Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Nikkie Jan 30
Shades of you blend into me like our spirits blending in
the bottom of the sea. We pass through each other like northern lights and touch the very essence of love.
I want the sun to shine in your honor; I want the moon
to copy your brightness. I see my future when I look into your eyes; you are everything I’d hope you’d be.
My beating heart, each breath I take, the twinkle in my eyes,
my pillow at night. Our spirits were born to unite together,
to dance in the beauty of inseparableness.

You’ve woven a hem inside my heart, that flows
love blood from your tender embrace. This is a
journey that no one takes but you. I’ve discovered a place that I am free; it’s inside of you that I’ve relinquished
my defenses, thus allowing your divinity to resuscitate
my will.

We blend together like an Indian Summer,
fitting perfectly together like hands in a glove.
A shade of you blends into me and colors my
heart, my mind, body, and soul.
With unforgiving nectar thick like honey, your
spirit alive is where I will stay.
Refined like sugar, shimmering like gold,
molding like clay on a hot summer's day.
max Nov 2020
I only ask "what if"
I smile, crying inside
I'm calm, screaming with eyes
The river doesn't care, it just flows
I wish I could change into one.
Nolan Willett Jul 2020
Blood is thicker than water,
But blood dries and crusts up and stains
And inevitably turns a dull brown,
While water flows forever
And wipes the stains away,
And when it dries it’s only a matter of time
Until it rains again!
John McCafferty Mar 2020
Om
Clear the mind
with forms of breath control
Vibrations emanate
Serpent flows in swirls
It curls around the centre line
Seven points along the spine
From base to crown
Varied hues are queued
where energy is key
Use the force
to elevate your qi
Om
(@PoeticTetra - instagram/twitter)
Amanda Kay Burke Mar 2020
And there's something that happens
When we talk
When we touch
As our buttons unfasten
Pour feelings into *** and such

Trying not to overthink each action
No matter how I try
Cannot avoid distraction
Sounds of ecstasy amplify

When our hot blood flows faster
Worlds halt breifly and stand still
Irresistible desire becomes my master
Leaves me desperate for your thrill
I don't write about *** much but if making love is not living breathing poetry than what is?
A writer that's
sincere with
words, A broken
heart that bleeds,
Yet beauty flows
from the ink,
from a gentle & kind
soul indeed, for it is
the kind ones that bleed.
~SacredInkedBlood ©2020
@Author Ven J. Arnold
https://m.facebook.com/VenjencieCliftonArnold
I believe this is true for those writers that hurt and bleed are the kindest souls.
annh Dec 2019
...you surfed my uncertain heart,
a wind sea
of ebbs and flows;
waiting for the unbroken to break,
spilling
white water
into ocean’s
void...

‘I think of the horizon at midnight, the sky and sea blurring together.’
- Sophie Hardcastle, Breathing Under Water
Open my eyes - the truth to see
The plenty and prosperity
Opportunities at my door
All around me - each day more

Open my heart - success is here
Love and faith will conquer fear
My body fills with greater light
All around me - day and night

Open my mind - ideas expand
Energy flows at my command
Creativity flows and streams
All around me - are my dreams

Open my spirit - set me free
And let me see eternity
Perceive the purpose in all things
All around me - my hope springs
This is Prosperity Poem 57 at ProsperityPoems.com  and you can see it displayed on a beautiful background here https://prosperitypoems.com/delivery57AllAroundMe.html . You can sign up for free weekly delivery of poems at
Ken Pepiton Oct 2019
uncommon ways of thinking are more subject to be
friending,
odd ionic quests are  trending---
what is the most noble quest?
like
What good am I, peace and safety wise
be me
as a wild bird might feel safe with you near,
as you quest on, leaning on the lift, rolling in the flow

life lives, ideas find shapes that fit,
moreso than a similar unit of your own mind's
left-behinds

just-in-case

we are commanded, be first
he who treads the grain eats first,
as the grain is tread,
or he stores his treasure in an imaginary vault,

safety deposit rule being if I was in the spirit,
as witnessed by the breath
filtered from gnats, and flushed of flem,
Ah hem, Aachen, is back.
Say he has a silver wedge worth risking the wrath of god,
you ever felt that urge,
to taste,
partake of the growing and harvest and decarbing and steeping
first partaker, the husband man, wombed or un, who labors,
must be, then
be the little red hen who shares the over flow,
--- what is being asked of whom, in this room?
not the filling,
let them be only thy own and not another's with thee
but the flood's free
running, whirling vein to one artery to another
we share the air.

My grandsons all can make that clear, the youngest,
three and one half swirls,
lefty lucy, righty tighty, one way or another
no no no … I'll follow the sun

twist again, like we did last summer, oh the
world swallowed me whole

as if I, not Faustus, I am bond to stand toe to toe
with old Mephisto,
by any other name, I tripped

on my feet I land on my feet Agri-industrial experimental,
oil company loss producer to allow tax credits
maybe useful toward avoiding
hundred and forty acre water
that, ****** if they didn't, we was plantin' trees
the names of those reaped
the fruits of our labor,

I see the rod, of an almond tree…

Ich kenne nicht I hid mein heir under the standing
pillars of right we learn
to live under, standing up right, relative to
who our DNA proves,
close enough for Perry Mason,
in the white of the egg, is there any taste?
it is an acquired taste,
a select strand of ancient as we, as a family,
mito-chondrial DNA,
is this not poetryscumbagthunderword getter
good, we

see the flaw, no flaw at all, a short cut for the trout, see

see the flaw in the flow is a matter of matter it self.
Self it sel, per se, same same logos I heard a meta
knower of something or another,
expert, in the literature of his field.

we seem the fruit of a life examined and found lacking nothing,
each day's evil sufficiency settled to gentle predictable waves,
marked by the red tent in the stories
of when there was so much grass and so much wool

every shepherd was feeding three wives in exchange,
for making life livable as the fate spin us
to true rest remaining for the people of {as we all agree, the idea does exist and is believed, though you may not know or know you do and know this form of reality, me and you bot reading thishit}
God god gods and sub beings with
From out of the culvert, east on 66, see I said then
that's me, I'll see what that man sees

you need not reprove the signs,
shake the dust and wander on samsara, as they say, one way

Child eyes, no fear at all, sees himself, a
strange old men
lurking where he remembers only old drunks,
smell of ****,

once watched a squaw in velvet skirt,
drop a qew outside a white outhouse

these windows persist as windows,
no doors if your ligends don’t match the receptors,

fret not, worst can happen,
but not here, time being as it is, you know, variable

In states of mind I can maintain for longer periods than i…
I take that back,
this is the real binge.
The last round. The words form constant ever after
bubble, **** I guess able to bubbles in milk
bubbles of being being my whole metaphor for life inside this one bubble we can sort of see the edge of…
synchronos compromise signals life change…

Invest in a three year old boy who is on-the-ball-*****-trained,
constant barking trained seal balancing the world,
beneath his feet, gripper stockinged ,
but a way can may be
still slide in the hall is if you put 'em on
grippers on top,
aha
life in a child
loves knowing any thing, for as long as knowing
happens along with everything else,

Like," Grandpa", from this blonde head with adult sized eyes,
seeing me look him in those eyes, signal
eyes touch, he sees his reflexion in the glare on my glasses,

I know, I saw my reflexion in my grandma's glasses,
when I was three, or so.

"Grandpa, stars come in all the colors." They do,
I said. I told my daughter, she shone.

I feel sorta Norman Rockwell, 2019.
I noticed last year, in Oct and November, through the year, voices change.
but smooth as yesteryear morphing to now
Next page