MY body is a temple and I am clean i am hearing things and I am feeling things and I am fearing things and those are the things that I will feel and I will go towards it and i will reliaze that it was not worth of my fear fear is a very very poweful feeling and like i told andrew you get the courage after you do it not before you have to do that first. I have beautifulness inside of my temple…let me see all..and I will do.
beauty, peace, serene, individual, love, community… all wrapped in one.
some go to speak to god. i go to hear myself. and understand who i may be.
Some look to for a higher being, i believe in myself and humanity
My body is my temple, my sanctuary. It is perfect, real, and me.
Why do I despise it so much? Why do I allow it to be hurt, why do I allow such an open entry? Shouldn’t every sacred temple have a good security system? Not just anyone should be allowed in.
Every freakin’ Sunday. There was no room for sickness, or backing out. Her house, her rules. And so here I sit on this uncomfortable pew, waiting for 1pm to arrive. Waiting for freedom.
“Are you kidding me?” I asked, incredulous. “You can’t be serious.” A moment of silence passed as Jeff just looked at me, mouth in a tight line. “You’re joking right?” I asked. “Please tell me you’re joking.” “Uh, no Nadina. I’m not joking.” I just stared in disbelief. After a moment of silence, I gave a snort and replied, “There is absolutely no way that Kingdom of the Crystal Skull is better than The Temple of Doom. You’re crazy! Utterly insane.”
In a meadow speckled with flowers of all sorts of colors, there stood countless temples, one for each of the religions in the world. And outside each of these, there stood two guards, armed with revolvers of high caliber.
Her body was a temple and she let me in for worship, prayer (prayer that she would always let me stay) and to offer up all I had to the goddess she was.
Your body is a temple so worship it any way you want. praise it, deface it, love it or hate it. Knock it down or build it up, spit on it or give it your blessing. Your temple will be full of scratches but thats okay
There was something pounding, racing as the wind tore through me. It ripped the insides of me apart, it’s slick fingers reaching and grabbing for whatever it could; to remove me from this world.
Not sure what it has to do with “temple”, but it came to me.
If your body is supposed to be a temple, hers was completely vandalized. She had tattoos all over her body. She was beautiful though, despite the excessive amount of ink on her body. In fact, I think it made me want her more.
Constructed by nouns
Expressed in adjectives
Carried through verbs
The poem
becomes a temple
An homage
to intellect
and creativity
Enticing its reader
to lay tokens of reaction
at its base
My body is my temple allowing my spirit to send light into this world. My smile, my laughing eyes, my open arms… Best use of my temple: paying it forward for the many blessings I have received.
i waited outside the temple. my head was burning, sweat trickling down the back of my neck as the sun melted the scarf covering my hair. where was he? why was he always late and why did i always wait for him?
My body is a temple.
Temples are sacred, they all say.
But I destroy it.
No longer.
But I miss it so.
I yearn for it so.
To paint it red is my night’s dream.
My thought’s most important.
But promises are to be kept.
temple. temple of no stress. carry me there. into the arms of peace. into a calming tranquil silent atmosphere filled with love and contentedness….no words needed. carry me away, on the wings of a bird, to the temple…the temple of no stress. no worries. no anxieties. no conflicts.
Your body is a temple. It is somewhere in the Bible. But then what happens when the body is diseased. I don’t like the analogy at all. It breaks down too quickly.
My body is a temple. One that I struggle with, being a girl.. being born in a society that argues for a healthy living but contradicts all of this with the “role models” they put up on the television screens and tell us we should look like.
I rested in the temple of Jehovah, and dwell in the presence of God. The holy spirit guided me in worship as I laid prostrate at his feet, when I was at my weakest point in my life.
what is a temple for? a residence for god? perhaps. it is true that i feel obliged to behave in a temple, or any other places considered sacred, including church. i wonder if that’d be possible to convert other worldly places into something like a temple.
The temple was the highlight of our trip! It was amazing … all those twists and turns, the recesses, the artwork. One would never guess the violent history that was played out there.
we arrived at the temple with less than a few seconds to spare, kiss me he said! i giggled like a school girl and said we dont have time, i’ll pay you back on the way out. if only being 12 again could fix our relationship, id probably do it again. that temple in the woods didn’t seem so big compared to what wed go through together as a adults, but then again there was nothing about “us” any more. we weren’t together and nor did we talk. it was simply you and i. but never together.
