Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
rei Jun 22
the lushness of the land
the ruggedness of the rocks
pictures can capture everyone's view of perfection.
but have you sat on a cheap beach chair,
with sand in your toes and curly hair,
across your sunburned face?
subtly smiling at the distant crash of waves,
or listening to the live music
that sounds like the band "summer salt?"

lava lava beach club
with cats wandering around the island
just as your heart wanders around the lovely memories
that you count one by one
to taste their delicious ideas
and finally, finally
feel.
A B Faniki May 21
At 44 years old your as graceful as a palm-tree;
Grape with it lushness has nothing on your lush body;
A thousand faces light up at the sight of your smile;
Rose for smell, apples for taste, your hands brings warmth.
The cosmic rays are dim and lifeless
But the colors in your eyes are bright and alive.
Your neck is like the Trajans victory column long and
Elegant with a thousand paint round it.
Mona lisa is pleasing to the eyes, yet mine long
For the viral grace of your ***** and mature curves;
Diamond with all it glory is not as tempting
As you, with your gray enchanting hairs and laughter lines.
My love is round and plump at four and four
Years old yet she is ageless like the gods.
This is a sonnet i wrote for all the beautiful women ageing gracefully.
Jon Thenes Apr 19
‘****** is Meat’;
The Victorious Say
as the Spoilings of War
are tilled over in a Latrine
Gore-Flowers shall overthrow
and the next Eden Project is fed :
a Beacon for The Lovers to uncover
....and disregard
    ungratfully fertile
Olivia Henkel Mar 31
Organic matter dissipates to ash

saliva shrubs sacred branches softly sear

before they collectively crash

Dense haze escapes into the atmosphere



Smog blankets the saturated earth below

Macro level clearing ritual

Extinguish dismal flow

Desire to rid, but crude tendency is habitual



swoosh



Create space in the cloud banks

Burn that which must disintegrate

Rise & fall, cycles continue, give thanks

Awe invoking beauty, to make the eyes dilate
Badshah Khan Feb 11
Rubayiat Al Thurab (Verses of the Dust) – 50

BismillahIr RahmanIr Raheem

Wisely allow my gentle soul to flow,
Like a flowy river in the lush forest,
Peacefully allow to flow until;
It fulfils his divine destiny!

It may flow gently through,
Several terrible curves or It may;
Subtly shift several desired directions.

Some day roughs, sometime smooth,
Peacefully allow him to flow until;
It fulfils his divine destiny!

Allah Khair….. Khairul Rabul Alameen Yah Arrahmanur Yah Raheem

Ummah Thurab – Badshah Khan.
©UT-BK 2019
Rubayiat Al Thurab (Verses of the Dust)
Brandon Conway Aug 2018
Half drowned in those wine dark eyes
drunk off those fermented words
that trickle off those lush rose lips
Calypso or Scylla, I know not
it doesn't even matter
as long as I am with you
Dead Rose One Jun 2015
Lush is the quietude
of the late Saturday afternoon,
rich are the silencing sounds,
as variegated as the shades of greens
of a man-seeded, nature-patchworked lawn

rays reveal some bright,
some yellowed spots,
all a potent color palette

resting worry wearied eyes,
untroubled by the gentle fading light's illumination,
that soon will disappear and seal officially,
another week gone by

the lawn,
acting as an ceiling acoustic tile,
absorbing and reflecting
the varied din of disharmonious
natural sounds orchestrated,
an ever present reminder
     that true quiet
is not the absence of noise

I hear
the chill in the air,
insects debating vociferously
their Saturday evening plans,
the waves broom-swishing beach debris,
pretending to be young parents
putting away the children's toys for the eve

the birds speak in Babel multitudes of tongues,
chirps, whistles, clicks and clacks,
then going strangely silent as if all were
praying collectively the afternoon sabbath service,
with an intensity of the silent devotion

this moment, i cannot
well enough communicate,
this trump of light absolutes,
and animal maybes,
that are visually and aurally
presented  in a living surround sound screen,
Dolby, of course,
all a plot of
ease and gentility,
in toto,
sweet serenity

here to cease,
no more tinkering,
leave well enough,
plenty well enough
for Sally and Rebecca, who love the lushness best....

JUNE 2015
Dead Rose One Aug 2017
consciously, willfully, I wish it

quietly the Sunday, the sun day, drifts toward,
in its natural game, set, overmatched,
the foregone conclusion, nightfall diminishment

the water songfully swishes,
as the tide departs for places unknown, this then, now
the only natural authorized aural apparition,
the power boats renounce their normal noisy conditioning,
honoring their silenced, under-sail brethren,
as well as admitting their noises disfigure
the fast approaching majesty of the end of
our summer seasoning of humanity

consciously, willfully, I wish it

once again, lush is the quietude,^
now given up, surrendered and surceased to wonder,
how come I to write of these moments so oft,
thenever-ending quest to re-inscribe it on my sensibilities,
in vainglorious hopes that this stamping will last, be the last,
see me through the turgid frigidity of my Lucifer life,
come the fall, the winter, the early dark,
the daylight's brevity, the hurricane season of the mind,
that...need I say more?

consciously, willfully, I wish it

the particular white cloud formation of the moment at hand,
shall stay in place,  be the capstone of my summer living vision,
become permanent part and parcel
of the sclera, the white of my eyes, and when
I will write, soon enough,
my vision white weeping clouded,
you will weep knowingly, sympathetically

consciously, willfully,
I wish for that as well*

8/27/17
6:35pm
acacia Jun 2018
***
a slight floral blush to your cheeks;
all smiles and dimples as the seed seeps into damp soil.
purple moonlight glows around you.
eventually, i can see love seeping out of your pores leaking into this brown couch
where we made love. i let you be rough. i let you throw it all (worries, inhibitions, safe keepings).
foliage brushes against my back.
you exchanged those for trust, ambitions, safe findings.
poppy seeds planted in violet beds.
so deeply rooted. “i’ll keep it in me, don’t worry. don’t worry.”
crows feet dig into your skin, head dives down.
Next page