In the unspoken stanzas of glance,
A language of love is skillfully enhanced.
Flushed cheeks , shy eyes ,
Glimmering like starry night skies.
The melody of footsteps, a syncronized pace,
A duet of devotion in every gaze.
Fingers touch, cheeks glow red,
Whispered secrets in the heart's closest thread.
The eyes deep dialect, a secret code,
Conveys the heart's deepest abode.
The soft curves of a comforting embrace,
A harbor of solace, calm and safe.
In the gentle tilt of head , a sweet surprise,
In the curve of neck , an invitation lies.
Eyes unite, love's passion burns bright,
Smile glows warm, heart feels just right.
With eyes that lock and hearts that beat,
Our actions whisper secrets sweet.
In every gesture, love is key,
A language universal, for you and me.
~Muskaan
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(PoetrySoup Format)
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i know
the moment the wind becomes more than a melody,
when shapes skillfully surround me
because of the sun -
i can feel you.
------------------------------
~ love is in the air ~
and
the welcome of a summer shadow
Sunday June 1st, 2025- Poem of the Day
Mosaic mahogany memories
Shatter like silver glass within me
Reflecting red reveries
Of all that could be
And never was
Yet somehow cutting
Inside my mind bleeds dreams
Scents of lavender lamenting
Licorice tongue licking
Me with promises you never keep
Though skillfully you lead me on
I fantasize about these lily lies
That ride ebony eyes
On onyx moonlit nights
I remember golden hope
You slide like a diamond rope
Around my neck
Instead of around my finger
I linger in memories
Engaged in warm embraces
That never really were what they seemed
How can you miss
what you never had
Be it a kiss being rich
a mom a dad
Someone who really cares
Who will ride through
The bowels of hell and back
To create caramel memories
Sweet enough to please you
And then act on them
Creating a playbook
From one look in eyes
That have lived and died
For love or the memory of
What could have been
At Cubby's, the neon hums/
A beacon in the night/
A place for solace/
But now a source of plight/
I stood there, a truth on my lips, unplanned/
Asked the clerk to be kind, to lend a gentler hand/
But shadows lingered/
Where light should've been/
Through masks of smiles, deceit crept in/
Their whispers turned to chains/
Forged in lies/
A verdict handed down/
Under cold, accusing skies/
I wore the blame they skillfully wove/
Falsehoods cloaked me in stories/
They strove/
Banned from the aisles/
Where I once stood/
Falsely accused, misunderstood/
No one to believe me, no.ear to hear/
The loneliness sharp/
The injustice clear/
At Cubby's, the neon hums/
As it always will/
But it's glow feels colder/
The world now still/
Whoever the evil one prophesies skillfully, greatly dehumanizes
Why did a cauldron of bedeviled bats fly right
into the grim windows splattering their blood
on the shards of glass strewn all over the floor…
What drove them to their gruesome death?
These nocturnal creatures that can navigate
a labyrinth of caves skillfully.
I leaned ruefully against the darkened wall
of this abandoned house, pondering;
Alas, if only these broken windows can
tell the tale of that foreboding night.
Ensnared, entangled, entrapped, entwined by life…
Venturing to escape is to embrace death!
Hugging the shadows of incarceration I wait
for the light of liberating death to shine upon me
and wrap me in its ethereal grace.
Cast out of Paradise, and a stranger in the mortal world,
I am cursed with an angelic beauty
like a rose blooming in the desert only to wither
in its scorching heat—unnoticed, unsung!
Like a fallen warrior seeking deliverance
like a wayward soul seeking salvation,
Unable to reconcile with either world.
A field of green filled with enchanting flowers
Is illuminated in the midnight hours
Dim is his light while smiling in the dark
The marvelous moon leaves a memorable mark
His little light is subtle and skillfully suffice
Creating a romantic mood, his luminosity is precise
Like an eclipse with the sweet sun
When they kiss, they become one
The world gazes at their union admiring the moon
His dazzling glow leaves before the dawn of day too soon
In the moon's spotlight at night we enjoy sitting below
The magical moon on the beautiful Meadow
Yes, my life is a circus
A product of illusion
I heal souls lost in time
While taming the beast within me.
I am the juggler
Skillfully bouncing others' griefs
I am the stunning acrobat
Bending and twisting through my struggles.
With a sleight of hand
I create wonder from my woes
Have them flicker away
By simply ignoring them.
Yes, my life is a circus
I am the roller coaster
Spinning my troubles
Into an invisible bin.
When night falls
And I finally look up
At the empty stands
I realize my life is but a joke.
Perhaps at a more subconscious level than otherwise,
For many a year, in the personal observation of me,
I have searched through and through for divinity,
And found never a trace, not even a spark.
