“(Go)rgeous morning sunrise” between (t)he m(o)untains glittering (the) dusty pollen (la)mi(n)ating her gol(d)en hair “**** woman for teenage boys” rich with magic and gilded with lust (where poetry is you and me).
Evident, conscious Are your curls aware of me? As I am captured By a gentle turning lock A wave in the subtle trees
Some writes are truly as simplistic as this. The girl in front of me had curly hair. The kind that greets you with a turn of the head and shimmers like leaves in the earthy autumn.
Sunday Seven (or S7) is a series of tanka verses (57577) which I completed one cloudy Sunday afternoon. With topics ranging from the faithfulness of dawn to the depths if the ocean home, I hope you enjoy reading them and can appreciate the height and depth of this variety.
A beautiful creation A powerful persuation Underestimates nation Build the foundation In my heart navigation Hey! You curly haired The one let the coffee said I'm warmer than her Be careful! Don't get burned sir!
what a smile a splendid grin lovely eyes letting light in a laugh like butterflies flying from an airborne stone. a touch like warm snow a blanket to move and mold a voice like blooming dahlias hair soft and curled arms to fold around me comfort and joy in your embrace love is all the more sweeter with you
to me he is human. a tad more human than the rest of us he is the sunrise i long to see and the sunset i know so well he is the first star i see at night he is what i wish for upon that star he is the song you never get turned off of hearing or the place you go that never seems to get dull his voice sounds of adolescence and desire his body as gentle as the ripples of the ocean at night do i dare dip my toes in? do i dare dip my toes in know the waves are coming not knowing what lies beneath he is so much like the ocean beautiful powerful gentle so unknown why do we love the ocean so much is it because of its beauty or because its one thing on this God forsaken plant we see so much of but really know nothing about is that why i love him the wanting a curiosity of knowing what i see all the time he is my breaking piont you are the curly headed boy who broke me