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xavier thomas Apr 14
Roses are red
Violet are blue
Let me dive in
And swim through your river stream of sweet juice
Ms. Jasmine
Norman Crane Dec 2020
Everything happens at once. The mixing
of blue-green dropping white on cold brown rocks,
a maelstrom of water sounds affixing
themselves to fine hovering mist which talks
pouring and pounding to the surroundings,
flat river interrupted; sculpted liquid
fluctuations arising / collapsing
ever-changing life depicted in mid—
crest: trough, tribulation, swirl and foam,
scented moisture feels soft over the jagged
undercurrent. A fish jumps. Water carves stone.
We are released: through spray the river flows,
exiting the eddy and peacefully home.
annh Nov 2020

Name the word, for the word has a name.

Listen to it breathe. Let it lie lightly in the mind and liquid

on the tongue. Bear its essence forth, its personality and its intention

- conceived briefly, discarded readily, pronounced forcefully.



How does it sit with you? The spread of its silhouette suspended

within a silent interval. How does it move you? An attitude framed by

the gesture of a hand. Is its pitch sharp or flat, its texture course or fine?



Allow meaning and resonance, intonation and feeling to merge unencumbered;

the syntax of the imprisoned soul, emancipated by a river of sound, to mould

the shape of your aboutness, around and within, beyond and in spite of...


And hear consciousness dance.

‘Then love knew it was called love.’
- Pablo Neruda

‘Any language is a supreme achievement of a uniquely human collective genius, as divine and endless a mystery as a living organism.’
- Steven Pinker, The Language Instinct: How the Mind Creates Language
Karijinbba Sep 2020
You know you stopped me dead
while I was passing by
while you were inking gold
and glancing by;
reading poetry you like.

Oh my Lord I loved your style
and though I hadn't written
of this feelings all of my life,
I always thought in metaphorical
deep formating style.

One beastly soul
just loved my style becoming
a better patrkCham mind.
along with other Poets
thought of me
as different true and wild.

Two wolves pretended
to even like me in any form
As a rich goody two shoes
forelorned perceived was I
in my skin so wrongly viewed,

No sheep but Ram I am!
Some even called me weird
in dance and song so feared
I guess they saw
their own greedy eye revered.

So as my story in poem flowed
like a river rushing to the sea,
some poets joined my plea
to the sea I longed to join.

And as my river ran along
diverted its rushing went wrong
my river the sea never joined.

What's a river flowing!
what's a metaphor in poem!,
~~~~~~~
Karijinbba
Copy Rights 09-2020 revised.
Some poetry makes it to it's destination
read by the intended target
this kind reaches to the sea joining in.
Guntang Jul 2020
beneath the surface
the many streams
pouring thoughts
of liquid dreams
kim Jan 2020
The night was young as you danced along
Color on color, drink on drink
skin on skin

The club’s crowded room faded,
all my eyes saw were yours,
brown and alluring

I took a shot of liquid courage and sped my way

/

Everyone gathered in my room as you stayed in yours
Garment on garment, brush on brush
ring on ring

The people on the pews faded,
all my eyes saw were yours,
brown and teary

I gulped my shot of liquid courage and strolled my way

/

The room as empty as you laid down
Tissue on tissue, tear on tear
flower on flower

Nothing faded but still,
all my eyes saw were yours,
brown and closed

I took my last shot of liquid courage and walked my way
Quinn Adaire Sep 2019
It’s blue sparkle
Strikes my eye
Glowing over the marble rock
Of the Universe
It’s so beautiful
It makes me cry
The light reflects
Off the surface of Time
Not wet
But still liquid
Liquid Time
I like the thought of that
Liquid Time
A waterfall
Falling
Falling
I want to stand under
The stream of Time and the Universe.
New collection called Time and the Universe.
https://hellopoetry.com/collection/31210/time-and-the-universe/
Luna Maria Sep 2019
I want to pour
the overwhelming amount of
love
out of my heart
as a
sticky, pure red liquid
and use it as an ink
to write a love poem
as an attempt to
describe what I feel
for you.
you are making me feel things I've never felt before.
Quinn Adaire Jul 2019
Rhymes are liquid,
That I know.
They are as liquid
As melted snow.

Rhymes are liquid
They can flow
And take the shape
Of what you shape it so
Rhymes are most definitely liquid.

Rhymes can leak
Out of your mouth.
Just like water
Both liquid, no doubt.

Just like room temp. mercury
Is rhyme’s liquidity.

Rhymes not contained
Can be a mess.
Just like how
Spilled milk
Is not the best.

This poem here
Is evidence
That rhymes being liquid
Makes so much sense.
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