My body is my temple
Sometimes forget to remove my dirty shoes
~ occasional cleanup in aisle 13
Wordku: 5-7-5 words
AP: Honorable Mention 2025
This is MY body. MY temple. MY fortress,
It doesn't come with permissions through the way that I dress.
You have zero rights to do what you please,
If I show some skin, it doesn't make me a tease.
You cannot grab my cookie and expect to be safe,
You should however prepare to be clocked in the face.
As a woman who's been silent for way too long,
Nows the time to stand up and its time to be strong.
When I dress my body its for my own pleasure,
Not for you to go forcefully digging for treasure.
When I dress provocatively it is NOT for your ease,
It certainly doesn't mean I belong on my knees.
I choose to dress in all sorts of ways,
Depending on what I'm needing those days.
To feel powerful, confident, sexy or comfortable,
Not for you to sit there and judge if I'm able.
Women keep rising because we are unbreakable,
We come back harder, stronger and less amenable.
You don't own me, my body, or my rights,
So stop trying to dominate the women who bring you life.
Comeback-Shirley, starting early,
I'm the sparkle that teases night.
Worship, the Madonna baby!
Comeback-Shirley
Foam hair curlers set loose coils tight.
Strawberry cheeks, fans wish to see.
Appearances, tilt the glass right.
Put your sugar bowl out, missy.
The world shall call you its sunlight.
Stolen cradle, aren't you in glee?
Comeback-Shirley
Dum-Dum, muffled gongs
empty the heart.
They fall from my umbrella-
uninvited, gone.
You did not rush the ruins of me.
You entered gently,
Like a prayer whispered
In the hollows of a broken chapel.
Your touch-
Not just desire,
But devotion.
You traced every scar
As though it were scripture.
We did not collide,
We communed-
Your breath a psalm,
My sighs an amen
Rising from the altar of my ache.
Where others only sought fire,
You brought warmth.
Where I had gone numb,
You gave sensation
Like sunlight to a frostbitten bloom.
And in that sacred rhythm,
Bodies bowed but hearts upright,
I remembered that Love-
True, tender, trembling-
Can feel like worship
And still leave no bruise.
So I opened,
Not just my thighs,
But my trust.
And you entered not to take-
But to awaken
The woman I'd buried
Beneath years of surviving.
Salt a gin and tonic,
It’s too dry.
Assault my temple with sin,
Be honest,
You like the rye.
Look me in my honest eye,
Conversations with myself are the fondest,
Because no one understands me better when I rhyme.
Took a pen and across the paper it slides,
Scribble out the oddest lines.
Apply pressure to the page,
Trickle out ink until the pen has died.
Wet ink is promised to eventually dry,
But tomorrow isn’t promised,
For some reason I can’t help but question why?
After four portions of Moët fine wine,
I tend to think of life as if it’s all just a waste of time.
If tomorrow could be withdrawn then what’s the point of the “grand design”?
If tomorrow I wake up past dawn,
Should I consider myself only one step closer to dying?
Don’t overstep,
The temple has redrawn the walls and implores you to walk within the lines.
It’s not perfect,
But nothing’s wrong with second best.
When it stops hurting,
In comes walking Sudden Death.
We can’t always be our very best,
Attempting perfect,
It feels like burning,
The scars left behind showcase regret.
In strange dream-lands
Perhaps on far, far away shores
Does stand the rim of Beyond Understanding.
A temple to higher thoughts, and subtle visions
Of more-to-comes and there-afters waiting
Holding futures bright, out from foggy mists.
Here, here is where your next place dwells
Land ye steady, fear not feeling... being alone
For there is no such thing, always is... company.
Sing you here then, your song, bright eyes
And listen ye to what you hear
The Beyond has always held your partner’s voice.
I adorn myself with petals and words of affirmation
Softly spoken over the temple I reside in
A home that has been burnt down more times that I can count
Walls crashing all around me
A fragile foundation
I’ve uprooted and moved
Unearthed the ground beneath my vessel
Stripped away old wounds that have been plastered on top of one another
I have pulled back the layers
Revealing the bare bones of my being
My true essence and colour
Because here is where I live
And here is where I will occupy until I breathe my last breath
I will make a safe haven out of this body that houses my soul
A place to call home
Goodbye, Legend!
