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clara-belle
Taiwanese I identify as a vegetarian, a woman, half-asian resourceful, conscientious, compassionate, creative, and always up for improving myself (you're always welcome to leave feedback on my poetry).
Yesterday I found it a little harder to pick up my pen a little harder to smile at strangers hand limp and heavy eyelids dry and sagging life’s **** sometimes finding myself caught somewhere between catch twenty-two and murphy’s law When did it all turn so dark? ugh, inspiration is a ***** And yes, Today the pen is still made of lead but my inspiration is stronger and ink flows This morning I sutured my open wounds tears of blood staunched for now soon, I wish, I hope to stitch it all up slap a clean bandage over it all Pronounce it done Tomorrow or maybe years from now it will fade to a scar, a memory faint lines, a reminder and not Reality
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Sep 23, 2010
Sep 23, 2010 at 2:28 PM UTC
I...
Eu gosto da forma como me olhas eu gosto da forma como danças e como o teu carinho me leva pelas estrelas or is that too cliche? because I’m feeling a hundred other cliches rising to my lips as I attempt to describe... I like the way your warm fingerprints trace the invisible paths along my arms And how your eyes light up when you listen or how your breath runs away when we’re pressed soft and hard together Scented musk and coconut I like the time we spend in silence The soft fluttering I get just from looking into your eyes Makes me wonder what you might be thinking or feeling… Your name snuggles against my contours caressing my shoulders seeping into my thoughts And it feels nice
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Jul 19, 2010
Jul 19, 2010 at 7:56 PM UTC
I like the way...
Rays shine warm breath on my neck golden light in my hair Here comes the sun Catapulting life into overdrive while smiles glance off rain dropped tulip petals and the outside of my spoon scooping red delicious watermelon dripping from My fingers My lips sweet sticky like baklava or my mom when I leave home affection caressing our words and tears Honey filling our eyes as we look back once more to see if the other is smiling or crying or both Summers remind me of transition coming home going home So many homes
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Jul 18, 2010
Jul 18, 2010 at 2:55 PM UTC
Summer
The seasons come and go opportunities pass me by no telling what’s next each lesson becomes a piece of the puzzle making for a new beginning colors of the rainbow paint themselves across the sky each different path way leading to another dimension Heads turn the crowd erupts staring me down don’t know which way to go the beckoning hand entices me forward to reach the beyond the unknown the mysterious Growing up the world changing around me my sweaty palms slide helplessly down the slick rail I grasp yet find nothing to hold on to turn my head staring down the dusty road at what was there a moment ago but now is gone vanishing without a trace unseen steel weights cling to my ankles holding me down the swinging lantern flickers eerily on and off propaganda caresses me into the matrix little black and white children with blue shirts and red eyes run across the playground laughing and playing oblivious to the menacing thunderhead looming above
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Jul 18, 2010
Jul 18, 2010 at 2:52 PM UTC
Passage
Perched atop my soft granite cloud I breathe in the apex of the land the vast miniature world below awaits the landing of my fingertips My fingers wander across the rusty red mesas slide down between its soft ribbed slopes caress its contours feel the sun baked warmth brushing against their pads My lips kiss the lily white clouds press against the blue glass sky burn in the flowering sun nibble on dark rolling mountains tongue tasting the icy frosted peaks My toes test the tiny tepid lakes chance upon the gritty texture just below prickle on the rugged treetops tap the smooth rocky surface retreating from my perch dancing in time to the pulse of the wind
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Jul 18, 2010
Jul 18, 2010 at 2:48 PM UTC
Miniature World
Cotton clouds against steel Crisp blue over rough concrete I prefer nature
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Jul 6, 2010
Jul 6, 2010 at 7:59 PM UTC
An Airport Moment
Each scar a story Each wrinkle an adventure Live your life today
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May 25, 2010
May 25, 2010 at 9:08 PM UTC
Live
Each day's eternity goes by in a matter of seconds Life is a budding blossom and a rotting apple what am I? Love is a sweet symphony and an ear-piercing scream who am I? Each friend is a foe grasping life's tender emotions in one hand what will the other do? A kiss is a bite, a smile, a poison, a rainbow A hug is a punch in the face and a bond of warmth One day I laugh giddy with possibility exploring myself feeling through the soft velvet of curious territory cautious of new boundaries sensing new-born flushed cheeks smelling new people The next day I sigh people hurting each other silly differences building to satellite heights mind-numbing boredom trapped in my 10 year-old yearnings Nuzzle the sunshine Explode in lily petals Sing through the stars but my singing friend is sad I've never exploded I can't touch the rays Where am I?
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May 5, 2010
May 5, 2010 at 8:13 PM UTC
A Rotting Blossom
Tomorrow, I'd like to live in the stars and drink sky for breakfast lunch and dinner. Fill my pores with dark sparkles The sun and I will elope Tomorrow with whispered pink petals and twinkling eye glances Today, there is only cracked earth and calloused hands But Tomorrow, Tomorrow I will gaze upon a dry speck receding As infinite plum purple horizons extend beyond my view
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May 4, 2010
May 4, 2010 at 10:14 PM UTC
Stars for Breakfast
She hints at the resemblance of his face Thick intoxicating colors a medium Lumps of grey possibility scattered around & ready Creative flicks splatter the paint cloths Complete rest and silence fill the space but for Steady breathing in the background of Determined, dashing eyes, Searching for the right place...to alter Her fingers work the sleepy clay As he remains in her mind's eye Pondering, imagining, constructing Perspiration thinks down her neck and temples Damp, sandy gloves of medium encrust her strong fingers Cool and grainy beneath her hands Clicking her tongue thoughtfully Hours like minutes pass by in numbers The light begins to fade She continues deeply thinking and kneading Till the dawn light breaks
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May 4, 2010
May 4, 2010 at 10:07 PM UTC
The Artist's Thought