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Cindy Long Jul 2017
Shes more than just a pretty face. Shes a hurricane. Demin and lace spun around like wind and rain. A princess that has long since lost her crown- its probably at the bottom of the pacific by now; stitched together with good intentions, lightning, and leather. Held to the ground by a chest harness, gagged with cotton, and her heart made to beat to the rhythm of thunder. Voice like the pounding of the sea against bluffs; breaking down barricades with one subtle stroke. Uprooting trees like she does her long blonde curls and nothing can calm her chaos-not cuffs or rope, not diamonds or pearls. Shes just a little harder to handle then most. Oceans plunder through the floodgates of her eyes at any given moment; parading through the coast, tumbling around with all the broken and bruised cement.
Shes all the abandoned throwns left to drown or freeze without power, warmth or shelter. The promise to do better and be better next time coaxing her further into the fray by her collar and leash but its always the same unpredicted weather. Shes both beauty and the beast- complete opposites chained together by her ankles and wrists. Poetry pouring from her luscious lips in a heavy mist; a coldfront may stall her out but shes still quick to spit with the flick of a whip. Shes deeper than she appears but her foundations crumble under the rubble of her own ivory skin. Broken coral stumbling through the empty halls of her soul-it takes it tole. Shes the act of god, something so vivid and yet so insane could only be brought on by the abundance of sin. A divine cause lost in plush-sweet and also ******; a unity of odd mixtures: vinegar and sugar. Cloudcover hiding the blisfulness of the sun and she cant help but blush. Shes altogether too much and all she leaves behind is death and decay-she destroys everything in her path But its not her fault; she got broken too while sitting in the lap of a tormado; wrapped her up, held her tight, then let her go.Any attempt to get back inside only left her trapped in scar tissue, She went crazy when he called her baby so its no wonder nothing survived. She may leave you with a mild breeze and a sky of orange and pink.She'll send seashells spiraling into you until you become debris..make you wonder what its like to live without the kink.
Unedited raw poem.
Gigi Tiji  Jan 2015
Walk
Gigi Tiji Jan 2015
cracks in
the surface
spiderweb crisscross
across the frozen eyelid
of the lake

cracks in
the surface
split dendritically
across the ragged planes
of my arctic fingers

capped with
weather-worn callouses

swimming through
my thick hair frosted
with sun drop water crystals
and dry winter dandruff

snowflake scalp fluff
finger fly skin flurries
and I'm a coldfront

I'm a thunderhead
icicle snowdrift
I'm a rolling cloud
ice gale moonmist

trekkin through the
frosted forest with

fairy dusted
smiles and
snow filled
mittens

I'm a
fickleberry
tick tack
pick pack
**** it like a
smoke stack and
poke it with a
thumbtack
through the front
and out the back
and swan dive
into the cork board

leave it for another day
move on forward but
don't forget to stop
and pray

tongue tied
in a knot today
like a cherry stem
tongue tried
quite a lot, I say

to carry them
ever-powerful silly
magic mouth sounds

I went for a walk today.
Devon Brock Aug 2019
Sharp edge of a coldfront
stands west of Dells,
a rigid lead line on a ridge
where the leanin' broke-roof barn
stands ready to take in buckets.

Ain't been scavenged
for old wood yet,
for picture frames,
sold,
where the upwardly mobile,
shop for the quaint, rustic things,
reshaped for authenticity,
and a clipped last year
wall calendar
image of a red barn
in a yellow field,
below a blue
cloudless sky,
following
the perfect rule
of thirds.
LeRoy Williams Jun 2019
Running through my minf, I find times I fallen cold with a warm heart. Not cold to you but man I love you so you know thoughs days when you can't seem to get it right. These things that help you that Id do like love you. I keep pacing causing grace to place a pacemaker sesation and I say nothing. The waiting is a coldfront, my face. Out in the cold I'm naked as a child as an orphan without pity in my heart, because I know I'll keep you cool.

— The End —