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Oct 5 · 200
Bloom
My hair grows
Like patience
  drying
Baby's-breath
against my will
  behind my back
Past
yesterday's destiny
  Distanced
jungle long
in time for every
  sunrise and sunset.
I sing about blooming under the same moon. You need a full moon to bloom.
May 27 · 656
Flying to soar
You had to
Shoot me down
As I was a bird
Flying to soar
And you did not want
Others learning how
To fly away anymore.
Just like the barn owl
Ever the ethereal nun
Kneeling in the branches
Closer to the warmth of the sun
Spreading butterflies
Far away from your aim
With heavy huntress chastise
Away from your cold plain.
© Teri Darlene Basallote Yeo
May 23 · 301
Don't forget
An autumn day brings
The morning amber,
Noon's rays pouting haggard
Hit the fifth fair floral
The evening suite,
Nestling wild spaces
For our memories keep.
© Teri Darlene Basallote Yeo
May 23 · 190
Free to love
You planted the seeds
                                              Calling roots
To grow a garden
                                         To give life
Between
                                    Shadow to tree.
               Nothing grows
               Free without love
               For without love,
               Freedom is untrue
               Like love who lied
               Stole your freedom
               From you.
© Teri Darlene Basallote Yeo
May 21 · 301
Vivid Mysteries
It is such a vivid mystery
a flowing constant change
It would be somewhat scary
but for your perceptive soul

Soured smooth vivid mystery
A flowing eternity
A stranger who is somewhat scary
Smooth-sailing journey.

Why is this dream still so vivid
And displaying in my night brain
Over and again over decades.
In a surreal setting that melds Times Square and The Grand Concourse.
With buildings mostly dark
Street lights reflecting off shiny pavement
and sidewalks
I walk in the empty streets
I'm alone on the night streets
'Glad of that, 'don't want a dangerous stranger lurking

My legs are strong yet tired, but I have plenty left
My legs are my greatest physical asset, for better or worse.
I don't know where I'm headed
But I want to be there, 'keep walking at a good pace.

Dusty aired steep shadow
Shoes heavy reigned
The empty place in
Time to search my night brain again
Ponder the walks behind my shoulder

Vivid with gushing candour.
I came home just when it started to pour
Timely shaken feet
Shifting close by the livid door.

Waking with the dream fresh and clear
As is the air, (it rained so hard last night)
Out with me goes my dog, to be
Among the clear crystal voiced Thrushes
In their Woods, which is theirs for this half of the year
I wonder what they say
I know they've never sung in Times Square
They're not singing of those smallest white violets
That grow in the wet
With their tiny purple lines on their bottom inner petals
Or about me
Or Sam
But probably about each other
About how lovely their songs are
How good they'd be together
Not about the crescent moon
Or about where I didn't know where I was going

I don't need to know their mystery
Or how the violets grow in the same place every Spring
After being under feet of snow and inches of ice
For the other half a year

Is this the other side of the dream?
The dream?
How do you know to say it differently?
Better? Vividly?
This poem is written by Jim Musics and Teri D. B. Yeo.

It was inspiring to co-write with a writer of teeming experience and life which really spill onto the page. Such an honour and delight!
May 17 · 439
Air I breathe (in)
The fragrance of your skin
                              Thrives in
                                      rusting warmth
from wispy
petals of poppies,
                                     Fleeting
                    like my breathing;
                                           Windblown whispers,
of the same air
We give.
© Teri Darlene Basallote Yeo
May 16 · 557
Plateau no. 1
Bones of ebony ivory drunk ate sing
Shaping the plates numbered nailed
Narrows nine hanging sneakers.
A fading necklace
Tying her laces.

Know yourself to the wells of valleys,
She sang, her voice was swelling
Understand yourself like the
Valleys leading wisely
To the eternal tides.

Cliffed-edge hanging dresses blowing
A flag below her waist over wheels
Of her brave weathered suitcase.
Crystal wing bends portraits of
Dinner plates in place.

