Jaggedly pieced together
We're fragmented beautifully
Oddly, this love fits
my attempt at a 10 word poem. Love can work if you work out the angles.
Only a wolfs eye can see the scars of the broken, and only the chosen can feel the pain of the broken scars.
Because outside is where the beasts lay.
They'll run with you all the way,
In such a sprint that you never tire
Or lose your breath
Or shiver your legs
Outside is where the sharp angles rest.
Deep cuts in straight lines, red blood dripping like rain,
And stones that have been cracking for centuries but never broken.
The great outdoors, that's where the fairies live.
They'll love you like you never knew love before.
It's the raw lips that kiss the roughest,
The calloused hands that hold on the tightest.
The rock-kissed fingers, they're designed to never let go.
Soft lips bruise. Mountainous lips live on forever.
Supple skin burns. Hard-cut edges light the flame in the sunrise.
Well-rounded means spoiled. Raw spirits mean earning the spoils.
Nature is telling us that we are not built for comfortable lives. We belong with our brothers, the wolves. We need to light the flames in each other to fight the wind. We need to be brash.
if you took
the edge out of a storm,
you'd be left with a blank film;
no soundtrack of droplets,
cracks of conflict,
no romance, from
air steeped in rain.
you wiped away your childhood
scar, laced your
back up straight,
turned the volume **** on your opinions
and cried a little less -
would you be then?
if you softened all your angles
would you tell your story well?
visit La Vie en Rouge (les-etoiles-tombent.tumblr.com) for more words
Twinkle twinkle the stars shone bright,
But watchthe heavens as they turn there
Gaze from us, each an angel no longer do
They think we deserve their light.
One by one the lights will all go out,
Till we are all alone in the onyx night.
Darkness is are punishment we have
Lost the respect of the fragile light.
So cherish the day and the light that it
Brings, as angels shall no longer show
Us there gleam, in that time of the night
Darkness endlessly screams.
There wings turned away till that time
That once again, when we respect the
Light given, and that day we will once
Again see the stars twinkle, twinkle in
The night, as they look down once again
Shining there gazing light.
always exciting when angles change
reminds me of how a couple degrees
is all it takes
to tip my brain
into a shriek
what i mean is how precious an elevation
can be to a viewpoint
a sea of heads and bodies and clutched coffee cups
becomes a weaving
a dot matrix scene
all the people stopping and starting
arriving and leaving
go the other way, sit on the ground
lie with eyes sideways
and commune with the goddess of pounding
feet, footsteps and dropped crumbs,
litter and mice hiding behind signs
whatever view i choose
when the time comes to board
i stand, and walk
returning to the level i was born
you are mostly angles
and i am mostly curves.
the best paintings
have the perfect combination
of the two.
we are a perfect mixture
of sharp and soft.
like a painting
a living masterpiece.
Waves crash over bony rocks
That reach out for the sky
With fingers like daggers,
Teaching angels to fly.
Red clouds plague the Earth like
Some crimson disease,
Filling up the oceans lungs before
They started to freeze.
Not with a sigh in the nights,
Not with that aura of gloom,
But with the fleeting feeling of
The constant knowledge of
The stars that were above are
Now finally below,
And the eyes that see disguised
Are as far as they can go.
True love should be treasured
When two people are in love it is beautiful
Nothing is sweeter than the bond of two people
Love is the most magical thing on the planet
Angles cry when love falls apart
Make love magical from the start