Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
I wish you luck in letting go of me.
I am the type of poison your tongue will
never forget the taste of.
 Oct 2018 Elyse Hyland
Tati
Every night I would talk to the moon
“Mother moon, my heart is broken yet again.”
She would listen to every detail, and offer her advice when needed
One night, it was my turn to listen.
She confessed how lonely it was to be all alone in the night sky with no friends.
“But you have the stars to accompany you, Mother moon.”
“The stars keep to themselves. What I really want is a child.”
How silly, I thought. How would a moon ever have a child?
Well
I threw myself off the balcony. My arms reaching up into the sky.
When I awoke, the moon was cradling me in her crescent shape
They say that when the moon is in her cresecent stage it’s because she’s rocking her baby to sleep
That’s how I became La hija de la luna
The daughter of the moon
breathing the turquoise like lavender,
and sipping the blue summer.
bitter cold clouds glide and morph lava lather,
floating whispers cut by sweet pineapple sunshine.

soon, a moment, now
rhythms ripple the sky like skipping stones
we jump the music like puddles
splashing in the frequencies.

cobalt bass rumbles the earth hungry,
pumps the air with springing spirals
pushing and pulling the senses,
reverberating through cells.

heavy mud humming, stomping
echoes through our atoms dizzy;
balancing tuned body to innate electricity
the fizz of circulating lemonade energy.

we jump the music like puddles
splashing in the frequencies.

strawberry melodies spilling ribbons,
dolphin leaps of the spaces inbetween beats,
lines of colours overlapping,
colliding, mixing, merging, blending
in with the forest.

washing over souls the life fire sparkles
like a clear water cleansing harmonies,
sound waves crashing against inertia.
phosphorescent glow of re-charged love
for the world, for being, animation

flowing through burnt smoky ashes
of sapphire charcoal skies;
dimmed radiation of chlorophyll emerald days.
the smell of salt, dry bark, fluffy carbon mists,
trembling lights softening the eyes'
grip on outlines, loosening lies.

watching the cycles of patterns
tumbling colours through a mill rotating,
and the silence of listening
when the music comes to an end.
Something I've been working on for a long time on and off since 2015.
Out with the old
           in with the new
Saying goodbye and hello
                to the new adventure of you...
 May 2018 Elyse Hyland
Ricotta
blue
 May 2018 Elyse Hyland
Ricotta
I
am
healing
but I don't want you to take off your shoes in my home yet

I
am
healing
but I'm still afraid of your touch

I
am
healing
but while I'm healing, you're burning like a broken electric wire, and while you burn you bloom

so yes, I am healing
slowly
trembling
feeling numb
but healing
I know why the caged bird sings.

It's not because his song
is as vibrant
as his feathers, that he plucks away
each day because he doesn't
feel beautiful.

It's not because of the majesty
that exist in the freedom
of being able to spread his wings
though he knows
he'll never rise to the occasion.

He sings because he believes
that this cage
was made for a king
because he has never tasted
freedom with a side order of skies.

He's never flown past the sun
on a cool morning
or hung with the moon
on a warm night.

He's only ever known
the comfort of a prison
that his thoughts have
become accustomed
to calling home.

He would never venture
beyond the "welcome" mat
because what's beyond the threshold
holds no promise
the way these bars and metal locks do.

He sings because he knows
that no one is listening
so if he makes a mistake
he doesn't have to live with the regret
or embarrassment of knowing that he missed his note.

The caged bird
never believes that he's caged
because behind these walls
he's safe
and he prefers it this way.

I know why the caged bird sings.
A twist on a title by one of my favorite authors...
 Mar 2018 Elyse Hyland
Marty
So sweet is your name
Gently crossing my tongue
With visions of love

So beautiful are your eyes
The stories they tell
With visions of love

So perfect is your voice
Tempting my heart to fall
With visions of love

So gentle is your touch
Sending tingles down my spine
With visions of love

So amazing are the thoughts
Of you and I dancing alone
With visions of love

Oh but the sweetest of moments
Looking deep onto your eyes
With visions of love

And love and love
And love
If only existed, but time has proved that it doesnt
Next page