It's too hard to bear,
It's too hard to live,
Without You !!
Today sky is crying, so does the ocean,
Temple bells are ringing the saddest tune!
Nothing will be same without you,
Without you, Without You!!
Raindrops are whispering our story,
Dewdrops are quivering on Lotus leaves,
I can't let you go, Darling ~
I haven't told you how I feel,
How do I bear the emptiness,
Teach me the way you lived!
Nothing will be same without you,
Without You, Without You !!
The temple resembled a market place. They bought and sold.
By the rich even the Sanctum Sanctorum was controlled.
Communion of the humans with the divine seemed delinked.
From the lost tongues of hypocrites, like sounds of cracked gongs, clinked
Bonfires of sanctity from the hearth of your heart erupt
Possessed by the love of your father's abode, you were crushed.
Wrath, in the form of a whip, spun in your unconsciousness.
Each vendor of dignity soon regained their consciousness.
Could the priests and elders whose pride was demolished bear this?
Their mouths were shut. Within their hearts, there were many conflicts.
Why do you do this? What sign would you show? These were queries.
You knew your physique would berazed. You had, yet, no worries.
Pray in the house of God, Merchandise has its market place.
From the fullness of Abba, you knew, flew fullness of grace.
The sun or earth and the moon resembles a kind of love
for instance
now, do they share air or water or sticks or something
or some stuffs or woods?.
For it seems the bond is getting tighter and tighter
each an everyday -
if for instance the sun will shine in a day tonight the
moon will take over, behold somehow about the same
glee and glass?.
Even later the family Beautiful, blossoming, en cheer?.
Your body of work
My temple
I've come to worship
Fingers grazing lightly across the ink spilled pages
your beautiful soul laid out before me
Your minds a flowered field I find myself running to
Through the windows of you
those dark eyes ever enticing
Gateway to the wanted world
Lost in limerance, closing the door on the darkness behind me
Murmurs of the dust and bricks of the house of your dad called
Dialogues on the mystic ways of the kingdom enthralled
Food for your psychic power, from cosmic secrets you drew
Winds of words of your wisdom, around the environs, blew.
The earth and the heavens were adorned with rainbow attire.
To spell out the soul of salvation, you were on fire.
Awe filled the deep souls of beings in each interaction.
Weren't you the saviour who salvaged humans from destruction?
Joseph knew this. Emmanuel had a mission assigned.
The wisdom you gained from the heavens, on earth, you applied.
Mary treasured your wizardly ways and meditated.
Seeds of a hope-filled dawn, in human hearts, vegetated.
Learning, teaching, labouring... realism, like rivers, flowed.
Each day of existence, with rays of godly graces, glowed.
In the temple abandoned by time, in the silent whisper,
Our palms unite, masters of the subtle light,
You watch over with the warmth of spirit when angels dart,
You, the reliquary of divinity, the guiding star when the world stands still.
The elixir of dawn in your chalice, sweet venom, unknown assuagement,
Beneath your mantle of bliss lie embers that do not burn,
I walk in your rays, seeking a natural shore amongst the silver poplars.
The night clothes you, a queen in veils, in the white that transcends,
Your kiss, a fresco that breathes life into the sacred and undisturbed,
By your side, I cross the chasm between shadow and astral glow.
You, ruler over art, mysteries of what my eyes behold,
Born from the great abyss, a promise sculpted in the heart of the sun,
My treasure, the sky and the earth, the altars of my life.
Unfading glory, you are mother-in-law and artistry to stars,
The hourglass envies our shared moments on this dazzling realm,
You are whole and complete, in the sweet silence that embraces the corners of the world,
My treasure, a mystical altar, forever in the twilight of splendor.
The overpouring raindrops, the incessant rain outside was telling me continuously,
She was a story to nay sayer
and he was a theme park to symbolic haifa.
Baha'i temple and a raincoat.
People get soaked there.
With theocracy, bureaucracy, faithfulness, faithlessness, midlife crisis and many more like all these.
We and the downpouring sounds outside, are a drawback, still
That heavenly sky is still a striker hand of an indoor game!
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