pvda - Hello Poetry

You tried to pick me up when I had fallen so far the problem was you don't know who you are your charm and your beautiful smile I felt safe as soon as I got into your car we went so far away but you were just playing that game you've played so many times before It wasn't a game to me how could you do this to me I trusted you you promised to set me free that we would always me but that was just me you set me free I was focused on our future but stuck in the past I didn't have much but I gave you my all while you were stuck in the last moments you shared with people who didn't care But baby I care I would have always been there (with you) I jumped off the roof just to fall you promised that you would call so many memories of that fall and that fall I fell so hard fell so hard how can I get off the ground

0

Oct 18, 2017

Oct 18, 2017 at 5:24 PM UTC

That Fall

You tried to pick me up when I had fallen so far the problem was you don't know who you are your charm and your beautiful smile I felt safe as soon as I got into your car we went so far away but you were just playing that game you've played so many times before It wasn't a game to me how could you do this to me I trusted you you promised to set me free that we would always me but that was just me you set me free I was focused on our future but stuck in the past I didn't have much but I gave you my all while you were stuck in the last moments you shared with people who didn't care But baby I care I would have always been there (with you) I jumped off the roof just to fall you promised that you would call so many memories of that fall and that fall I fell so hard fell so hard how can I get off the ground

30

I was never lazy love's ******* crazy smoking on the daily always getting faded I still love you baby getting better maybe or else I'm just jaded should've never dated or never separated why's it's so complicated we could've made it I took the bait you dangled for me I should have known it was too easy You promised me change and that I'd be safe then you took me so far away from any normal place you're really deranged maybe even insane But I'd probably drop everything to be with you again

0

Oct 18, 2017

Oct 18, 2017 at 5:20 PM UTC

Far Away (any normal place)

I was never lazy love's ******* crazy smoking on the daily always getting faded I still love you baby getting better maybe or else I'm just jaded should've never dated or never separated why's it's so complicated we could've made it I took the bait you dangled for me I should have known it was too easy You promised me change and that I'd be safe then you took me so far away from any normal place you're really deranged maybe even insane But I'd probably drop everything to be with you again

23

Remain calm. Cleanse your soul like you are forgetting everything, falling down a waterfall.... Falling into a painting 500 years old still vibrant primaries and darker inky blues and blacks, swirling light, fabric moving such as not seen in this world. One day we went outside into the forest. It was dark, the clouds were like iron smoke but then the moon came up, the nighttime sun and filled our hearts with wonder. We lit a fire and began to sign as the night-wood creatures joined in. Dancing turned into Ecstasy as our movements became wild, shouting and becoming filled with the presence.

0

Apr 25, 2016

Apr 25, 2016 at 10:21 PM UTC

500 Years Old

Remain calm. Cleanse your soul like you are forgetting everything, falling down a waterfall.... Falling into a painting 500 years old still vibrant primaries and darker inky blues and blacks, swirling light, fabric moving such as not seen in this world. One day we went outside into the forest. It was dark, the clouds were like iron smoke but then the moon came up, the nighttime sun and filled our hearts with wonder. We lit a fire and began to sign as the night-wood creatures joined in. Dancing turned into Ecstasy as our movements became wild, shouting and becoming filled with the presence.

9

All that was left were the colors and hues After death or divorce Or more mundane, change of residence Whatever, the flowers do bloom always in their season The colors of the walls Though they can be torn down I saw them, earth tones, brown and a summer oak beige Reminding me of warm days under India green and azure; After everything's gone and the ghosts of stars simmer like dying coals, no eyes left to see; even if the scientist says its just an illusion of light Like faith i believe, i see and i remember

0

Apr 14, 2016

Apr 14, 2016 at 3:50 PM UTC

After;

All that was left were the colors and hues After death or divorce Or more mundane, change of residence Whatever, the flowers do bloom always in their season The colors of the walls Though they can be torn down I saw them, earth tones, brown and a summer oak beige Reminding me of warm days under India green and azure; After everything's gone and the ghosts of stars simmer like dying coals, no eyes left to see; even if the scientist says its just an illusion of light Like faith i believe, i see and i remember

10

god stood by me, he hid in my pocket like a piece of amethyst when i ran he turned into the forest to envelop me his spirits became soft grasses, scented woods and colorful flower The elderly woman in her garden in the early morning before the sun rises too high. She never sprays chemicals to get rid of the snails, instead she works and plants for and around them. This garden is to celebrate life, not to take it away. The wooden fence bordering her property is low and unoffensive enough to allow through woodland creatures who are never shooed away for taking a walk or a bite through the herbage. Perhaps she is atoning for a life of death and destruction. Or perhaps she is a saint. They enjoyed things like making forts out of sticks and blankets and cardboard boxes and dressing up and going to the opera. Memories, fresh like a wound. Sometimes something so small. Going to the post office. A slideshow of post offices in my life. The disinfected paper smell, the lines of people waiting to mail a package, the solid colors of the interior, gray, black, white. A scrubby short haired black carpet, well worn. I turned into a set of wings made out of crayon or colored pencil markings. As if pushed and pulled by the wind I stunned through the air, waving in the sunlight, pencil dashes of red and blue and purple. Like an animation from Reading Rainbow. Thrown and tossed about like a lightweight wale in the sea. An enormous behemoth of grey and blue leaping like a kitten among the waves. It should be terrifying and would be if its teeth were any larger or sharper and if there was not such a happy gleam in its huge eye.

