connections
Learn more about other poetry terms
5:30 am
The world is still fast asleep
Deep breaths of fresh air
Are captured in the windmill of my bones
Rising and falling as I do.
Value your friendships,
hold them tight.
Say you won't let go,
in the night.
Cultivate, grow them,
give them light.
Reach out to others with love,
and things will be made right.
I lay on the grass,
Face pressed on the earth
Above your marble urn
And let your soul
Flow up through my body-
Leaving my skin tingling
The silver cord of friendship
Runs all throughout one's life
And strings together people:
Their souls with all their strife
-
It weaves a precious fabric
So delicate, unseen
And as it's underlayment
Pray for the One
Good deeds are acts of prayer
To the light, our vanguard.
This is the time when
Acts of love are needed
To fortify the One of which
We all are,
I have seen into the eyes of a stranger
I have walked the footsteps of a refugee
I have heard the soldiers commands on the battlefield
I have felt the sorrow for someone I have never met
Seeking a connection to you is like reaching out to grab the air.
As I fall down a 20 foot cliff.
-Where are you now?
Dissapointment.
Nothing but regret.
One night stand,
Nothing but a sweat.
I was your seed,
You gave me no lead.
Feeling boundless on bareness.
But the carlessness was always there.
Breached bodies searching for common ground, Jocking for key positions your arms touching me now,Fully clothed no rush, Our minds are just on lust, Intimate sex, and trust,We get together...*shush, Her finger over my lips, Warm hands on her hips
They curl in and out,
Deep and Slow.
Sliding over your tongue,
Gliding around your teeth.
They take death in,
And let life creep out.
Soundlessly labored,
They huff all about.
Without me, they say,
We may ask ourselves "Where do I belong?"
Where are those people we surround ourselves with in order to make us strong?
I failed to find my home, a place to come together
Summer has gone,
with that warm gulf breeze.
And, fall has arrived,
turning leaves in the trees.
My carefree days,
spent out in the sun,
now replaced by a classroom,
Blank notebook pages,
Crisp, clean, unwritten phrases.
The slick ink flows as the pen goes.
Across the page, inscribed the future.
Theyre doing it wrong
all, all wrong
but I am yet to tell them.
No, that's no right
youre incorrect
please stop.
They need help
i can do that.
Spools of frequency,
in beaded thins,
suspended by night
and acting as strings.
Watch how they quiver,
vomiting notes, <---(realities)
As so, sunlight would sliver,
Education is not pencils.
Education is not tests.
Education is not classrooms.
Education is more.
Education is not principals.
Education is not schools.
Education is not teachers.
