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poem

  1. T

    Who Am I Kidding?

    Hi this is a poem I wrote with the help of a native speaker - a friend of mine. It's a song. You can listen to it here (on spotify): Who Am I Kidding VERSE I need more time to get things done, Before I go to enjoy the sun. I need a break before moving on, It takes me time when the battle is...
  2. Harel13

    Columbus was a Jew

    I couldn't decide if this went in literature, poetry or fine art, so here it is in the general area. The following is a poem I was inspired to write over the last few days, based on a poem my uncle used to tell us at Thanksgiving. I'm attaching my illustrations too. Warning: This poem is written...
  3. TransmutingSoul

    To remove the veils

    A cry from the heart, that we may find our way to unity. To remove the veils Oh My Creator, my Love my aim, my Passion, my service my pain. My heart sings for a glimpse of thee, lonely, languishing, longing to be set free. What am I, that this longing be? What am I, that I cannot see...
  4. Native

    POEMS, MYTHS OF CREATION AND LOGICAL COSMOLOGY

    The Parminede´s Poem - Poem of Parmenides : on nature - more than suggest that humans are able to gather knowledge and communicate with the creation as such. A human skill, which is much ignored in the interpreting of the ancient myths. Excerpt of the poem: "The steeds that bear me carried me...
  5. littlefire

    I'm really bad at poetry but poetry's fun so here's a few :)

    This one's about my personal history: It was only Yesterday that the village collapsed. The oxygen in my blood has become an act of rebellion
 Invisible
 Devalued
 Unless I inhale monoxide the hegemony scoffs
 They don’t know how my mind has reorganized
 Neural pathways undone and re-bridged...
  6. IndigoStorm

    The Rose Petal.

    She wept when she heard the rose petal fall Then spent, sated and disheveled we got up And began walking out the forest. ”We’ve never even kissed before”, I said, ”I don’t understand.” ”Women don’t want to be understood”, she said, “They just want to be loved.”
  7. A Vestigial Mote

    Cessation

    Its grip is strong, compelled and long, With a slight, strange "maybe" more. Its targets reaped are forever steeped In the realm of hope and lore. A stunning end, itself unending. A path that has no trail. Yet all of us prone to pretending We spin that path's true tale. Come end of run, our...
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