**Diamond Write** - Hello Poetry

Mar 7

Reynaldo Casison

With you the Moon
is a bouquet of Roses
Glowing within the sweet vineyard
Of the evening sky
blessed with pretty serenades
For ordinary folks and romantics
Like me and you
That stretches beyond the blue

Where Our love
is golden,
Within its petals and caresses,
While you wear my loves flowers
In the honey of your tresses,
The waves waltz
In their natural dresses,
To heavenly shore

Within this sweet vineyard
Our love is a Summer waltz
That is always luminous and kind,
Things are sublime like fine wine
And everybody is in love
With one another and themselves
Like a pretty festive cruise

Reynaldo Casison

#love #moon #rose

Mar 4

Traveler

RESET BUTTON

Life is a rough ride,
I’ve never been broken but I’ve lived through hell several times.

If I could have a reset…
Where would I pop in?
What would I leave behind
but the wisdom of my sins..

No, I think I’ll keep them intact
in the here and now!
After all
there is nothing I lack
that hasn’t gone afoul.

Traveler Tim
Tool 7empest is playing in the background this morning.

#traveler #rest

Feb 27

Nylee

Generative or degenerative

We are yielding to it in every phase,
Our own cognition grows faint and low.
We built intricate webs of thought,
Now code streams, where bright ideas go.

The ceaseless flood of digital tides,
The seamless assistance AI provides.
No space to strive, we're the data it feeds,
We heed the tech giants' gilded deeds,
And craft fresh forms of digital greed,
Become hooked and mesmerised
By new tales it feeds, new strategy devised.

The algorithms churn in server halls,
No truth escapes, behind those tall walls,
What unseen shifts, what hidden thralls.
So we are growing weaker still,
Our keenest senses start to chill.

The world is a filtered, growing haze,
Authentic feeling, no longer stays.

#nyee

Feb 27

Vianne Lior

Eclipsed Tide

Moon spills in silver—
a fish arcs through drowning light,
the tide gulps its ghost.

Feb 26

vienna bombardieri

The Artist And The Winter Vine

She was eighteen years of age and tattoos were the latest rage. Snapping her bubble gum she plunks herself on a chair then asks  " May I have a tattoo please" I see a young girl in a messy ponytail and an old beaten up jacket.  I worry that she'll pick something God awful and then I'll have to oblige.
The boldness of youth
can appear so uncouth
yet reveal so much truth
"I want a tattoo of a winter vine.  One that will not go away nor fade with time" Touching the tip of the needle to the ink it ***** up into the cartilage reservoir.
As the machine begins to “buzz” the armature bar hits the coil and I begin to work. Stretched across her upper arm I notice a discoloration of the skin, a slow petering bruise.
Eyes color of snake
she is all heartache
I take a break...
"Why did you choose a vine?" I ask,  but all I get is silence and a slow breath intake.
As the coil tattoo gun moves up and down continuously the clicking sound feels soothing
to her ear.  " The last memory I have of my mom is of the the winery.  She told me how the
leaves shimmer with color before falling off.  How the sap sinks into the roots and the vine
falls asleep, while waiting for the next summer to appear.
the tendrils climb
this is her time
not mine
In her handbag she carries a heavy load plus some green crumpled dollar bills.  " How much do I owe you?" she asks.  I tell her shes already paid her dues " No charge. " I say.  She smiles and then she leaves, as if on cue...