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Lyn-Purcell Apr 2018
The spell of worlds will flow right through
And wrap its arms around you.
In Fate's hand, the brush of night
that's drawn to the light.
Sing with me a song of blood, warmth and mist.
Here I float and I rise for a kiss.
Dawn cracks and dusk falls, as I talk to my soul.
Lost in thoughts all alone.

Hold up the quill, turn black to blue
with words of the consummate truth
And from a hand of love and strife
Tapestries come to life
Sing with me a song with depth, soul and heart.
In this world, light and dark don't depart.
Tides of setting suns, merge with the rising dawn.
Lost in thoughts all alone

Embrace the beams of the calming noon.
Just let the light caress you.
Within us all, a treasury
of gilt memories.
Sing with me a song of vibrating gold
Flowers bloom in the shade untold
Spread my fragile wings, the wind that I rode.
Lost in thoughts all alone.
I forgot how much I loved Fire Emblem Fates! I was playing the game with a friend of mine and it made me write these poems in my journal. Not great I know, but it was great to finally get some downtime in my hectic life. Sorry I haven't updated. I'll be back soon!
© Sing With Me A Song by Lyn-Purcell
BC Jaime Mar 2018
noon rays, biting breeze
honey bee meets dandelion...
buzz! buzz! nectar sweet!
© BC Jaime 2018 || IG: @B.C.Jaime

This work is licensed under the Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivatives 4.0 International License. To view a copy of this license, visit http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc-nd/4.0/.
Brooke P Aug 2017
I crawled under the door, with none in hand
sitting in the backseat waiting
I’d wish it all away, if I could
high noon; the world sighs
over the railroad tracks ruined my day.
the little thing whose bones got rearranged
We make up stories to feel safe at night
and the Parisian streets under unbearable heat.

But they won’t let me,
handing out promises I can’t keep
broken heart strings
plucked and snapped
here I am,
still stuck in between.
K Balachandran Jun 2017
Lit up cleverly with a
romantic light
each morning
presents itself,so well,
as if it's a begining
with a winning streak.

Innocence, the mood
that prevails here, makes
it look anything is possible.
A witness, he  loses in his
stream of thought
looking at the children
playing with the speckled
pool of light seeping
through the leaves
of careless tall trees.

Comes noon spitting fire,
with his waves of heat
the legacy of an angry
scorching  sun, stuns
all the children by now
are hiding somewhere.

At the sedated hours
of sluggish after noon
the narration in yellow,
takes a different pace.
It's the designated
time zone for
the siesta to happen,
the evil hours of libertines too
to go gently knocking on the
doors of their concubines,
safely away from the snooping
eyes of wives who have
kept awake keeping
the brood together fighting
against the vagaries of
winds that make or
flatten sand dunes.

Few ones, among them
amidst contemplation after
furtive,  furious *******,
take counts over and over again
from all ends and see
karma's boomerang awaiting,
across the bend of time.
Repentance and the such
are the next,as sun goes down.

Evening has a tendency to let go,
tendency to say good bye, easily
against a hurriedly assembled
stage properties of evening sky.
It's a caricature of what the day did

In her black, hooded cloak
night advances,crying aloud:
"Don't delay any more, it's time
surrender to the army of occupation"
Vani j Mar 2017
She loved me more
even though she saw me lying on the floor
She gave me her hand
even though she knew i couldn't stand
She gave me her heart
even though she knew mine was just a painful blot
She loved me in darkness,
She loved me in rain,
She loved me in vain,
She loved me in loneliness,
She loved my pain,
even which I couldn't contain
So I wish her the sun
I wish her the moon
I wish her good days
I wish her a summer noon
About a woman...
KB Mar 2017
the shore washed up and fell right into your rose filled bones and all that your said was that you're changing your heart again, i dont understand why your favourite flowers are daisies but your hair smells like lemons and i guess yellow burns in your eyes, every time the sun sets to golden tones you pack your bags to run again but nighttime will come faster than that 9:07 train and you'll remember your date with the moon's craters and spray paint cans that hurt your back with the weight, except that graffiti doesn't have much weight to you anymore, paint over the scars, under the bruises, and lick your lips in the light of a streetlamp; there's a ripped up parking ticket in your back pocket & 19 ways out of that burning silver feeling that you can solve in this city by noon tomorrow
JM Romig Feb 2017
She's sitting in a nearby booth
telling her friends a story.
She says

"It was mid-day.
Like, noon.
Like, the sun was, like,
directly above us"

I was on my way out,
so I did not catch the rest
but I secretly imagine it sounded like this:

"We were, like. almost exactly half way through,
like this twenty-four-hour period.
It was the opposite of, like, midnight -
like, the opposite of crickets, gazing at stars
and contemplating the utter insignificance of,
like, all life on this planet."

"It was all, like, birds chirping, and like,
one single star in a blue sky,
so close and so bright that gazing at it would, like,
blind you or something."

"It was like this pure moment,
like, a rush of endorphins, or adrenaline.
like there was nothing
that mattered more
than the two of us,
there,
then,
like, around twelve P-M, to be specific"

"It was, like, you know, lunch time.
So I asked if they, like,
wanted to hang out,
grab something to eat, maybe,
or maybe, like,
you know, do something else
or whatever..."
Breeze-Mist Feb 2017
Noon is a stallion, pushing through
Running over a massive plain of sky
With breezes as breath and a broad chest of blue
He runs wildly with the sun blazing in his eye
Jon Sawyer Dec 2016
In my old house
there seemed an old spirit
or maybe a mischievous mouse

I use to lay
in my old room at night
tired of the preceding day

The house would speak
tales of bomp, crattles, and creak
and here's what it had to say

"Womp, boop, dat,
flush, whoosh, and crack"
late at night the house would say

"Thud, crick, snap, whip,
Bang, Bang, Bang, blip"
laying on my bed this trip

And in the morn
when the old blinds were torn
here's what the old house had to say

"Pop, pop, pop, pop,
slam, nick, split, lop"
the old house continued to say

"Whack, ding, bump, splat,
hack, ping, thwump, flap"
wondering what made it sound this way

And through the noon
and into the night
my old house chatted all day

As I lay here thinking
I get the sinking feeling
that I'll start making it say

"Go to sleep and good night,
don't let the bed bugs bite,
I'll always have something to say"
26 December 2016
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