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Rafael Melendez Dec 2015
A white room hues ocean blue as the sun rises, with a ceiling that screamed to be stared at on another sleepless night. But I continue to see her face like a constellation, and I grow weary, and I grow lonely.
These stars don't shine down on me, in spite of how beautiful they glow; they stared in a most disconcerting way. And I cannot wish upon them, I can only stargaze, and hope that someday they'll no longer gaze back.
Funny how hard it is to fall asleep when you're sad, but how easy it is to stay asleep once you wake up.
lovelywildflower Mar 2019
your eyes are full of galaxies and i just want to sit and stargaze until i discover every last one.
Kewayne Wadley Oct 2021
My bed may not be as large
As California or have a blanket
As deep as the ocean.
But it’s comfy and shares
The same view as if we were there.
When I am asleep with you,
Everything becomes ideal.
One of the best feelings the universe
Could bestow.
To discover a slice of heaven beside you.
A spoon finding it’s way
To the big dipper, in the same
Lineage of how I see you.
We stargaze with our eyes closed,
Watching the stars bloom like flowers
In complete comfort.
The urge to explore further,
A simple look, a simple smirk
Head nestled deep in a pillow.
The aspirations of becoming an astronaut
Become that much clearer.
I blast off & everything becomes dark
My reflection staring at yours beneath mine,
Until I see your face spread wide
Across the moon.
Happy and safe,
My voyage is now complete
Dexter Portalis May 2015
It started with our late nights and early morning conversations
The random occasions that turned into night caps of psychological ******* is what intrigued me
I only want to know her on a platonic level
I want us to feel something different
Something real
Because truth is when you speak
I get a little weak
The vibrating waves of your voice sends my adrenaline into a rush of multiple frequences
It causes me to have premature ventricular contractions
Meaning you make my heart skip beats
In other words I want us to have soul ***
Our bodies to touch but with clothes on because you haven't been fully naked until you've allowed your fears to be exposed
Understand this isn’t a ****** prose
I want this poem to reroute the superficial ****** game that men played with you
Tonight my only intentions are for us to get high
But not with herbs
I want us to be faded with nouns and verbs that speak life as I ignite this erratic twelve play because the foreplay is just for play
Eargasms that constrict our minds let our spirits bind from the moments when I forgot to pull out by not realizing I was coming on too hard
No need for protection when we experience the cerebral stimulating erections from the raw ******* of sedated discussions
Imagine the eruptions you’ll experience when you vibe off me
Can you feel it yet? No?
Maybe a little deeper is what you need
I need for you to feed me your thought process so I can taste your emotions
If this poem had a body you would be the brain
So let me investigate your introspection by interviewing every inch of you
Reaching the climactic **** of this conversation by deep stroking into your deepest seas so I can see exactly what lies inside a divine mind
You will make the seven wonders wonder where they went wrong
A love we share that's so vividly deep even the four oceans will be jealous of its depth
I want us to be in depth with each other
I want my thoughts to wrestle with your feelings and your questions play hide and go seek with my answers
Suffocate me with your beauty
Ravish me with every word so I feel the sensations from two sapiosexuals making love
I want us to stargaze under Jupiter’s moon as we stare into the solar system trying to combine our souls with God’s system
Let’s touch each star as we track down a meteor shower and shower each other with laughs for hours until you’ve fallen asleep on my chest
And the best part of it all is watching you sleep
Because as you lay here
I have dreams about your dreams
Then realize how jealous I am because your dreams can see parts of you that I’m still dying to meet
So if I am someday privileged to make this come true, you must allow me to fall in love with you
Robin Carretti Jul 2018
What is so important to address
something to react to the illumine
fruity to their balance sips like
a goldmine
He sways passed you and trips
Rose Poumedeur right near your* lips

Both stumbling and boasting over her
imported wine dress

The swinging parasol his cork topped
delights
Those imported by his number nights
Cabernet Sauvignon
Hooked to there eyes
Million stars to lift
Her petite waistline
Like heartline of Valentine
wine felt dresses

Outnumbered you by four words
The strenuous tiresome love-wine
Be mine the stargaze* dazing inside the sunsets
So bottled inside her mission
His love how it aged in her
in  a good retrospect like
Deep cherry confessions

The import from a trade surplus
She got overlooked got flown in place
like a sticker
The smart star- reservation 
 high-demand book
To seek her

What a chemistry  love- hands creation
She's the many vintage dresses A plus
The pouring of wine of many fusions
The cloudy dress is a minus illusion

She learned her entire lesson
How many times she was moved
around like musical  I tunes of wine
CD collection of Rennaisance
Battling like the fort chair
But someone was moved by her Jazz
type of hair
My lesson my wish was on hold
the mission cruise of the impossible dress
Getting weaved inside someone's
powerful suite but the best suite
and stay
The Fort William Henry until this day
The Fort William Henry Hotel like no
other sorts and what sports