I’ve been attempting to make my small space on the floor a sacred space. They say the same you use for meditation should be just so, the corner of what’s supposed to be my zen rug, where I sit on my yoga block and reach for what peace I can in the middle of a dorm room. There’s only so much push against the influx, the compression, the oppressive crush of a roommate sneaking his way in, of being noticed, of the voices coming up from the quad, and the music that seeps in through the walls. It all silently whispers into my ear, as I sit there with my eyes closed and breathing deeply, “We hate peace.”
the temple stood at the top of the hill. is veiw encompased everything, it was the pillar of the community and it was the home of a dark secret. every night at half past four am a gongrgation happened. an unholly gongregation. one filled with the devil and evil and scary stuff.
My sister was a quiet person. She was always polite, and didn’t know how to raise her voice. She might’ve been passive, but she was more of the Stoic types, in my opinion.
I loved her, even to her last breath. When some monster took her life and her dignity.
I got to see the body, and the physical injuries that defiled her. The ones on her genitals, and the stab to her right temple.
I can’t stand the pulsing in my temple. it’s driving me insane. bonkers. bananas. all I wish for is a little bit of peace. A piece of peace. To start in my temple and rampage it’s way through to my soul. Or something like that.
The temple dedicated to the Holy One, the Chosen One, the Savior. It wasn’t a temple, really. Just a tomb. A tomb to mourn the death of one who should never have died. A tomb guarded by Shadow and Spirit alike until none but the most reckless dared to enter its hallowed walls.
Once a Buddhist, forever a Buddhist.
The temple is the place where I can find a peaceful state of mind, away from all the temptations and distractions. I feel safe too, since my grandparents’ ashes are placed in this particular room, they are my guardian angels. RIP and I love you both so much, although you passed away when I was really young.
MY body is a temple and I am clean i am hearing things and I am feeling things and I am fearing things and those are the things that I will feel and I will go towards it and i will reliaze that it was not worth of my fear fear is a very very poweful feeling and like i told andrew you get the courage after you do it not before you have to do that first. I have beautifulness inside of my temple…let me see all..and I will do.
beauty, peace, serene, individual, love, community… all wrapped in one.
some go to speak to god. i go to hear myself. and understand who i may be.
Some look to for a higher being, i believe in myself and humanity
ggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggg.
My body is my temple, my sanctuary. It is perfect, real, and me.
Why do I despise it so much? Why do I allow it to be hurt, why do I allow such an open entry? Shouldn’t every sacred temple have a good security system? Not just anyone should be allowed in.
Every freakin’ Sunday. There was no room for sickness, or backing out. Her house, her rules. And so here I sit on this uncomfortable pew, waiting for 1pm to arrive. Waiting for freedom.
Those sounds were so sweet and their beats so heavy, I could feel my temples thumping.
Big shrine! Link. :P Legend of zelda. Temple of the myans! And Shrine of my guinea pigs!
“Are you kidding me?” I asked, incredulous. “You can’t be serious.” A moment of silence passed as Jeff just looked at me, mouth in a tight line. “You’re joking right?” I asked. “Please tell me you’re joking.” “Uh, no Nadina. I’m not joking.” I just stared in disbelief. After a moment of silence, I gave a snort and replied, “There is absolutely no way that Kingdom of the Crystal Skull is better than The Temple of Doom. You’re crazy! Utterly insane.”
In a meadow speckled with flowers of all sorts of colors, there stood countless temples, one for each of the religions in the world. And outside each of these, there stood two guards, armed with revolvers of high caliber.
Walk in and smell the candles, tradition, faith, and love. Walk out and feel life refreshed.
Her body was a temple and she let me in for worship, prayer (prayer that she would always let me stay) and to offer up all I had to the goddess she was.
Your body is a temple so worship it any way you want. praise it, deface it, love it or hate it. Knock it down or build it up, spit on it or give it your blessing. Your temple will be full of scratches but thats okay
Fingers trace swirls in
stone-smooth skin,
around the eyeshadow mask
and down poignant
cheeks.
Temple – that word has kind of a double meaning. The temple of Salomo behind my temples…
There was something pounding, racing as the wind tore through me. It ripped the insides of me apart, it’s slick fingers reaching and grabbing for whatever it could; to remove me from this world.
Not sure what it has to do with “temple”, but it came to me.
If your body is supposed to be a temple, hers was completely vandalized. She had tattoos all over her body. She was beautiful though, despite the excessive amount of ink on her body. In fact, I think it made me want her more.