Lush hair lady ebony-pale ivory sang Through the valleys dressed like
Her portraits of dining plates
Which weathered storms
She would have chased.
© Teri Darlene Basallote Yeo
May 11 · 225
Sweaty palms
I was the rain that
Lands on the
Sleeve of your umbrella
Gracefully falling
Unseen
Into the touch of your palm.
© Teri Darlene Basallote Yeo
My pillow melting my
Head the roasted Submarine Submerged sinking beneath
The tears downreaching.
© Teri Darlene Basallote Yeo
May 8 · 366
Timing
Time is punctual.  
    I, not always.
Time is immortal.
      My life awaits.
         Time does not wait
             For anything it creates.
                       Time reminds us
                       Only when it's late.
Time is everything I am not yet.
Tell me if it's true

© Teri Darlene Basallote Yeo
May 6 · 233
Fears
Are you flying or are you just a cloud?
Am I
Flying or
Am I
Just
A cloud?
Are you flying or am I just a cloud?
© Teri Darlene Basallote Yeo
May 6 · 273
Timelines
And life is your
Music that slows down
As time kicks
Like the gravity
Of shoes falling from our feet
For lifting them too high;
The inevitable mortal arrives.
© Teri Darlene Basallote Yeo
May 4 · 219
The sky was so blue
The sky was so blue

Parched paper meadow
Of a deeply delicate twilight
The sky was

The tree

And it swayed
Sobbing clean whistle
So shyly did the tickled bristle
Tenderly bow welcome here
And the tree was

A wave so
Sea-glow clear and satin shadowed it was

The sea

Summoned sweetly its
Deep kaleidoscope in carbonated breath
As old as my soul and
These deep seas were the river running sky.
© Teri Darlene Basallote Yeo
May 4 · 244
Beauty
In my solitude lives
A lagoon as
Alluring as
It is untouched.

I have only beheld
Through my eyes
Just birds looking down
While they fly.
I can't touch
What I see
No matter how beautiful.

They are the days,
Nights, memories,
Skies,
Stars, boundaries but
Beauty
is in the eyes,
I have only gazed at how much I feel.
© Teri Darlene Basallote Yeo
May 4 · 246
Ballet
Rise
like the
ballerina on
pointe and make the
heavens weep with soft-hearted
rain.
© Teri Darlene Basallote Yeo
Apr 30 · 126
The Fool
I was a fool
   To think you would want
   What I wanted from you.
I was a fool
   For not knowing how
   To tell between real or true.
   I am two fools
       Now I have to laugh
       At myself for the jokes that they pull.
© Teri Darlene Basallote Yeo
Apr 27 · 273
Incredulous
Incredulous
It seems
When you grew to
Connect with the
                               Spaces
                    You
                                Left
   ­                 Your
                                Prints
In
W­hile the others
Only left their memories.
© Teri Darlene Basallote Yeo
Apr 21 · 293
Why I like the beach
Fall with a curtsy;
Canvas of the wind;
Lace of the sea.
The shore is **** yet barely obscene
Looking closely,
I just see, me  
and all of myself longs it could be.
When I go to the beach,
Experiencing the waves lap in time
Makes it feel like time waits for you if you just wait along together.
Like mirrors, it allows you to see yourself in the present moment.
Some look for vanity, some for clarity.
Maybe, that's why the beach is breathtaking.

You can't hide from yourself when you find yourself beautiful.

© Teri Darlene Basallote Yeo
Dec 2018 · 904
Red rainbow
Red rained lips of the blue winds soaring.
It is all coming together like reckless memory magnets
Alone with prize high,
Painful pulse for the month's ending,
Rain convulsed,
As you stretched one hand out.
Laughter drips for you reached about the stacking strain,
Drained out dry of bright champagne.
Red rained lips of the blue winds calling.
© Teri Darlene Basallote Yeo
Nov 2018 · 1.8k
Mountain grounds
By the stairs side
Stands
A tall stranger taking coats
White bags and light hats for that
Easy fumed air
Hanging  
Beside the wide-eyed picture
Framing the dark horses
Running
Trampling with laughter over the growing lawn.