Japan imports 77.8 billion exports
more than imports
Lackadaisical called the
breath of sunshine
The daisy sundress sitting on the
veranda with Fort Williams and the
Henry the eight I am children

I've been sunbathing looking at the boat
The Minne Haha thinking of MaMa
Someone was singing like Lady GAGA

The matter of great expression of words
Hummingbirds at Lake George
Picking the best birth of seeds
Imported wine what our heart needs
Rising demands of the meat
like the paradise of lovebirds
Her dress was to heal the world
Those wildflowers were the
sort of thing silence is the  best thing
Somehow not the hype of the bling
or diamond ring
Sometimes the Goddess
sun shines more

Making her feel loved to sing
Her dress had the gimmick to move
What a rural fun tree orange grove
Like the referee wine shopping spree
Everyday people were moved by her
gift of imported wines
Her gravity of smiles he's mine
Her face steams like the highest
light beam very well bred and fine
The long winding trail her
corset gown
Started to make head waves to the
higher forces
So enlightening the lakes
such cascades
Those wine deep waves romantic
To prelude to a kiss the Cosmic
The Islander-border lace her face
To love and honor her more

Not necessarily less that
divine moment
We should never miss
Lake George rippling waves
On her outskirts

Princess Kelly cheese Italian wine
Naples deserts
The evergreen  long dress
Shined your Highness the
Roman pillars
How he grabbed her waist dancing
like the Gatsby
Gave her such splendor everlasting sip
But the imported wine was deeper

To Set up the date
To Make- the wine up
In the cellar aged hours to perfect
What a stir over her dress-up deep ruby
wine start to pour end
of a new beginning
subject
To book the trip Lake George New York
All you had to do

Go to the Fort William Henry
Hotel like a home with family
So many friendly faces with smiles
All you have to do is show up
This is about imports but I love the Fort William Henry in Lake George is a great place to stay on vacation I sort of tied it in ribbon-like gifts of imported wines tell me what you think
Joanna Garrido Jan 2019
Stargazing

Come with me to the roof of the world, look up, see the clear, velvet night bejewelled with thousands of twinkling stars
glittering the heavens, shining so bright
The night garden’s star flowers glow in the darkness
at the roof of the world, come stargaze with me
I will catch you a falling star for your posey
sparkle your hair with her diamond bright light
glitter your eyelids with starlight and moon-dust
if you stargaze with me in the dark velvet night.

07/01/19 JG
For the constellation you claim to be, allow me to stargaze beneath your sheets.
storm siren Sep 2016
I am at a loss,
Your smile breathes life into me.

I am losing it,
I'm feeling sick,
But your laugh is the cure
To this ailment.

I want to make you smile,
I want to hold your hand,
For just a little while.

I want to show you the sun and moon,
I want hold you to me,
I want you to come home soon.

I want to stargaze,
And I want to find you,
And travel across time and space
Just to be in your arms.

You're four hundred miles
From where I am,
Which means I'm four hundred miles
From home.
I am sick.
Mike Arms Dec 2011
In the wild
You are left to consider graffiti disasters
hatched from gypsy palates
Vanished in music through spiders

In a wilderness of orange viral light
Moths push from the lips of willow switch
Geishas who stargaze on
Matrimonial black powder

In our wilderness of birth the
Name of Fire is swallowed by moths
We are reborn in Geisha operas
Over the embers of burned invention

You sign the word for sand
In a lamplight hem
A voice skating chalk
Points over pearl

Its pitch wound in a white
Arched wax arm
Ticking the membrane
In her submerged bell
my bloed is rooi
en dit vloei
ek is heeltemaal ingetrek
ek het die maan gelek
en as ek sterrekyk
ek weet ek kan my droome beruik

my blood is red
and it flows
i am totally drawn in
i licked the moon
and as i stargaze
i know i can reach my dreams
© jeannine davidoff 2011
written in afrikaans
kRose Nov 2014
Lie beneath the stars
and
breathe in the night sky with me
let us fill our lungs with the universe
and
with each other.
Kayla Jan 2016
By now, you have probably read a handful of warnings about falling in love with writers. About how they can take you to the brightest moons or bury you to the core of the earth just by spilling their ink. About how they can forget about mundane things such as your anniversary or what time they should pick you up at work. But they remember the most intricate details such as how your freckles align on your nose or how you stir your coffee when you’re too nervous to start the day. You must have an idea about how they can build a pedestal for you to step on as if you were born to be glorified. Yet the moment you break their hearts they will write you so cruel, the history will remember your name as synonymous to tragedy. Don’t fall in love with writers, they always say. As if your life depends on it.

By the time you meet me, you will know right away that words are my way of becoming. You will sense it by the way I phrase my thoughts or how my eyes light up when talking about strange but fascinating ideas such as alternate universes or the other side. I will reference quotations from the books which pages I rummaged on every single night that I couldn’t sleep and share to you my theories about the lives of my favorite characters as if they are real. I will hold your hands and take you to bookstores and coffee shops and look at you as if you are the loveliest view. I will watch the sunset with you and listen to the sound of the waves crashing to the shore and I will stargaze with you as I confess all the wishes that I only whisper to every constellation. And I will write to you. My text messages will be like love letters that are meant to translate my heartbeats. I will whisper poetry in between our calls. And I will write for you, write about you, write like you are the destination to my unending journey.

