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Anne J 6d
Lady of the pale pink fan
Who's covered in the faded blossoms of your clan
I'd like to see you move away from the brown tree
So I can touch your kimono as I go on one knee
Today I made a poem about a Japanese man proposing to a Japanese maiden who lives in a **** that loves blossoms and the color pink. I hope you like. Just realized that this is the first positive poem I've done...xD! Lol.
We met in moonlight of July
Howling wolves dancing on grave yard stones
Twigs and broken spades
lay frozen in forgotten hollows.
The night shivered cold with the winter breeze
In the shadow of the night
The moonlight found its way through
My bedroom window.

She was dressed in sin and I in ****
Time knew that heaven and ****
Were on a the verg of collision
Her spoken words found the warm
Flesh on my skin
Paralyzed by the sound of her whispers
my breathing intensified.

She left as quick as she came
I laid cold and alone
Curled into myself like fetus in the ****
I was robbed of innocence
My deed an unforgivable sin.
D Letwixt Oct 5
Part 1: (The traveler speaking)

"I follow the winding, the way beyond the farthest places
between trees knotted menacing with darkened faces
under mossy roots that twist and trip with a mischievous cackle
over heights and falls that beckon death's clanking shackle
and if you fall in, lose your precious breath
to tree limbs tangled scratching at vulnerable flesh.

A green roof above and green floor below
but my eyes look ahead, to where the silver meadows did grow
Remorse remembers all that passed before the eye
burnt of fire forgotten and ash was strewn across the sky
and now only memory does remain
of silver meadows and the golden rain.

This land is dampened with the morning dew
that daren't melt but for the light of moon
where mossy things are stowed in sunken places
and beautiful wonders lay behind rock faces,
I know the way, but do not lightly follow
As sunset brings forth demons beyond tomorrow.

I wish to find her: the lady silk
Her hands weaving threads of fates who twist and separate
her threads she brought from those older places past
Where nascent fauns with youthful voices fastly gleam and chatter
and deftly danced to delights in the silver meadows
When all was false and truth was shaded
all liars happily in reflections reflected
pale faces feinted in humorous deception
and all charismatic affectations were familiar expression.
singing songs of passing pleasures in strange dialect
All was serene was silver mirrors reflecting
save the flow of golden liquid cool and still
which seeped from sky to hill and then chalice filled.

I walk to see the lady
who has one eye black and one eye white
and carries a silver knife which- in moonlight flashes bright.
I will wearily watch for it's flashing tomorrow night,
for she doesn't know it, but I was also born of moon's pale light."

Part 2: (The lady singing)

"The meadow shifted softly that fateful night
in breezes blowing warmly and songs of ephemeral delight
melodies swell and shift like the swirling blades of grass
Grass not green but silver shining, all moonlight reflecting

Gods with silver hair and silver eyes danced in shifty iridescence
Voices sang clear and wandered wistfully through misty hills and hollowed places
Oh they delicately weave the lines of notes around my ear
under over between and in, I wish I could hear those notes again
but alas their time is passed-- the daytime took the nightly hymn

There are few who remember things as I have done, but waning pasts are of worth to none.
Oh the night was never meant to end
and it is left the earth but for what I have kept for mine, things broken never truly mend.
These silver threads for weaving time and fate together again
a mournful burden, but I cannot abandon them
for the tapestry of time is my from the gods of ancient past
As long as my fingers can touch the strings, my mind will see
what I have preserved in memory

the tapestry, though, will live before I die
All fates will cease to meet as edges cut
and gods will from sky return
to chase away sun in blue and silver flashing eye

And so I hurry to finish this task over which I mourn
so in silver laurel, I will be adorned."
I plan to add either one or two more parts later on
D Letwixt Oct 3
I follow the winding, the way beyond the farthest places
between trees knotted menacing with darkened faces
under mossy roots that twist and trip with a mischievous cackle
over heights and falls that beckon death's clanking shackle
and if you fall in, lose your precious breath
to tree limbs tangled scratching at vulnerable flesh.

A green roof above and green floor below
but my eyes look ahead, to where the silver meadows did grow
Remorse remembers all that passed before the eye
burnt of fire forgotten and ash was strewn across the sky
and now only memory does remain
of silver meadows and the golden rain.

This land is dampened with the morning dew
that daren't melt but for the light of moon
where mossy things are stowed in sunken places
and beautiful wonders lay behind rock faces,
I know the way, but do not lightly follow
As sunset brings forth demons beyond tomorrow.