A grey-shaded blooming shudder
Covering over the other,
Catches the light,
Hats seated,
cover over the other
Entrancing over the etched dancers lined against the walls.
Mountains that grew over the ancient
fire, could still be moved.
Behold, the sky's desire.
Oct 2018 · 926
Sunday night
Coral steps weave and weaved along deeply thick,
I am dark tea as warm as the dripping wax of the melting candle caught by its holder
In search for your hands in the cooing night
As you grew colder.

The nightly strings that are ripping
For a dancing gentle lily.
The day distracts what the night can give in the coral silence and sticky speed.
All day I quest for the nightfall's shower of retreat
and surrender.
The darkness loses
inside caves and shelters where the sun visited over and over.
Oct 2018 · 2.2k
Where the girls are
On a green leaf
For frogs
Illuminated by the surface under
There she sits on
A part
A piece I looked as a picture
Dazing wondrously and scouring with pairs
My sandals my feet my hands
All my fingers and nails
My ears
My toes of ten
and legs
Knees and my shoulders
The missing piece
or so i thought under
The afterthought
Full of doubters
For the plants grew all tall
None could be any taller
Dazzling danglers
A field under the stars.

Girly willed as am I
Which could not seem possible
Acceptance aches
Belief breaks
Even the words I speak, write or sing,
(Shall I
Hear it...)
over there it only echos
against the busy chatter and travels back home
Clogs *******
Reminding me that a life can be extinguished with mere
disbelief.
Disbelief and ignorance another pair...
Girly willed as I am
Nodding behind books
Fiction, fiction, fiction
They neigh
So here I go...
Thankful prayer as it did happen to us..
And all of it did
That it was I who did it.

Fuels of her pair
by flying passion and wild innocence
Now...
A human being
Limitless like the others
Why don't they not see? The rest, the stops,
The same scene, there is exactly the same scene...of falls.
If they just went out and did it, for a stretch and a walk,
Just grow out of leaves, be the branches printed of feathery crease
Because I am girly willed
Golden meadows lost to become treasure.
Fearless of rags she is as I am,
Laying afloat of the clouds, linen skies, seas and drifting through the weightless sand
Fearless forever.
Oct 2018 · 602
Magic-magic
Top hat that stretches that of the unseen tempo,
Immortal strands that willow and willow,
She pulled on.

In the realm
With no edge.
In my dreams,
Remissive as the dawn
As the blinding beauty basket
Rising
All furry frights turned
All starry smile white
All bright
and kept in sight
Keys that were a silent trick
Tuned and replaced
My smile that became magic-magic.
Oct 2018 · 581
Nostalgic
I woke up from a dream
But I did not leave
You.

It was past
It was
You,
all up in history
How many
Too plenty

Kisses at every stop light
Every stop light
And there he sang
Green lights
Sights shut tight.

There was no end,
But it is still late
We did not catch the divine train
in the end,
Fate.
Oct 2018 · 1.2k
Muddy
Penny vase made from
the brown voided canyon rusting.
Friends that were made of waste,
they said time was simply turning,
the boat spoke back and said the depth of ones nature
could walk on water
But a deep voice
Was all that sprayed in pungent
aerosol and
displeasure.

Do we need to be on the same boat?
To drift into the beguiling surf?
Altogether
Better if we were dispersed
Dropped by the caving soft curve
Sliding through the unseen wash, watching your muddy glare.
Track the force in
blueberry motion
pulling and pushing us,
a sollen hand
and flying sleeve
The touch of flaunting fingertips and strings,
The fluttering wick
Swing and swished.

The chest of wonders beaming
Transmitting
a map
and lines like hay and wires
They were all exposed in the lines of her eyes
Maps

You frightened me that sleepy day
The dusted arsenal stick
Casted me on a rod made of hibiscus dew and syrup
A venomous hook that entangled my earrings
The push and her wave of desire,
Maps
To her treasure,
Reeled it now all over her wet webbed feet.
Caged,
Maps
and pressure
of the rocks falling against the time ticking
Hours away from the swaying shore.
The meaning of the word ''sollen'' in Dutch provided by Wiktionary,

Dutch
Etymology
From Middle Dutch sollen, from Middle French soller.
Verb
sollen

to throw back and forth (of a ball)
to play, to mess
We laten niet met ons sollen!
We won't let anyone mess with us!