By the moment you feel like maybe, just maybe, you are falling for me, will you run away? Will you recall every warning that you have ever read and cringe by the thought of becoming a poem? Will you struggle to break free from my embrace for you are afraid that I will strangle you when the time comes that you decide you don’t want me anymore? Will you look at my love as a hurricane and run for shelter elsewhere because you are terrified of drowning? Or will you welcome my kisses and surrender to my every touch because you don’t want to let go of this feeling? Will you hold me like you will never drop me? Will you put your arms around me and protect the world that I created for myself from the harsh bits of reality? Will you read my words over and over again, memorize every line, embed every sentence in your mind and bury them in your heart like precious treasures that others don’t have the right to get hold of?

If you are going to fall for me, fall not for the flowery meadow that I grow using my proses but for the way I caress your skin just to ease your tiredness. If you are going to stay, stay not because of how I paint you with the most vibrant words but because of how I understand you and accept you beyond all your flaws and imperfections. If you are going to hold me, hold me not because of the warmth that the blanket of my sonnets that can give you but because of the comfort that my presence can cause you even if we are surrounded by silence.

Forget all the warnings that you have ever read about not falling in love with a writer and love me. Love me not because of how words anchor me to myself but because I am human who deserves to receive love and who was born yearning to give it away just like everyone else. Love me as I love you and make me realize that the reality of you and I is so much greater than all the universes that I have penned down, combined. Love me without words. And we will be enough. We will be enough.
Marisa Hope Apr 2015
Take me somewhere new, I want to explore with you. Let’s go climb a mountain, let’s go jump off cliffs into waterfalls. Take my hand and lead the way, Mr. Adventurer. Let’s sit on a rooftop and make music. You with your guitar and me with my voice. Let’s stay up there so long we watch the sun set and the moon rise. Let’s stargaze, I’ll watch the way they twinkle in your eyes. Take me in your arms, wrapped together in a blanket on June 24th watching the night sky. We can fall asleep together to the sounds of the nearby ocean and wake up at sunrise to the bright clear skies. Hear the birds chirp and see them fly in their V-formation. Let’s just stay here all day, bundled up in each other. Let the hours pass by and eventually we’ll go get some food only to bring it back to the rooftop and watch the townspeople walk to the city and bike to the shore. Let’s go for a run. A run down the beach, stop to feed the pelicans, the one we named Steve. Who are we kidding, we don't know which one is Steve. But after these nights, you do know me. And I surely know you, Mr. Adventurer.
First time writing prose, I hope you guys like it.
Nikki Paulin Dec 2013
I don't know you, but I feel you right from the get-go. You go about your routine that lassoed my heart into you, you who prance around the vastness of my dreamscape. I come to recognize your presence only in my sleep, at the very least that's what I know.

In that hazy, twisted world of subconscious shuffling, we find ourselves sitting cozily, face to face, at a table outside that rustic coffee shop. Honeyed words and laughters sprightly echo from that very spot where only a vase of freshly cut chrysanthemum sets two bodies and heat apart, longing.

Sometimes, we glorify sunsets at the shoreline. Sometimes, we sound our inane daredevil yawp at a cliff. Sometimes, we simply stargaze and draw across the skies Cassiopeia and Ursa Major.

We embrace the beauty of chaos we often find ourselves walking aimlessly along that busy thoroughfare before we head back home; normally we exchange random thoughts about school, my fascination with Rand's objectivist framework, your addiction to Cobain's craft and story, my weakness over falling in love too fast, your resilience and hope in times of defeat.

We are wired to each other in a special way, so special that it all has to be in lucid dreams. Feelings are intense. Kisses euthanize the butterflies. Midnight cuddles are soulful  calisthenics. Holding each other's hand  is infinite.

You present to me a self that is nurtured by its soul. I think I love you in my sleep. I feel happy with everything that goes with closing my eyes and letting dreams of the world I created creep into my consciousness. In such a realm I don't know you, but I feel you right from the get-go.

Do you see me in your sleep, too?
Sarah Spang Mar 2015
Don't bother me, don't follow me
There's no one else I yearn to see
So fold away your memories
To cede beneath that Hemlock tree

What will I do? Where will I go?
Unshod against the burning road?
These memories I mourn and hold
Crease in my hands where they enfold.

Don't bother me, don't follow me
Or brandish me things I cannot see
My eyes plunge past the memories
Beneath that bygone Hemlock tree.

What will you do? Where will you go?
I was your heart, you were my soul
Did you let go and drift below
The Lethe River’s undertow?

Don't bother me, don't follow me
I hold my head above the sea
These memories furled around your sleeve
I've stashed beneath the hemlock tree.

