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Unpolished Ink Aug 2022
A yen is not a thing
it's the wish
to hold the string
of a yellow balloon
you once lost
on a windy day
in the hills
of your mind
Jordan Gee May 2022
died of an enlarged heart
rode in on the wings of a Seraphim
to tell you it was actually broken
that it just grew a few too many sizes that day
and honey,
it burst into a quasar
a bouquet of sound like a tin balloon that
explodes inside a tunnel full of quiet winds.
but now here comes the rain
a holy baptism half past a broken heart.
we’ll sew it up together
with a quicksilver spindle of celestial threads.
golden yarn spun from the Oversoul inside my head
the seeds of my holy heart-mind
sewn beneath my lotus feet.
ceramic shards of a broken heart
woven whole again
showing only golden cracks and seams
below the clouds the sun is brighter than it seems.
inside this fire we laugh so loud
the tunnel full of silent raging winds
are giving birth to embers
and steaming into clouds.

hard hearts will expand with a smile
as we float along the wake
of the Prince of Wands -
bathing in the fire.

by jordan
written for a friends dead father
If I could
be a balloon🎈

I would fly
with my happy

I would
touch the

And the
tops across
the globe.

If I could
be a balloon,

Yellow as
the sunshine as the fluttering fields of butterflies.

Frolicking and
hopping upon
the currents
of the warm

If I could
be a balloon,

I would be
yellow like a

All rights and
Copyright belongs
to ©BSM

Happy carefree
Poem of being a yellow
balloon of happy thoughts and I hope it helps others
struggling with anything
negative in life because
we all have our bad days
and depressed sad tired
days but remember you
matter and your loved
and your worthy to be
loved but love yourself
first as I love myself and
God and family and it took
a long time to love me.
You inflate my heart like a balloon
Filled with all your fake love
The pin you hold is always so dangerously close
Waiting for my balloon to pop anytime soon
Why do I still trust people with my heart?
When it ends up ripped apart
To the next person, I'm on restart
All remaining is the rubber parts
Popping all my love-filled hearts
Abner Ros Dec 2020
They float and fly,
Ascending to a place
Much higher in the sky
Though little see how they chase
You into yet another cry.
But you accept it, just in case
You fail to come by
And deliver your final good bye.

Purple balloons soar
As he enters an endless sleep
To which escape is no more.

Purple balloons
Much higher in the sky
Coldly whisper;
'Good bye'.
TTodd Oct 2020
one red balloon with dangling string
caught by a breeze
rising, floating free

one red balloon swept on thin air
blowing, going higher still
above the trees in open sky

and far below the freed balloon
an empty hand and upturned eyes

~ ~ ~
Bardo Jul 2020
Out of a **** he made Great Art
It was no ordinary **** no!
It was straight from the heart, that
It had lain too long in the dark
Now was it's time to start
To make its bid for freedom... and for stardom.

It flew like a dart that **** from the
Like an arrow strung from Cupids
Little did it know how luminous it'd
Becoming one of the Greats in the
   Farting Canon.

It was probably the greatest **** poem
   ever written
In my own humble opinion
It was very daring and it smelt of
It was certainly the fairest fartiest
   poem I ever seen
If it was one of the three Musketeers
It would have to have been

It inflated like a balloon, blew up like
   a great glass bubble
Then it popped and headed off
   toward England
Flying further afield than any ****
   had ever flown
It touched people's hearts, bewitched
   every nation
Resounded around the world
Yea! was heard in every Kingdom.

It flew long, it rounded the Horn
Like a Lark, that ****, it soared and
It was no boring old ****
It was far fartier and fruiter than that
It was a King of Farts
Way above the fartiest of farters and
   all the farting Arthurs
It was the real King Arthur
The King Arthur of all farts and

A real Belter was that **** that came
   from the heart
That had all the Angels singing in
   their cloisters,
A real work of Art just like Mozart
Or remember... remember your
"Hark! A ****, a ****! Whereforth art ?
    Thou ****"
It played its part, that ****, yea! it
   wielded its Excalibur.

O! there's nothing I'd rather do than lie here blowing sweet bubbles next
   to you
You! on your little flutey flute flute and
   Me! on my big Bass Trombone.
This is the sequel to my other **** poem "Music a la Toilette". A bit of silliness/ fun.
Cherry May 2020
A shiny white balloon gently sways with the wind
Attached at the end is a little girl, she's three.
She swirls and dances, all grace no faults.
She stumbles and giggles, not caring at all.
Her locks of hair cover her eyes, from the danger around.
The little girl is old now..
She does not giggle or sway.
She does not dance or play.
She cares, she cares about what everyone thinks.
The little girl we once knew, is no longer free.
For she has let go of her shiny white balloon.
It floated away, float float float.
Marian Solis May 2020
You’re just like a balloon
That I wanted so dearly
Like a child so amused
With the feeling and its hues.

One day as I watch you
As distant as always,
I didn’t know it was the day
You’ll be wanting to stay.

I’m the child, you’re my balloon
We’ll forever stay in tune;
I dance with you under the sun,
I dream of you under the moon.

One day you flew away,
Another child wanted you to stay.
You left me, empty and lonely;
Feeling the mark from your string.
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