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Mark Toney Oct 2019
Yoshino cherry tree, blossoms glistening in the sun
Most vibrant display of white-pink blossoms, with faint almond fragrance
Delightful moment, overcome by a massive sneeze attack
10/15/2019 - Poetry form: Sijo - A Sijo is a type of poem that has three lines containing fourteen to sixteen lines each. The Sijo is a poem of Korean descent where each line of the poem having its own role. The first line is used in order to introduce the theme or topic of the poem. In the second line is meant to delve deeper, give more information about the theme that was introduced in the first line. It's meant to change or agree with and give detail on what the poem is about. The last line of a Sijo poem is the conclusion line. It takes the information from the second line about the topic from the first line and ends it in a way that is both beautiful and satisfying, or challenging depending on the poet. The ending line is not meant to be predictable, in fact, it's meant to twist what you know so that it is unexpected and enjoyable. A Sijo was originally meant to be sung so each line should have its own natural break. - Copyright © Mark Toney | Year Posted 2019
Ju Temo Oct 2019
After the rain the fills the ***
And leaks out the side
At the last drop down the roof
Even when the wood is wet,
I’ll leave.

The freshness of the day,
Can’t match the lightness in my heart,
It’s biking past the bridges,
Pushing past the grass in the stream,

Soaring down the hills,
That pour out from the purple sunset,
Hanging down cherry blossoms’
Open hands reaching out to every path.

The train has yet to come,
But the heat already settled,
Cooled by the sun far back,
Windows mirrored in its light,
Peppered a village under me,

Going through all its tall corners,
The rails build themselves above me,
As I run past every shop,
My reflection follows along on the ride
Ju Temo' is a freelance poet that is inspired by songwriting.
All other poems can be seen at: www.feelapoem.com
Anastasia Sep 2019
red roses
and tulips
petals
in your hair
lips
on mine
a day
like this
something
in the air
fingers
on my waist
sweet
cherry taste
this love
of mine
bound
by crimson twine
blood drips
from tiny ******
sharp thorns
with ruby tips
with all of my being, i love him
Starry Aug 2019
As me and my friend
Drive slowly in
An orchard I am overwhelmed by
The snow like blossoms and the
Pleasant smile
How I wish I was a butterfly
Or a bee.
onlylovepoetry Aug 2019
the cherry blossom accord/equation

”perfumers use aromachemicals to recreate a cherry blossom accord...(an accord is a scent made up of individual aromachemicals, that when combined, create a harmonious blend where none of the individual ingredients are able to be detected on their own).”

the odor of our lustful eyes,

the sweat, a unique commingling,
a sheen of salted oils body bathing,

crushed green petals of peaches,
crumbled together with the softy fuzz shavings,
the sediment of aromatic fruit juices drippings

our blending bottled in our brains,
none other would recognize but we,
to too two smell each other through and over
floors, concourses, cities, disparate distances

our ingredients secreted (secret),
our flavors cell secreted (secreting)
the world’s silly tittering aroma inserted,
our sparking fingertips touching
add a bush burning burnt odiferous

we seat across from each other in an airport
plastic restaraunt and everyone asks out loudly,
what is that smell, feed me that, taste me that,
as we are irradiating the atmosphere,
as we renegotiate our cherry blossom accord,
fresh signatures, updated, harmony of harmonies, notarized

she smiles, I joke, winking,
we must continue
to meet like this,
the fireworks of we,
of us,
to-gather to-gether,
a getting of giving,
she answers:

take me home and
bathe me in love,
give our bodies shelter
from the world outside,
beside a new spice
have I uncovered,
this will require some
discussion+exploration,
the quantity to be added,
the when, and the how!


what is this new ingredient?
asking puzzled and aroused,
she laughs
(a spice already included),
why it’s called
only love poetry






8/23/19 4:55pm
Anastasia Aug 2019
Cherry on top
Cherry on bottom
My heart is sinking
Straight to the bottom
The crickets say
They are ashamed of me
And the mosquitos take their aim at me
Cherries are crushed
No longer sweet
Rotten and bitter
False retreat
Writing at night
Gives me strange thoughts
Cherry on bottom
Cherry on top
Outside
At night
Is messing
With my mind
How were these melodic notes made?
A thousand symphonies
from the sky upon him laid?

Mr. Tree and petite Ms Tree met with a distant ancestry,

Although he sprouted from a Cherry pit,
She has been growing from an apple seed,
Together they play,
hiding and seeking with the wind,

Silly them when thinking about the humanity
while they both have plans to grow to be.

Petite Tree sits under Mr Cherry tree
They laugh and laugh, won't leave.

Mr. giving Tree
shares his cherries for free.

Petite Tree eased her hesitation smiles.

Please, please Mr. Tree with cherries,
Petite Tree would like to grow with you distance memories.
Following up with a peer poet’s post in regarding Mr. Tree.
Ed C Jun 2019
My sister fell, at the neighborhood pool,
on the cement, instead of into opal water.
She said the **** on her knee
looked just like a maraschino cherry.
Red like a maraschino cherry,
or a clown's nose,
or like the fire
in the center of our planet.
The ****** **** dripped cherry juice
down her leg
in between her sun burnt toes,
evaporating off of the cement.
She reminded me of lava,
constantly bubbling
always moving
always destroying
without hesitation.
The reaper of flowers
and ice cream cones.
Red cheeks, red like Geryon.  
Purposefully confused
and always wondering.
I hope I can answer any questions
she has, when the need
to know evolves to thirst,
and the fears she has now
as a little lava girl
become fears that we all feel
as destroyers in our own lives,
wrecking everything,
reaping the flowers
that are growing
in the ashes of our youth.
jussssss thinkinnnnn
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