What do we do? Where do we go?
There are separate paths, or so I'm told
You'll tour one, and if I'm bold
I'll peer once more down your own road.

Don't bother me, don't follow me
But yes, perchance... I'll dream of thee.
I'll stargaze there, and make believe
Of truth beneath that Hemlock tree.
Throw a penny my way if you like my work
-Sarah

gofund.me/Sarahquil
gg Dec 2012
sometimes you give me this feeling
that science is all wrong:
you are the center of the universe
I want to watch you stargaze,
see your eyes light up with excitement
while meteors shower around us
your smile is the moon
bright, beautiful
and I'll make a wish that it never ends
feedback is appreciated
Casey Hamilton Dec 2016
Normally, the world keeps its course
And stays on the straight and narrow and
Lines up with the arrow of its trajectory.
Normally, I am a bit more put-together.
Normally, the sun rises from the east,
Sets in the west,
And the leaves fall from the branches in the Fall.
Normally, I am a bit more put-together.

Take your head off your shoulders and
Put it in a hamster ball,
Then place it in the tumble dryer,
Then put the dryer in
Orbit.
That is how I feel every time
I see that smile or that hair, so fine;
Voice like wine that I drink under moonlight;
When I hear that laugh or look at those eyes.
No matter if I am the subject of their gaze or not,
They gleam in the light, as they are jewels.

Surely, you all must know how this feels.
A nightmare – or a dream – it could be.
Vexing are the thoughts that run through my head.
All I know is that my thoughts are like a dryer in orbit.
Normally, they are not so wound up.
Normally, I am more put together.
All I know is I love those eyes and those lips and that
Hair that lays on that skin, so fair.

“Let us go then you and I,
Where the evening is stretched out against the sky”,
And dance the night away until the sun
Catches your eyes again.
You are extraordinary, I know it,
And all I wish to do is just to
Take walks down our sidewalks and
Stargaze under every constellation.

It matters not what constellation we choose,
Because you are the brightest star I can see.

Surely, I must be mistaken.
A person like this is quite honestly
Very hard to find.
All I know is that my head is so dizzy.
Normally, I am much more aligned with the world.
Normally, I am more put-together.
A little cliché, but I love it when that
Hair caresses that skin, so fair.

Normally, my brain works correctly.
Normally, I am well-spoken.
Normally, my thoughts are not spinning and spinning,
Stuck in a dryer in orbit.

The stars are spinning too quickly
For me to keep up with and my thoughts
Are doing the same.

Stuck in a dryer in orbit.
H Zul Jun 2015
Crescendo the silent beat of hearts in chests
at all things nigh and beauty,
or lovers' eyes locked in stargaze wrest,
on cue as sunrise scarlet symphony.

Fortissimo in birdsong chirp and banter
while car horns blare with careless fervour ;
on pavements listless feet in patter
as suits and ties commute in canter.

At noon the music peaks, forzando.
Soccer mums braced in cafe convo
of lunchtime gossip in staccato
while babes in prams asleep in piano.

On cue at sundown scarlet symphony
the baton slows in rallentando.
Call to slumber twilight melody-
the daily music diminuendo.
Justin S Wampler Apr 2017
It seems that I have not only
fallen in love,
but I've been ****** into it
with enough force
to leave earth's atmosphere.

Because when I see her,
I feel like I'm floating
through space.
Lunar Oct 2016
i remember looking
into your eyes
every night,
before i close mine;
like how i remember
the glow-in-the-dark stickers
when i was a child
back in my old room:

it was a mesmerizing
stargaze
that i
fell in love with,
that made me feel so
*nostalgic
i was in bed last night, sleeping in my sisters' room, and they had these glow-in-the-dark stickers on their closet doors, right across the bed i was in. i felt like i was stargazing. my nights and sleep have never been any better until last night.

but nothing, not even stars, can compare to your eyes.
Anna Mosca Aug 2016


some nights

I soothe restlessness
vacating the house
for a brisk walk

until steps get
few and slower
I may stargaze

or understand at once
those leaves shaking
in the dark torpor

I may turn to catch
the light patter of
my shadow born

under the moon
www.annamosca.com

This poem belongs to the collection of the California Notebooks 01
September Feb 2015
1.
Firsts can never change,
But they can most certainly
Oh, be forgotten.

