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Nolan Willett Jun 15
With the taxing Heat,
The cold-blooded sun,
In my mind’s eye I see our last meet,
Right before it all was done

You had a high potential,
Was unsure of its worth,
Now connection is tangential,
Along with all on earth.

Persistent follies, teachless,
Sense & sensibility, notional commodities,
Consistently speechless:
Can’t explain your own philosophies.

And what’s more,
In that wild imagination-
What do you think you’re looking for?
Self-actualization?
Positive disintegration?

You said you want to travel,
You’ll never leave anyway.
You’ll let yourself unravel,
And live from day to day.
It’s so plain to see,
Just how you will regress,
How else could it be?
Living in that excess.
And in the scorching heat
You’ll be left dried out,
I bet you’ll overheat,
Consumed by all your doubt.
LC Apr 21
I am forged in a ceramic kiln,
and the sweltering heat embrittles me.
their withering stares set the kiln ablaze,
expecting me to stay rigid and brittle.
I attempted to constrict and be good,
but the fire slowly cracked me.  
the heat still scorches my pieces,
but each piece inches closer
to the outskirts of the kiln
so I can find the sticky glue
and put myself back together.
Escapril Day 20! Prompt: trying to be good.
I had a few ideas for this poem, but I wanted to use one major theme.
I hope you enjoy this one! I loved writing it.
LC Apr 19
ink melts through paper
during heat, cold, rain, and snow
to mark every heart.
Escapril Day 18! Prompt: creation.
This is my take on it, and a haiku felt right. Happy Monday :)
LC Apr 6
sweet, full, red apples
plucked, crushed, pulverized to chill -
loved in scorching heat.
Escapril Day 5! The prompt was "crush." I used the definition "a drink made from the juice of pressed fruit" to create this poem. I hope you enjoy it!
CIN Mar 28
Remember that night?
The soft glow of the tv reflecting blue on the walls
Our tongues dancing to the music
That played in the background
I had you pinned the wrong way round on the bed
Your head between my arms
Every part of us touching
I could feel the heat on your skin
The melody of your heartbeat
You tasted like the cherry sucker I gave you
An hour before
Oh, how I used to drown in your melancholy

Yet now all I feel is water
Little drops from the shower
While I stare at what never was
The music of your breathing still plays in my ears
When the night is quiet enough
Sometimes I swear I still feel your skin
But the moment passes and I’m left with this cold sort of feeling
An empty swell in my chest
A tingle behind my eyes
You are nothing but dull memories now
Nothing but a thought of remembrance
the events are fiction but the emotions are real
neth jones Mar 12
busy verbalizing my merchandise                                                      ­        
a display of teeth reefed behind my smile
                                                      becau­se merchandise is what i am after
                          and The Revels watch over me
                                and laughter drains down through sewer grates
i am watched over                                                             ­                             
my potential client walks away                                                                 
    but returns again with queries                                                          ­             
on this hot day                                                              ­                                   
a smell like burnt hair raises from the gutters                                            
and these are the streets that radiate                                                          ­  
on this hot day                    

an honest clash and not some some touchy bout
and here we are                                                              ­
the costly coil of pushing business together ;           
                                   a lively thrive
thrifty "*******"s and a dressing down       
circling the other and striking their buttons   
  
                   interlaced within is a genuine pressing
               toward each other goals  
this partnership                                                      ­                    
swiftly made                    
                                          has an extreme edge and chaotic balance          
the both of us must master or abandon our productivity             
shall we be served by this union
                                     or sever fighting ?

unfit                                                         ­            
  it swerves and suffers a pity                  
let's keep this one brief                                                     
we manage business
handshakes
and scowl away with our wares
each of us feeling equally scammed
(we've made useful enemies at best)

i break out laughing all the same-how
and howl because i feel
that feeling that this could go on forever
and business has roots in all my moods

i crouch at the curb       
the curb is abrasive               
              i sit
i look at the dry heat radiating off the tarmac
the slight greasy lime taste of the air passing
the roof of my mouth
the electric wires running hum into the buildings
the storm drains at the edges of the roads
where laughter siphons down to the magma of Hades

it is waning off now                         
and i feel vague
i stand and i scan for more players
i spot a vivid orange one
one that i may barter their aura of vigour
traded for my sketchy wares
lua Sep 2021
wind chimes in early morning breeze
the sizzle of shadows
from the blazing sun
kisses my skin
all sticky from sweat and heat
i twitch
the whites of my eyes are painted with tears
take a step
and jump
plunge myself into the blue
and bathe in the grey afternoon clouds
til i wait
for the sunset.
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