The Novice and the Goddess, Poetry by Erik Thomas

Dream, let your emotions stream…

…Across the seam of a border to a greater being

Brought together by a greater means…

…The proper pronunciation of the letters L-O-V and E

Genre: Fantasy, Love Story

 

The Novice and the Goddess
by Erik Thomas

 

Dream, let your emotions stream…

…Across the seam of a border to a greater being

Brought together by a greater means…

…The proper pronunciation of the letters L-O-V and E

 

Question…

 

When was the last time you met your match…?

Let me explain, this object of sentiment who puts your whole mind intact, a sudden awakening within, you’ve gained a drive to catch, her eye at a moments notice before your opportunity’s left…  out the door without a word, its almost unfair you see… you took a bit too long to

 

Allow me to take you on a voyage, ill explain it vocally… a lesson learned amounts to greater meaning than teaching a soul with you hope you see…?

 

That… if you don’t take me now, ill have a heart attack love

My fatal convulsions worth us not spending time in fact love

That, ive gone past the point of return, no Turning back love

Trapped in the depths of mental consumption without  fates escape route skittle path love

Theres no way to backtrack without your support Mona me

Soon you’ll see, that what we were, aint half as much as what well be…

Ill raise the rivers, move the moons, and fucking separate the sea…

Id ward off all your demons while you rest easy for the rest of eternity…

Ill show you exactly what I’ve become, If you’d come stand here next to me.

I need you love, don’t walk away… open your eyes and soon you’ll see.

 

But then she whispered the truths of her dying affection toward his hoping presence without glee…her piercing words even dropped our hopeless hero to his knees…she said. “My time here is passed, and with your obtained knowledge your undoubtedly soon the be, the most magnificent mind materialized meant for the sake love ever over the course of history.” He replied, fuck your stupid logic, just look at what you’ve done to me! Before he spoke another word, she laughed at his animosity… she said “I’ve given you the best ascension toward romantic divinity…how could you even almost deny the prospects of my wish to set you free…?” He staggered over his sentence, but he managed to get his point out clear and free… you’ve taught me how to ‘think’ and create all the things that I do see… to recognize the bounds of ones desires and how to offer them their dreams… however, the one thing you haven’t instructed was what I take in personally…my own essentials were never met, as well as the necessities… the one thing I’ve ever wanted was to make ‘you’ live so happily… you don’t get it, I wont love again, this marks the end of me, youre all I’ve ever wanted, and you’ll be all I ever need… ill say it once more as your Romeo, Juliet please don’t leave…?

I promise to god, if you walk out that door ill fucking cease to breathe…q;[

 

Her expression was unforeseen, she hadn’t expected this… her perception on what she’d done here…and all for just a kiss? She couldn’t quite see why he cared so much, or what she’d done to deserve this, she couldn’t bare to see him loveless again… but she wouldn’t  suffer through the bliss… before she motioned to speak again, she noticed a wetness on her face… a single tear slid down her warming cheek, then she noticed her mistake… apparently she showed someone who had nothing, the most excellent virtues of what ‘love’ could make… she altered an entire thought process, and then his heart was left to break, she cried the happiest tears she’d ever fathomed as he offered his hand once more to take… Then, the Goddess outreached her arm, with a bit of hesitation, how on heaven or why on earth had she created this revalation, surpassed amongst her own craft… shocked amidst the presence of his creation… a minds time consumption of true creativity is bounds for miraculous manifestation…

 

A sound seconds slower than Sadam’s Saudi Arabian invasion yet light years faster than a single inhalation pace placed to save face in case of cardio pulmonary resuscitation — she went left told him to close his eyes took a breath &blew a wind from her chest blessed with the rest of her best stuff  summoning a gust that mustv done it – err sent our hero to plummet – to death by way of ripping the soul from his chest – he expected none lessz

 

The Novice & The Goddess

 

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LETTER FROM A SYRIAN CHILD TO HIS MOTHER, Poetry by Valentina Meloni

Mom, you never told me

that you can die even breathing

I believed that to die

it would take a wound,

a crack from which life

Genre: Kids, Life,Death, Family, Fear, War

LETTER FROM A SYRIAN CHILD TO HIS MOTHER
by Valentina Meloni

Mom, you never told me

that you can die even breathing

I believed that to die

it would take a wound,

a crack from which life

could come out along with the blood …

Mom, you never told me

that you can die playing

among the stones and the dust

of the road who saw me run.

