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 Sep 2015
SG Holter
Sit with me in silence.
Hold my hand with the hand
Of your mind.

I'll be your shadow; you be mine.  
We'll rest in two dimensions.
Watch ourselves in 3D.

Safe in the warmth of
Our common intentions. A womb,
A room for you and me.

Let's communicate like mountains;
Be like solid, silent giants.
Sit with me in silence.


A river dug into purest stone after
Uncountable years reflecting
Sunlight, moonlight, stars and blue

Skies unrejecting. Dark clouds too,
In some divine alliance.

*And deep within it's deepest deep,
Two single, uncut diamonds.
Until we're ground to grains of sand,
Sit with me in silence.
 Sep 2015
Bb Maria Klara
I give you my way past midnight tears,
My likes and loves, my hopes and fears.

I give you my wildest moans and screams,
and most surreal hopeful dreams.

I give you more than my supply
of smiles to share and drops to cry.

I give you all there is to me:
The flaws and not flaws that you see.

I give you my tortured, broken mind,
perhaps 'twas pretty at first find.

I give you my weaknesses and strengths,
and the loves I swear of unending lengths.

I give you my joys as well as my sorrows,
the reasons why I hope of better tomorrows.

I give you and just you more than what I am.
Should I lose my mind I would not give a ****.

I give you the things that might make me perfect,
and also the mean things my devils reflect.

I give you my brightness and darkness as well,
and all I can give you, more than I can tell.

I give you your needs so that you would stay
and simply be with me each and every day.

I give you my body, my soul, my love,
hoping I'm something you won't dispose of.

I give you my life, freedom, and heart;
and all things I can't say in this way of art.

I give you my past, my present, my future.
Everything for you, my dear paramour.

I give you all it will take to convince,
that you are my love, my master, my prince.

I give you what I hope will be enough,
though I fall apart when times get rough.

I give you everything, my sun and stars:
The old and the new of my heart's battle scars.
This was written 8/20/2015. Minor revisions upon posting. I struggled, because I read the stanzas from bottom to top and I could not decide whether which way was better. I'm just going to stick close to how it was written as an emotional wasteland on my bedroom floor.
 Sep 2015
Angelina
I want to feel his feather-soft fingertips grazing the curves of my body,
To reverently hold him in my arms beneath the pale moonlight,
To feel the heat of his skin on mine.
I yearn for the warm, insistent coaxing of his lips,
The sound of his whispering voice,
And the feeling of his breath tickling my ear.
I want tenderness in his beautiful eyes, his words, his touch.
I long for his capable arms, his easy smile, the masculine smell of his body.
I need gentleness within his insistence, desire within his need, compassion within his reckless abandon.
I don't want *** from him,
I want to make love.
 Sep 2015
Gianfranco Aurilio
Is it more beautiful the moon
or the sun?
A night of stars
or a day of summer?
A drop of dew
or a reflection on the water?
Is it more beautiful
the almond tree in spring
or the mimosa
in its most intense yellow?
Don't ask me
what I love most
because an ocean
wouldn't be enough
to appease my thirst
and the universe
to fill up my heart.

20.2.'13
The original poem ("Il più bello") is in Italian.
There is no good translation for a poem.
I apologize for mine. Corrections are welcome.
 Sep 2015
M
let's sit and be nothing, do nothing,
in the silence and murmur of the flowers
while the breeze holds and hugs those who sit alone
and let our hearts move with this wind.
XXXII

The first time that the sun rose on thine oath
To love me, I looked forward to the moon
To slacken all those bonds which seemed too soon
And quickly tied to make a lasting troth.
Quick-loving hearts, I thought, may quickly loathe;
And, looking on myself, I seemed not one
For such man’s love!—more like an out-of-tune
Worn viol, a good singer would be wroth
To spoil his song with, and which, snatched in haste,
Is laid down at the first ill-sounding note.
I did not wrong myself so, but I placed
A wrong on thee. For perfect strains may float
’Neath master-hands, from instruments defaced,—
And great souls, at one stroke, may do and doat.
 Aug 2015
Liz Delgado
The first time I saw you,
I knew your eyes weren't just brown.
I stared into your eyes
and they reminded me of soil.
The comparison itself doesn't sound so pretty,
but I stared a little longer
and your eyes reminded me even more of soil.
Soil that life peeps through to spit beautiful flowers,
Soil with rich health growing among it,
Soil that holds more than billions of lives;
memories, tears, laughter and anger.
Soil that trembles the world averagely two inches into disaster,
Soil that covers the nickel nucleous of our precious blue star,
Soil that preserve resting ansestors,
dust they became.
Soil that clasp secrets scientists breathe for revealing,
Soil that hides the bones of the first organisms to roam this planet.
Your eyes weren't just brown,
they weren't just ordinary brown eyes.
Your eyes were heavy with the world.
And as I clawed deeper and deeper into your soul,
I felt how your body cracked
little by little
like fragile glass wanting to burst with burning hot water.
Your eyes are so brilliant,
but to cradle tremendously vast amounts of the Earth's existence must be
so frightening.
 Aug 2015
Katherine Hart
When they come for me, don't make a sound.
Don't try to keep them away, don't lead them around.
Let them take me, I'll be alright,
just hide somewhere and watch from the height.

