Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
 
i looked into
her hazel eyes
a little too long --
which had
surprisingly
been long enough
to wonder
if forever
could fit
in
a
glance.
date wrote: 29/6
The girl with the ginger hair
I saw her in my dream
Like an angel from the heavens
Eyes green like the wild
and
Hair flowing in the wind

I hope she remembers me when i’m gone

The Girl With The Ginger Hair
for Imogen Elizabeth Grant
For anyone who needs to hear it
For anyone who cries at night
For anyone who who dries their tears
On saying "I'm alright"

For anyone who's in their head
And thinks they're not enough
Who worries about their body size
And ever finding love

The world is going to beat you down
To teach you to stand back up
But just because the world is cruel
It doesn't mean give up

You're so much more than your struggles
You're stronger than your grief
You're more beautiful than you'll ever know
So stand up... Use your feet

Walk right through that fire
Stand so you'll be seen
The world needs to see you glow
But just in case bring burn cream
I rest your head on my lap
and I promise everything is alright.
I caress your hair—
and it's myself who I deceive when I say
I will heal all that aches.

Playing peek-a-boo with your demons
I grant each and every desire.
Gasping lullabies to your ear,
do you rest when they sleep?

Playing hide and seek with your demons
they feed me all your whims.
Gasping bedtime stories to your ear
until you fall asleep
and they come with me.





[Another recurrence of the Devotion Rot habit—spilled as art.]
Poems telling about a love that lingers like a parasite, one that you welcome in the despair of loneliness. And one you feed in the need of being taken whole. Until nothing of you is left.
A soft lullaby you whisper while sweetly dying inside.
On the far edge of the world there are
fanatics of many minds and religions.
They have uninteresting histories,
jejune existences, and distorted ideas of nature.

Some are belligerent, felony-friendly foreigners.
I’ve never given them a single thought,
because they're nothing to me.

They’re insignificant—living curiosities
and I grant them no more sympathy
than I would a flock of wild birds.

Of course, I’d never wish to harm wild birds
unless they had the wherewithal to attack me,
in inimitable, Hitchcock style.
.
.
Songs for this:
Kashmir by  by Toni Jevicky
broken people by narcissists cookbook
Bring Me to Silence (Audiotree Live) by Fievel Is Glauque
BLT Merriam Webster word of the day challenge 06/23/25:
Wherewithal refers to the means, skills, resources, or money that is needed to get or do something.

felony-friendly =  terrorist or crime adjacent
Have you ever seen a pair of Nine West Folowe Pumps in Red Blooms Floral - or ever held a feathery pair? They offer the pure pleasure of perfection.

You can see them popping up lately, in streetwear silhouette, matched with Dolce & Gabbana’s floral-print leggings, making a duet of blooms—petal upon petal, like a garden in motion, or paired with the new, high-waisted barrel leg jeans, lending a flash of elegance, a bright flourish against dull denim.

They’re visions, wrought as if by the hand of Michelangelo, who once from marble freed David’s pose, or da Vinci, whose brush summoned the Mona Lisa’s secret smile.

In form, they’re d’Orsay cut, sporting curves as deliberate as the Sistine vaults arch. The stiletto heels rise with the ambition of a cathedral’s spire - neither too proud nor too meek, but balanced, like the symmetry of a butterfly’s painted wings.

Upon their surface, blood red blooms unfurl - petals as vivid as spring’s first flush - each blossom a testament to an artist’s hand, in riots of color and romance that dance with the same spirit as a flowerbed at dawn.

No flaws mar their making: the stitchings are true, the fits precise—as if tailored by the muses themselves. Each pair offers its own unique foliations, bespeaking the freedom of a craftsman’s careful art.

Lastly, of course, they’re marvels of harmonious function, lightly cradling and lifting each step - comfort and glamour aren’t adversaries here, but partners in making each step a sonnet and each stride an artist's brushstroke.

Now, maybe you aren’t into fashion - perhaps you’re a male - oh, poor you, I’m sorry, but maybe, just maybe, in times of chaos, you long for the pleasure of inexpensive perfection.
.
.
Songs for this:
Glamour Girl by Louie Austen
This is what falling in love feels like by JVKE
BLT Merriam Webster word of the day challenge 06/26/25:
Sumptuous = something luxurious, magnificent and probably very expensive.
What’s wrong with me? I’ve been asking myself this all week.
Anyone who knows me will tell you that I weigh questions coldly and logically. Then it hit to me.. it’s summer, silly, and I'm in classes!

A typical summer would find me tanned, sunburned, greased and unkempt, like a happy, sandy, beach hobo, my hair would be either braided or left fly-about to tangle into cotton candy wads.

My bf Peter’s learned to like fine restaurants (You’re welcome). I’d have never left the beach on my own.
“They can bring us anything,” I’d argue, looking up pitiably from my shaded, Tropitone lounge chair.

Around sundown, Peter would have to catch me, slippery oiled and brown, to comb me out and scrub me before dinner.
“Get dressed!” he’d encourage, picking out a dress suitable for dining or casino wear - “I made us a reservation.”

