Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
 
 Oct 2021 Seranaea Jones
Zoe Mae
Dying maple leaves
collect in shallow puddles
Autumn collages
The substance of our
relationship is the accident
and the spin of
time and the whirl
of this existence is
in the potency.

You are because I am. These
blue eyes are the essence.
The substance of an early birth
in a long tunnel.  Truth erased
by a minute's pleasure.

This poem is a radical
moment. Time stretched to
the limit of potency.
We are or are not determined
by the body and soul of
our essence.  Whether we
exist or not is in the
form of the attention we
each bring into this…

Time together is the soul's
determination.  We can only
form the intention.

Intention without form is
matter without you.

Caroline Shank
heart?
They call me heartless. But I’m
heart full. My pieces are shattered
as chocolate chips in a cookie batter.
I’m eaten up and swallowed. Now I’m
hollowed as a dead tree trunk. But still
standing.

What shall I do with this broken
dream?
I can’t run it down. It chases me
all over town. It’s in a cool breeze,
in the crimson leaves. It's snatched in a trickle
of a raindrop. It hides in my blind spots.

What shall I do with this broken
spirit?
It howls as the coyotes under
the pale moon. It rattles as thunder. But is
now only a teaspoon.

What shall I do with this broken
life?
I can sew it up in patches, making
a quilt. And have as a blanket, a woven
cloth of a life lost, warming me
as the frost clings to the early morning trees.
Nocturnal visions of the highest order welcomes you
Priestess of ancient tribes...
Cast your spell, wrap the moon with dark tinsel shawls
Open the gateways dark anime girl ,
potentize your aerial fields of resonance
enter into the dragon's shrine and use your potion
to qualm the drake keeper;
Seize your destiny as the stars seizes the night
use your wizardry to dye the sun hairs off the sun  
allow the purple bruises of evening to give you
eglantine kisses, dark as blackstrap molasses
if all else fails rock to the mellifluous rhythm
of tantric drums.  Ink your beauty on their bodies,  
morosely caress their wounds and heal them,  
Saturate them with your purple plum heart.
Poetry is a sick child
when you forget yourself.
Poetry is addiction
when you can't breathe.
Poetry is madness
when you doubt sanity.
Poetry is a boy hit by a car
broke leg at 5 chasing dad.
Poetry is a girl
loving a broke boy.
Poetry is a dog named Rusty
who fixed a broke boy.
Poetry is the giant full moon
over the ocean at midnight.
Poetry is tears and laughter
and ******* and endings.
Next page