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Noonie 2d
"Blue skies, golden light.
Crisp air—
Breathe in,
Awaken."
Someday summer comes again,
Someday the sun does away with cold winds.
Winter doesn't last forever,
Winter will leave us soon.
I know we're at it's end,
I can see the light linger longer.
Winter will come to a close,
Winter snows have ceased their blow.
Someday the warm rays will melt the ice,
Someday stars will glow in a warm evening again.
It's felt like ages since the first snow fall of this ever-lasting winter.
Dom 6d
Without a warning
Caught lacking, lost in cogitation,
Blankly staring out these foggy window panes
Unknown if it was the condensation of breath-
Or your triumphant return so valiantly running down from heaven,
The peaking rays coruscating droplets of your essence
Blinds me with hope that tomorrow this monochromatic nightmare ceases
And color returns vibrantly saturated in every root,
I have yearned for you.

Too long have these chthonic limbs lain barren,
Like sepulchral vestiges waiting for a soul to revive
And from their skeletal flanges sprout life
And bring oxygen to this suffocating dryness.
It is you to thank for such a hope inspired
In every twist and angle, watching your sway
Sensual in the way you move me in hypnosis
I am falling further into torpor,
Hoping to be a prisoner doomed to walk your emerald dream.

I could surrender to your soporific dance,
And listen to the chorus of your mellifluous melodies
I am a slave to your loving embrace,
And enamored long after with your perfume left here
Petrichor in nutty and granite notes tickling curious nostrils
I am ready for you.
wren Dec 2023
...and words still come to my fingertips as i undress you in spirit.

almost-friend, hold me tight and love me true / stare me down, see me as i am: disquieted, patinaed and accustomed to pockets / loose change, a worn copper penny; incoherent, the thrill and lurching sensation of gravity / blooming in my core as i die in my dreams; afraid, for all that word means / of the figs that lie waiting on the branches ahead / ample and pregnant with sweet-rot possibility;

we will labor, singing of light and covalence / until dusk is shorn of its gloomy nightgown / staving off the cold with what tea, what liquid light / the yielding sun could gift our wide eyes: / just ask, darling almost-friend / and i will provide, because…

you are a fawn, limber and knobby-kneed / and i am but a stranger waxing melancholy in stolen glances from afar / as you come into focus in my wood / drinking from my fountains and eating from my briars / leaving me to wonder, “how could i not love such a soul, astute and gentle as it is?” / and so i offer you food and drink because i have nothing else / you could be in want of;

but such things are not for me to behold / and i fear that you will molt your coat as seasons change / the down behind your ears yielding to antlers sprouting like milk teeth from gums / tendering tender for tenacious, grace for gruesome / that you will forget the hands that have proffered to you / sustenance and healing in your darkest hours / for to see others consume satisfies my hunger / to see others delight, my vicarious feast;

in my mind’s eye, you are unclothed and angelic / even with the ophidian basin of your back pressed flat against the tiles of a scalding shower / even with tears ravaging your honest face / here, the masquerade, the spectacle and circumstance, ends / because your rapture will betray your guilt / and we will summit new zeniths hand-in-hand / be baptized, enthralled in the fresh, algid, restless oceans we called forth from the far reaches of our globe / with nothing more than the labyrinth-etched palms of our hands / charting the great floods of yesterday / inking them into the annuls of a friendship (nothing more) for the ages;

celebrate holier mysteries in the anamnesis of that day / we rested upon sand fine as powder, crusted on our knees and elbows / as the ark of our covenant neaped and sprang with cyclical certainty / almost-friend, smile me but one more drowsy floodgate grin / rest your raven-crowned head upon my bare chest / laying in that tender way for eternity / and never again will i ask that wretched question of you: "are you with me?"

no, darling almost-friend: forget me not / because fair weather or poor, my love will remain / echoing truer far and far more sweet / than the oblivious whisper of a forest brook / or the stentorian thundering of an ocean reclaiming what once belonged to it / to know that i am cared for even a fraction of how i care for you is an honor/ and as but a stranger gazing from afar, i promise you this: i will far sooner take myself for granted than you / even should no tea remain to keep us warm, i will hold you till the storm passes / and forever will your name be engraved herein.
song of solomon 8:7: "many waters cannot quench love, neither can the floods drown it."

after the film "your name engraved herein". this one's been sitting in the drafts for a while, i thought sharing might motivate me to write more ")
Where I am,
Snow and sun battle,
A gray war in the sky and lands.

