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Nat Lipstadt Jun 2023
met my maker

not for the first time,
two acquaintances periodical,
two boon craftsmen, artisansals,
bs-gab-talking about who is surely
the better poet, glinting, side-splitting,
raucous laughter in our dueling self-mockery


neither takes the other too serious,
but of each other, we take endless,
never satisfied, insufficient, each needier
for the rapper inside and repartee, adoring
our jiving unique camaraderie, all-the-while,
knowing our balance unequal, but not caring


for as equals we meet, to revel and reflect,
revealing things of each other that only we
know, meant not for sharing ever, for these
webbed strands binding, at same time, release,
permitting a tough honesty tally, truth not a concept,
unnecessary, for how could we ever hide our love mutuel


we sitting bestride and beside, in ye old, weather-beat-down
chairs Adirondack, having come hewn from trees centuries old,
now overlooking the Bay, we eyeing a solitary fisherman whom,
we both knowingly aware, metaphor for that day that will come
to collect me away to a new locale, where we will yet still needle
each other, with mercy unforgiving, not for our misdeeds, for never


is forgivenessasked for or given, not taboo, but
holy unnecessary for such is the way the between the
designer and the artifact, the poet and the poem, the craft
and the object, gardener and her fruits, a cellular understanding
that comprehends the interlocking necessity of our natures, that our
shared endings, are a duelity, both finale and gateway to our next poem!





https://hellopoetry.com/poem/462537/how-i-observed-the-day-of-atonement/
10:57 AM THU JUN 29
@you-know-where

the bay has an Algonquin name, and Adirondack  is derived from an Iroquois word meaning “eater of tree bark,” a derisive term bestowed by them upon a neighboring Algonquin tribe.
Man May 2023
Simulated tastes
Emulated face
Of a careless faker

Think in haste,
Take and you take,
Living life as if it were a race

What will you say, when you meet your maker?
Steve Page Oct 2021
Our Lord of life gave life
to the winds, the waters, the flames.
Our maker birthed them into being.

What hands have gathered up the winds?
What arms have wrapped the waters in a blanket?
Whose feet have walked these flames?
Only the Lord’s.

But when we look around, we wonder,
what’s going on?

We harnessed the winds and harvested the whirlwinds.
We dammed the waters and stopped the streams.
We burned the forests and they kept on burning.
What’s going on?

You breathed the winds, but not like these.
You sent a flood but said never again.
You lit the way, but this fire’s unchecked.
Lord, what’s going on?

You rebuked the wind – can you do that again?
You calmed the waves – can you speak once more?
You baptised with flames – can you tame them now?
Lord, what’s going on?

God of sun and hail, of arid plain and blizzard
Lord, come like thunder and earthquake,
Lord, roar like windstorm and tempest.
Lord, spread wide like a devouring fire.
Come, Lord, come.

Come on.
The Spirit of God has sown in our hearts
the beauty of this gifted world.
He fans the spark that remains of our desire
to care, to build and not destroy.
He refreshes our souls even as we grow weary.
He watches.
He watches.
Let’s go on going on.
Come on.
hazem al jaber Aug 2021
Dreams maker ...

flying ...
diving ...
searching ...
and follow ...
your scent ...
as a bird morning ...
follow an aroma flower ...
a wet young rose ...
to get it's water ...
to irrigate ...
from it's love ...

as me too always do ...
with every night ...
when eyes got sleepy ...
got ready to draw ...
to the mind ...
to paint ...
a story dream ...
to start searching ...
about you ...
between all trees ...
into my forests dream ...
until i get you ...
to start my sweet dream ...
with you ...
from the sweet part of you ...
the part that i adore ...
to start with ...
it's the door's love ...
where we both ...
breathing one other breathe ...
to start that great making love ...

it's your lips sweetheart ...
where i do start with ...
it's the part ...
that i made ...
to make my dream ...
with you ...
until i wake up again ...

hazem al ...
el Nov 2020
you said
my poetry
is rough?
hahaha
yeah that's
because
my thought's
tear apart
the
thought maker
Matthew Sabella Jul 2020
When fear comes in like a thief in the night,
When it grips your throat and lifts you up out of bed,
When your wandering eyes glimpse what your heart has been desiring for months,
When you give in to the temptation instead of looking to the breaker of chains,
This is when your faith is tested, this is when you see how weak you really are.

I sat and I listened.
I sat and I read.
I sat and I determined that I don't like being alone with my thoughts.
I sat and I realized I am scared of my own inner voice.

It caused me to remember past mistakes I wish were not in my head.
It caused me to miss someone even more than I already do.
It made me realize I am not dependent on my maker enough.
But at the same time what is enough?

Can you love enough?
Can you pray enough?
Can you read enough?
Are we ever enough?

In this world we are going to make mistakes.
We are going to hide from the ones we love.
We are going to be present and listen to them.
In this world, it is a dichotomy of light and dark.

When the fear comes and when it takes hold, what do I do?
Do I sway to the left or do I sway to the right?
Which side is the correct path?
Is either way correct?
Do I just need to sit, listen, and pray?

When I enter into the presence, I hope it is enough.
For when I pray those uneven, and negative thoughts creep in.
I get too scared to pray, I get too scared of change.
I am scared of these thoughts, I am scared that they will never go away.

It's *****,
It's messy,
It's a time where sin takes your faith hostage,
But at the same time, it strengthens your faith and requires you to quiet your soul.

Uneven, broken, failures, and grief.
Hope, joy, and relief.
A mix of who I am who I want to be.
A love that passes all understanding,
One that can cure the wound that doesn't seem to ever get clean.
hazem al jaber Apr 2020
Happiness maker ...

music and colors ...
and a quiet dance ...
sweet poetic night ...
and a warm lap ...
into a bed love ...
where no any words ...
just brighten eyes ...
and lips' whispers ...
to start a great sweet night ...

smile ...
just do it baby ...
to let me get ...
the happiness ...
while i'm looking ...
at your eyes...
so,...
smile baby ...
and get your wish ...
to start our great love ...
smile sweetheart ...
we are together now ...
to give you a happiness ...
as you gave it to me ...
from your smile ...

good morning ...

hazem al ..
Michael R Burch Mar 2020
Lean Harvests
by Michael R. Burch

for T.M.

the trees are shedding their leaves again:
another summer is over.
the Christians are praising their Maker again,
but not the disconsolate plover:
     i hear him berate
     the fate
     of his mate;
he claims God is no body’s lover.

Published by The Rotary Dial and Angle. Keywords/Tags: plover, skeptic, atheist, agnostic, Christians, god, creator, maker, fate, mate, berate, lover
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