Constructed by nouns
Expressed in adjectives
Carried through verbs
The poem
becomes a temple
An homage
to intellect
and creativity
Enticing its reader
to lay tokens of reaction
at its base
Im tired of the words being the same. THis is my second time doing “temple”! Give me a new word, for goddness sake. NEW WORDS PLEASE! :)
My home is my temple. I am going home to sleep peacefully quietly. NO ONE DISTRUB ME! I am not feeling well. I hate being sick. This is bad.
My body is my temple allowing my spirit to send light into this world. My smile, my laughing eyes, my open arms… Best use of my temple: paying it forward for the many blessings I have received.
i waited outside the temple. my head was burning, sweat trickling down the back of my neck as the sun melted the scarf covering my hair. where was he? why was he always late and why did i always wait for him?
My body is a temple.
Temples are sacred, they all say.
But I destroy it.
No longer.
But I miss it so.
I yearn for it so.
To paint it red is my night’s dream.
My thought’s most important.
But promises are to be kept.
temple. temple of no stress. carry me there. into the arms of peace. into a calming tranquil silent atmosphere filled with love and contentedness….no words needed. carry me away, on the wings of a bird, to the temple…the temple of no stress. no worries. no anxieties. no conflicts.
Your body is a temple. It is somewhere in the Bible. But then what happens when the body is diseased. I don’t like the analogy at all. It breaks down too quickly.
My body is a temple. One that I struggle with, being a girl.. being born in a society that argues for a healthy living but contradicts all of this with the “role models” they put up on the television screens and tell us we should look like.
I rested in the temple of Jehovah, and dwell in the presence of God. The holy spirit guided me in worship as I laid prostrate at his feet, when I was at my weakest point in my life.
what is a temple for? a residence for god? perhaps. it is true that i feel obliged to behave in a temple, or any other places considered sacred, including church. i wonder if that’d be possible to convert other worldly places into something like a temple.
the man weighing his options, seeing that not much was worth it anymore, laid the gun against his temple and pulled the trigger… good night all.
the body is a temple.
and i destroy it with food.
big fat temple.
The temple was the highlight of our trip! It was amazing … all those twists and turns, the recesses, the artwork. One would never guess the violent history that was played out there.
we arrived at the temple with less than a few seconds to spare, kiss me he said! i giggled like a school girl and said we dont have time, i’ll pay you back on the way out. if only being 12 again could fix our relationship, id probably do it again. that temple in the woods didn’t seem so big compared to what wed go through together as a adults, but then again there was nothing about “us” any more. we weren’t together and nor did we talk. it was simply you and i. but never together.
I’ve been attempting to make my small space on the floor a sacred space. They say the same you use for meditation should be just so, the corner of what’s supposed to be my zen rug, where I sit on my yoga block and reach for what peace I can in the middle of a dorm room. There’s only so much push against the influx, the compression, the oppressive crush of a roommate sneaking his way in, of being noticed, of the voices coming up from the quad, and the music that seeps in through the walls. It all silently whispers into my ear, as I sit there with my eyes closed and breathing deeply, “We hate peace.”
the temple stood at the top of the hill. is veiw encompased everything, it was the pillar of the community and it was the home of a dark secret. every night at half past four am a gongrgation happened. an unholly gongregation. one filled with the devil and evil and scary stuff.
My sister was a quiet person. She was always polite, and didn’t know how to raise her voice. She might’ve been passive, but she was more of the Stoic types, in my opinion.
I loved her, even to her last breath. When some monster took her life and her dignity.
I got to see the body, and the physical injuries that defiled her. The ones on her genitals, and the stab to her right temple.
I can’t stand the pulsing in my temple. it’s driving me insane. bonkers. bananas. all I wish for is a little bit of peace. A piece of peace. To start in my temple and rampage it’s way through to my soul. Or something like that.
YOUR BODY IS MY TEMPLE. I want invade it, ransack it and pillage. I want to drive my sword into it and conquer it. The sword is my penis.
The temple dedicated to the Holy One, the Chosen One, the Savior. It wasn’t a temple, really. Just a tomb. A tomb to mourn the death of one who should never have died. A tomb guarded by Shadow and Spirit alike until none but the most reckless dared to enter its hallowed walls.
the temple of will is something I attempt getting to.. even though i’m lost , and i’m list since so long i really don’t know the way back
Once a Buddhist, forever a Buddhist.
The temple is the place where I can find a peaceful state of mind, away from all the temptations and distractions. I feel safe too, since my grandparents’ ashes are placed in this particular room, they are my guardian angels. RIP and I love you both so much, although you passed away when I was really young.
Her name was Violet. And she was the most beautiful thing. And she put a gun to her temple, and I cried because I couldn’t understand why.