There are three false springs,
Before winter is truly slain.
Hope rises from the rocky Earth,
Only to be drowned in the icy rain.
Once again claiming the soul of young spring,
So the elder winter may rise again.
Spring one has just begun.
Spring is coming,
I can smell it in the air.
The warm kiss of sunny days,
The sent of the Earth waking again.
Winter snows fall from their glinting glory,
Shrinking as they drown in the muds.
The puddles claim the sidewalk stones,
Now in their reflection, I know my face again.
My soul aches as the breezes pass by me,
Carrying the sweet scents of flower blooms.
If only I could grow wings,
I would follow them to their shining prize.
Spring, is coming.
I can feel the call of sunny days and grass on the Earth again.
Saman Badam Feb 16
It's winter time and I am frozen still,
Like meat in fridge, my body heeds me not,
With will like crushed and salted ice, oft lull,
And face like cracked berg with drying snot.

But, I've to drag myself to work and earn,
To keep the meat in fridge and heater on.
And only want to curl in cold like fern,
While envy each and every snail at dawn.

It's summer time and I am leaking sweat,
And smell like egg gone bad left out too long.
While craving indoor cooler, filled and set,
A drink in hand and toasting bygone songs.

But I've to drag myself to trim the lawn,
In summer sun that cures and dries like speck,
To show the worn and hidden cobble-stone.
And forget scarf and hat, so burn my neck.

It's autumn and I am sneezing again,
And strong enough to dust our attic clean,
Enjoy a cup of apple cider glen,
And sleep on couch while facing down in jeans.

But, I've to drag myself to rake the leaves,
With no respect for me to fall at once,
And slowly one by one a dance it weaves,
While wriggling branches at me like I'm a dunce.

It's springtime, I am splattered full of mud,
While inside stuck because of vernal rains,
And want to walk the outside blooming world,
While smelling daises near the creeping vines.

But, I've to drag myself to clean the porch,
As all the boots from outside track in sludge,
Against the many insects, stand the watch,
And soak and rub the stains as they won't budge.

And want to roll and make the angels snow,
And want to **** the mango flesh from seed.
And climb the golden tress so girls could wow!
And run through ankle deep of grass and ****.

But I've to drag myself to shovel yard,
But I've to drag myself to clean the pool,
But I've to drag myself to paint the wood,
But I've to drag myself to oil my tools.

Another year has come and gone again,
While want to do so much in little breath,
And want to change my ways to freedom gain,
To hide my craggy, jagged edge in sheath.
In the once lush Forest, flowers now wither,
All thanks to the eternal winter.
Came without warning, in a moment’s notice;
It killed even the strongest lotus.

The trees stand alone, lonely and pale,
Yet they remain hopeful that spring will prevail.
They believe in what there is to come;
Their sorrow will melt under tomorrow’s Sun.

In the Forest of the Heart, seasons are strange;
None can predict when, how they will change.
Winter came fast, and so quickly it may leave,
Allowing the shrubs to spread their leaves.

The quiet flap of a butterfly’s wings
Could be the reason for the coming of spring.
Trees will stand tall, the flowers will bud,
Fireflies will listen to frogs in the mud.

The rivers will flow, the fish will once more swim.
A serene scene, just when will it come…?
The trees can dream, the fireflies have to wait,
The frogs can sleep, the shrubs can slumber…

Oh, a butterfly!
Shreyas Feb 14
Buried fallen leaves,
Now a skeleton for crows to roost,
The branches look full again.
The crows in snowy Canada looked beautiful yesterday.
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