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Amo sorridere,
Voglio volare,
Spingere, spingere fuori,
Andare, andare, andare

Fissarti il colore degli occhi e basta oppure guardare e fantasticare

Vorrei vibrare, vibrare
Come foglie al vento
Come un albero secolare
Movimenti in ogni direzione

Sento il mio cuore che segue il tamburo che segue il rumore che sento rombare

Esplorare il verde, il verde
Chiusi gli occhi al vento e al sole
Pelle morta che si libera nell'aria
Voglio odore, odore, odore

Sentirti un profumo inebriante come un esplosione che saturi tutto tra naso e sapore

Voglio andare piano o veloce
Costruirmi, costruire, costruire
Le braccia tese all'infuori,
e stringersi a sé stessi

Voglio abbracciare con il petto e con le mani ed incendiare e bruciare le vene e il cuore

Voglio creare,
fare cazzate,
Gioire, soffrire, amare,
Capire, vivere, baciare,

Voglio annegare e gustare le mucose e la bocca ed il silenzio e l'immenso

e come un cotone galleggiare
Weaving a new cotton sheet, a piece dedicated to experiences, the senses, and the sensations. More of a stream of consciousness of reality, yours. Mine. Who knows.

E.A.
Carlo C Gomez Feb 23
Image
autumn
womb

sunset chant

a feathered fog, isle of wight

we all have places that we miss

lie still, sleep long
panoramic dream
snippets
bathed in seldomness

lie still, sleep long
the gentle hum of eunoia
holding their absence

like balloon days
when delightful little occupants
holding adventure
in their very hands

keep them
from floating away
Ander Stone Jan 13
you ran away with me
from the monotony of growing up
and into the deep cobalt yonder.

we chased the sun
and battled the moon,
yet she always won
and gently
tucked us away
under soft midnight.

we skipped through crag
and mire.
we waded the river
and touched the emerald blades
of summer grass.

we were free.
we were children.

you were older,
almost a woman.

but I kept you young
and wild
and free.

that is why you liked sharing little wonders with me.
I will always remember her.
That singular summer.
The golden sunlight of her hair.
Jellyfish Dec 2023
The weekend is only two days away,
Throughout the week my heart aches.
I'm sick of society, expectations and pressure
All I want to do is to leave for an adventure.

Where would I go? If the opportunity arose,
I think I'd go everywhere, searching for home.
No where has ever felt like one for me,
I've always had issues with how I'm perceived.

I have moments where I wonder who will leave,
and who will stay after seeing my true face.
Some people have become sick of my ways
And left before seeing that we aren't the same.

It surprised me and I felt betrayed,
The pain that comes along with goodbye
Is almost as bad as the silence that subsides
after rain has fallen all night.
I never know what to name my poems anymore
Britt Swann Dec 2023
A star on the map, leagues in descent of ink barrels.
Do I stamp my name in honor? Rise to the sturdy world
Where our ancestors came and fell?

Glimpse on jewels no man's eyes have yet to see;
I am awake after years of disdain, distant
Of my home and my inner knowledge.

So what seeking wonder gives my mind an ultimatum
That my heart cannot justify? I have spilled the ink
Before and lost the privilege to write.

So I keep on traveling, daring to look at vast beauty,
Floating in the world. I am past a golden existence,
But platinum is in high demand in these ages.
Pyrhos Dec 2023
Setting sail from battered shores
To wide expanse of grey and blue
Eyes set forth to unknown doors
Dawn's brilliance shining anew

To grand 'ventures worth detailing!
What better day to keep on sailing?

Flailing wildly in storm's fury
Tired and bruised, but holding strong
From water's depths shine eyes most glary
With wind and rain I sing along

From small joys, light keeps prevailing
Hold on tight and keep on sailing!

Through oases of long lost islands
Exploring shores, creeks, caverns deep
Painting memories of azure highlands
Like treasure cards to always keep

With newfound bravery, to great avail
Better shores await! Come now, set sail!
Talon Robinson Dec 2023
i don't feel like,
Writing,
Emotions...
how about
instead
i
Explore?
YOU!...

hmm with YOUR Permission
continue but be Warned...
May i Explore YOU?
to me YOU are a
Unique, Beautiful, Lovely Being
no matter how Similar we are
we are Different,
i LOVE that.
isn't that Interesting?
well to me yea

back to Exploration
May i Explore YOUR Being?
YOUR Cute Eyes
stealing my gaze,
forced to pay Attention,
trapped to Learn Everything about YOU.

