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Leigh Everhart Mar 2020
My sweet little mollusk,
You polish the sea-tangy sand dollars smooth with the soles of your feet
You fill up your sweet siren lungs with a sun-sated breeze and submerge your bare fingers
Until they can sweep the slippery silt of the seabed abyss. I can’t sleep.
Your anemone fingers trace watery ripples through the ebbs of my dreams, trailing streams
Of fluorescent-blue algae sunk deep.  Your barnacle tongue shatters ships
Into ruinous splinters of treasure. I kiss
The cerulean ocean that hides in your lips.

My sweet little scallop,
The galloping waves break the curves of your shallows.
There are flecks of unpressed sea salt brine in your irises, tireless riptides of foaming-bright promises.
Your skin has the silvery sparkle of scales that effervesce endlessly, bending beneath the fierce tides of your palmprints.
I’m dropping. The current caresses your cheeks’ fishbone hollows, rethreading the necklaces strung out of seashells.
You bury your face in the swells of the tempest. I envy
Your azure, I worship your lapis.

My sweet little mussel,
Your tussled cyan-coral hair is unbleached, unleeched and resplendent
I am rendered transcendent by the green iridescence of your silk seaweed whispers. I have drowned in your splendid.
I can still hear your aquamarine through the white roaring waves cracking onto the shore.
I want more. Your crustaceous sand whirlpool has nestled below the soft curl of your chest. You press the world’s oceans in the dip of your palms
And drink deep from the waves swirling under.
I’ve drowned in the water-spilled seas that are cupped in your hands,
I have drowned in the pearls of your wonder.
Bongani G-kay Feb 2020
Silent the crowd
Followed by a round of applause
After the announce
Greatest performance
Performed the audience
Reformed innocence
In my inner sense
Resurrection of my consciousness....
I remembered
The splendidness that made you a splendor was splendid
a profusion of colors
unfurled from small buds
to bring forth their splendid
spring flower gala
Irina BBota Jun 2018
Thousand splendid stars
At midnight in the garden
Were watching their God.
so effulgent*
the daffodils of brightest shade
so effulgent
bold trumpets e'er magnificent
they grew along the esplanade
showing a splendid tonal grade
*so effulgent
Maggie Emmett Mar 2016
My Maypole mind unravels
reverses centrifugal force
its streamer shreds of ribbons
spinning backwards
in one grand and splendid rush.

Mind loosened and snapped
fluttering free
electric after-images
of me.

© M.L.Emmett
unpublished poem 08/02/99; revised 16/02/2012

Somewhere in the outerspace
strange people were buying
land on the Moon, Mars and
even Venus.

Pluto was afar,
remote and not a real thing!
At All
Imagined by
Impeccable Space
Poetic Thinker
Dr Zik Apr 2015
A man thinks for those
Who can’t think for others
Pray for those
Who don't pray for others
Without knowing the foes
A man feels friendship with others
When he recognizes his hidden foes
He don’t try to make them friends
forgiving, praying and caring
With his splendid rays of character
Zik Poetry
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