I wish to find her: the lady silk
Her hands weaving threads of fates who twist and separate
her threads she brought from those older places past
Where nascent fauns with youthful voices fastly gleam and chatter
and deftly danced to delights in the silver meadows
When all was false and truth was shaded
all liars happily in reflections reflected
pale faces feinted in humorous deception
and all charismatic affectations were familiar expression.
singing songs of passing pleasures in strange dialect
All was serene was silver mirrors reflecting
save the flow of golden liquid cool and still
which seeped from sky to hill and then chalice filled.

I walk to see the lady
who has one eye black and one eye white
and carries a silver knife which- in moonlight flashes bright.
I will wearily watch for it's flashing tomorrow night,
for she doesn't know it, but I was also born of moon's pale light.
The taste of coffee.
The sound of jazz.
The sight of a rainy night in Paris
Through this cafe glass.
I sit.
I sip.
I tap my cup,
Like the second-hand ticks the clock.
I feel like an old grandfather
To the world that I never see,
As I sit in front of the glass,
In this passenger seat.
As the cafe Open sign flickers in the window,
I see a jazzy lady, with eyes and hair like coffee,
Walking past, and coming in through the door.
She sits by my side.
I say, “Hi.”
She smells the coffee on my breath
And says, “Oh, I can go for some of that.”
And then kisses me,
Like she’d hold a rose to her nose,
She pushes my lips to hers.
Okay, haha, that’s not how it really goes.
I’m daydreaming.
But she is really here.
I don’t think I can go up to her and say anything.
I just nod my head, look into my coffee and stare.
It keeps me awake.
It gives me this beautiful taste, and for what?
I nod my head again, and I look up.
I sit.
I sip.
I tap my cup.
I look through the window,
Knowing I should just go home.
Sure, I need eight hours of sleep,
But I don’t need to be up this long.
I should just go home.
Tomorrow, maybe,
I’ll be strong enough to say hello,
After my cup coffee, of course, lol.
Oct 2, 2018
This one is similar to my previous poem "Coffee (personification)".
I guess you can look at this poem as showing how we met lol
although I didn't write it to.
Your skin’s brown as coffee,
And the milk of your eyes
Holds the coffee beans.
You’re always so hot,
The smell of your natural perfume
Awakes me.
I roll over,
Every morning,
Lips puckered,
Ready to hit you with a kiss.
Your hair spreads like a spilled cup of java,
But when you get up not a drop is missed.
And the sound of your voice is so soft,
The sound of your tongue stirring your words
Before it whistles off.
Oct 1, 2018
What made reading this worthwhile for you??
Lilywhite Sep 26
Oh the wayward motion that these celestial bodies tend to circumvent!
Do you take the time to analyze or ever wonder why?
A double edge sword, capable of discerning the heart’s intent
Might you care to venture there soon?

through crossed wires and code
yielding insight or an invite of some kind
with pictures, quotes, and anecdotes
Do you read between the lines?

Might I be the mirror that reflects your soul
Might I be the receiver of the light that brings you home
Might I be the kind of lady you’d want to pride around
Or Might I be a distant noise-- a sort of solemn sound

The way you shape your words, the thoughts you choose to speak
The many times you chose to share the inner-workings of your being
You plant a seed of hope, you give me life to breath

And even though you don’t think so, you’re quite a fantastic beast
Shofi Ahmed Sep 12
Roses are for the ladies
The spring is for the gents.
MJ Javier Sep 10
Her
The way you touch her **** slanted thighs,
Caressing her skin as you hear her moan,
You’ll know what she wants when you see her eyes,
To brand her body, to make her your own.
She saw both good and bad life has to give,
Her body became a cushion for rest,
Her feelings are hidden inside her sieve,
Always in a cycle of being undressed.
Blade Maiden Sep 3
Voices
wispering
"hush dear, be safe with us"
Sounds
of whimpering
"liars, don't listen, don't make a fuss"
Creature
talking
"you can't pretend, in your head it's all about us"
...
My reflection
mirrored in a strangers frown
creature creeping
underneath my gown
is it me, sweeping
give to whom it belongs, this heavy crown

In your pictures
the conflict hides
through pretty gestures
beauty subsides
and love with its tiring lectures

I don't give a ****
about your empty phrases
turned down praises
Watch me pull the plug
Your insincerity amazes
as I watch you feast on a deers pluck

You're not a dog
all you do is bark
getting rid of carcasses at the bog
listen closely and hear the lark
we all get lost in the fog
see if you can catch a spark
listen closely and hear the frog
you will see me in the dark
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