All YOUR Different Looks,
Happy, Sad, Scared, Strong, Weak,
May i Explore YOU?
One-Of-My Rules is i Trust Everyone
unless Shown-Otherwise,
i mean i want Everyone to
Smile!

i don't know where to go from here,
Honest but i Feel i will have more.
YOU will know when i return
i will always ask you for Permission.
there's more of YOU to Explore
i hope i have caught YOUR Gaze!
i guess i capitalized All the words Important to me
Joseph C Ogbonna Sep 2023
I always did fantasize about our diverse earth;
Its freezing stones in the fridges of the Arctic and Antarctic landscapes.
The idyllic playgrounds on the quiet sands of the Mediterranean Sea banks,
The amazing sun baked plains of the smoothened Sahara brown,
The tropical Haven of humid air, where the golden sun awakes in a fair and bright morning, and sets at even with its magnificent crimson smile.
What a cozy feeling can its temperate climes bring; with its sheer abundance of Clement weather.
A paradise indeed of ambient mildness.
I long for the warm gardens of Eden’s residues, with their ebullient and lush tropical green.
How pleasant it would be to cascade down the many waterfalls in an imaginary and wonderland fashion.
To go atop the zenith of each mountainous heaven from which pinnacle point you have the panoramic view of your own vanquished plains.
I once disappeared into the wind, in a midsummer night’s dream to see my global fantasies come true.
And like a boisterous eagle,
I glided high to the heavens for this global and utterly delightful bird’s eye view.
A poem about an adventure around the earth's landscape.
Anais Vionet Aug 2023
I love spending nights on the lake.
Once the oven-like sun disappears,
things get suddenly quiet, except for
the occasional hoot of an owl, crickets, frogs
and the soft lapping of the lake on the boat.

When the moon rises above the pines
the sky lights up, like a fireworks bloom,
its reflection is brushed, in scatters on the lake,
giving insubstantial moonlight a sharp substance
not unlike a fractured, undulating, glittery lace.

This evening, there’s a rumble, stage left, off to the west,
and a thunderstorm’s growl, like a wolf on the prowl.
The wind was picking up, so we began battening down,
stowing things in the galley and taking in the flag. The wind,
had become almost solid with its insistent and restless energy.

The question, with these daily, southern, summer thunderstorms
is whether you’re going to catch the edge of it or get the full onslaught. The doppler radar, of my iPad weather app indicated the monster was headed right for us.

Just as our phones, watches and iPads began chirping
with National Weather Service, “Severe Weather Alerts,”
Charles asked, “You two still want to stay?” His voice fighting
against the stiff wind as he watched the tall pine-tree tops bob,
like boxers, afraid of the far off lightning flashes in the sky.

“Of course!” I chimed in, wearing a grin, I LOVE boat storms!
“Lisa, there’s a storm on the way but we’ll stay on the boat, ok?” I asked, trying to English the question with both a sense of adventure and nonchalance. Lisa, of course, followed my lead, saying, “Sure.”
“It’ll be ill,” I assured her.

Charles nodded and leapt to the dock, replacing the gunwale rope lines with longer dock rods to distance and secure the boat (lowering front and back anchors too).

“We’re staying,” Charles walkie-talkie’d Carol (his wife) below in the staterooms where she was probably making the beds. “10-4” she replied.
I love her, she’s so game for anything. While Charles worked, Lisa and I sealed the upper deck from cockpit (helm) to transom, putting up sturdy plexiglass windows and closing the transom doors.

Charles came aboard just as we turned up the air conditioning and thick raindrops started falling. Having finished our work, we looked up and the moon was gone, hidden by dark clouds that writhed like some angry, mythical, steel wool animal.

The rain went from a delicate pitter-patter to a generous applause and finally, a steady torrent. We felt it initially pass over us from port (left) to starboard (right). The wind whistled, like a giant’s breath, rocking the boat, alternately, in two directions. It was wonderful.

The far-off thunder had become intimate, bomb-like and personal, with its Crack-k-KA-BOOM! Every time such a concussion rocked the air, the boat and our teeth, I cackled, with joy, like Poe’s Madeline Usher, the madwoman in the attic.

“HOW DO YOU LIKE IT!?” I yelled to Lisa, but she made an ‘I can’t hear you,’ sign. Carol, who’d been working the galley, produced yummy tuna-fish sandwiches, potato chips and milk. We played a dominoes game called ‘Mexican Train’ until the rain stopped, then we watched ‘Jaws’ on the fold-down TV. Lisa had never seen it!

The boat had rocked, lightning had flashed, the cutting wind howled and the thunder boomed, but it was the clawing rain, like a tiger trying to break into the boat, that made it an unforgettable night on the lake.
My parent’s boat is Tiara-43LE
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