2.
Do not say my name.
Say my name again—say hers.
This time: I dare you.

3.
When I stripped you of
Your faith, I had asked you if
God was still watching.

4.
Perhaps flirtation—
Music taste, or lucky liquor.
Perhaps loneliness.

5.
Never spoke a word,
Until substance set us free
Upon each other.

6.
We were nothing more
Than slutty dancing, slurred words,
And a messy bed.

7.
Sleep—an illusion.
I start to wonder if you,
Love, were one as well.

8.
I was more to you
In one night—than you were to
Me in seven years

9.
Little golden boy:
How can you hate the whole world
Yet say you love me?

10.
I was sick, alone.
You were not special—just there.
Still sick. Still alone.

11.
I stole from God again.
You were young, and I— Oh, I
Just want to stargaze

12.
Smoke green under green—
sweat under sheets—broken bones—
Blood on hardwood floors.

13.
Hands can hold tightly.
Skin can connect easily.
Words can lie sweetly.

14.
You have green eyes, and—
soft hands, and— loving skin, and—
Nothing I deserve

15.
Let's talk about ***.
Let's talk about love. Let's talk
*About the sadness
I regret nothing of my life.
Written about fifteen people who I'm told are supposed to mean something to me.
Riq Schwartz Jun 2014
Thy blowing blue breakers
sweep overboard,
take color away from
the faces of the men,
washed in white walled foam
and cyanotic sapphire
speak novels in seconds
no well placed punctuation
such is the way of the sea

I'm searching the heavens
for happy notes
over sour tones
and mis-pitched harmonies.
As I stargaze, I'm trampled
by depressive episodes and felonies.


Now,
your bold bone breakers
bring drought and salt
but nothing savory here.
Nothing ventured and
nothing gained,
streets washed of life, weeds,
wear and tears
the only water to be found
wasted on self expression
instead of survival.
Such is the bane of our fathers.

Women's feet shuffled like playing cards
and men's backs bare a striking resemblance
- striking? stricken -
to the laugh-lashed shaming
of their own emotional dilapidation.
And might your mind be free
from weather and tears
you have but to hear/see/smell the broken
to become undone
Like so many pages, dead dry leaves
nestled inside leather-bound luxury with a broken spine.
Thy mindless diction fixes
namebrand problems to
hot button topics,
trafficked into pipelines
down polluted broadcasts of
girls girls girls...

Your voice bellows and breaks.
We are nothing.
Whatever color or shape you take,
We are nothing.
Whenever you go and
whichever language you abuse,
remember in your heart that we are
nothing
like
you.

Women's feet shuffle on hardwoods
bringing heart to the beat
as men's whitewashed canvases carry
the quintessence of quixotic movements
in and about key changes
the same as we paint our love
around the fringes of each other
and frame unfamiliar faces in lip-locked sepia
blushing, brushing
we carry the color of previous strokes until
we are each our own historic hue
staining others for future use
in cobalt, mauve, maroon, chartreuse

We harness our pain
in the alchemy of experience
to create beauty.
Lost Left Shoe Jan 2014
There isn’t a standardized, introductory text
Regarding relations with the opposite ***
As the title suggests I’m here to help
To give you the insight I’ve uncovered so far

Let’s start with the ******* the older guys told you in middle school
“The “yawn-and-stretch” technique is sure-fire and will never fail.
Don’t bother actually getting to know the girl.
Your first kiss is far more important.
Do not call someone until at least three days after you get their number.
You will seem desperate, and they will run away, literally.
Always treat the person you’re after like ****
They’ll see you as confident and superior and like you even more.”
If you’re someone that encourages young hearts
With this crap
Please do us all a favor
And go take a long walk off a short pier with cement shoes

Moving on, we see the root of bad romantics
We are taught, from birth, to take what we want
By any means necessary
But it seems the difference between earning and theft
Has become a bit blurred to the point of
Prince Charming forcing himself upon Sleeping Beauty
Burglarizing the contents of her personal space in order to find himself a princess
The Beast held Beauty like a cage to a canary
Unleashing her to the dribble drabble of tiny tea cups
Until she sought solace in Stockholm
My frustration with Walt Disney, I hope, is apparent

You are not the Knight in Shining Armor
she’s looking for
You are not her jailer, her savior, or her insatiable love-maker
unless she’s into that kind of thing
In a relationship, a man fills one of three roles:
1. Someone to make her life a little better in the time you’re together
2. Showing her joy after heartbreak, and that love springs eternal
3. The ******* that makes her appreciate the nice guys
And if you fit into that third category…*******.

Lastly, in order to help you truly be a man in your relationship,
I’ve got some words of wisdom
-Be like a blanket right out of the dryer
When you wrap your arms around her,
Let her get lost in the daydream
Warm. Soft. Safe.
-Don’t take anything you can’t give back.
Just because she gives you a piece of her heart
Doesn’t mean you can take the whole thing.
She might be made of golden opportunities,
But don’t go trying to melt them down to make a pocket watch
-Explore the space between you
Run your palms across
The rough spots and the smooth spots
Try to figure out why they’re there
-Gaze down into every crevice
And stargaze up from every hilltop
You have miles to traverse
But you know it will all be worth it
When all it takes to shoot lightning bolts up your spine
Is a smile in pitch-black room

Like I said, there is no textbook, guide or pamphlet
That will give you direct answers to your greatest questions
But here’s a compass to point you
In the vicinity of the area where you might find
The right ballpark of behavior
jude rigor Mar 2022
i used to lay on the snowed-in flowerbeds
of nan's backyard. once it snowed enough,
you couldn't tell that a ****** of perrenials
slept peacefully there: all crushed
and crooked beneath
dirt and ice.

