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M Salinger Jul 2018
The sun dips,
behind the mountain,
behind the treeline,
into the
blue

The way I wish you would.

Your eyes,
the colour of evergreens
drenched in dawn
& gilded

the afterglow,
the embers of the day
fading & strong,
reminding me of another
day, with you
& without you

I know, you know
no one is
perfect,
but, do you
know?

Here?
In Here?

I'm scared this might be the
closest
any one of us gets

Here.
You & me.

Dive into the
fear
so I can take your hand
& walk barefoot
while everyone we love
sleeps,
while the night cools the
earth
& we're drunk off the
scent
of a true midsummer night's
dream

When will you finally
tell me,
certain as the dew
that kisses the morning,
that the only lips
you want mine to
touch
are yours?

Because I can feel your
rhythm,
the way a breeze can tell of a
storm

Lean into me.

As we take in the
beauty
that surrounds us,
so I can put my head on your shoulder
& rest easy
hearing your heart beat

Because mine
beats for
you.

Tell me you'll find me
when the time is
right

Because I'll wait for you.

The endless
grey abyss of winter,
painful & biting & testing
I'll wait for you like
I wait for
spring

Full of promises & possibilities
& life

So dig deep.
Because you are
worth
enduring all this
time
in between.

Because you are the
deep evening sky
& I am the coral clouds
as the sun dips,
behind the mountain,
behind the treeline,
into the
blue
Inspired by the great beauty of British Columbia and how it's grandeur and imposing nature can be reminiscent of imperfect love
M Salinger Jul 2018
A moment.

A line between
empowered
& defiant

holding within in it
the tenderness of our gaze

The night calls me
sometimes
tauntingly,
while sleep escapes,
sometimes
earnestly
to show me the truth
that day
hides

it calls deep within
my being,
like you

it resonates with
my darkness,
like you

Will you stay with me,
for a moment

of real honesty
& if you want,
silence

The valley of space there,
& between us
pulling me in,
like you

a moment of freefall
& endless endings
ours,
there to be
chosen

where we find
a way
to be suspended
in the
warmth between
you & I

I stand
on the sharpest edge,
below, the water surges
over the rock face
deep teal and chilling
a reminder that
beautiful
can also be
destructive

like you.

In awe and wonder
I'm trapped
in these
moments.
Inspired by the great beauty of British Columbia and how it's grandeur and imposing nature can be reminiscent of imperfect love
Arise
From you sleep
My Queen

What
Do you dream of
At Night

My Beautiful One
Your lips
Drip
Honey, Wine, and Myrrh
You caught me

Lost in translation
Please
Rescue Me
From my cave
Of Hibernation

Your Eyes
Reflect the Universe
Black and Beautiful
A Rose of Sharon

Arise from Your Sleep
So I can
Release You
Take you
To the King

The King of All
True Lover’s Hearts
I pray to God
That we Never part
Yet if we do
I’ll Remain
With you

Here on this Earth
Here in this place
So passionately
I wait
For you to Undo Me

Let us fly
Together
No more
Misery
Remaining Here

I’m sorry

I don’t
Want to go
Home just yet
Even tho
That’s the place
We are
Set free to roam

So comely
My sister
Your Beauty
Shines Thru
Your Eyes
Of Loveliness
Carry me thru
Tell me
To Hold On
For certain
Truth

Under the Stars
We gaze
Into Heaven’s Eyes
So Deep
Do we Pray
Let us never
Fly Away
For our Lives
Are Still Young
We glimmer
With Hope

Father
Watch over her
She needs you the most

I’ll hold her
Tenderly
If it is your will
From the Beginning
To the End

This
Is How I Feel
About my Sister,
My Friend
Dedicated to my BC friend, JW
Morgan Paige Aug 2017
Evacuation Alert: Tranquille Valley.
Get out. Bring everything you love.
Ash is falling from the sky,
and the smoke is too much to bare.
The fire's rampage has charred
More than 200,000 hectares,
in 133 days.
It's not safe.
Evacuate immediately.

Evacuate me.
Get out. You are everything I love.
Incinerating everything in your path,
You tranquillize the atmosphere
with your absence.
You smoked me to the filter
You left me to burn.
63 days, and 21 letters.
You're not my safety anymore.
Evacuate immediately.
BE Twain May 2016
a variety of hues
all blue
the lure of the azure
my cerulean addiction
these indigo afflictions
the stabbing pain of sapphire
caught in those eyes, a quagmire
the temptation, to think, through
then you
a variety of hues
all blue
Ayana Harscoet Feb 2016
the coast, it is just as you promised.

         elusive--

the white stones shifting beneath my feet,
this wind. this rain,
the way the steely sky
trickles down to kiss the sea,
the indistinct rumors / hints / echoes of mountains
where the mist has slept with the trees.

                       vast, inconsolable:

the cliffs whisper to me
of their endless
journey to the horizon,
and captured in this fragrant
brushstroke of balsam and pine
I feel the damp northwest morning
soak into my skin,
and suddenly there is
an itching of feathers
and salt in my veins.

