Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
 
 Oct 2015
phalaenopsis
the sun.
a fiery yellow goddess;

and the moon,
her fervent lover,
her devout worshiper.

the moon is a silvery mystery,
with his brooding manner.

he only shines
because the sun graces him
with some of her confidence.

he only shines
because the sun
completes him.

these two lovers,
separated by space.
they worship from afar.

and the royal goddess,
weeps heat
down to us,
her unlucky prisoners.

she pours out her tears of heat
unto the world,
engulfing us,
in her anger and sorrow.

but the moon,*
the queer, shy, moon.
the moon,
her fervent lover,
her devout worshiper.

the moon hides behind dark clouds,
and only comes out to peak at the
             sad,
                                    mediocre,
                                                and stupid
                                                                             lives
we mortals live.

he peaks in wonder,
he peaks in curiosity.
but all eyes fall on him when he steps out.

he is a silver mirage of beauty.

the moon, unlike his fiery lover,
is shy.

he goes into hiding again
once all eyes fall
                                  on him.

sometimes,
the moon
goes out of character.
he gets jealous of earth.

earth,
     who takes all of the suns attention.

earth,
who's life revolves around energetic sun.

so sometimes,
the moon,
steps in front of the earth,
and receives all of the beautiful suns glory.
even if just for a moment,

the lovers are reunited.

but,*
space pulls them apart.

as the sun continues to lash down
heat unto mortals.

as the moon, the brooding moon,
continues to hide behind the cloaking clouds,
unseen to the world.
yeah so i was looking outside and... this happened.
 Oct 2015
Gudden
He had been my brother,
He had been my mother,
He had been my pa,
He had been my grandma, my Grandpa...

And people just think of him as an ex...

That's funny!
 Oct 2015
freeing the mind
I have made it,
I have pieced myself up bit by bit,
Getting stronger with every hit,
With help around ,
Never let myself reach the ground ,
Where in the past I would have drowned,
My thoughts, my feelings are my embrace ,
Recovery you see, it is not a race ,
It is something which requires you to set your pace,
No matter how long you are down,
I promise you can still come around ,
With happiness your aim ,
You will never be the same ,
Although of your depression never be ashamed ,
I have scars and I have marks ,
Of which I may never part,
But accepting them is just the start,
The strength I feel now ,
Before to stop myself I did not even know how.
If you're a survivor of depression please take your bow.
 Oct 2015
Nessa dieR
I am like ice, while he is my fire
Now do you understand my hot desire?
But it becomes harder to hide my cold feet
and pretend not to love his exceeding heat.
Is it my fault I don't want a heart frozen cold?
Is it my fault don't believe what I've been told?
That fire, which all things melts, should harden ice,
And ice, to a fire, is never suffice.

but isn't my love enough to change their minds?
Isn't this love like none you'll ever find?
 Oct 2015
David Adamson
We revel in the artist's gaze.
See us, artist, we say.
Scale us in the geometry of your sight.
Objectify us, break us down
To our vital light,
The zero shade of being,
Our essential black and white.

But what if the figure becomes the ground?
Does the artist’s vision ever come to rest?
Does she halt the eye’s restless turning,
Instead hunger to be seen?  Fathomed?  Expressed
In basic hues, simplified, resolved,
Into the object deconstructed, the mystery solved?

Spotlight and camouflage,
Revelation and disguise:
The chiaroscuro of the artist’s eyes.
Then where does beauty reside?
In our eyes, beholders,
Invited in yet held outside?
Or in the starlight, sunlight,
Lamplight as it plays  
On the seer seen in beauty’s gaze?
 Oct 2015
GaryFairy
we sweat the small stuff and get upset
ready to deflect what we don't expect
storms spread and we get so wet
bad weather that we'd rather forget

we preset our heads to reject
whatever we don't see as correct
we've all bled and shed tears of regret
it's our necks that we try to protect

when letting two hearts connect
reverence has the better effect
it's the common threads that we neglect
instead of accepting we choose to except
Next page