You never told me

you’d greeted me from so far away

and that, crying, your soul

would come to claim me.

Mom, you never told me

that you can die breathing in a dream,

that the air can also be a poison.

You told me not

I’d be an angel of glass,

asleep, in a white shroud.

Mom you never told me

the death would make me bright and beautiful

sweeping away the fear of bombs.

Mom … however,

I could not tell you yesterday,

while I was playing with the death

how much I loved you and wanted you well.

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Life: A Writer’s Purgatory, Poetry by Lauren Kruczyk

I’ve survived the labyrinth of trial and error,
and have concededly accepted the nomenclature
of a writer in either timid self-proclamation
or through overly proud avail.

Genre: Artist, Rhyme, Life

Life: A Writer’s Purgatory
by Lauren Kruczyk

I’ve survived the labyrinth of trial and error,
and have concededly accepted the nomenclature
of a writer in either timid self-proclamation
or through overly proud avail.

Though the words do not yet slide
off the tongue in quite the way I’d like,
I have,
once or twice,
believed the words to be true.

I stagger, rejection mocking me,
wallowing in self-pity,
as I envision with such banality
the proud smirk of those who believe they possess such talent.

But without this treachery,
one could not be a writer;
the all-encompassing double-edged sword.

It is a rare skill
to strike a sensible balance
between hope and lack of delusion.

Those foolish enough to herald self-righteous decree
and clench tightly to a proud belief
that there is no room for improvement in their work
have already failed.

These fools will “comfort” you‚
that I know for sure.
A special kind of compassion served with a hearty dose of pity and a sprinkle of condescension.

I often wonder what this bliss must feel like;
pouring our souls into the world,
yet never truly at peace.
We crave notoriety; yet live as hermits.
We want to possess humility, yet feel deeply special;
like no one else in the world.

And with that creeps in undeniable tragedy;
the weight of our pain intends to break us.

A catch-22 it is;
our troubles arrive as if they were a magnetic force.
But if backed into a corner,
a writer will forever choose tragedy.
That is our cross to bear.

Yet in the slight moments when we rise to a purer place,
we settle upon the realization
that through every teardrop,
the vast feeling of emptiness
must be worth it after all.

 

 

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BE THREE, Love Poetry by Stephen Karnaghan

Then 3 … like a quilt … joining person to person … family to family … spiritual … emotional attachments … all together …

Part of the 2016 LOVE Poetry Festival.

 

BE THREE
by Stephen Karnaghan

Then 3 … like a quilt … joining person to person … family to family … spiritual … emotional attachments … all together … as the sea takes revenge … and the molten hatred of earth’s heart … why not link to smooth natures wrath … in love with trees … in love with oceans … call out with passion … and what’s more …

but we know … we cannot pretend … it’s either the blanket or … each person with two to make three families responsible for … and why not include a tree … who is that trying to hide … for profit … oh poor fool … oh poor, poor fool .. the face will … and then … side splitting revenge on earth’s crust with … join and reject … join and reject … and politicians smile … as if they understand …

 

 

 

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FOREVER NOT YOURS, Love Poetry by Gloria D. Gonsalves

The mighty pulse dwelled majestically, ready to tango with

every last longing until inhales of flesh befitted desires.

So a creed of passion was written, thou shall devour every moan

until the combe overflows with nectar

Part of the 2016 LOVE Poetry Festival.

 

FOREVER NOT YOURS
by Gloria D. Gonsalves

 

You came and left fast like a thin Santa in a fat chimney

with promised gifts of goodness.

 

I remember your worshiping of my body like sacred petals of

a flower and heralding me your godly foreplay.

 

Your unsaid words showered me with deeds of heavenly award

that made Venus gasp with envy.

