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i could be that girl
whose voice is low and melodic
and coats your mouth with
acacia honey
whose eyes are the color
and depth of
midnight
whose presence is thick like
new york summers
rosy like
los angeles in early spring
if i braid flowers into my hair
if i write enough poems
if i learn to show the skin of my essence
but remain an abyss—
i will stop making art
when i become it
The evening clouds,
are grey from increasing shadow.
The jagged mists, according to my minds eye, take the forms of dragons,
Encroaching upon me
Until they shatter into ash, their own burning might having destroyed them.
The skulled faces stretch out as if in one last grimace.
The second sooty mass forms into hooks, as the monsters’ lower half tries try reconnect with its collapsing upper.
Rose and tangerine flames waft,
Vanishing into oncoming blackness,
Like spirits hiding into caves, to be reborn as the souls of new mythic reptiles.
Just a quick daydream/aesthetic poem.
Cloud shapes are great.
My reading of 'Damascus' has been uploaded to the youtube channel, 'The MJ Roe Show'.
joy in saltwaters
plus lights, camera, action
bitter knock on door
the daydream was pleasant, though. another (failed) attempt on a simple haiku.
Kelci Sep 10
There is a tear
That hangs inside
My mind's eye

A jagged jewel
Refracting my life
Into vibrant pools
That draw me under

And I want to drown
In their rippling waters

Shimmering scenes
Luring me ever further
Into the depths of myself

Sitting with you
at a table for two
you read poetry
I brought us coffee
You glance at me
I hear the humming of a bee
yet its flight unseen
the trees are green
a smile
and all the while
the sky is blue
clouds see-through
the air feels light
your hands are in my sight
you read a line
"this moment is mine,
this is perfect bliss"
I lean in for a kiss
i summon ghosts from my trauma death
water blood on the flower pots on sills
freeze the time when my eyes close or hope
relics and crushed ceramic dust float in sunbeam

my mind is like the wanting the heart the sickness
bruising the air my spirit is made of
we will always need detergent we will always
feed from the things we love or kill
Hurting Soul Aug 30
Lying down on the ground
Thinking about what we could be
About how we could leave
And never come back.
Hiiiii. Sorry i have been inactive. BUT IM BACKKKK
Tommy Randell Aug 29
Meet me on The East Pier
In a full on Northerly
Huddled from the wind sheer
Conspiratorially

Run with me down the East Pier
The South breeze on our backs
Arms wide to the uplift
Out and over the wave wracks

Lie with me on the East Pier
Listening to the West Wind's tunes
Over the hills from yesterday
Aboard The Ship of Fools, until

On the East Pier in an East Wind
All the way to Sunset from Sunrise
We'll live together one Golden Day
Beneath Whitby's perfect sky
Natasha Moghe Aug 28
I hope you know that every time I open my eyes, I daydream of you.
Every time I emulate happiness, I hope it truly reaches you.
I hope that every time I drink my morning coffee, I wake up to you.
Because you deserve happiness darling, you deserve to feel awake and alive.
You are my hope.
rob kistner Aug 25
(tanka)
_

thoughts drift by gently
my mood is mellow this day
I linger at peace

dreaming in the spring breezes
that lift my spirit aloft

_


rob kistner © 2018
A spring afternoon daydream.
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