Close your eyes
Your world, not extending
beyond the soft quilt under
your skin, unending
Soft ripples of cloth, and picturesque seams
Nothing here but
You, me, the sky, and soft dreams
I'll reach up and take the stars from the sky
If only to lay them at your feet
to place them in your hands
to bring light into those glazed eyes
or give a glow to a world so bland
and each one would be folded
into a beautiful origami castle
I, the lord, and you, the vassal
Or perhaps me as the king
and you as a queen, whichever
My gentle playmate.. which one is better?
I'm a majestic creature of the sky
You're an empty-faced child on a quilt
Each star shall be used as a stepping stone
so I might meet you in the place I built
Let us meet, as lovers, or
at least equals
on this starry floor
Sep 15, 2018
Sep 15, 2018 at 10:22 AM UTC
Poetry comes at the end of the day
When the lights are turned low
And the sun goes away
A poet writes best in the mid-afternoon
With birds in the trees
and mud on the boots
A poet rises in the morning
Even if it might be storming
Oh we write in the rain, if it be pouring
A poet thinks in the evenings
Because we write better when dreaming
And because sometimes
it's better than sleeping
A poet cherishes every part of their day
Beacause each one is never the same.
Sep 14, 2018
Sep 14, 2018 at 4:02 PM UTC
I move
through gently opening embraces
and find myself
firmly enveloped in your luscious warmth
that urges me to push on further
until we reach the moment
out of time and space
that holds us close
forever and again
one
in a world of brilliant galaxies
exploding
in deep space
Sep 14, 2018
Sep 14, 2018 at 4:00 PM UTC
My body is the makeup of both hard and softness
The reds, browns, golds...
The light and darkness of all my ancestors.
Some men have lost themselves here,
Some men have found themselves here
Most women stand stronger next to this.
I am both war grounds and silent cities.
I am both girl trying not to drown in all this sadness, all this loss...
And woman trying not to drown in all this sadness, all this loss.
I am your blonde roast that starts a riot in you first thing in the morning
And your dark roast that goes down smooth, leaving you to want for a little more...
I am both the scab healing over bruised skin
And the area surrounding it.
I am both strong legs and soft lips
...Brown skin deep enough to hide flaws still.
I am the softness in light...
And the softness of honey, but still thick enough to swim in.
I am the hardness of knees on ground, praying to the man or woman who has made me both hard and soft.
I am the woman who cannot forget enough to truly forgive,
But human enough to help you if the light goes out.
I am consistent no's and the yes that matters,
I am shattered glass and spilled milk.
This skin mirrors both the earth and everything you give the universe on a new moon .
I am both woman dancing in nothing, but a skirt to the rhythm of the ocean ...
And the ocean kissing the shore wishing to be as free as that woman.
Sometimes this mouth...
Sometimes my words bite,
Creating harsh weather,
But I am tired of making storms of people, storms of my relations.
I am both soft belly and strong back.
Something you can count on,
A woman you can be sure of.
You can bet on me,
You can stand near me,
You can fall in my presence.
...You can be both hard and soft with me.
Sep 12, 2018
Sep 12, 2018 at 9:30 AM UTC
If you want to feel
As the poet feels,
Don't hold her hand;
Pick up his pen.
If you want to hear
A poet speak,
Don't listen to him;
Read her lips.
If you want to see
As the poet sees,
Don't look to his eyes,
But see with her's.
To smell like a poet,
Splash in the rain,
Dance dry in the sun;
Follow your nose.
But get an inkling
In your mind,
Deaf, mute or blind;
Find your center,
Sit with it.
I oftimes get a sense of it.
Sep 12, 2018
Sep 12, 2018 at 9:27 AM UTC
I need to stop
digging up love
And let it grow instead
Sep 12, 2018
Sep 12, 2018 at 1:50 AM UTC
Sweet, sweet boy
You must know love
To be so good
But goodness rests in your hands
And its nemesis
In your eyes
Pleading to me
To get down on my knees
And beg for your time
To kiss each finger
As it grazes mine
Trailing down my neck
Shivers down my spine
Pour your soul through my lips
Wring your saccharine
From my hair
With your fist
Sweet, sweet boy
Sep 12, 2018
Sep 12, 2018 at 1:48 AM UTC
She breathes fire
That tastes of the cremation
Of her forefathers
Their ashes grit
In her eyes, spit
In her hands
She marches
Atop marshland
Swallowing graves
Of their mothers
And lovers
Her thick, leather skin
Wicked and weathered
Wields weapons
Of resurrection
With commanding force
She breathes life
Into desolate plains
She breathes fire
And they rise
Again
Sep 12, 2018
Sep 12, 2018 at 1:45 AM UTC
These are not just words
that rhyme or fit together
in some fancy, schmancy
catchy rhythmic flow
These are my thoughts
my feelings
my inner beauty
my outer demons
typed on my kebyoard
stored on a web server
searched by web crawlers
presented to you
adieu!
Sep 11, 2018
Sep 11, 2018 at 4:44 PM UTC
I speak for those with prose
Not for the entertainment
of published trolls
We bare our thoughts
Our opinions
Our feelings
Our truths
Our ideas
Our souls
Because we choose to
Because we need to
Because we have to
Because we want to
We don't want to be famous
We don't want to be judged
We don't want to compete
We don't want to speel check
Our grammar is correct
Our diction is correct
Our styling are correct
Our poems are perfect!
Because that is how
we intended them
to be
We love them
JUST THE WAY THEY ARE!
Feel free to judge us
It is your god given right
But, keep your criticisms to yourself
Unless we ask for it
As you read these written words
You hear every single syllable
Echo in your head
You are now telling this to yourself
Thank you for listening
Sep 11, 2018
Sep 11, 2018 at 4:43 PM UTC