 

The kisses that you whispered to me were angelic hymns
of redemption, blooming what had long gone withered.

 

Caressing dormancy to awakenings of red purity and

passionate avalanches. Nothing of me was spared from melting.

 

I was flown into the heart of your eyes mirroring startling thirst

to be taken with the wings of adoration and submission.

 

Exhausted with imperfect melodies, you fine-tuned my hesitations

with forbidden baton of arousal.

 

Unleashing the timid façade, I dared to excel in the challenge

of unrestrained picnic with you.

 

The mighty pulse dwelled majestically, ready to tango with

every last longing until inhales of flesh befitted desires.

 

So a creed of passion was written, thou shall devour every moan

until the combe overflows with nectar.

 

Amidst my party of juicy emotions you were done and gone.

Alas, I was forever not yours!

 

©Gloria D. Gonsalves, 2015.

First published by SIBYL Magazine: For the Spirit and Soul of Woman, February 2015 issue.

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On the Wallaby with you, Love Poetry by David J Delaney

You know! It’s always great, to sit down with your mate
and talk of all the places that you’ve been.
Around the campfire light, beneath the stars so bright,
we reminisce on all the sights we’ve seen,
and, as we’re sitting back, the billy, old and black,
now boils and spits onto the campfire flame.
Then, looking back at you, I feel your love that’s true,
I’m pleased that you agreed to take my name.

Part of the 2016 LOVE Poetry Festival.

On the Wallaby with you
by David J Delaney

You know! It’s always great, to sit down with your mate
and talk of all the places that you’ve been.
Around the campfire light, beneath the stars so bright,
we reminisce on all the sights we’ve seen,
and, as we’re sitting back, the billy, old and black,
now boils and spits onto the campfire flame.
Then, looking back at you, I feel your love that’s true,
I’m pleased that you agreed to take my name.

So as I fill your cup, (beside your bluey pup)
again I’m drifting back to when we met,
was Brisbane at Rocklea, when you first noticed me,
I knew you were the one I had to get.
Now after all these years, including sometimes tears,
our love has just grown stronger everyday,
and while we’re on the road, we share each others load,
until we find another place to stay.

We talk of Wineglass bay, that Tassie summer day,
how we walked hand in hand along the shore.
Port Arthur’s famous jail, (where prisoners would wail)
were buried on that island by the score,
or when we stayed at Sale where hay I tried to bale
before we headed out to see Karween.
Then rode the scenic rail down in old Flowerdale,
We’ve never seen the land so lush and green.

And how we felt the chill, at ‘Eagle on the hill’
when building snowmen in the local park.
We read about a bloke (who struck the Sydney smoke)
at Stuart town once known as Ironbark.
At the Cervantes fair, we smelt the fresh sea air
and heard the poets spruik their very best.
With Tamworth’s country din, we merrily joined in,
we wore Akubras and a leather vest.

Then up in Kakadu I hung on tight to you,
when that large croc leapt at the boat for food,
and down near Uluru, that’s when you spotted ‘Blue’,
your charming way I just could not allude.
The river Todd’s a place, we went to watch a race,
and laughed at all those boats with hairy legs.
Then how could we forget, the Queensland far north wet,
those northerners who drink their beer from kegs.

If we did settle down, in some small country town,
we’d write a book as thick as ‘War and Peace’.
Of summers and the rain, of happiness and pain,
and oceans, birds, and jumbucks and their fleece,
though here we sit again, years travelled tally ten,
I know we’ll keep on moving for some time.
For you my darling love, I thank the Man above,
and sometimes write about you in my rhyme.

For now, I’ll write a song by this old billabong,
of how we like to hold each other tight.
And while you stroke blue’s ear, I turn and say, ‘My dear,
you’re perfect like the Kimberleys tonight’.
I knew it from the start, back when you stole my heart
there’s nothing in the world I’d rather do
than have you by my side, my love I just can’t hide,
when touring ‘on the wallaby’ with you.

