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Tafuta Atarashī Feb 2016
I trace your mother earth skin,
And sink myself deep in
your every decible.
I breath in the scent
Of your flowers
and lift my lips to tingle
them against your electric words.
More so than your aesthetic,
I'm in love with your music.
She's never been the type
that loves large crowds and
booming parties;
the stress of conforming
weighs too heavily on her
sensitive heart,
and quite frankly, most
people don't fall on the same
end of the color spectrum.

Everywhere on this earth is
home to her, and Mother
Nature is her muse.
A black sheep born with a
wild heart; an indigo
child infatuated
with change and fueled
by tranquility. She is the
virtuoso of her own authenticity.
Sparkling Dust Aug 2015
There I sat under an unknown tree
A place so cozy and amazingly free
With a tired soul I looked around
And saw the beauty of nature's ground

How can something so fine and
astounding,
be withered and ***** with color
vanishing?
The once elegant scent of fresh flowers
blooming
Turned into a dumpster of our wrong
doings

I want to see how it was before, again
Back to the days when nature was sane
To when I was still able to see them
The sea that sparkles like precious gems

Here I sat under a shade
A once green shade, that now has fade
It used to be cozy and amazingly free
That one nature, I am dying to see
Did this some time ago. :)
Dylan Whisman Aug 2015
I sped away one evening
through my busy little town,
gliding,
music occupying my mind,
riding down hills,
leting the wind run its fingers through my hair.

i arrived at a dusty trail that led to an old water tower
that looked over the town like a sentinel.
sweaty and redfaced i followed the trail,
my acoustic music hid behind background of everything,
a magical glow lay at the edge of the trail.
as the fiery light lit my face aflame,
i knew i was apon something special.

shining magnificently,
the most beautiful smile i had ever seen.
twas a loving smile,
the lips were brown and chapped,
the horizon illuminated it's glistening orange teeth,
the old rusty water tower became a black beauty mark,
my friends were up resting in its dimple, waiting for me.
an amazing crooked grin,
a smile so sure shot with joy,
it filled the cracks in my heart
and had me yelping with rushing happiness.

the universe giggled back
"your welcome";)
Leave a comment if you like. Thank you so much for supporting me. Have a wonderful day humans!
Sethnicity May 2015
Something in the way, she Still-lifes.
Like the me and er in g rain in wood panel churches
The pattern of **** all on off ice celings
Like layers of mast I cated gum lining busstation stalls.
Something in the way, she steals life.

There’s Something in the way she moves through.
Like birds hunting, the living immobile seed
The creaking of limbs… when there is barely a breeze
Like dragonfly wings, stop. Motion. Flap. while perched on me
There’s Some/Thing in the way she choose grooves.

There is Some - Thing in the way she rings.
As Larks whistle the will of the Sun
Like church bells hail ing to the heat-hens
Or the si rens of emergency fading into the night
There is something in the way. She pings.
In the way Yeah! And All I have to do Is Think...
As always the grammar is for emphasis... all puns intended and well come. :)
(Hints)
First stanza : Nirvana
Second stanza : Beatles
Third Stanza : Doorbells & Wind-chimes

the subject is the femininity of life and it's inhabitants.
○☆♢☆♡☆♢☆○
She sends her love
She sends her love down
into the Mother
that holds her dearly
pressed deep within layers
crystalline veins
become fingers of light

beneath the surface
precious stone
purple points of symmetry
down through darkness so dark
ancient dreams she remembers
She sends Her Heart
Heart Pure

She sends her love
She sends her love down
into the Mother  
that holds her dearly
millenniums of rotation
meld together in perfect form
full, round and firm

layers upon layers of
bones, stones n' trees
leaves laden with mud
pressed dense n' deep
beneath the surface
orbs of precious stone
purple points of symmetry

crystalline veins
become fingers of light
tunnels of silver
copper and gold
milleniumms of rotation
meld together in perfect form
full, round and firm

stones trees n' bones
mud laden with leaves    
pressed deep n' dense  
down through darkness so dark
ancient dreams She remembers
She sends her Heart
Heart Pure

fingers of light
Illuminating
the Warm Core  
Beating Heart of the Mother

  ☆○♢☆♢▪♡▪♢☆♢○☆

Copyright © 2015 Christi Michaels.
All Rights Reserved
She Sends Her Love
A Mantra
Matthew Harlovic May 2015
Ever since my birth,
her stretch marks
have caught my age
on sycamore skin.
If you were to
peel back her bark,
you could pin point
the years she spent
nurturing her saplings;
two fair oaks,
pitted like pine needles,
that ***** her fingers
every so often.
But she does not
weep like a willow,
she continues to give
her life away to raise them.

© Matthew Harlovic
A Mother's Day Poem...
Elizabeth Hynes Mar 2015
Drizzles from the sky
Catch in my eye
It will burn in future time
The cogs are turning and the oil
Floating on the surface of a droplet
As an angel
Dances on the head of a needle

Recycling and renewable energy
Can save our souls
And Mother Earth
Before its too late
Seán Mac Falls Jan 2015
I shall hold on dear  .  .  .
To all loved ones so sincere,
  .  .  .  Another New Year!
Aaron Mullin Sep 2014
"Don't tell me the poets ... "

I write poetry that is both incorporated
And incorporeal ... and un and un and un
It is done

On the pad : and off

Hop - Lily

On the tailgate
In the truck
Boots on the ground
In the muck

Put on your Carhartt's
It's time to get *****
Even better

Grab your Old Man's work clothes
Finish the job
That He didn't want to start

Don't tell me the poets are ******* crying

We're living
And we're dying

Careful though
The warlords have come into the jungle and slaughtered before

But we live again
A little more angry
A little less wise

--> **** **** up, juveniles

Shoplifters of the world ...
untie
Unite the left cause it's right and make sure you know how to use a compass cause we all have **** for brains
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