there had always been this stillness that the dark blues and sparkling lights brought when the day was no longer bright.
the comfort of the stagnant hours were cherished and perennial, until the comfort of loneliness began to sting. recollections of warm blankets and disney movies are now relics of a distant memory. and now possessed by exile.
the beginning of where's my love by syml gives this writing it's true glory...
I felt the sting of adulthood
tattoo my skin with colors of y o u t h
In the garden of delight
At the eve of dusky-night -Twilight holds no grudge The brush had been light You had seen him in his flight -Lights dimmed, everything buzzed Hoping that he'd soon light You hoped he'd light on you -Before a shark bite you get a nudge Ah, tender kisses on the skin Are just a prelude to the sting. -Blood smudged
Cutting my own arm
every other night cause of what I am hearing from the ones I trust
you keep rubbing your thumb over the same old wound
and you wonder why it stings?
by michael r. burch love was a little treble thing— prone to sing and (sometimes) to sting Keywords/Tags: love, bee, honeybee, treble, song, sing, singer, sting, stinger, barb, poison
is the glowing flame, and you melt as it approaches Listen, be careful with that flame, or it’ll burn you when that love starts to sting They’ll decide to leave you, and you’ll remain with nothing, but the fading ashes of that love You’ll lose the passing-by warmth that once visited your frigid heart So light up a cigarette, and put out the ongoing fire inside your chest with smoke
Winter Winds stinging
bringing hot tears to my eyes pleasantly painful?
Written November 9th 2018 inspired by the cold wind blowing through the wind tunnel alley that I used to have to walk through to get to work. The building that formed one side of the alley isn't there anymore oh well...
Don’t be mad...hate not,
when works are badly thought of; you have your own mind, diff’rent...from the rest; you think, you create diff’rent as they......do diff’rent... your style manifests your values and opinions, your words mirror them... your free verses and haikus...earn their own sparkle, draw their own audience... tinged with black humor, or mild sarcasm...it's YOU! your style defines.....YOU! we’re a world of poets diff’rent folks with diff’rent strokes we sting......stoke..........we touch... Sally Copyright Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan Decmber 12, 2019