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Day Oct 2018

                           /
                       /
Oh, Mr. Cocktail, fill me up! but
darling, p l e a s e  don't
bother me until
every last
d
r
o
p
is poured.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Brooklyn Beverly Sep 2018
Here I am.
Life's grip firmly planted on my neck
But with every gasp for air I feel more alive then What it means to actually do so
Living is such a funny word
Only those who see its antagonist really know Its bounds but bound are those who are blind to the reap
Those glasses of rose colored ignorance
Shattered forevermore
The struggle reflected on the pale pink shards...
Innocence lost.
A world once seen somehow lost in translation. I can't help but grieve for what is gone but does Its absence make me stronger?
Only time's ticking clock will transcribe what is.
Praggya Joshi Sep 2018
The radiance
Of your smile
Defies the need
For an elegant
Porch light
To brighten
The starless skies
Or the need
Of a beaming sun
To soften a
Frosty dawn
I just wish
That in your
luminous eyes
I could
someday find
A pleasing evidence
That'll make me
Hopefully surmise
That a few
Of those glittering
days and nights
I could happily
Spend by your side
Amy Perry Aug 2018
The heart of mine
Sings a tune
That does not need
To rhyme with moon.
The heart of mine
Does not need
Language at all,
To make its point a heed.
It says what it wants,
It does as it wills,
And I let it play
Like a child, unstill.
I let it rupture
Its voluptuous rant
About how it’s ignored
Or let it signal its chant.
I let it pout
I let it shout,
And do I ever
Let it all out.
I listen to its sage advice,
And let it counsel,
Its rhythm suffice.
It has a way
Of saying the right things
By saying nothing,
But still it sings.
My heart does a dance
Whether I want it or not,
But I have lived in a cage,
Why should my heart be fought?
And pummeled down
Like all of the rest,
To be less than free,
To be less than best?
I let it live its life,
I let it chant its tune,
And boy does it ever
Rhyme poems with “moon.”
abp 08/25/18
Nathan Aug 2018
I've said it once and I'll say it a million times.

Immaturity is the key too eternal youth
MicMag Jul 2018
One?
Done
Fun?
None

One


If two?
Pass through
Will do
And you?

That's two


How bout three?
Shall we see?
Bit more free
Works for me

So says three


Can we try four?
It gives us more
Not such a bore
Crack wide that door

Lead us on, four


Would we dare do five?
Tis too high to strive?
I do love this jive
Let's stop while still live

Safe with lines of five


But hear the cry of six
It tempts as time still ticks
It's not just a quick fix
But adds to this great mix

Yes, hear that call of six


Rules change as we reach seven
Words lengthen, stretch to heaven
Lines rise like bread so leavened

The changes wrought by seven


Hard as the end draws near with eight
Liked this before, now's not so great
Long lines I don't appreciate

Thanks for nothing, unruly eight


Entering the danger zone with nine
Meaning gets lost by end of the line
Despite the trouble, guess we'll be fine

Phew, we just made it through there with nine


And finally we arrive here to ten
What an intriguing journey this has been
I'm so relieved now to be at the end

So long, good night, let's sign off now with ten
But who's counting? :)

Some people love playing with words. Others like to play with numbers.
Why not both?!

This was a bit of a whimsical experiment in letting the numbers dictate the form.

The number of syllables per line corresponds to the number in the stanza's first line.
I went with one syllable words until seven forced one style change with its two syllables and another change with its lack of good rhymes.
Numbers are beautiful, aren't they?

I was tempted to continue beyond ten, but... Can I count on you to keep it going?! ;)
Desiree Jul 2018
Flowing footsteps from skytrain to street
Trying to stay calm, but I'm so excited to meet
You, here, under the changing glow
Of signs, of places, hoping we slow our
Pace and enter. But we are in search
Of another establishment, on the whim
Of a word, a nudge in the right direction.
The winds blow us into the red glow
Of ambiance, of elegance, the right selection
Portobello perfection, Mezcal gin,
Beautiful soul sitting close with a grin,
We can't help but laugh "this is how you win!"

Foggy to recall the way that we went
Home on the bus, or the money we spent.
None of that matters much when you are lost
In the depth of another being, intriguing
To find kin where you are not used to seeing them.
Laughing up the stairs in the corridor,
Knowing in this moment, this is your life,
It is beautiful, you are not needing more.
Both of us feeling this as we reach the door,
"Welcome to Buzzer 2" let's see what's in store.

Waking up cuddling, always a delight.
So much accomplished already, but you might
Have to run out quickly and buy some beans
For the bullet coffee that will be our means
Of mobilization, into the street,
Rubber soles on our feet, ready to meet
The pavement outside which will guide
Our path from delicious morning smoothie
Over bridges, through the downtown core,
Both realizing we would make a great movie
If film could ever capture the way that we soar.

Hats tilted slightly sideways, we even get work done.
Painting quickly so we may continue our run,
Over the Granville bridge, lilac in the air.
And there is no hiding the way that you stare
At my ***, and the mountains, a beauty so fair.

Rangoli's is next, fine dining, the best chai!
Decadently treated to Portobello twice.
Sweaty in our running gear, we are here
Trying to avoid timestamped bills and clock chimes
But you give me your best guess, lately spot on!
I glance at the sun to figure how much day is gone.
Even though there are so many moments left
To unravel, I embody the feelings - being
Ever present to crystallize the memory of our travels.

We turn towards the sinking sun, and I run
My fingers through windblown lion-locks.
Basking in the energy we emanate, we stun
Onlookers with our badassery and good looks.

Granville island is next on the docket
Searching for elusive sumac, in the spice shop
It is tucked away on a shelf, among rarities.
You light up at the till, and guarantee
The next place we head to is going to be
The crown of the afternoon - The Distillery

In shorts and tanks we stroll in with class,
Walk up to the bar and order a glass
Of the finest and most signature gin,
But just a taste, not enough to make the head spin.
A nectar so pure, so incredibly smooth
We continue our stroll, we continue to lose
Sight of places you were expected to be,
Apparently easy to do when you hang out with me.

Crossing under the bridge, sunset rays shine
Through the city canopy, it is nearly time
For the moon to transition us into the night,
But I pull you aside for a moment, while its still light
And kiss you with passion, with fever, with might.
That gin in the afternoon has increased our delight.

And it's not over yet, we play for a while.
Horsing around at the bus stop, we smile
And pose on the blue wall, gangster-style.
Moments in snapshots, spirit of the child
Creating our reality, embracing our WILD.
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