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lua Aug 28
the solemn sighs in empty halls
these vacant thoughts that line the walls
a chilly breeze through a midnight flare
waiting for the heavens to bear
to bear a heart that's ice cold and blue
thawing in the light of the moon
and with each beat that pains, that hurts
that explodes into starbursts
of woad and gold in the vastness of the sky
on this lonely
this lovely
starry,
starry night.
lua Jun 17
a fiery heart
with cool toned shadows
the bluest flame to burn
eating away at the amber of the flames
and the beige and brown of flesh
scattering sloppy purple bursts.
Ackerrman Aug 2019
Time is not a line nor a road,
It doesn't pass by in equal integers:
It grows,
Swells,
Accumulates-
In small moments,
Gets caught in the reefs.
larger pools for more prominent moments.
Boundless depth in a singularity.

To see through the eyes of a dead man,
In a moment long past,
Forget the small,
Happy,
Tranquil,
Streams.
Waves career from the bigger ones,
Crashing into my small boat.

To be cast from the hull
And sink in the singularity,
Be consumed,
Drown.

A moment doesn’t pass,
It clings,
Accumulates.
Swipe at the water,
Seeping in,
Try and throw it out,
Before another wave…

The time we spent
Continues to consume,
It swells,
And dwells
In the foreground,
Always.
Time does not pass by,
It is here,
Screaming,
Just as it always has been,
Growing.
Haunting.

I don’t think that I can bare
To accumulate anymore of our time.
My lungs are full,
I have choked on the untameable mass of the lamenting sea.
Fawn and Sukanya Sinha Roy wrote a couple of beautiful pieces concerning time. I felt inspired. It is a bit rushed, but I don't mind so much.
there must be something
about the shifting shapes of flames
that keeps us riveted

visual spectacle
combined with purpose
   burn it up

and when it dies
the desire to have
   more of the same

feed in another log
watch eagerly
how it catches on
bursts into yellow reddish stars
   *******
burns bright for a while after
later glows darkly
and dies unless refreshed

a suggestive
   yet illusionary
image
   for our lives
saryachan Jan 2016
The feeling one gets
From swallowing food down the wrong pipe
That erupts in coughs of desperate breaths

That is how my love bursts for you

As if short gasps spastic
Longing for oxygen
Toxic
is the lack of the air you reside in

Eyelids filling with biological tears
Uncontrollable in designation
I must stop here and stand for a while
To regain my composure

A pause;
T'was a shock that made me lose all routine reason
Normally
I am quite skilled at delivering food gastronomically

It was the thought of thee looking directly at me
Made me choke and lunge for the particles
No one can see

A fit of admiration
I have no constraints
Nor restraints
Nor act tame
To disguise this repertoire,  

All I can do is stand far
And sit in recovery
Wondering thusly
If these bursts of desire
Will take my breath away
Once more.

— The End —