0

Mar 21, 2016

Mar 21, 2016 at 10:49 PM UTC

compilation; shorts

god stood by me, he hid in my pocket like a piece of amethyst when i ran he turned into the forest to envelop me his spirits became soft grasses, scented woods and colorful flower The elderly woman in her garden in the early morning before the sun rises too high. She never sprays chemicals to get rid of the snails, instead she works and plants for and around them. This garden is to celebrate life, not to take it away. The wooden fence bordering her property is low and unoffensive enough to allow through woodland creatures who are never shooed away for taking a walk or a bite through the herbage. Perhaps she is atoning for a life of death and destruction. Or perhaps she is a saint. They enjoyed things like making forts out of sticks and blankets and cardboard boxes and dressing up and going to the opera. Memories, fresh like a wound. Sometimes something so small. Going to the post office. A slideshow of post offices in my life. The disinfected paper smell, the lines of people waiting to mail a package, the solid colors of the interior, gray, black, white. A scrubby short haired black carpet, well worn. I turned into a set of wings made out of crayon or colored pencil markings. As if pushed and pulled by the wind I stunned through the air, waving in the sunlight, pencil dashes of red and blue and purple. Like an animation from Reading Rainbow. Thrown and tossed about like a lightweight wale in the sea. An enormous behemoth of grey and blue leaping like a kitten among the waves. It should be terrifying and would be if its teeth were any larger or sharper and if there was not such a happy gleam in its huge eye.

9

Cellos in a stone chamber Only moments earlier A change of feeling or a tremor in the air The whole symphony would have been different.

0

Mar 1, 2016

Mar 1, 2016 at 6:13 PM UTC

short symphony

Cellos in a stone chamber Only moments earlier A change of feeling or a tremor in the air The whole symphony would have been different.

4

the small boy leaning against the high grass, feet perched on a rock looking down into the turning water of the river below Running forever, for days on end, nights running, even when sleeping the mind never rests. A miraculous (mi-rac-u-lous) winter stunning of silver and gold glitter being tossed in the air as the sunlight comes over the white hill dancing on the hanging ice, shuttering trees dressed in lace.

0

Feb 1, 2016

Feb 1, 2016 at 11:12 PM UTC

(untitled)

the small boy leaning against the high grass, feet perched on a rock looking down into the turning water of the river below Running forever, for days on end, nights running, even when sleeping the mind never rests. A miraculous (mi-rac-u-lous) winter stunning of silver and gold glitter being tossed in the air as the sunlight comes over the white hill dancing on the hanging ice, shuttering trees dressed in lace.

6

I remember fairy tales The dramatic intonation of the story teller The books with gilded pictures Pages sometimes glossy, Sometimes thin and worn. Stories of enchanted woods and jungles Of hope and disaster The most unlikely circumstance But almost always a miracle The good dragon, the fairy godmother Talking animals and secret doors Rabbits, toads, princes and queens, Treasure, flying carpets, evil lurking like dark clouds, a sinister gift clad in unsuspecting beauty to the innocent. There is a path through the wood. Vines and ancient trees, willow and yew; Roses with thorns and wild berries Songbirds and moss and stones of all colors; In fairy tales there are always twists.

0

Jan 16, 2016

Jan 16, 2016 at 10:12 AM UTC

I remember fairy tales

I remember fairy tales The dramatic intonation of the story teller The books with gilded pictures Pages sometimes glossy, Sometimes thin and worn. Stories of enchanted woods and jungles Of hope and disaster The most unlikely circumstance But almost always a miracle The good dragon, the fairy godmother Talking animals and secret doors Rabbits, toads, princes and queens, Treasure, flying carpets, evil lurking like dark clouds, a sinister gift clad in unsuspecting beauty to the innocent. There is a path through the wood. Vines and ancient trees, willow and yew; Roses with thorns and wild berries Songbirds and moss and stones of all colors; In fairy tales there are always twists.

