Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member

they have empirically evidenced
      a spectral existence within
          computer imagery of
                small glowing
                      ~  o  ~


if i found myself in the middle of
these things as they bank off the
walls and nudge against my arm–
batting their lil' eyes at me,

it would likewise illicit from me
the perception of a largely
innocuous event,


shadow of
a skeletal hand
appearing to reach
for my shoulder from
the opening of a doorway
within the steady limitations of
a traditional negative photograph–

would most certainly
pull me into


s jones

17 Jan 2021
quiel Aug 2019
listen to the distant
of your
all that
remain of your
dreams are compressed into
orbs of light,
carefully placed inside
an empty box;
leave your house and search the
idle sands of time for me,
x marks the spot.
i was thinking of writing a poem from a name. this one was one of my favorites. //leonardo calix//
Illona Dec 2017
Words been sitting on my tongue for so long
Nothing can escape
They don't know how to solve the labryrinth
Eyes contact
Every crowded room
Only see
the brown orbs
Looking at the sun
But can't see the moon

I can't hug the blues but i can see the sun
Khan BA Nov 2017
Inside a room dark with  little moonlight
Peering over pages clear as white
With hair long seeming unkept to the sight
Scribbling words that common couldn't get right
Heart & mind together a tender thing in delight
Lost in ecstasy of his beloved's image upright..

"Dazzling with golden curls serpentine bright
The beauty that perceived through the orbs bright
And the pleasure of the beloved in clear sight
Beauty unexplained by tongues tight
And that none could put on paper nor write
Sages mentioning of it only in esoteric delight!"

Finally the pen scribes on the paper white
That the beauty of the beloved is itself a shield tight
Then the figure turns the head, just slight
And catches itself in silver of seeping moonlight
who is this being now that we can have the sight
Lo; it is none but the  mysterious poet.

(By: Khan, BA on Nov 1st, 2017)
The discription of the poet who  beholds  his beloved and trying to describe the beauty instead  comes to know that it is such that  no descrption  will do justice to the beauty of the beloved.
Poetic T Apr 2016
With gleeful smiles he did love his work, thoughts of
others fashioned into orbs. Those of most precious
moments never to be forgotten enshrined in this
master craft of incantation his palms drifted over
Those who wished it copied for keep sakes worth.

He spoke unto the winds as he formed a bubble
shimmering blank needing's of thought. Slight
images wisped from mind to orb, pictures formed
of what was a reflection duplicated in this spherical
wonder that floated above, he blew gently its form.

He had many of his own, but thoughts do wonder
"No his wondered, out of windows, doors,
soot fused spheres that cleaned his chimney top.
Losing his thoughts were a clear expression with
him but still the originals were safely stored inside.

His smile was infectious his heart white as his beard
with warmth. He never asked of anything for his
thoughts were of those in times to come to see who
they were in a memory. Never lost to generations, wise
words or comical moments all would last bonded in word.
Do you know they have a random wizard name generator, CLASS :)
Jesica Nov 2015
A pool of mysteries,
centered by abyss of doubt.
Beautiful red lines criss cross,
the white brings out the beauty in them.

Her black orbs beautify her the most.
i Sep 2014
your blue eyes are
an ocean i will drown in.
not because i want to,
but because i have to.
i have to have that bed rest
beneath me when i lay on the sand
and i stare at the sky,
sprinkled with stars,
and when i look to my left,
i have to find two oceanic blue
orbs staring back at me.

— The End —