Most Viewed Abstract Poems (471)

lovers are always the lovers and not can other be....
I still remembered the day,when met both you and me.
you were cute as same and i was all with tremble...
and in my all the greys,thine shadow hold all atable..

if love visited me tonight,
would i be the same?

if love touched you tonight,
would you remember his name?

if love visited us tonight...
would we dance beneath the sheets,
or return to the safety of our restless shame?

duplicity and reckless steps are sometimes the symptoms
of passion, but never the cause.

passionate glances, soft touches,
long kisses and dark dreams...
relevant modus operandi.

the nectar saturates my tongue...
canvasses my loins ~
and pierces my heart.

what if love touched us tonight?

would we both be the same?

My eyes once the color of
The sea on a friendly day
Laughs as we float away
Washed in wet alabastrine foam
Soaked us to our knees
I taste the flavor of Khewra
All those many years ago
Never far from these shore

My eyes change like the sea
Now turning a stormy green
Shouts heard by all hands
A twisting and turning tide
Lifting us higher and high
Or lowering us in its depths
Across jagged zig zagged lines
Drifting precariously out to sea

My eyes fall back inside my head
Black spirit awoken from a dream
Drifting into the starry nights
Cloaked in a thousand shadows
Hiding from all the fear
Craving terpsichorean pleasure
Dancing with my demons
Across the deck of passing time

My eyes now soft and maroon
Soaking long in deepest hues
Sighs at the midnight crossing
Deep in its own purple haze
Casting off all my worries
The faces and hands of time
Fleeting pleasure almost gone
Only then washes up on shore

For what its worth those star too far
The things to never find
For every heart I've chafed and led to chase
During my shaded divide --
Pale this print of sunshine skin
Envelope another mind that is eager within.

And now the day turns into night
The Storm that dances towards this hill
Shall lend its light and strike in fright.

Imperfections reign on this surface of man
A brother to the secreted thoughts that lie beneath
A wanderer drinking the wanderlust
Of the poets curse
Seeking perfection within imperfection.

Composing this upon the fly
Brooks and Dunn the ballads-bye
Back to the world and its boring pace
Traffic congestion and bills to pay
If only to survive just one more day
So I might find that tender hand
Sublime the contours within her sighs.

I want to change my path
But my will is weak
My soul love battered
Now I walk alone
On this path of slumber
A forever high
Digging a hole
Into nothingness
Where Puff the magic dragon
And reality hides
I've lost my way
In a cloud of smoke
It's time I must return

You know it's a bad day when you forget to put the coffee in the coffee.


you know it's a bad day when you wake in the morn and relize your out of TP.

You know it's a bad when your every day jeans are too small but your fat jeans fit just right.

You know it's a bad day when you can't remember where you put things
and you can't remember why you need what you are looking for.

Wal….. Prob’y it ain’t nuthin
That doggone marmot consarned me
The Mawdrator he was pound’d down ‘is gavel
Meeting ai’jouned …was all he says
Meetin’ Ai’jouned my a**
It wa’ jus pass that Aa-ternal Equaunox it waz
When ‘is nite waz gettin a chill in the aire
Passin’ round da ‘holler I waz on ma’ way home
The fust thing on my mind hopesin’
The fire still a'glowen its embers’ red
Pass the bahwn wit' all dem peeps and clucks
So goes sounds o’ late summa a’ turnin to fall
In the Shadder o’these Maountains

Down in the wood there is a stream, just larger than a
brook. That seems to hold all my answers, as it
travels to river. I can hear it as I sleep.

Knowing that this is my place, knowing that this is my
peace.

Always giving me clues, so I myself here again,
at this stream, larger than a brook. Conversing with
God who knows;

That this is my place, that this is my peace.

As I watch a pastel colored maple leaf, follow it's
path to river. Never being taken under, yet coming so
close. I can smell Gods breath here;

This is my place, this is my peace.

No man has ever been here, but God and me. This cold
morning, where I can see his whisper. Saying to me;

Is my place, is my peace.

I have never taken anyone, this secret place of mine.
Hidden past the rock by the pine, where cold morning
frost intertwines. But this morning I find you at;

My place, my peace.

I’ve played with glass marbles, they’re black as black gets...
Cracked down their middles....and right through their backs...
Chained to long nights backed with painful cold-sweats...
I’ll bet that these pains are the best I’ve met yet...

Although I do know, though I don’t......will I grow?...
The best of me.....that person I’ve never known...
And while cracks remain, time has maintained what’s stained...
Strained cracks in black glass back and reaps what’s been sown....

LET US REPENT

in the silence of the night,
there's restlessness in my heart
years of suppressed emotions
suddenly surging like a cyclone
or perhaps like a massive earthquake
its force a Niner in the Richter scale
the whole world is shaken
destruction is beyond imagination
i never expected for this moment to come
a most trying and difficult times
covid 19, apocalypse, like the intensity of a storm
no one is spared, humanity is doomed
as a believer and so they say
this is just a part of a greater plan
it is to prelude a much complex design
to eliminate evil and sift mankind
ask ourselves then, are we in for the fight?
or are we just a collateral for the better side
will it be that as the end is in sight
so does the promise of a paradise?
I am not sure, I have the answer
yet deep in my heart, I can tell
the Lord is the Judge, He is the creator
rightfully so He is the sole Juror.
in the end it is written
He will prevail He will win
all He asked of us is:
repent never to sin again.

Amen