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chain smoking on the balcony with a Buddhist monk
not sure how i got here or where he is from
he talks about honesty and compassion and faith
and the girl that he married, that incredible earthquake
he looks at me and asks where i want to go
i tell him to tomorrow, and after that who knows
with a sigh and a smile he ashes and says
you keep living for tomorrow and eventually you're dead
 Aug 2016 Blossom Yelia
Joanna Oz
I felt your spirit follow me
ten thousand feet above the sea - floating,
flee(t)ing over aquamarine mountains
in a metallic bird with frozen wings.
In my dreams,
you are a wild sycamore tree who sings
lunar symphonies to bumblebees
sun spotted eyes,
sight of a man searching after ephemeral mystery.
I will whisper your name into the wind, send
my spirit back round the earth -
we will breathe the same air,
after passing through a million lungs (heaving)
see the same clouds,
after traveling distances unspeakable..

And will you remember me:
eyes brimming (in silence)
hips twitching (in stillness)
biting lips and picking skin and
itching to hold you with palms and fingertips,
head in crook of shoulder,
hand pressed upon chest,
stomach to stomach breath stolen,
heavy, wet -
having communion without the wine or bread
just the body, unbroken
no call to repent.
Our house is burning down.
The flames are lashing and tearing
every(our)thing in it's wake.
From the bottom to the top,
Our daughter's doll house,
our miniature planetarium in our bedroom,
my compilations of writings about you/I/us.

Don't rush for the door, dear.
There's still a chance we can subsidise these
gallowing flames that's trying furiously
to charr our ship in the message in the bottle
and our memories into ephemeral ash.

Stay.
For all the reasons to save what we have,
what we've longed for so long,
what we've built from the pit of our hearts.
So,
Stay.

We'll find our way through the maze
and through every well wishers curses.
We'll fix everything that needs to be tended to
and we'll grow to love each other once again.
**I'm staying.
 Nov 2015 Blossom Yelia
Dacy Maly
The darkness crept into her parted lips one night
A midnight intruder
Uninvited and unnoticed
The darkness spread its tar-black fingers
Through her veins and capillaries
It filled her lungs with soot
It was the heaviness behind her eyes
And the steel bar across her chest
Finally, the darkness slithered into her mind
And by the time she realized it was there
She could no longer remember
How to let the light in
 Oct 2015 Blossom Yelia
GaryFairy
darkened eyes, a loss of sparkle
hardened by the starkest heart
marvel at the harmful parcel
imparted scars starting to part

discarded stars, embarking targets
barred from the starving art
pardoned by departing darkness
that was ardent from the start


(in a crescendo poem, the vowel sound you are working with must build up to a peak in intensity(crescendo), by increasing that vowel sound with each line, then gradually decreasing in the second stanza. for example, here i use /ar/ sounds...2 in first line, 3 in second and third lines, and 4 in the fourth line...then in second stanza, use same count backwards, like 4 in first line, 3 in second and third lines, and two in the last line...it can have a scheme of 1-2-3-4, then 4-3-2-1 or whatever, as long as it gradually reaches a peak(crescendo), and then gradually decreases. both stanzas must match in the amount of vowel sounds used)
this is about, and for all of the dark poets...the ones who are willing to write down the things that no one wants to talk about...you still shine!
inspired by Sarah aka ThePoet aka Blueberry :)
parcel - divided into parts....ardent - glowing or shining like fire
 Oct 2015 Blossom Yelia
GaryFairy
i've been in the valley, i've been to the peak
i've been in the wind and been in the grime
i have learned that either place can be no safe retreat
from the peak it's so steep, from the valley it's a climb

i've been at the bottom, i've been to the top
i have been to both more than one time
i have learned that either place can be a treacherous spot
from the top it's a drop, from the bottom it's a climb
 Sep 2015 Blossom Yelia
GaryFairy
come alive and decipher the wiser
burn higher, with a fire in every fiber
try to find the mind of a survivor
guide your time like the stride of a tiger
leave behind the life of a fighter
you're defined by the ride and the rider
out of line to slide with the viper
let light shine through eyes of a spider
try to be advised by your desire
take no sides besides the side that is lighter
 Aug 2015 Blossom Yelia
mike dm
Falling
I panicked and
Snatched a passerby winged creature

I held it close
Us nose-to-nose
Tumbling

It called itself
Something Like Awe Perhaps

Spiraling
toward that pebble
That I always sillily perceive to be
A rock unhewn

This whispering loose leaf
Culled from the air's tangent
Impressed upon me

Sense, dear

Wan swan dip eve to cleave ars

Not once did it
Plea to be to be
It simply breathed breathe
He’s no musician.
He doesn't make melodies through violin and guitar strings.
Yet he composed, haunting ballads in dramatic tempos,
Rhyming every lyric,
Harmonizing, making it dance in a musical euphony.

He’s no seamster.
Yet he cuts and he traces,
plain words and printed phrases;
Then he sews and he weaves it skilfully,
into a lovely concrete poetry.

He’s no painter.
He just has a palette of pigmented letters,
splashing colorful lines on his blank canvass.
A blast of contained evocative memories,
Streaking and shading mixtures of kaleidoscopic imagery.

He’s no storyteller.
Yet from him, I heard the most romantic tales-
One, of the moon and its lover sea.
Reciprocating shy glances, whispering I love you’s,
while kissing behind the sprawling mountains.
Though the dawn will come, they do not fear.
For after the majestic tribal sun leaves his stage,
There’ll the lovers be once again reunited.

He's no poet.**
Yet he writes--
stanzas and verses.
And oh! it revives,
every strand of emotion,
every sense of intuition,
Inside me.
A lyrical perception,
Sheer perfection,
Arousing perpetual reactions,
From me.
I am not good at this. I just want to express my pure gratitude, appreciation and awe for you.

"I am no poet. Never thought of myself as one. Just a guy dabbling clumsily in words"
Yet even, everything you do amaze me.


Thank you all wonderful people on Hello Poetry. I just realized this moment that this poem was featured as Daily poem yesterday.  I have never imagined any of my work will be posted as daily. Thank you all for the hearts, re-post,share, comments and messages. You really made my heart and soul so happy. :)
And most of all, thanks to the man who inspire me to write this one. :)
(04.14.2015)
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