blossom in the warmth
of sun that shines anew.
Love is a midnight symphony.
Its music only heard
in hearts awakened by the song,
as joy inspires the bird.
Love is a sign of hope that shines
for anyone who'll see,
who'll lift his eyes from earth to sky
and dream of what might be.
So if you'll lift your downcast face
and look for signs above,
you'll see a rainbow, kiss the dew
and hear the song of love.
Then, hopefully you'll understand,
I am your rainbow light,
I am the rose that thirsts for you,
I am your love songs in the night.
Your fur is worn thin now,
patches where love pressed too hard,
but to me you were never just a toy -
you were the voice of courage
when the dark grew too loud.
I held you like a secret shield,
breathing into your sewed ear
the worries I dared not share with my mother.
You guarded them in silence,
never speaking a word
but somehow - I always slept easier.
In daylight you became a friend
sailing ships across blankets,
chasing clouds across the plaster sky,
celebrating every victory
in make-believe wars you alone could prove
Even now,
you linger on my shelf,
a gentle witness that love
is stitched to last
beyond the years.
I just want to catch you on a date
in the middle of the ocean,
with all the running lights
on your face.
Picturing us in the sky,
which are captured
in your eyes.
The breeze playing
with your hairs.
No crowd,
no noise -
just you
in the middle of the ocean,
with butterflies.
We tell a secret,
soft and slow,
that has been hidden for years
in a muddy home.
You smiled
like you already knew -
the change...
it happened through you.
So meet me
where the moonlight falls.
'Cause love
kissed the sky.
We find us
on the shore now.
We are in a peace
which never happened before.
Never happened before...
Never happened before.
immediate and intimate
caress of divine magnetism
throb of bliss that does not abate
enlivening mind-body prism
hark the sound of one hand clapping
as soma nectar births cool heat
mind of heart’s awake whilst napping
silence pervading love’s bliss beat
I have a Secret which I can tell no one,
a truth so terrible I cannot say.
And yet, though it can never leave my lips,
It weighs my soul down lower every day.
Sensing that in our life something was amiss,
we beseeched our polarities to entwine
in our heart’s cave, where they may as lovers kiss,
that nodes within us gather under love’s sign,
manifesting boundless rapture, borne by bliss,
as with pulsations of love we so align.
God’s magnetism holds our soul in close embrace,
ignition renewal, at a rapid pace.
We’re touched by Holy Spirit but no one knows,
save our soul’s presence enraptured in delight
and as the benign bliss burn steadily grows,
we’re transfixed in heightened joy by day and night,
for we are in the boat that God Himself rows,
transmuting us here and now as living light.
Such is our secret which with mankind we share,
hoping some pure souls with childlike hearts will pair.
Promised oasis
hidden in banality
suburban secret
milk white porcelain
dresden stamp on the bottom
valuable purchase
found at garage sale
appreciated more now
two dollars well spent
Under the Tree of Life, I slept in profound and secret shade,
when the Holy Lord took pity and opened a window within,
with a deep wound that pierced my dream and slumber,
and in that moment, I lost you, my love, my blue light akin.
With my wounded eye, I gazed at you and knew you as a stranger,
holy as the Lord, far from me, far from all known lore,
now only in dreams and sleep, you are my source of light's wager,
now only in sleep and dreams, you arise as an unborn longing's core.
Source of harsh thoughts, now only in dreams do you abide,
now only in slumber do I find you, in secret, without end,
stranger and holy, like the Lord, in celestial abysses you reside,
now only in dreams and sleep, you are my unceasing yearning's trend.
You are the echo of a time that knows no boundary between dream and real,
a shadow dancing on the edge of a lost thought's seam,
and in deep slumber, I find you, an astral symbol surreal,
now, only in dream and sleep, my love, a silent yearning's theme.
A gift from God, using what's discarded is unshared.
Belém monks kept their ancient tart recipe secret.
Spun from eggs yolks that they once discarded.
Their heavenly baked tarts were so truly unique.
That the monks became rich, when their formula was sold.
Bakers down-under, now sell their own baked tartlets.
Made with a process they too will never reveal.
Curling yellow curds; they make their fame and fortune.
With a unique secret process only the family knows,
Passed down from father to son, in the old ways.
{{{{{Secret}}}}} desires
~~F
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Placed third
Illusku : Illustrated Haiku Challenge
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