© Teri Darlene Basallote Yeo
Oct 2018 · 2.9k
Hawk-eyed Appetite
Cumin queuing
Exchanged by the fiery springs
It flew away blowing
When the chill was as willed as the obtrusive sky
Made of cranes running
Up and down until it is down below the hips.

How one would crave the distinguished dish severely
Whose aroma is everything you have heard singly
The pearl-like freckles beneath its wings
Tastes like heaven-human savagely beating alive
Increasing one's height and appetite.
Oily hands that grip your heart,
Slippery slides of the familiar coconut.
© Teri Darlene Basallote Yeo
Oct 2018 · 934
Food Courted
We eat in the restaurants
Eat in the bars
By the bistros
Against the street or on the ground
It does not matter where we are found
As we eat like we are dancing
With no one around
Who could possibly be watching?

Inside your own home
A house of a lone star
Impossibly pondering
How the pauper used wood
And turned it into cooking.

Food can be shared for
A life once cared for
Kept to yourself
Perhaps you beg not to share it
An octagon plate and octagon jades
Caramel vinegar rain
Tossing and turning with lightning veins.
© Teri Darlene Basallote Yeo
Oct 2018 · 2.8k
As often
Snowflakes scraped underneath fingernail tips
When the charcoal was pressed harder.
As often as the cheetah runs with the crocodiles by the nile
They do not look for each other.

As often as the bees sing
Only once could they muster poison and sting
With a clockwork, shelter and carpentry of honey.
The fruitness of a living body.

The sound that gets lost in the woods
Gets lost and carried
Flying through the whispers between the branches and twigs.
All the creatures are all but lost
Yet the striking fur
Shocks
Hunters into firing hot shells across
and the falcon fell.

A shouting cull
The silence that meant that wildly blooms have been collected.
A bouquet was calling the passing hours
Wrapped in the scraped white spirit of the wooden towers.
© Teri Darlene Basallote Yeo
Oct 2018 · 1.6k
Archangel Girl
Mic
Hail
Rough
Hail
A body made from the undying devotion was to be forgotten
Built by the memory of devotion's husband.

A swaying heritage
Under the surface
Resting
On a sleepy cloud made of forceful courage.
Her voice
The forest hovering
Above
and all of life
Hanging
From her glass lips of
The worldly wife.

Her weightless gold of skin
Running,
My saviour is a Queen.
Precious beyond anything,
Hey! her love is in everything.
© Teri Darlene Basallote Yeo
Oct 2018 · 5.6k
Tradition's all
An absence reversed
Beheld
Belonging
Fuming lush greenery seemingly
Between the frothing
Soup and lather twinkling
Speaking
"Tradition may act dishonestly"
All and sundry
Trails along merrily
For traditionally
All is how it should be
Belonging to one and only.

Binding
A trade between the thin lines
A baking sheet made sprayed messy
Artists in threes
Shakers of mountains for invisible ease
The truth is simply
Things done traditionally
All-in consuming historically.

Flesh
Released
Is fresh
Relief
Hidden in the fabric's sleeve
A gaping passage of air and breeze
Racing electricity
Breathtaking silk from worms
And worms eaten by birds
Tradition
Sewing the dresses of Empress the third.
Halt
Her plea worth salt and sugar
Still
Like the skater's
Minted odour
Hope
Distances the valleys low dipped to the everlasted rivers
Where a time arrives for eternal celebration.
The embellishments of
Unwavered tradition.
© Teri Darlene Basallote Yeo
What is your tradition?
Oct 2018 · 2.3k
Elsewhere boy
Petals weaved and laced for limbs,
   Infinity intricately at his feet,
Arrows of lobster clawed feathers,
   Shooting lanterns up the street.

Four corners in black,
   Multiplied with moving tints,
Grey flowing into the endless drift,
   Scissors slicing ribbons,
The final trick played by twins.

Redly lit and pink warmth of a bird's statue,
   Emitting frozen tones,
Evermore catering his fortitude,
   Fleetly plucking each leaf,
Each one falling and bending,
   Into smokey cat-eyed gleam.
© Teri Darlene Basallote Yeo
Oct 2018 · 4.0k
Dragon tale
Grumbling engine underground
Again
Rotates and repeats.
The echo
The steamy yawn
Mellow fiend unseen
Creeps
Bearing teeth in metallic joints.