David J Delaney
18/01/2011 ©

Outright winner, Reef Writers & Port Douglas Gazette poetry competition 2011.

 

 

 

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Love-Forests Field Raw Romance, Love Poetry by dr todd harris

Sunshine’s Love raises verdant forests
Giant Sequoias’ limbs tend skyward
Sunlight’s gardener’s guarded gate
Clouds tumbling azure linen’s card

Stormy high-Horizons blink

Part of the 2016 LOVE Poetry Festival.

Love-Forests Field Raw Romance
by dr todd harris

Sunshine’s Love raises verdant forests
Giant Sequoias’ limbs tend skyward
Sunlight’s gardener’s guarded gate
Clouds tumbling azure linen’s card

Stormy high-Horizons blink
Topside needles perspiring porous
Moonlight’s midday upside drink
Bracing gossamer mothwings’ fate
chording nesting mockingbirds’ chorus

Cool-misted gravity-loosened Cones
Odd-Drop nest-eggs’ tarried bones
Cleaving Clover Sprouts’ rising rate
Swallowtails dance rosepetals’ rink

Marching Ants form treetrunk’s torus
Circling Seasons’ birthday ward

Earthworms raising one wary end
Blind eyed readily self-aware
Digging warm earth’s open air

Waving
armless thermals bend
Shadows shelter homeward bound
Seedlings join droughty-watered tears
Blooming daisies worship untoward
Woodland spirits’ creaking prayer

Breezes polish branch-path grounds
Noting crooks’ circumstantial bier
Unmeasured unsawn virgin board
Forester’s dreamed-of planks austere

Occupying rain-dropped atmosphere
Photosynthesized seedlings dance
Bark-fissures dry-dock sapling-sounds
Love-raised forests field raw romance

 

 

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Everything is Love, Love Poetry by Debra Tammer

Everything is love
Even fear is love
Even hate.

Part of the 2016 LOVE Poetry Festival.

Everything Is Love

by Debra Tammer

Everything is love
Even fear is love
Even hate.

Hate is love
A love lost a long time before you were born
And now handed to you as an ancient scorn.

Anger is love
Pull back the curtain of your rage
And it’s there-it’s love hiding in a cage.

Sadness is love
Tears rolling down your sorry face
Longing to turn back life’s rapid race

Fear is love
Awed at the expanding boundless beauty
Belittled to a sense of dwarfish duty

Love is love
Souls spinning until we find a connection
The ultimate search for divine reflection.

 

 

 

 

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AinmosnInsomniA, Poetry by Obi Martin

Monuments of tired eyes

wall up before my face.

collapsing ranks of sane and civil thought

leave violence in their place.

Genres: #dark #macabre #existence #life #insomnia

AinmosnInsomniA by Obi Martin

 

Monuments of tired eyes

wall up before my face.

collapsing ranks of sane and civil thought

leave violence in their place.

 

Drying wells of bitter peace

keep crying for my gaze

and clamor round my clanking cell

demanding rest from days.

 

My visions red and gray and

seven shades of stricken screaming black.

my thoughts are kiting high and taut

stretched useless on the rack.

 

Why have you forsaken

and whats left for me to say

apart from turning short and faceless purpose

towards the silent withered day.

 

 

 

 

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Aspiration, Poetry by Carrie Barnes

I try not to feel this way about you,

but I can’t help it

My mind knows I’ll get hurt,

but my heart doesn’t care

Genre:Romance

Aspiration by Carrie Barnes

I try not to feel this way about you,

but I can’t help it

My mind knows I’ll get hurt,

but my heart doesn’t care

I tell myself to listen to my head

instead of my heart,

but when you look at me,

I’m like putty in your hands

You have such power over me

and you don’t even know it

You think we’re just friends,

but little do you know

that I dream about us being

together one of these days

That’s all it is though,

a dream

I see the way you look at other girls,

ones that are fitter than me,

ones that a funnier than me,

ones that are prettier than me

The way you look at them,

is the same way I look at you

I know I don’t have a chance,

but I can only hope that

one day you’ll feel the same way

about me,

that I do about you

 

 

 

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