Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
 
  Oct 2016 The Dedpoet
Paul Hardwick
Might Sick up, bet there will be carrots
God wrote that in a bible
Sick give a hand full of carrots
think God woke me up today
as I was sweating
and at my age might have just died
free falling, back to dreams

surreal P@ul.
P@ul.
  Oct 2016 The Dedpoet
Prabhu Iyer
So time to and move on and goodbye.
Like the strangers we were
in all the time we sojourn together.

unemotional be
for all it is a wistless life,
aeon in aeon:
meetings and partings

****** be the vogue,
mallet-smash the mirrors
them in the halls of
spirited dreams

barefooted walk  on those shards then
red be they tinged, **** if they do
for there is a pleasure in this pain

always like this, rivers that rise
high up in the hills, swelling in the rain
die dry in the heartless dunes

and a piper sounds out the songs
caravans on horizon
that them streams carried
here into their graves

for deep somewhere
subterranean buried
lies a clothed casket
broken heart, sunken dream

so let us move on. you, on,
and I, to my dance
to each their own.
The Dedpoet Oct 2016
What sustains it?
Open soul,
The clarity of mind
Let loose in the garden of night.

    Orchestral branches,
Momentum toward the spiritual
   On a gleam in your eyes.

   Receive the moonlight
On the waves of your hair,
   The architecture of my seductresses.

The darkness spins its webs,
  Your touch invents a moment,
Reality unrealistic,
   The night,
        a fountain of desirous hearts.
  Oct 2016 The Dedpoet
ryn
Images extracted from
the tapestry of my dreams.
Sewn intricate...
Into a patchwork.

A quilt,
embroidered with lavish sequins and ornate beads.
Bringing forth fantastical motifs...
A dazzling display
upon the backdrop of my dreamscape.

Yet...
This mosaic of dreams
does not warm me so.
It never lasts.

They fall away like autumn leaves
come the dawning sun.
They get washed out and pulled into the tide,
as the waves beat upon the shore of wakefulness.
They fade into fragmented memories
that make no sense...
Incoherent and disjointed.

Eventually, they disappear...
For they do not belong
in a world of worldly things
and ticking clocks.
Their intangible and mismatched nature
render them inconsequential...
Naturally...
They get misplaced.

But I am stubborn.

I will fashion such a blanket.
One that skirts the boundary
of this realm and the other.

I will tailor it so...

So that...
I will sleep tonight,
swaddled tight and cocooned within its
glorious seams.
Tucked within the safety and warmth of
this blanket...
Woven immaculate...
Out of
worldly things and breathtaking dreams.
  Oct 2016 The Dedpoet
shanika yrs
To generation to generation
they have passed
the epic beauty of
Birches !

The birches
it always
brings the
green shelter
written to the name of
the God I wish to be
Sun !

The Birches
where I sit
lost and find
celestial moves
geometry and
Love !

© shanikayrs
*carved on the bark of the birch I used to climb
  Oct 2016 The Dedpoet
shanika yrs
To generation to generation
they have passed
the epic beauty of
Birches !

The birches
it always
brings the
green shelter
written to the name of
the God I wish to be
Sun !

The Birches
where I sit
lost and find
celestial moves
geometry and
Love !

© shanikayrs
*carved on the bark of the birch I used to climb
Next page