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Carlos Nov 2017
It's stories above where the butterflies rustled,
Whirring between the lights in aeolian bustle.
I'm smiling spritely at a neon halo,
While my organs writhe in jacqueminot El Niño.
Wading the nightscape  with a glitched simper,
I could not change nor attempt to tinker,
Just breaching the moments passing to linger.
Fingers, then palms, then lips, then black,
Then for a few seconds the world collapsed.
A breath, a sip, some wit, I'm back.
Shed the murky vision of captive cataracts.
And now,
The sylph saunters in epitomized elegance,
And I've buckled on the inside to the resonant reverence.
I follow the fragrance in her wake as paralyzed sedatives,
And anything I might say could only lack eloquence.
Then magnanimous mantras attract exact,
It seems way down the rabbit hole I've finally met my match.
There's a mesh of flesh, a smooth caress,
Then I wake and realize these were not visions yonder death.
Particles of my brain erupt,
I can't explain away the unfading elation of touch.
Every pose palatial down to the pixels,
I'd gaze deep in the sheen of her mind gleaming as crystals.
Her eyes open like daybreak in flashes,
Sunstreaks glint over the horizon of her lashes.
There's morning songbirds behind the taste of coffee,
I think she's figured I'm just a well decorated softy.
Unveiling my most human of contentions stripped to the eclipse of logic,
My former self laughs in tones pitched sardonic.
Euphorically strumming at gossamer heartstrings,
Etched in the fabric as sakura carvings.
When will people observe,
the inner, poetic elegance…
of Christ Jesus in my life?

Does everyday nonsense of
my human routine, disguise
Him, while promoting strife?

Striving for self-control,
under an atmosphere of peace,
my spirit is subtly stirred

to honor my Lord; woven into
my life is His fabric of Truth,
that’s sustained by The Word.

Though I’m utterly imperfect,
my brokenness allows His Spirit
to quietly glide around me-

and touch the lives of those,
who seek to arise above the…
constraints of their humanity.
Inspired by:
Gal 2:20

Learn more about me and my poetry at:
amazon (dot) com

By Joseph J. Breunig 3rd, © 2016, All rights reserved.
Joe Black Nov 2016
***
If you would seek the moon, it is her face.
If you seek musk, her hair is hiding place.
She is a paradise, arrayed in splendour,
Glorius, graceful, elegantly slender.
Clare Veronica Jun 2016
Dress to ****, don't show everything.
Pass smiles, be polite to everyone.
Keep your voice down, never to laugh out loud.
Eat a modest portion, and only one piece of cake.

Walk gracefully, poise in every move.
Sit up straight, legs daintily crossed.
Hold your wine glass by the stem, never by the bowl.
Take a sip by looking into, never over the glass.

There's nothing in the world like proper etiquette.
You can always tell a lady has good breeding
by how effortlessly classy she is.
TJLC Jun 2016
How the body

of the dancer

Moves with

Grace
and
Elegance

Eyes with make-up, closed while performing.
The only audience to the dancer are
One's heart and one's soul.
An attempt to make an imagery poem. Trying to describe how performers, in general, feel on stage. To express one's feelings as a performer on stage is a fresh experience all the time.
Enola Cabrera May 2016
Protector of the night,
Lighting my path as I venture in the shadows
A comfort of beautiful tranquility
Almost angelic with its dim white milky silhouette
Hovering over with unearthly eloquence

Touching me with silvery grace
Engulfing me in a winsome embrace  
Glaring into my soul, caressing it with godly elegance, as
Lovely little embers of affection burned through your skin
Sorrowful distance separated us, leaving an unfillable void

Half of the day you are nowhere to be seen
But I never am alarmed
Feeling ever so calm because I know your insightful presence is near
Never leaving me in the dark of the night
You are my soft light- a promise

-EC
Enhancement of the original The Moon
He clears his throat,
offers a hand,
lady afloat
begging to stand...

but where is she now?
The gentleman's moon...
his strides upon Earth
whose labors to croon?

Here, gentleman, hear
her breaths are so soft.
Need this dough like skin,
a taste so aloft?

Her pulse like a symphony,
her steps on pools glistening,
her lips your night litany,
her hands light-wrought ivory.

Gentleman she swoons!
Her hips like snow dunes,
her words gentle noons
that light up your Junes.

Yet you stay away,
your respect holds sway.
Though she is nectar,
you drink not as night
does day.

Your gentle ways
lengthen the days,
though distance kept,
you oft' purvey
a sense of love,
as she turns your way.
Enjoy!
Katie Perner Jan 2016
Seeing sunsets every night as a unique artistic work of beauty-
So magnificent like soft flames floating into the shades of the midnight abyss.
Breathing deeply in hopes of feeling as soft as the breeze
As calm as the tree's leaves, I stand-
My toes reaching to feel the moist Earth soothing the aches of the day
Floating away into the sunsets elegance
The Earth making me human.
-k.p. 6.17.15-
My relentless search for
The most beautiful
Is over.

You came to my lap
Leaned this graceful
Head on my upper
Tight,

Covered with
The puffiest blanket
So familiar to us.

And Thou are ~
The eloquent Elegance,
The proof for the Sacred
Geometry, alive, warm
And lovingly cuddly.

I adore Thou blackest
Dots, above your Feline
Fangs, hidden as your
Cat's conundrum; When

Rest, how
Thou charm seeps
In me; like classy  
Lion paws
Streched,

Touching my hand
Lovingly.

I trickle my fingers across
Whitest beard, and savannah
maroone blackness.

Jade consciousness opens up,
And starts to purr, pressing my
Wrist tenderly when me writes.
This is an ode to my beloved cat Mani. I love him dearly. Sometimes he can be so gentle and so loving to me. It's a true blessing to have him near and within my life. Words can not describe how grateful I feel...and enchantingly charmed. Fabulous Feline Fascination.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
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