Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Yemaya May 20
blue bells for eyes
her name was a song
that made the graveyard hum
for the dead became flushed
her beauty reminding them of life
Luisa C May 12
An angel kissed me last night
Floating from the ceiling he glowed
Cast the room in a shimmering light
Bathing the darkness with hope
Levitating off my half awaken form
With scarcely any movement made
Gradually luring me from my slumber
To see his enchanting face
His softened eyes, his smile sweet
As he extended a delicate hand
Fingertips gently caressing my cheek
A wordless greeting, a subtle command
His wings surrounded and enveloped us
Brushstrokes of feathers glimmering white
While the halo on his head was set ablaze
Spellbinding me without any fright
I sought his embrace, starstruck by his grace
As he leant down and brought his lips to mine
He gave me a kiss so warm and divine
Melting with devotion into the sublime
But his body was fading in and out of the air
A wisp of a silhouette in the atmosphere
My hands desperately hunted through the dark
To hold him close before he disappeared
"Come back," I whispered. "Please stay with me."
But he vanished then without a goodbye
Gifting me with the memory of his touch
Lingering on my skin from that night
I cherish dear and precious in my heart
When I found relief there in his arms
Persephone Mar 29
The most dangerous blindness in this world is happiness
For it becomes easy to mistake the devil’s hellfire for the warmth of an angel
Kelsey Feb 20
God, please grant me wings
So I can fly up to heaven
And kiss my father
Goodnight

So I can swerve through the clouds
To get to my father
Who waits for me in the glimmering light of the sun

Let me wrap my trembling arms around him
And wet the collar of his shirt
With hot tears

Allow me to scream
And cry
And whisper
That I love him
More than he could know

Please, God, grant me wings
Even just for the night
So I can tell my father
I'm going to be
Alright.
Mark Wanless Feb 10
never heard angel
speak outside of dream this life
dream on brother dream
Darlingerode Feb 2
they say what you see is what you get
but what if the walls were built too high,
what would you do to see what's inside?
2/2/22
You came every night,
my black angel, whispering
in the ear to let go of the
well I approached in the
dark, blindfolded,
to mingle my agony and the
hours made of
rose quartz, with the water.
You tried to ease my pain
after I knew that even the
echo from the hole
reverberated words that
weren't mine.
Don't give me up now.
Shape my time. Your
winged presence is my strength,
your colour is my sight.
Inspired by a painting of Włodzimierz Kukliński.
Next page