Am I so insecure as to make MORE of me
than I really am?
Am I so insecure as to make LESS of me
than I really am?
Am I so insecure as a well-made human
as to claim divinity?
Is it not enough to just be me,
so wonderfully made?
Indeed, I am more than enough,
so skillfully built by God's own hands.
Indeed, I will think neither MORE nor LESS
of me than what God Himself has conceived,
and be MORE than grateful to receive, and
LESS consumed with the magic and mystic.
So, let Christ alone be fully human and fully
divine at the same time, God incarnate.
May I be content with being, not divine,
but fully human and fully loved.
Like a welcome Summer rain, humor may suddenly
cleanse and cool the earth, the air and you.
—Langston Hughes
RAINING IN SUMMER
The little teapot leaned over, steam pours out,
sizzles on the pavement. Trickles, sprinkles,
waters the subsidiary gardens that sprout -
those pointed out by a grandson. My wrinkles
curve up as the rain skillfully waters my willow,
my patch of roses and lilies, scattered and rare.
With Summer storm, I ruminate on a long time ago.
This grand-generation of blessing, not yet a prayer.
Drip…drop…splosh! The hope of the window pane.
We dream, as the outburst streams down to spill
our dreams, like seeds giving more than the mundane.
God saturates our lives with more than we will.
It’s raining Summer all over this land of honey-wheat.
Though droll and gray, a grateful soak gifts a sun rise.
My flower petals, leaves and boughs bathed in heat
and nourishing drink, replenishing the owls, and other wise.
Ker-splash, the puddles of inky-mud, stain the shins,
leave me, us, them, refreshed and sodden with grins.
April 13 Praises to God Bible Meditations Based on 1Kings 5-7
Key Verse – 1Kings 5:4 But now the LORD my God hath given me rest on every side, so that there is neither adversary nor evil occurrent.
PRAISE BE TO GOD WHO GIVES US REST
Praise be to God for giving us rest:
Refreshing us with His optimistic peacefulness
Restrengthening us midst occurring problems
Reenergizing us against opportunistic plans
Relieving us along His offered provisions
Reinforcing us optimum persistence
1Kings 6:11-12 Praise be to the Lord Who
performs His Word with us:
Steadfastly along His might
Sturdily upon His moves
Spiritedly by His mercy
Scripturally midst His miracles
Skillfully through His magnificence
1Kings 7:51 Praise be to the Saviour for enabling us
to enjoy the treasures of His house, since we are His:
Dedicated servants
Diligent stewards
Determined soulwinners
Disciplined soldiers
Duty-bound salvation-seed sowers. Amen!
April 13, 2024
The uphill climb,
rigorously relentless
with ambling ambitions
and schematic stratagem,
blueprinted blatantly
on the blank
parchment of mind,
sketched skillfully
with chameleon color shift,
transiently transfixed.
The gripping gravity
of transcendental time
of the loaded past
pulls back incessantly
the present instants,
fastens in retrospect
the incoherent network
of faltering footsteps
at the refurbished root
of existential essence.
The intent inertia
of living force
creates proactive
causal momentum
of tumultuous time,
permeates the perception
of the fourth dimension.
The construed continuum
of elusive eternity,
strives to unveil ineffectually
the shrouded acuity
at the summit of actuation,
emotionally evasive.
The climb connotes
a futile foray
to nowhere.
We see ourselves unimpeded initially
Some are stricken with a view artificially
We are told by others very specifically
There is a ceiling so proceed timidly
We try in vain with no support futilely
As we age blazing the path dizzily
Sometimes we see the results dismally
Eventually we learn to climb skillfully
We began to achieve sufficiently
Eventually finding success brilliantly
Living life with dreams so vividly
Sadly, a haunting voice still speaks flippantly
Reminding us of the ceiling frigidly
We remain in the arena mistily
Each overcautious step taken judicially
We endure the voice shouting viciously
The battle to continue is done willfully
true feelings
concealed craftily
beneath the sheath
of saccharine psyche
fragile fantasy
of self sanguinity
fostered
by colors
of chameleon skin
spurious emotions
sprawl surreptitious
pretentiously
paraded skillfully
away from
edge of reason
epitomize deftly
camouflaged ego
Perplexed and dismayed
In the seeming misery.
This bewildered soul so abashed
Within the bodied figure so jittery.
Daunted her deep-felt presence
He wonders, if lost.
Heart sobs within, in cold sweat sequence
To what does this cost.
Uncertainty seemed a bedrest
One not pleasing to behold.
In what way does this become a test
Yet the mind feels a stronghold.
He mumbled through the dark intermittently
Ferreting a glimmer of hope to come.
Braced skillfully and Concomitantly
The love of her succor draws Him not to keep mum.
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