11

The procession of the equinoxes Antiquities dealer The unspeakable beauty of the amethyst Gods fingerprints I don't know what I'm doing or where I'm going.......... But that's Okay. Is that what surrendering is? Blending, learning, adapting, evolving, individuation in spite of universal oneness. Being less proud. Happiness. Cinnamon. Cookie cutters from the domain. Keep your herb garden alive. I'm - A fox. El zorro. Le renard. Daily rituals, Water w lemon Apple Green tea face splash A history of happiness Chickens. Color. Collage. Yoga. Art. Cooking. Lists. Recording foods. Evelyn and Alice. Vivid, lurid descriptions. High Gothic and almost steampunk. The weather. Things unspoken that leave huge impacts. Small tokens of love. Repressed emotions. Hx of zodiac. Constantly working for perfection Inner outer Nuts, lemon, lime Keep fire of dreams alive Read read write create read Spells for finance and success Altar space You're alive Preservation of breath Realness if beauty, tranquility Overcoming sorrow Cyclical <i>Les sorts</i> to make them mad, passionate... Charms for living. Perfection. Attraction wealth abundance. Clouds and sky and draping cloth, sandstone and quartz and onyx. An incredible self confidence. Don't waste a minute of you're life on unhappiness. D.I.Y. smudge stick. Driftwood. Feathers. Gemstones. Secrets of a style maniac. Blog. Hidden treasures. Be my mercury, the wings on my feet. Amidst the creaks of old trees and the fallen colored leaves.. I see half the future, gone, cherished and perished The art of self love. Devotion. Organization. Keep calm. Its ok to have secrets. Stories and fables and illustrations to go along. Mix of collage, ink, pastel and watercolor Refine your life like a black and white ink drawing, the fluttering of pen-lined pages like white feathers. Floating on dreams, its fun to let your feet dangle into the blue warm water, be swept away into another world. We try to avoid those moments in life. We plan ahead we keep our toes together and our hair ironed, but one can never totally abate the power of wanton embarrassment or other random outbursts...

0

Jan 14, 2016

Jan 14, 2016 at 9:12 PM UTC

The procession of the equinoxes

The procession of the equinoxes Antiquities dealer The unspeakable beauty of the amethyst Gods fingerprints I don't know what I'm doing or where I'm going.......... But that's Okay. Is that what surrendering is? Blending, learning, adapting, evolving, individuation in spite of universal oneness. Being less proud. Happiness. Cinnamon. Cookie cutters from the domain. Keep your herb garden alive. I'm - A fox. El zorro. Le renard. Daily rituals, Water w lemon Apple Green tea face splash A history of happiness Chickens. Color. Collage. Yoga. Art. Cooking. Lists. Recording foods. Evelyn and Alice. Vivid, lurid descriptions. High Gothic and almost steampunk. The weather. Things unspoken that leave huge impacts. Small tokens of love. Repressed emotions. Hx of zodiac. Constantly working for perfection Inner outer Nuts, lemon, lime Keep fire of dreams alive Read read write create read Spells for finance and success Altar space You're alive Preservation of breath Realness if beauty, tranquility Overcoming sorrow Cyclical <i>Les sorts</i> to make them mad, passionate... Charms for living. Perfection. Attraction wealth abundance. Clouds and sky and draping cloth, sandstone and quartz and onyx. An incredible self confidence. Don't waste a minute of you're life on unhappiness. D.I.Y. smudge stick. Driftwood. Feathers. Gemstones. Secrets of a style maniac. Blog. Hidden treasures. Be my mercury, the wings on my feet. Amidst the creaks of old trees and the fallen colored leaves.. I see half the future, gone, cherished and perished The art of self love. Devotion. Organization. Keep calm. Its ok to have secrets. Stories and fables and illustrations to go along. Mix of collage, ink, pastel and watercolor Refine your life like a black and white ink drawing, the fluttering of pen-lined pages like white feathers. Floating on dreams, its fun to let your feet dangle into the blue warm water, be swept away into another world. We try to avoid those moments in life. We plan ahead we keep our toes together and our hair ironed, but one can never totally abate the power of wanton embarrassment or other random outbursts...

46

The process of creation Instant in a flash of light through the spoken Word Or fertilized in the womb Or sprouting underground Maybe born of the heavens long ago Before earth and sun Born of the stars, exploding into the universe Or within the volcano Deep inside the earths core Born of the waters, the streams and waterfalls The rich colors of the untouched forest Initiated in the sounds of night, birdcalls and the occasional howl in moonlight Sons and daughters of thousand year old oak trees, acorns falling, scattering Conceived in the deepest and darkest oceans, unaware and uncaring about the mythical surface world Carried upon by the wind accross the world, currents and pathways charted by the birds and the monarchs Dandelion child

0

Jan 14, 2016

Jan 14, 2016 at 6:53 PM UTC

The process of creation

The process of creation Instant in a flash of light through the spoken Word Or fertilized in the womb Or sprouting underground Maybe born of the heavens long ago Before earth and sun Born of the stars, exploding into the universe Or within the volcano Deep inside the earths core Born of the waters, the streams and waterfalls The rich colors of the untouched forest Initiated in the sounds of night, birdcalls and the occasional howl in moonlight Sons and daughters of thousand year old oak trees, acorns falling, scattering Conceived in the deepest and darkest oceans, unaware and uncaring about the mythical surface world Carried upon by the wind accross the world, currents and pathways charted by the birds and the monarchs Dandelion child

16