He is so manly
And fierce
Yet so gentle,
Full of peace

He is so funny
And childish
Yet so serious
When he's angry

He is so stubborn
And feisty
Yet so generous
Kind and loving

He is by far the most
Authentic and transparent
Yet he intrigues
and captivates me

He is so he
It makes it hard for me
To find the right words
To describe him
Anya Jul 13
Whe. I lift my head
To expel a breath in a long sigh
The cool air being moved by the fan
Causes my hair
Loose tangled strands,
To wave about
In a celebratory dance
Of relief
At last
Can be anything, after reaching a destination, completing something, honestly for me it was just lifting my head and taking a moment to reflect.
HectorBrown Jun 1
The sun lazily dripped off branches and leaves like a thick amber honey. Three sat, alone, in a sunbathing silence. Central in a walled field. Gold flashed through their eyes as if through a super 8 camera. And then he arrived back. The sun lazily dripped off branches and leaves like a thick amber honey. He walked down steaming pavements, a turgid wall of melancholy. The battle of the light and his nostalgia.
zb May 30
summer is sunlight warming your jeans
chlorine up your nose
mosquito bites on the back of your knee
sweat pooling behind your ears
late nights and late mornings
scalding stone walkways under bare feet
dry grass crumbling between your fingertips
burrs in your socks
sunscreen dotting your nose
air conditioner whirring to life
fans spinning so hard they shake the room
car rides over hours of half-melted tar
lake water soaking your tennis shoes
afternoons spent at home

afternoons spent wishing you were somewhere else
When I stepped into my room
My wife greeted me with a broom

I Said, Good Evening
My Lovely Sweet Wife

She Replied, Bad Evening
Don’t you remember my warning?

Again you came totally drunk
Your nose always looks like a trunk.
Just a Smile or a Laugh
uv May 20
The window that I can see,
Has no good view
But the glass in its paneled frame
Gives a look thats quite new.
The window has two bifolding shutters
Giving it a charming look
And the white European grill outside it
Makes it as interesting as written in a book.
Though minimum light filters through this window,
It certainly has a charm.
The artificial plants hanging outside them,
Gives it colour and a refreshing sort of calm.
Writing a rhyme for just about anything in your sight gives  you the power to make anything beautiful, to make the simplest of things sound magical and give depth to things that are otherwise taken for granted!
Aihara May 19
The imminent river,
inevitable ride;
unwilling passenger,
whether the strap snapped, disconnected;
Or stuck till final destination, rock bottom.

Was all this necessary
Im great, Im happy
Stop misdiagnosed me
Im no other than me

neuroses and religion
who i am to wish for oblivion
one opinion define none
On seeking whats the norm and what is wrong.

Im trying to live, to fit in
Just normally like everybody
Normal to me but it isnt
what am I, Who I am without

I am, was, I will be okay
Why it felt like a replay
No choice but to compelled
Who said its mine to choose
Cause it wil be forever replayed

For now the strap hold on
on repeat, hitting rock bottom
Its true the only way left is up
no in between, stuck in a time wrap.
I hate it when I couldn't accept myself for who I am. My scars, my illness.
Its not my fault I was born with it.
sara May 16
Hair long and dark like a silken night,
her eyes glazed over, lips pastel silent.
Every so often sips a cold long island,
no jazz musician but her feet tap in time and
she's skin like China, won't crack even for a smile.
While people try to please her she will only check the time and
she's not a people pleaser for she'll bore within a while.
Perfume carried by the breeze,
she's freezing, smoking outside.
Her cheeks are apple red but her eyes, quitely tired.
She claims your jokes are dead and then she'll laugh like bitter cider-
a bittersweet pink lady brought to life beneath the night's limelight
the apple of the eye of every single man in sight

He'll ask her if she knows this song
and she replies 'no, not tonight.'
He'll ask if she enjoys herself.
Blankly, she says 'yes, quite.'

The room a-brim with deep jazz sounds:
she sings sweet melodies aloud,
she sways as if no one's around,
she sighs, it doesn't make a sound.
Pourquoi pas?
.

Metre based on the new arctic monkeys album
Kevin Castro Apr 30
rested, sealed in a cloud.
through the panes of my reflection,
she lay still. preserved,
at a point in time.

carefully, it was made
a heaven for her,
black, against the snow,
a delicate frame.

freedom, hers was sought
in a vain attempt,
too easily, given up,
it left a desperate mark.

made to cut her loose

unnoticed, beneath her.
her eyes looked forward,
unrelenting, yet absent.
my gift remains pristine.

faded, her elytra
are pale and sickening.
yellowed, they conceal
many writhing guests.

unmoving, she remains,
but a stranger to life.
a gift, she is,
rotting from the inside.
here, i'm trying to project an effect or emotion through the use of imagery. if it's too hard to get what the thing im describing is, i'm not sure who's at fault .

bump pls critque me. also!! a hundred virtual (worthless) points to whoever can guess the exact thing im describing
comfortable
slides so easily
breathes
cosy

cool, bright
wearing
your smell, as close as i
can find it.
Written summer 2017
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