some days she'd come and join me
if the ground was soft enough:
we'd stargaze up into the cosmos
of pine trees overhead and listen
for the stillness of winter - the hush
of silence that lingered in the air.

ivy and henbit writhed
gingerly underfoot:
a quiet dogfight
of frozen earth
that begged a
sluggish spring
to come out of
hiding.
i wrote this an hour or two ago for a contest on allpoetry! the prompt was a video covering the spring snow storm that occurred in the northeast recently. it had to be less than 100 words and i'm pretty proud of it. cheers. (if you're interested, my username on there is @opheliaswam).
I don't know where we're going,
but I can tell you where I've been..
and I'd tell you every detail,
but you'd throw me to the wind

you think you want to know,
what made me who I am,
but you have no idea,
where these blurry eyes once ran

I'd give these words to you,
from the bottom of my heart,
but you'd be wondering where I left you
and you'd forget what made you start..

Things are not as easy,
as we all want them to be,
but life is just a challenge,
given to you and me.

If you dig too deep into it,
with anyone but yourself,
you risk loosing everything
a pattern that never fails

I've seen the way the tides roll in,
I've watched a plane take flight,
I've witnessed the birth of brand new life,
I've seen a grown man cry

I've been through towns I couldn't pronounce,
I've learned a lesson or two,
I've given up hope on a lasting love,
but I'll never give up on you

I've watched the sun rise from the East
while the moon followed closely
I've watched the planets I cannot fathom
shine brighter then the last one

I've been through the rain that I couldn't foresee
but I've bypassed a storm that sure would've killed me
and I've survived a few falls I shouldn't have had
while making a few choices that made a few people mad

I've flown over oceans, for hours on end,
I've deleted a few answers, when I should've hit send
I've answered a few questions that cost a few friends
but I've never lost respect for the powers that lend.

I'm thankful for the things
the greater being lets me see
and I live every day happy to breathe
I'll be there for you, forever and always
we can roam the states bumpy highways
open the sunroof so I can sit and stargaze
I'm sorry its not what you want it to be,
but maybe a friendship is just what you need...
mjk plumage May 2015
we stargaze because we know the answers we need are not on earth
i dont even know what this is!
Kate Apr 2015
I know.

I know today is looming larger
Than the lump in your throat
That you swallowed last night as you
Stood in the shower,
Trying to wash away the feeling
Of everything-is-going-wrong
And replace it with whispers of
It's no big deal
You don't want them to know that
It hurts
Because then the questions will come
As you press your lips together
And blink back the tears that scream
I do not want to be here today.
But even louder is the whisper in your heart saying
You did this last week
You can do it again.
Maybe it's the dead of night right now and that's ok.
Because there is something beautiful
About the night sky
The infinite amount of stars
Match the amount of times you keep trying
The fact that it never ends
seems as impossible as making it through today
But here's a secret; you aren't alone.
You aren't the only shower-crier  
Please stop for a second      
Reach your hand through your warm skin
And find your heart, where it beats without question.
Tie the beats to your fingers so that you don't forget who you are.
You were created by the same man
Who made the stars.
Not cut from any pattern.
Made from the strongest materials.                    
Today is hard, I know.
But you can open your eyes.
The sun will rise soon enough, but you might as well stargaze while you're waiting.
I know you will be ok.
wrote this to myself after crying in the shower
marvin m brato Nov 2018
When the world seems hopeless
And our minds are preoccupied
Making the senses dull and arid
That there is nothing else to do
But raise our eyes to stargaze.

Stargazing somehow enervates
And rekindles innate sentiments
Enliven the soul with new hope
Giving life the strength it needs
To withstand vagaries we face.

Stargazing somewhat a dream
An intricate syllables of living
That we try to decode its value
In slumber we can only foresee
The probabilities of our future.
Ethan Chua Oct 2015
I remember behind the bookshelf,
by the young adults’ section,
how she picks off a paperback spine,
rests her finger on a half-forgotten name,
holds the edge against her skin and feels out a page.

we read the backs of books that day. run through twenty different blurbs,
let plotlines curl up into the air and swirl into the scent of musty paper reams,
wander past secondhand copies of Murakami novels and pick up pseudoscience theories,
flick through encyclopedias and chemistry theses while our voices entangle into
first-person points of view.

in the afternoon, we wonder at syntax. fix misplaced alphabets and authors left out of order.
on the eighth aisle she spots the old sci-fi series I read back when I was twelve,
and we laugh at the blurbs, at words like warp drive and plutonium capacitor which
would’ve thrilled our younger selves
until tired, we lie down on carpets and pretend to stargaze,
with old paperbacks as pillows -
ink rushes through our breaths.

There,
underneath the bookstore’s cheap fluorescent lights,
her hand reaches for a half-opened book
at the same time as mine;
a soft brush of fingertips on fingertips.