A fat snake's yawn
Blows and bellows quietly.
Uncoloured ornament at ten feet
Floats through that crawling wind
Full from everything it could eat.

***** sand in the far east
Rustic in the sense of dripping spit.
The blue walls painted over the white plain
Are scratched
White walls slain.

Drilling ripple
In the black pool
Ink
Coloured the lonely riddle.
A cold under the sun
Blinds our noses
Disguising away our senses.
© Teri Darlene Basallote Yeo
Oct 2018 · 4.1k
The Barber's knowledge
There the merry hologram glowing blue purple blue
Cactus human cherry on a stool
Beyond the window he would not look
Inside the sky made of wood.

The barber talks to his ferns
The flowers he understood
The living they earn
Sparkling its rough nails of your barber.
The breath and life he will spruce with apple-pie order.
He listens to
Each one story
Always about a time
A time which was cheery.

He looks piercingly to all their prickly
What he touches intently
To turn the time that latches onto your head which started feeling heavy.
Lifted into glee so jolly and carefree.

A man
Or the boys
They finally stand up easily.
Capes dusted
Top hat powdered
Their voice of fears collected as tips
For pricking up his ears.

The door that opens in the end
The swirling light that beckons
Hair became a way to lighten ---
When times get rough and belligerent
Cut it off, rugged and ruffian.

The barber hears him and all
The others like soldiers
They share their laughs
Troubles leaving shoulders
Leaving like a waterfall.
The barber knows everything
The barber knows all.
© Teri Darlene Basallote Yeo
Rhymes are better heard than seen.
I feel like that is what makes poetry...
May 2018 · 7.1k
Roots
Electric sun twirls its lava skirt.
Slammed woks.
Peanuts, chilli, limes and oil
Feeding him its lunch.
Shelter to chilli cheeks and peppercorn faces.
The air can't move its obese body to the rivers for a dip.

Darkness is hard with sturdy edges.
Curtains made of invisible beads and threads hang over the night in silence.
They spill against the concrete under rough hooves and feet
For the night falls like tight heavy lids.
Dusk is a bruised tunnel of vision.

Candlelit giants blinking rapidly.
You don't speak
For the night is never empty
The silence never lonely
Stampede of restlessness surrounding
Grinning from squint to squint
Raising embraces and chance encounters
They scream loudly to frighten the dawn.
© Teri Darlene Basallote Yeo
May 2018 · 44.4k
Terror in a puzzle piece
In the digital l-and
We l-ive in
Mistakenly automatic
One pointing at a chest of tools
Eyes on i
No soul can tell a part a weakling metal


Robots robbing robbers rich
T-error terrifying t-errorists
Artist gods and goddesses
Sharing platform to unleashed gifts


Mint hue bubbles squeak
Fizzy dizzy violet haze
World head to toes spins
Any day it spins coins in change


A quiet girl is sinister
Siren of mystery or future
Robot is your mirror
Peach chin with teeth filter
No innocence and glitter litter
Guilty until proven the latter


A quiet girl a terrorist
Error mouths terror twist
Terrorist from the orient
They hide in between every end
Disguises they cover in
Racist as problem solving


Smile girl watch
A fake smile and eyes
Skin of steel so is her
Heart made alloy
How it blazes to the touch when heated
Oh it bites fingertips as it's cold
Hair resting on the curve of her spine
A woman's hair only breaks if it tries to grow


What she said
Tell me if you can tell us a part
Warning tears borne from her crooked eyes
Robot and soul
Terrorists from t-errorists
No soul knows either
Tattoos or memory shall identify you
© Teri Darlene Basallote Yeo
So I may have to give you up.
I will give you up
Unless you tell me how you want to be with me.

If lovers need not be together to love each other then Together transformed into truth and luck
And I would give you up
Perhaps say, do not ever take him away.

My love, I want to say (Can I say) don't roam so far away from me
A moment without you is a year to drag aching shoulders with long fingernails
A sleepy guest unwelcomed after midnight, that is your goodbye.

