Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
 
 Apr 2014 Victoria
purple orchid
Your words are pebbles
That disrupt the sleeping seas
In the depth of my soul
Causing tidal waves I can
Only drown in
The power of the tongue
 Apr 2014 Victoria
betterdays
i have an ongoing
love affair
with words
that roll around your
mouth

luscious, langourous
lilliputitian letters

sensual syllables
slick- sliding off
the tongue

ecstatic explosions,
erupting, erogenously
exciting, eager exclaimations,
of enraptured exualtations

organic, original orientations
of teeth and tongue
producing oodles,
of apogeic anomolies

my affair
accomplishes much
for little

it is you see
just a not so secret love
of letter, line, jot and tittle.

a casting eye upon a word
and i am set rushing
down a path
reserved for those
with terms, descriptive,
and names.
that in themselves,
decry
wordlove.

lexicographers and bibliophiles
phoneologists, linguists, polygots,
jonguluers, wordsmiths scribes
poets.

all possess this
heartstringed
tangled knot,
spiderwebbed
feeling,
for words.
which, we then,
endevour to spin,
into inkstained beauty,
to ensare
ourselves ...and others.
Was dating a bag of ****
whose first impression was a megahit.
This love story was diseased long before it began.
I recall his swayful love worship was far too pagan.

Could his heart get more colder than winter?
Could his laziness
be better than his deafness?

Ooh! Let me out
so i feel the winds
Let me blackout
so i wont feel the darkness he enwinds.

Its amazing what two persons can cause.
It is honourably
chiefly poetic
to put an end to our present cause.
What's your story?
love can be confusing turn you all about
put your mind in turmoil put your heart in doubt
it can take your trust leave you in despair
the love that you believed in is no longer there

it can make you change make you feel denied
tear your world apart rip you up inside
love it is confusing for each and everyone
but if your love is true love will carry on
 Apr 2014 Victoria
Traveler
Blessed are the eyes of the poets
who see a deeper truth.
 Apr 2014 Victoria
eryn b
I sit on the roof top going back to the years where everything was so easy
Where danger was far from my mind
Where I had adventures in my small bedroom
Where I had inevitable dreams that would just go on and on.
Where I  danced around the room when people were looking
Where I  loved everything and everyone.  
I want to go back to those years and I wish i never grew up... because now I know it's a trap.
Next page