I look up and find words on her lips,
lifted from my synonyms and grafted onto her skin,
think - poetry.
think - all the punctuation running in disarray skipping syntax in the spaces of my synapses relapses and sonnet turns pentameter heartbeats run in free verse feel my chest grow too light and too heavy like all the voices that they kept measured in their stanzas were let loose into her smile,

until the hours grow long into closing time.
Though you are small, and may seem like the smallest grain of sand on the beach,
There are many things to know before being washed into the ocean of life.
Listen to the shells, for they’ve been on the beach far longer than you have.
Make a wish at 11:11. (Don’t worry if you forget in the morning, it’ll come again that night.)
Cross your fingers for extra luck,
Accept a date to stargaze in the middle of an open field in the bed of a pick-up truck,
And while you’re gazing at the stars, don’t forget to make a wish on the one that’s shooting across the sky
And while you’re lost within that pair of blue eyes, get lost within a field of dandelions.
Pluck one that you can make a wish and blow into the wind.
And don’t worry if Prince Charming hasn’t swept you off your feet,
Create your own imaginary prince; he won’t break your heart,
And keep a couple imaginary friends along too; they won’t stab you in the back.
It’s okay to dance and sing in the car, you won’t ever see those people who’re next to you again,
(Unless the next light turns yellow, in which case, the gas pedal needs love and affection too.)
You’ll get nerves, but don’t ever bite your nails or crack your knuckles, back, neck, or anything.
Arthritis isn’t something that goes well with the wrinkles that’ll come too.
Grow wisdom, but don’t forget, you’ll always be a child at heart.
Make sure the length of the dress that you buy for the date would be approved by your grandmother.
Don’t forget to always add sprinkles with your ice cream while on that date,
And why should dessert be saved for last? Eat it first; otherwise you’ll be too full.
And as you’re driving home that night, don’t forget to turn your headlights on,
And remember to wear your seatbelt, no matter how short the distance.
Remember that it’s okay to break curfew every now and then; you may not ever get those moments back.
Keep in mind, if your date is on a Friday, don’t be out too late, or you’ll miss Saturday morning cartoons,
Which also means, don’t ever eat the marshmallows from Lucky Charms until the very end.
And say Prince Charming still hasn’t rode in on his white stallion,
The refrigerator is not who to call to cure your boredom (Unnecessary calories are not your friends.)
Instead, call your mother, because you’re never too old to cry to your mom.
When you see those storm clouds approaching, don’t hide inside,
Put on your rain boots and dance in the puddles.
Don’t be afraid of the waves that are washing up on the shore.
if i ever have a daughter, i would tell her all these things.
Connor Gruver Jun 2013
i pray in time, friend,
that this you understand,

that it has to be my sweetest displeasure
and yet my most unjust liberty

to tell you that every quiet passing
along a young and hopeful causeway

was almost gladly spent finding,
some how or another . . .

    every day new to discover you over and again,
    so to drink in with haste the strange august nectar
    and draw into my lungs the sovereign aura

    that drift from your autumn eyes.
  
    how to hold and to press gently your hands
    just a moment more between mine in a way
    that kisses with, in consummate balance,

    a firm allowance and a free imperative.

    how to mold, to sculpt, to shape
    my habitual pining over your subtle forms
    into an simple, ever green, professant blessing

    a splendid, deep down, ours religion.

    how to capture your innocent stargaze
    in the longing embrace of my own
    so that for one moment so perfectly brief

    we were one great blossoming cosmos.

    how to be one who aligns our beating royal suns
    who calms our winters and ignites our summers
    who dances and dies in the storms and the fires

    that splash from your glimmering eyes.

    how to be whom you adore until the requiem day
    when our confessional ******* swell and crash in the cascading sand
    to the sonorous beat of a final splendid rapturous breathtaking harmonious

                    Yes.

    as fury and ecstasy ripple and bound
    in our lush fantastical burial ground.
    as our progenies daydream of kingdoms to come
    and sing with an amorous hymn on their tongues.

yes, and so it has been now for days and for tides
that my latent creations in whatever measures
those passions, when sparked and then quenched in an instant
are no more or less than my sweetest displeasures.
This one was inspired in part by Bon Iver's cover of "I Can't Make You Love Me," in part by Damien Rice's "Cannonball," and in part by a very dear friend.
Tess Calogaras Mar 2017
In your body I can breathe,
your fragrance,
my exhale,
your voice,
my internal sigh.
The bed is our familiar,
so hard for us to go.
To leave this oasis,
where we fit so mosaic
like cherry blossoms in spring
or rooftops filled with rain.
I hate how vapid I become
as I stargaze at the sun.
Leave me dozy,
laughable at best,
dumbstruck devotion.
You are my only.
Tu es mon amour.
Tessa Calogaras
Copyright 2017
Jonathan Nov 2013
I wish,
that there was a guide to the human heart.
A map to how to make someone fall in love, because, that would make it all so much easier. “Just buy some flowers and she’s yours!”
But there is no roadmap. No shortcut, no magic formula.
It is like walking through a desert, looking for an oasis. You think you have found “it”... but,
when you raise your hands to drink…
the sand falls through your fingers.
One among the sea of faces, there are many fish in the sea, but I see one.
Shining bright as the moon in the sky, one pair of eyes, that will make you want to lie
Forever
Stargaze with me, no you don’t have to leave, we are infinite here, take my hand and have no fear.
You are not alone, don’t be battered by stick and stone, you are infinite… and they, are, limited.
Trust me please, take time to breathe.
I will run across the world and jog back around if I could just hear your voices beautiful sound.
We will fly high, and if anyone asks why
We will tell them to give it a try.
Live with no bonds, no chains no shackles,
and wonder why you ever listened to cackles,
people knocking you down to make themselves feel higher,
just wait eventually their judgement will tire.
Sarah Kay inspired me at first to write, and taught me to believe in myself.
Lunar Jun 2020
I'll keep on looking up,
constantly stargazing.

