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The sparkles of life
Trickle with trepidation.
Ripples ricoshade from one to side to another;
As life seems to stop.

Smoothly dancing along the top,
Gliding like a kite across the surface.
Winding, wildly along the curves; taunting Zeus of his power.

The birds call out far and wide
They communicate with the sea.
They understand him
And they understand what he needs.
This one is written in more of a Ted Hughes style. This is my first time getting inspiration from  materialistic objects. Hope you enjoy **
 Mar 2019 Violet Smithe
Ansley
I met a girl with X-ray vision.
She found herself quite smart.
Yet despite
Her fantastic sight
She couldn't find my heart.

There was an *****
that pumped blood
But surely there was something more.
So she climbed
Into my mind
And opened up a door.

There she found
Things somewhat profound,
But they were not of any interest,
So she rose
And found the words I spoke
In the chasms of my lungs.

She saw debate and
The arguments I fought
She saw what I cared about
But it was still not what she sought

Then she leapt into my hands
And saw all that I wrote
She tried to find double meaning
To the carefully chosen words
But there was no leaning
Or things of note.

So she gave up
But began to fall
For when asked what I cared about
My girl with "X-ray vision"
Knew that she didn't know me at all
Don't you just adore fairytale styled poetry
 Dec 2017 Violet Smithe
Miracle
You cannot tell her she's beautiful,
You cannot tell her you love her,
You cannot tell her she's your world
When she's at her best moments.

You may only tell her those things,
If you're ready for her to have those off days,
If you're ready for her to not always wear makeup,
If you're ready to deal with her mood swings,
If you're ready for her to be clingey some days and distant others,

You cannot tell her any of the pretty little comments,
Unless you can handle her
Alone at two A.M.
As she's struggling with life,
And wondering why

She is not enough to win her own internal battles
-Don't you dare tell her you can handle her all the time if you're only ready to handle her at her best.
 Jul 2015 Violet Smithe
Sourodeep
Sometimes balancing on a rope
            is easier than being alive
Life is just a circus with so many acts, you need to learn the skill and perform them taking risks.`
 Jul 2015 Violet Smithe
Havran
Roses askew on the floor
and scented lilac candles
flickering fleetingly into the wind
outside
these rusty windows
that creek and break
my sleep
in the middle of most every night
I turn
and I can see You
vividly
as if yesterday
You were not the silhouette
of the woman
that I have come to love.
 Jul 2015 Violet Smithe
Mermaid
In the room of dusk

           Waiting for the sun to dive

Into the space behind the sand hills,

Your fingers embracing the white cup of tea

In the orange blush of warm light,



You stare at me,

my eyelashes flutter

I look away " the window steamed from inside

Orchids in a glass looking at us

The twilight is coming, and fading

Your arms stretched to me -

But who stole our memories,

My brother?


Going to hang out your shirt

Your arms tremble again with longing,

Why you need me always more,

Even you know I'm forbidden?

The cat is meows outside,

Branches of the willow shivering

In the caressing wind,

You stay behind me, hugging me silently

Your voice is frozen long ago "

But who stole our memories,

My brother?
just a poem in my style, feel free to comment!
There is a girl, a girl so fair
With silver eyes and moonlit hair

Her skin like snow is pale and white
She dances in the moonlit night

She's singing under the midnight moon
It truly is a beautiful tune

She is a beauty, she is my queen
The most beautiful girl I've ever seen
 Jul 2015 Violet Smithe
AMcQ
What is a poem?
A lilting of words?
An image of voices
forever unheard?
What's this picture of symbols
all ordered in lines?
What's this rare combination?
Did it take her much time?
What makes the pattern
or rhyme start to flow?
What sets it apart
from the prose or the scroll?
Is it empathy recalling
some rose-tinted dream?
Maybe it's laced in darkness
the vile or obscene?
What is a poem?
Some words written with tone?
What are these lyrics
Sung straight from my bones?
The touch of the sunlight,
the warmth of the water
dancing around our ankles,
smell the salt in the air,
fresh and clean and pure.
Little tastes of happiness.
But it's never enough for you.

You think that happiness is a state,
like liquid or gas, something you stay in.
But happiness is in the fleeting moments,
the laughter of friends,
hot chocolate, sweet and smooth
with little marshmallows.

Dancing in the rain,
wearing your favorite shirt,
a walk through the woods,
a hug just a little longer than usual,
the warmth of someone else's arms.
These fleeing moments are
where you find happiness.
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