When they come for me, let them be.
I know it hurts but I don't want you to see
the way my heart hurts and my skin burns
and how the world around me starts to turn.

When they come for me, just stay away.
I know everything looks bad and gray
but after the rain comes the sun
and the world once again turns into fun.

When they come for me, I hope you'll know
how much I love you and your glow
that can make my hear swell with pride
because I know you're always by my side.

When they come for me, I won't be sad
Because I'm happy for all that I had.
The love that we shared kept me from becoming mad
so when they come for me, it won't be that bad.
Come prisoned moon in steep cloud-fastnesses,—
Throned queen and thralled; some dying sun whose pyre
Blazed with momentous memorable fire;—
Who hath not yearned and fed his heart with these?
Who, sleepless, hath not anguished to appease
Tragical shadow’s realm of sound and sight
Conjectured in the lamentable night?…
Lo! the soul’s sphere of infinite images!

What sense shall count them? Whether it forecast
The rose-winged hours that flutter in the van
Of Love’s unquestioning unreveale’d span,—
Visions of golden futures: or that last
Wild pageant of the accumulated past
That clangs and flashes for a drowning man.
 Aug 2015
Amanda In Scarlet
When they buried me in the dark, I was frightened.
I didn’t like the taste of earth.
And I was so thirsty.
Some people are no good with plants,
Even the hardiest shrubs
Wither and wilt in their careless hands.
You aren’t one of them.
When no-one else could see,
You took such good care of me.
Water, warmth and love.
These are my needs, but I had no voice
With which to ask; without you
I would have remained inert
A lost life, in the dirt.
See now, how I blossom?
Just a shoot, but I will astound them all
With my beauty, in time.
Thank you for caring for me,
Thank you for helping me to grow.
For my Agent of Fortune, Paul M Chafer.
 Aug 2015
Conrad Aiken
I (Bread and Music)

Music I heard with you was more than music,
And bread I broke with you was more than bread;
Now that I am without you, all is desolate;
All that was once so beautiful is dead.

Your hands once touched this table and this silver,
And I have seen your fingers hold this glass.
These things do not remember you, beloved,
And yet your touch upon them will not pass.

For it was in my heart you moved among them,
And blessed them with your hands and with your eyes;
And in my heart they will remember always,--
They knew you once, O beautiful and wise.

II

My heart has become as hard as a city street,
The horses trample upon it, it sings like iron,
All day long and all night long they beat,
They ring like the hooves of time.
My heart has become as drab as a city park,
The grass is worn with the feet of shameless lovers,
A match is struck, there is kissing in the dark,
The moon comes, pale with sleep.
My heart is torn with the sound of raucous voices,
They shout from the slums, from the streets, from the crowded places,
And tunes from the hurdy-gurdy that coldly rejoices
Shoot arrows into my heart.

III

Dead Cleopatra lies in a crystal casket,
Wrapped and spiced by the cunningest of hands.
Around her neck they have put a golden necklace,
Her tatbebs, it is said, are worn with sands.
Dead Cleopatra was once revered in Egypt,
Warm-eyed she was, this princess of the South.
Now she is old and dry and faded,
With black bitumen they have sealed up her mouth.
O sweet clean earth, from whom the green blade cometh!
When we are dead, my best beloved and I,
Close well above us, that we may rest forever,
Sending up grass and blossoms to the sky.

IV

In the noisy street,
Where the sifted sunlight yellows the pallid faces,
Sudden I close my eyes, and on my eyelids
Feel from the far-off sea a cool faint spray,--
A breath on my cheek,
From the tumbling breakers and foam, the hard sand shattered,
Gulls in the high wind whistling, flashing waters,
Smoke from the flashing waters blown on rocks;
--And I know once more,
O dearly beloved! that all these seas are between us,
Tumult and madness, desolate save for the sea-gulls,
You on the farther shore, and I in this street.
 Aug 2015
l i z a
Life's much easier with closed eyes
And covered ears can hear no lies
Without looking back, I find the trust I need
When you take my hand and believe in me.
I dream of colors, red yellow and blue
Feeling at peace in my sweet youth
Your smile never fails to be like the light
That brightens the sky, providing me sight.
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