As pretty as a perfect painting.


As pretty as a perfect painting

A Poem byCoyote Poetry

                           As pretty as a perfect painting

(Thank you Tumbir art)

She told me. You make me feel beautiful and wanted. I told her. Beauty is in the eyes of the beholder, he, who can see laughing beautiful eyes, joyful eyes, kind and gentle eyes that make the world more beautiful and sweeter. He is blessed.

She laughed at his words and she asked. Sometime beauty can be trickery and be pretending to be kind heart and warm soul?  Few show real face, speak real words. Just actors in the game in the twisted game of living.

I told her. Your eyes cannot lie. I see wildness, I see fields of wild flowers and I see untamed Pacific ocean in your eyes. You are a brewing storm…

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Existential planes otherworldly realms

My soul wants more of the unknown

Unanswered reasonings of life purposes

My own endearing subconscious to cleanse

Hauntings of the past not yet in remission

Truth I seek but not yet gain not even here

Within my weaknesses lies strength to hang on

If nothing else to just flow in life and search

Yearning for celestial escape for my mind

While yet still landing in reality

I keep one arm stretched out to the sky 

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My Planet Is In A Crisis

Frank Solanki

My planet is in a crisis
It’s slowly burning down
We are all feeling the effects
In every city and town

Temperatures are rising
Icebergs are falling apart
The sight of forest fires
Is an arrow through my heart

Short-sightedness of humans
Has disrupted all lives
Birds and plants and animals
Only the fittest survives

Then there are other disasters
That have a natural birth
A way of warning humans
About this planet’s worth

Not a lot of time left now
Before we will all be gone
My planet is in a crisis
How is yours going on?

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An Adventus – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon


At dVerse Laura has invited us to choose from eight lines taken from mystic poets and use the line in a poem, perhaps even a form of octave. dVerse Poets – Poetics – Stepping off the Sidewalk

I have chosen the line: “Coming, going, the waterbirds don’t leave a trace.” Dogen who lived in Kyoto in 13th century Japan, and who became a Buddhist monk who was also a writer, poet, philosopher and the founder of Soto Zen.

Photo: Bunbury wetlands, two black swans passing by.

“The lack of mystery in our modern life is our downfall and our poverty.” Dietrich Bonhoeffer

An Adventus Dappled ripples processed the roughed vestibule of my heart, an adventitious solace arising in its perpetuated simplicity, I traced a map in the parchment of my mind of all the comings and goings of sentient beings, an adventus, unsurprisingly surprising, my breath was captured by the…

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Left crumpled, I sit alone,
Not quiet alone,
Just silent riot alone.
I try to think something
That feels better than this,
It doesn’t have to be good,
Just better than this.
But my mind just plays tricks
And it’s so good with its traps,
So I think of nothing,
But that’s something
I guess.


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