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 Dec 2015
niamh
I sit on the step
And draw
The cold around me
Like a blanket,
Savouring the numbness
And the heat
That begins within.
Swallowed by the night
Drunk on wine
And stars.
Hot tears on cold cheeks.
Seasoning for
Chapped lips
Stinging
Bringing fresh tears.
I take refuge
In the silence,
Under the gaze of
Sympathetic eyes.
My friends.
My constant companions.
Drunk on wine
And stars.
 Dec 2015
Key
“I want you to bite my lip until I can no longer speak
And then **** my ex girlfriend’s name out of my mouth just to make sure she never comes up in our conversations.
I’m going to be honest, I’m not really a love poet
In fact, every time I try to write about love my hands cramp… just to show me how painful love can be.
And sometimes my pencils break, just to prove to me that every now and then love takes a little more work than you planned
See I heard that love is blind so, I write all my poems in Braille
And my poems are never actually finished because true love is endless.
I always believed that real love is kind of like a super model before she’s air brushed;
It’s pure and imperfect, just the way that God intended.
See I’m going to be honest, I’m not a love poet
But if I was to wake up tomorrow morning and decide that I really wanted to write about love I swear that my first poem…
It would be about you.
About how I loved you the same way that I learned how to ride a bike: Scared
But reckless with no training wheels or elbow pads so my scars can tell the story of how I fell for you.
You see, I’m not really a love poet
But if I was I’d write about how I see your face in every cloud and your reflection in every window
You see I’ve written like a million poems hoping that somehow maybe someway you’ll jump out of the page and be closer to me
Because if you were here, right now
I would massage your back until your skin sings songs that your lips don’t even know the words to.

Until your heartbeat sounds like my last name and you smile like the Pacific ocean
I want to drink the sunlight in your skin.
If I was a love poet
I’d write about how you have the audacity to be beautiful
Even on days when everything around you is ugly
You see I’d write about your eyelashes and how they are like violin strings that play symphonies every time you blink.

If I was a love poet
I’d write about how I melt in front of you like an ice sculpture
Every time I hear the vibration in your voice so whenever I see your name on the caller ID my heart
It plays hop scotch inside of my chest.
Yo it climbs on to my ribs like monkey bars and I feel like a child all over again.
I know this sounds strange but every now and then I pray that God somehow turns you back into one of my ribs…
Just so that I would never have to spend an entire day without you.

I swear, I’m not a love poet
But if I was to wake up tomorrow morning and decide that I really wanted to write about love
My first poem it would be about you
And after all of that she was like, so how do you feel about me?
And I said, put it like this:
I want to be your ex boyfriend’s stunt man. I want to do everything that he never had the courage to do like… trust you.

I swear that when our lips touch I can taste the next sixty years of my life.
And some days I want to swallow stacks of your pictures just so you can be a part of me for a little bit longer.
If I could I would sample your smile and then I would let my heart beat
Do the bass line, we would create the greatest love song of all time
Whenever, we stand next to each other, love I was the only one made for you and you can be at last my Etta James
I’ll be oh child when you’re in pain or you could be candy coated drops of rain
Even though it never rains in Southern California
And together, we could be music.

And when my friends ask if you’re my girlfriend
I’ll say no.
She is my musician
And me… I’m her favorite song.”


-by Rudy Francisco
so this is just one of the most beautiful poems I've read that shines a bright light on love rather than sing a depressing song about it and it happens to be by Rudy Francisco
 Dec 2015
L
Drag me down to the river and throw me in
Aint talkin bout the shallow but the deepest end
Take me down and hold me under
Don't let me breathe
Until you know i'm good and ready
For you to rescue me
Andrew Ripp

**
Leigh
 Dec 2015
spysgrandson
the roller’s creamy caress of the wall,  
a few brush strokes in close corners, trim
requiring the greatest finesse of all    
at that art I am past master,
but hell, it’s mostly plaster    

I would love to create a corner café  
its neon lights a beacon in the night  
for those in insomnia’s grip  

or fashion a woman sipping coffee
from her favorite cup, in her favorite easy chair
finicky feline purring in her lap--and I don’t
even like cats

Hopper, Munch, a thousand more
whose canvasses speak a million words
I would trade all but one of the years I have left  
to make palettes scream, or sit silent
in their beautiful despair  

instead I’ll crank out “Times New Roman” art  
black and white characters without sense or scent,  
sensing the reader will yearn for less, the oil’s
shallow relief so much more fecund
than my “deep” words  

‘tis not to be, for me  
I will have to settle for Sherwin Williams, Benjamin Moore
and try my best to not spill too much on the floor
 Dec 2015
Phasma de Oceanus
Broken and barren.
This frostbitten air haunts my
Soul; I'm going mad.
And I'm not sure if it's the
Change in the weather
Or
The changing time,
Or
The change in me that
Is
   So
                          Unsettling.
 Dec 2015
MonkeyZazu
We are living wonders.
Our bodies, our minds, our souls,
unfathomably intricate beyond all knowing.
The true essence our being,
a microcosm of unlimited possibility.

Living in wonder.
Behold the marvels of this vast universe.
Consumed by the mysterious unknown,
desperately we seek to understand it,
eagerly trying to grasp all that is.

Wondering why we live.
What purpose is there for our existence.
Many say this. Others say that.
All answers become more questions.
Forever we wonder.

We are living wonders,
Living in wonder,
Wondering why we live.
 Dec 2015
Gareth
You Are My Hope
A Foundation of Stone
But The Sun has become Desensitized
And The Rain Falls Down Red

The Only Time, I Could Tell You
Is After You Left The Room

When The Sun Sets Alone
And I am Left  On My Own
With The Words Still In My Mouth
That I Would of Trembled To Utter
I would love to see you again
 Nov 2015
Dr PRERNA SINGLA
Like the rains drench the*
soil, drench me in your
love. Let there be a
Thunderstorm

© Dr. PRERNA SINGLA, 2015
 Nov 2015
Nevermind
I can't draw
And I can't sing
I can't do a lot of things
I have to take breaks
When I run
Because I pollute
My sorry lungs
I cannot put words
To my feelings sometimes
So I talk in choppy sentences
And send you late night rhymes
I can't get that one strand of hair
To lie flat on my head
And sometimes I forget I'm alive
Convinced that I'm dead
I'm really not good
At getting out of bed
I can't do a lot of things
Other people can
 Nov 2015
Xavier
In crowds of shade,
In the place near the start.
There is only one face.

And she said with her last ounces of blood dripping from her face, with the last gasps of air she will ever know…

“There is a moon, there is a sun, and there are the stars. You were the moon among stars, I was the sun chasing you around the world.”

The words poured out like my tears as I held her closer turning her chin so I can stare into her fading eyes...

“I may have been with all those stars, but they’re all the same. They burn out fast, so it won’t last. You were the star of stars, and I was chasing you around the world.”

I watched the glow from her face leave as it walked off with my sanity. I pulled her in closer, tightly, with all my might.
I was hoping I would be able to hold her so tight that she would become apart of me.
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