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Jack Jan 27
Freshly sparkling snow,

Wish it wasn't so much of a glow,

Maybe it wouldn't have me so low,

Oh, these snowy meadows!

The fields not a match for her lovely face.

No.. They were never a match against her.

Perhaps, these meadows need to be scrapped.

To turn barren, and forgetful.

To resemble a vast nothingness.

Only then, might peace warp over me.

Only then, can I become sane again.

But until then,

I MISS YOU SO MUCH.
Life is a painting,
From the 1980's.
Just as perfect as it could be,
Just a memory.

I hope I never forget,
The memories,
That are you and me.
Another crisp winter day, plain beautiful.
Madeon Jan 23
As well as the writer’s balcony
Dressed in the ruins of summer,
Autumn slides,
Crowding at the edges of wakefulness.
The still undiscovered adventure,
Sadness being beautiful.
Terrible Dreams,
as you fall asleep,
Slumber is waiting,
as you go in deep.

A good night's rest
is what you shall seek,
No noise or sounds,
Not even a peep.

So, You close your eyes,
As you close them tight,
To catch some zzz's all
through the darkened night.

A Beautiful Nightmare
is what you see,
It so very vivid it's
hard not to Believe.

What's before you,
it seems so real,
It is so miraculous
You can't help how you Feel.

A Dream that is Delighting, and
Very Enticing,
The Thought of it Inviting,
and yet very Frightening.

It brings you to the saying that:
Dreams do come True,
Then again it's a Dream,
So just might be you.

A Beautiful Nightmare
to True Reality, or
a nightmare unhinged,
You just cannot see.

A Dream within a Dream,
You are not really there,
as you are aroused and
awakened from
A Beautiful Nightmare!!!!


B.R.
Date: 1/17/2025
christopher Jan 16
you are simply a work of art
art isnt suppose to be beautiful
not to everyone
its supposed to make you feel something
and oh, my dear
i wish you could simply understand the ways you make me feel.
Jay Jan 15
Why is love both breathtakingly beautiful and heartbreakingly painful? Like a rose in full bloom, its vivid colors dazzle the eyes, and its petals unfold to reveal hidden beauty. Its fragrance can draw in even the most guarded, yet its thorns pierce deeply when mishandled, reaching places where secrets lie. Love is the sweetness of honey on soft, inviting lips, intoxicating and delightful, yet overwhelming if taken without care. It’s a songbird soaring through the sky, its melody gracing the world below, until its wings are clipped, turning songs into sorrowful cries. Love is the ocean, vast and endless, with tides that caress softly before transforming into crashing waves that overwhelm. It’s the gentle kiss of the sun, warming the soul on a cold day, but lingering too long, it burns the unguarded. Like a blazing fire, love burns brightly, illuminating everything around it, but left untended, it can consume all in its path. It’s the joy whispered while gazing into your stormy gray-blue eyes, a joy that gives way to an aching longing that echoes like thunder in its absence. Love, it seems, is a force that creates and destroys with every breath we take. So, hold that glass of wine delicately, savor its sweetness before it turns bitter. Grip it too tightly, and the shards may cut deep. Love is both bitter and sweet, a fleeting perfection that we are destined to encounter, again and again.
The Stained Glass windows
in the vestibule,
in the Back of the church,
of the last row pews.
Through the Entrance,
is how I come to view,
As we enter the Lord's House
Where Praises are due.
These Beautiful windows are
Out of sight,
a Beautiful view,
Bringing to us Delight,
A beautiful church,
a marvelous sight,
A feeling of Happiness, and
It feels so right,
When you are so full of Joy,
Through these stained Glass windows
Where The Sun Shines Bright!!!!


B.R.
Date: 1/14/2025
Hot
Give you a hug now
Pick me a flower
Take me to the mall
to shower you with attention
I'm broke. That's a given.
I'll disuade you if you listen.
So I won't talk, or mumble
Underneath my breadth.

I've been smokin'
like charcoal
Or cherry wood
On cherry pie
In reality
I'm on fire
And not in a good way,
Engulfed in flame,
And I just can't get away.
She stands in the shower.
Running her wash cloth across
Her body.
the slow rise of *******,
the arch of hips,
the curve of a neck.
The day she's had
Swirls around the drain
Between the space of her toes.
All that's left is the smell of soap.
Against her skin.
Her washcloth is not as white as it was.
She lets out a sigh.
Letting the hot water crash
Against her body.
Ringing it out before 
Soaping up the rag again.
Her body becoming softer.
Erasing every touch, every stare
That isn't her own.
Vigorously scrubbing.
The remnants of soap drip
Down her legs.
I knock on the door before
Poking my head in to check on
Her.
She hangs her head out with a smile.
The smell of soap and water
Glisten off of her light skin.
Before she closes the curtain back,
I ask if she needs help washing her
Back
Kushal Jan 12
Beneath the willow that wept at the lake's edge,
I sat nestled between the soft 'V' of branches that rose only to fall.
The wind kept a soothing sway that ever so gently left ripples in the moon's reflection.
With a book and pen in hand, I wrote the next lines to a story.

Along came a woman.
Her hair as silver as a blade, and her skin as pale as porcelain.
She descended to her knees with the grace of a queen,
Cupping her hands to sip from the lake.

I glared in awe, as if seeing a spirit from a folk tale.
What beauty, what grace... and yet, here she was.
She leaned back, falling to the grass, with her eyes finally resting on me.

Not a flinch.

She gazed back at me...
The same wonder in her eyes
As I held for her.
Even the simplest things can be beautiful to the ones who find beauty in existence.
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