I’d come out of the hotel en-suite in one of their fluffy, Versace, terry towels but invariably, before I was even dry,  Peter would shake his head, growl and say, “Com-mere,” holding his arms out a little, palms up
(he’s never been very verbose), and smirking a little, I would, because his expression reminded me of Christmas.
“What about our reservation?” I’d chuckle.

This was, of course, a volunteer situation, where it was up to us all to do our best.
.
.
Songs for thus:
Girls On the Beach by Carter Cathcart
Wouldn't It Be Nice by Papa Doo Run Run
Please Let Me Wonder by Carter Cathcart
BLT Merriam Webster word of the day challenge 07/01/25:
Verbose = using too many words to convey a point.
In Palestine where the shadows creep
And young children lost track of sleep
And drugs in there hands and
There drugged to the sky
And drugs entice a cruel end
And children will forever cry
Drugged to the sky and
The shame and high a painful flame
The end is bitter fails to mend
A silent call.
The Israeli army is handing out drinks and
Food to the Palestinian people with
Oxycodone inside.

Oxycodone is used to relieve pain severe enough to require opioid treatment and when other pain medicines did not work well enough or cannot be tolerated.
Pink pigs played peppy and peaceful in Paradise.
Prideful and prestigious was their pen,
Prettily pounded with providence plenty provided.
Privileged pigs paraded pretentiously, protecting prized possessions and pleasantries.
Prudent pigs pootled purposefully pondering the passage of their permanence.
Promiscuous pigs plugged and pegged ***** pigs in picturesque pleasantness.
Piglets promising plumpness pranced piggish in the pasture, precociously,
Perky and pearly in prepubescent peachiness.

Pericles - Peerless paragon of Porky perfection-
was their principle proponent.
Pensive philosopher Pig!
Prominence and prestige palpable.

Pericles was percipient and practically prehistoric to his peers.
Preceedingly, Pericles had a premonition -
A premonition of pulverisation!
Predestined pogrom. Preordained.
Perhaps, Preventable?
Percicles pooled the pigs and pacing placidly,
Presented a panegyric.
Pronouncing with perspicacity, the plight of pigs -
Perfectly polished.

“Proud and prideful pigs of the pen!
Parents of piglets! Possessing no parallel!
Perhaps perplexed are pigs preempting Paradise to persist and prevail perennially.
Promptly - a plethora of pigs will be parted!
Peep not! Precious piggies.
The Progeny of us pigs will proclaim perpetually -
how those perfect pigs - parried and perished - politely parting their precious pork to the President of the Paddock.”

Paranoia pervaded…
Pericles, persisted in his preaching.

“Practical and pragmatic Pigs!
Privileged priceless pigs!
Preserved! Par-excellence!
Presently and permanently!”

Pericles was professional.
Preaching and pontificating with pertinent persuasion to the pigs presiding.
Paladin of pigs! Pre-eminence palatable.

Par-contre, Pericles had previously pledged a pact.
A Partnership!
To the President of the Paddock!
Particularly poignant and penetrative was the pact.
Pericles’ proposed to persuade the pigs to perdition,
Provided his own persistence and preservation - Promised.

Pericles’ panegyric proclaimed preposterous prevarications.

“Pigs, punished and persecuted, placed peerless and pardoned. Pure and pious!”
Pericles polluted their purity.

“Profound public punishment is no petty pitfall.
Professional pigs prevail!”
Pericles prated piffle to pliant pigs - Porky pies!

Parvenu! Plotter!
Peacemaker perverse!
Passionate performer of parody!

“Please pardon us Pigs!” - pining piggies prattled,
Pleading for preservation.
Peckish and parched was the pathetic profusion.
Pericles preached positivity - placated the pigs - pacified them with poison pellets and popsicles provided to piglets,
Pridelessly Pericles paraded a phalanx of piggies to the pernicious parlour of pain…

Pericles - Persuader of pigs!
Pestilent partaker!

Pericles’ ploy, premeditated - perpetrated!
Perniciousness proliferated

Piggies panted in perturbation.
Paranoid pigs posted prayers pitifully.
Precipitously, permanence was punctuated!
Pugnacious pigs parried pathetically as
Pincers pried and pulled at petrified pigs.
Porky palpitations pounded pervasively.
Pink pigs parted painfully -
Pulverised and pounded into paste - Puréed
Pricked and prodded - Purity pooled-out
Pressed and peeled. Pain prolific in proportion
Poor piggies. Pensive and polite.
Plundered.

“Phew!”, Pericles panted, post pogrom.
Pert Pervader! Peeking and peering,
Preserved and persistent!

Promise provided.

Prodigious profusion of piggies, piled, perished and perilous, peppered the parlour, in porky patterns of a putrid ******* painting.

Pericles - paranoid parasite - persevered!
Plegmatic and pallid in persistence.

Pericles peeped in posthumous pathos as the perishable perkiness of his peers was powerlessly pounded, passively processed, procured and preserved.

Pitiless! The proud prankster perked up.
Pericles went prancing and pealing about the parlour in peak performance - Perfumed Pig!

Products produced for pecuniary profit profligate.
Pericles’ portion partitioned!
Plenty of pork provided. Production prolific.
Pink pigs packaged.
Peaceful in Pork.
Next page