Amidst a galaxy
of a thousand constellations,
amidst the darkest parts
of time and space—
a gentle twinkle whispered,
"Take me with you."

And so I did,
now I see it's coming
while I make a wish—
"Thank you for picking me,
to watch the birth of a star."

(j.m.)
Llahi Fuego Dec 2011
I don't want to be rich,
I don't want to be famous,
I want to be crazy, and I want a fine *****,
You can't blame us-
Me and these voices inside my head.
I don't want to **** a skinny magazine-cover model,
I just want the girl next door to get in my bed,
I want to drink wine from the bottle
And **** on a water fountain.
I want a girl with little make up and more substance,
But then,
The girl next door's nice too, and see she lives right over that fence,
I want to go back home so I can drive my car
And race with my friends, and maybe die on one of those sharp bends,
But if not, I want to stargaze with my mom, show her my favourite star,
I want a girl to ride with me in a drop-top Benz,
And if she'd let her hair down, I'd let the top down,
I want to teach my little brother how to drive,
I want to see a fish that has drowned,
I want something nice in my life,
I want to drink a beer with a homeless person while discussing politics,
I want some spice in my life,
I want brand new Nike kicks,
I want to pay a **'
For just a hug,
I want to grow a huge fro,
I want to drink beer from a jug,
I want to spit on a green self-righteous eco-mentalist,
I want to write a poem that inspires a soul,
I want to skip school to watch House and The Mentalist,
I want to get lost in a black hole,
I want to teach my little brother how to sail,
I don't want to have *** on the beach ever again, ever, ever!
I don't want to go to jail,
I want to meet a hipster who's funny and clever,
I want to learn how to love,
I want something witty to be written on my tombstone,
I want to some day believe in the great power above,
I want to enter a no-go zone,
I want a girl who appreciates the simpler things of this world,
I want to punch Bush and Obama in the face,
I want to tongue kiss that American Apparel girl,
I want to look my mom in the face
And tell her how much I appreciate her-
How many of you have done that before?
I don't want a coat made of fur,
I want to write a hell of a lot more,
I want to have a baby, preferably a daughter,
And I'd prefer it if she were lesbian, I dont want her dating guys like me,
I want a glass of water
And two pills, or maybe three,
I want to live far from all my exes,
I want to write a book one day
About the two sexes,
I want to wake up dead someday
Satisfied with how I lived.
Hannah Marr May 2018
Just. Eat a bowl of cereal.
Sit on the kitchen floor carefully so the milk doesn't spill, scoop the flakes into your mouth by the streetlights filtering in through the window.

Or climb out onto the roof.
Slip out your window, hip braced on the edge, and use your arms to pull yourself up, crossing your legs on the shingles and breathing in the stardust swirling around your head.

Create a masterpiece.
Dip a brush in some paint, use your hands to shape clay, choreograph a dance, script a play, write a poem, draw a spring day.

Make a blanket fort.
Tuck the blankets over the couch, pad the floor with cushions, and flick on the TV, so you can watch cartoons while wrapped in warmth like when you were a child.

Stargaze in the backyard.
Tiptoe out the back door, quilt tugged tight around your shoulders, spread it out over the dewy grass and stretch out, facing the clouds and counting the stars.

Learn Morse Code.
-.-. --- -. ...- . .-. ... .     .-- .. - ....     -.-- --- ..- .-. ... . .-.. ..-.     .. -.     - .... .     -.. .- .-. -.- --..--     -.- . . .--. .. -. --.     -.-- --- ..- .-.     ... . -.-. .-. . - ...     -... . - .-- . . -.     -.-- --- ..-     .- -. -..     - .... .     ... .. .-.. ...- . .-.     -- --- --- -. .-.-.-

Have a shower.
Run the water hot so it'll burn when it hits your back, shed your clothes and step into the steam, breathing in the vapors and imagining that you stand in the heart of a geyser.

Go back to sleep...?
No, this elusive peace is distinctly one with the night, and it would be foolish indeed to throw away such a gift merely to function during the bland sunlight hours.

h.f.m.

— The End —