                                      {evergreen, wild}

                     for a second,
I bite into the marine chaos
of these dancing whitecaps,
and it is just as you promised.

untamable.


      pacific.
the drive up to whistler is absolutely breathtaking // falling hopelessly in love with the pacific northwest
Viseract Feb 2016
You will never understand the contribution you have made to my life,
You are the friend that really came through for me when I found myself in strife.

No-one else could see past the mistake I had made,
They chose to ignore how I felt and fixated on my darkest shade

I have always looked up to you, you have always inspired me
You've always been the one I've looked at when deciding who I'd like to be

Please don't throw your life away,
I really count on you
I know that being here for me is something you can do
I love you, I appreciate you.
- Brianna Carter

You look up to me,
Quite literally,
But in this case you mean metaphorically
Yet similarly,
I looked up to you,
Size doesn't matter just a point of view

You are a better person than I,
As pure and beautiful as the stars and the sky
In harmony, elements defy,
The birds and the planes that roar or sigh

No matter what happens, you always come though
Shrug it off, move on, it's just what you do,
This is why I wish I were like you

Yet despite all this you look up to me?
I am blind, can't really see clearly,
But even I can tell you are a rarity
A treasure, and thus better than me
-Conor Blatchford
Two different poems, the first from Brianna and the second from me.
Terry Collett Jan 2016
While Marcus
is talking
of some war

some campaign
he's been on
Annona

in their bed
beside him
wishes he

was still there
(far away
in some war)

they'd had ***
two or three
times during

the night
in which she
pretended

to enjoy
making noises
but really

it was ****
she hadn't
liked it one

little bit
but when he
was away

and Amy
was in bed
making love

it was one
big thrill ride
small kisses

soft touches
exploring
doors opened

places kissed
bodies hot
and o that

do not stop
do not stop
but Marcus

tells his tales
of war games
who killed whom

she sensing
in her heart
a dark gloom.
A ROMAN AND HIS WIFE IN BED AND HER THOUGHTS IN 47BC
Terry Collett Jan 2016
Marcus sits and asks
for wine to be poured.

His man pours and hands
him the wine and waits nearby.

Annona looks at her husband,
his eyes, his hard stare,
his hands holding the wine.

Where's your Amy? he says
gazing at his wife.

Busy as usual, Annona says, why?

He dismisses his man who walks
off and out of sight; I’ve heard
that she shares your bed, Marcus says.

Annona tries hard not to blush
or show concern, who says?

Brutus replies, it has been brought
to me on my return from my
campaign on Ceasar's cause.

She looks past him, the seascape
beyond the wall, gulls in flight.

She keeps my reputation sure
until your return, she says, some
may rumour that other men may
share my bed, and that may cause
jealousy in your manly head.

How so? he says with furrowed brow.

If she weren't there, who
knows what rumours may
take root of other men being
there while you're away, but
while Amy's there none may
say, plus she keeps me warm
while your hot body's far away
in battle's swarm.

He smiles and sips his wine.

She breathes in deep and keeps
it to herself just how much her
Amy keeps her warm and hot,
and how they make love
while he's away.

How wise, he says, that is good
to know, but is she clean, I'd hate to
catch a pox where she may lay?

As clean as air around our heads
and lambs fresh born, Annona says
recalling Amy's lips upon her brow,
her hand upon her ****** bush.

Then good keep her near while I'm
at war, better to keep me happy
and sure no other man may share your bed.

No thought of such had ever entered
her head, just Amy and she with their
rough and tumble as a storm breed sea.
A ROMAN AND HIS WIFE AND A RUMOUR IN 47 BC
Connor Sep 2015
Day debt
night wept
sleep crept
Attachment.
                       Where is my attachment?
                                evening out of balance
                                        The line of my life has broken
                                                  off into separate identities
Flower feather
Hollow weather
Moonlight Canyon
                                      Skylight childhood nostalgia
                                      Stolen star
Battered cheekbones
Of weary workers keeping to
The hornet's nest
                      Reality a constant terror
                     Of city structures                         swallowing
                                                      ­                             them whole.
Blackbird rests
on an Autumn branch of
hidden meadow
checking its wristwatch obsessively for the
             Hydrogen Volcano
                INEVITABLE.
                                         Termite Corporations
                                          Cavernous Hilltops
                                        All that green is gold
(A straw man in Byzantine robes approaches
            the frosty Manhattan
    to become a relic in it's Libraries)
                         People fall in Love with coincidence,
                 (The illusion of order beyond our field or reach)
        All that love is kept in a
                    Conservatory somewhere...
                          Glossy stems connected to palpitating blossoms.

Our tired eyes are focused to the asphalt confluence
whether fever or handhold.

               Hymns ring throughout the forests of
                                                   Vancouver Island
               Dreamers hang from the Niagara Trestle caught in                
                                                   overwhelming sunlight
                                                        ­ Doused in spirit.

Holy Melancholic September
Sweeps away the dusty Summer,
                                                        e­verything seems renewed
                                                        I­n the rain..
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