Because, you are part of the forgotten voyages made of strawberry seas and orange trees
But I have to give you up like how trees give freely our breathing.

What was given, returns and arrives in your speak drifting, steps gliding, search farwinding, slow stroll, such is your gaze.
The way you have lingered is mine, how you looked at me is also mine.
Tears you gave me are diamonds that fell lost deep under the earth nobody else knows where to find.

Time for you to seek a love like mine, the seeking of an adventure.
An old fashioned romance historian love
Rivalling of an old century over the millenium.
Only you (in this moment) know my contribution to this world that which is only you.
© Teri Darlene Basallote Yeo
May 2018 · 3.0k
"Do not overthink it"
What does it mean - to overthink?
Is there even such a thing
To think too much?
What is to think less?
Thinking is just thoughts where one can never count them.
Harmful or helpful, the two hands of any ticking clock.
When people believe overthinking is debilitating, I say it's normal :)
© Teri Darlene Basallote Yeo
May 2018 · 4.6k
Waiting arms
Clasp of silvers twice as thin as each other
Both flat to end in its impact
Its echo does not repeat but lingers like static that makes you think of gold.
Drifting in an ascending melody that
Climbs the senses in your ears as much as your skin.

They lead us steadily
To the edge of the mountains and then stops abruptly.
Stopped incredibly as if it's afraid and timid.
Strings play so thinly as each are all skinny.
A miracle moving like smoke and gas welcomes her.

Slow dance in arpeggios, a glimpse of perfection for harmony, tip by tip
And in her quiver
She laments she'll wait forever.

Forever it may be til she is in the arms of the lover.
For the end of all thousand Decembers and Januarys
Undyingly and endlessly.
Anywhere you go
Seek the thunder you wander far and near, wide and narrow.

Until I hear you sigh
Until you stop holding your breath under the brim of our wishing well.
© Teri Darlene Basallote Yeo
Apr 2018 · 3.1k
Moon Lie
Seen in its entirety against or being amongst the dark night sky.
The stars then shine brighter
When they are seen together.
Such a shade of colour.


That is the white shadow that hangs still and kneels.
Still, is that a shadow for real?
A white shadow of the sky - why do you ask, why?


I am sitting here at a round table
But I am sitting at a ring of white
Transparent, glass
Where I can see everything right through.
It too
Reflects the light from my eyes.


In its light, there is no fire, no beam, no heat and the air ----
Washes and bathes you yet keeps you dry.


It is just a glow that weighs nothing.
Where and how does it lie?
It is just a piece of eternity's presence looming.
© Teri Darlene Basallote Yeo
Mar 2015 · 9.1k
Thorns
The blunt surface and wooden *****
Confined within impenetrable walls
However reverb dangerously.
Numbers reappeared to disorientate me.

It was the lion I sought advice from
For a dove that had been travelling with a rose
With a weight as heavy as its wings
Against the torrent of winds and sky.

I counted the time as if I were a clock.
Gently did it leave while I was not looking,
Its music turned down by long fingers
That lightly grazed the glasses
Like tracing back the steps that I at first hastened.

Never again will I see with my lashes curled by  
Its own Evening Dew.
I only pray that the silver soldier marches
Next to me with armor close to my chest
Close to my eyes so no gaze could ever penetrate.
© Teri Darlene Basallote Yeo
Nov 2014 · 6.0k
Vino
I concede that the evening is bright,
  That the dawn does not exist,
That leaves were meant to be brown to be beautiful,
  That the sky will always stay blue.

The hurricane that came to be music,
  Windy days that fanned flames.
Can you catch my sighs and I'll keep your whispers,
  So nostalgic is your croon.
  
I taste the skins with whiffs of pepper and plum,
  Where my senses rise leaving me lost amongst the stars,
Giving a glimpse of the eternity of the galaxy,
  Will your lips feel this way?

Like the sights of autumn foliage in portraits,
  I only wonder about your touch,
Muster memories, scenes and scenes,
  Until you're mine not just in dreams.
© Teri Darlene Basallote Yeo

— The End —