Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
rgz 7d
Like a fistful of sand
Leaky and incomplete
Something I can't grasp
Like talking in my sleep

Of dreams in daylight
Of things that never were
Like reflected starlight
Music gone unheard

Of cold nights and warm lips
Of skeletons and their prayers
From buried paths they slip
Abandoning their lairs

Like a stream in the night
It's darkest depths concealed
Like snow's last flight
Melts as it's revealed
Someone said to me today (I forget who he was quoting) that it's the things we don't remember that define us
I find this to be a somewhat unfortunate truth
The past
is in the past.
That's true.
it leaves
on the future.
Katlyn Orthman Aug 2018
Beginnings and endings
Marked by unique tombstones
Each a fingerprint
Of great creators
c Apr 2018
We walk different jungles
Sun spliced in different skies
Split by a slab of blue
Yet I hear

Me, here,
Walking the paths you sing of,
Making hands of the words you speak,
Arriving at the memories you've wrung like a
Needle stuck in my mind

Sing like your soul is on fire.
Purring of quiet as silk;
Lungs weeping raw in
Consonant melody sifted in

Spilling off palms
Soaked in the blood sun, and
In all my wandering--
I can't help wondering if, in the end,
I discovered you
For a reason

Reflecting on an artist that inspires me: Nai Palm (singer/producer of the band Hiatus Kaiyote).
I've listened to practically every interview I could get my hands on, and decided I'd try and translate my feelings for her music and artistry into a poem. I could probably write about it for 15 more stanzas at least. Here's a start?
Celeste Briefs Mar 2018
each muscle in my body
fades like fingerprints
from a window in winter
I wish I was stronger

each thought in my mind
comes and goes like passing time,
every second an image
as blurry as my face in the mirror

my emotions condense
on the surface of my skin,
my fingers quiver,
tracing pictures on the glass

these bones I hide within me
crumble in the wind
flying like sand across the sea
I may never see them again
Jessie Schwartz Feb 2018
Menagerie…by Jessie 6/06

Too many days are all the same
The will has left, the inert pendulum silent, no longer marking time  
Glass menagerie collecting dust
A ghost town of frail figurines
Lifeless the sheen, pail from coatings of yesterday
Not even the trace of a fingerprint to announce interest
Tawas a time, excitement from the prospect of a new-collected piece, while much deliberation was given to its placement
Diligently, maintenance provided, dusted and polished
Imagination carrying fantasies of amusing situations and images  
Laughter recounted when viewed by innocent eyes
Now the foundations mirrors will not reflect what was or what is
Each days accumulation, another layer, each layer a little duller
Soon the only connection, a web, thin and translucent, linking one to the other
Paralyzed fragile pieces of glass, drowning in a sea of negligence
Your name whispered into a box of mementoes
Awaiting for renewed curiosity of another generation
Rachel C Jan 2018
Just like you.
I remember the feeling of yours.
Imprinted on the walls.
Imprinted on my mind.
Imprinted on my soul.
But now gone.
Are now just fingerprints.
Poetic T Dec 2017
Her ******* were like damp snow,
       teasing but letting my fingers
tread lightly.

She felt ever motion, the imprints
of my wonderings were left
                in the cotton of damp fingerprints.

I never went below the snow,
just treading lightly,
       is enough to make her moan.
Helen Raymond Sep 2017
Your fingerprints mark every inch of me
Coating my words and reverie

Replaying your words like an old cassette
Your smile became my safety net

You awakened my soul in loving me
Bless you, darling sanctuary
Best friends for 7 years, dating for 2. Its hard to remember a time before loving you.
Next page