Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Laconic Noor Feb 1
Surmise too often, likely a sheer redundancy, unduly supposition went south I'd slump it from high.
Curious? I'd throw down the gauntlet; fathom me out throughout the time of hesitation.
Ken Pepiton Sep 2023
Lift. Lofty wish to see,
good smoke.
Man, this is really going out on a limb, fruit flies
wise, look at us how nothing we are,
if you happened,
if you occurred on earth,
where mountains stand wind watch,
and catch fat clouds in old frozen winter passed.

Passing fantacy, as children, fit story's told
to rain and wind and fire, older now than we imagine,
but… yes, that is so, we make nothing we imagine,

we create by recreational efforting, you may imagine
a pleasant interchange, exchanging
as we exude true wonder, worth the effort, looking
farther than our minds can hold as mine, we own this.

As soon as owning taps the child's will to claim more,
than the knowing - awe state,
and the knowing of the cost, to first willingness,
and the doing,
the climb, each upward efforting will, paid, in full.
Septembers collect in new ways, when we use our Assisted Intelligence,
to fish in thoughts so long forgot we find ourselves uncovering old waters
Monet Echo Nov 2022
"You're so sweet!" "What a cutie!"
Is that the best you can do?
Those are defaults and fillers
I don't want to hear that from you
I want you to point out the things
That the general public don't see
The sides to me that surprise you
Normally cloaked by timidity
You get to see my lion
But still recognize my lamb
Tell me I'm so much more
Than strangers might think I am
There is a fervid spirit in me
But it's cloaked in a subtle attire
While the entire world calls me simple and sweet,
I need you to call me
A wildfire.
John McCafferty Jan 2022
This gentle flow takes control with perfect form, dark eyes match and connect in the same breath.
Warmth spreads from head to your *******, lower realms swirl in the depths. Skin glistening.
Bubble up, subtle touch, fingers search inversed.
Would rather tingle your thighs in line with my neck, criss crossed in ****** to snap.
Head tilted back, quiver and spasm as your chasm erupts.
Hushed sighs in a rush collect.
Congruent thoughts mix in our heads, mind *** fulfilled through this text.
Open your legs as your soft lips kiss with delicate sweat, thinking in sync when you stroke the same sense.
All from the chest.
(@PoeticTetra - instagram/twitter)
Jason Drury Sep 2021
“Keep your nose clean”

His intent was momentous.
An ant like phrase,
with mountainous exorcism.

“Keep your nose clean”,
His voice like Zeus,
thunderously subtle.

Echoing and vibrating,
through regret, sin,
and fueled debauchery.

This phrase kept me true,
on-course through,
dark seas.

A map to navigate,
knowing when,
to steer away.

“Keep your nose clean”
I hear him still,
his voice sobering.

“Yes, grandfather.”

“I will”
For my grandfather
Dave Robertson Jul 2021
I had to move the leaves to see it,
verdant, strong leaves no doubt,
but in the way, all the same

The subtle, spectacular beauty:
a gesture, a colouring, a quiet profound thought
nearly lost to louder voices

Some may see a seeming protection
but deep down will know:
showing, not telling, is queen
Melody Mann Jun 2021
Moonlight cascades down her spine highlighting the subtleties forgotten by sunrise,
Masking realities flaunted by recognition,
Soft corners celebrated at midnight's call.
Maria Mitea Apr 2021
they are invisible
there are always bridges
across the chasm,
Lunar Mar 2021
don't settle for less.
don't be subtle to want more.
I deserve those annual leaves and they deserve not to be wasted any longer.

(j.m.)
Chad Young Jan 2021
I am the salivic twinkle in the eye.
I am the loss of vision when I look at a light.
I am the placement of a thing now, only put in my past, and played in my future.
I am the thing there now, that I placed in the past, and will leave there for the future.
I am too many to count
I am too dark to describe.
I am the colorful shades and lines of the inner eye perceiving my physical body.
Physical isn't quite right.
More like eternal-like being.
More like eternal-like spleen.
"Me" is so far out,
I don't know what this body is here before me.
What do these clothes cover?
Asymmetric from the center out.
Saying this like I gave humans life, made them walk upright.
I am the multichrome of closed eyes in a lit room.
I am faux wood.
I am that thing from the past, placed in the now, and still doesn't understand it's creator.
I am the question "why" which was never meant to be answered.
I am realizing those who are sanctified in their breath.
I am nerve meets bone meets skin meets hair.
But all in one form, I can't see how it happens.
I am what my eye looks like without seeing it, just imagining it.
"I am what I am" when I ask this question.
Sort of a mix of shape, mind, and hue.
Or is it head, line, and imagined body?
Does my hand touch my skull? Then is the hair and skin something unknown or forgotten?
What comes of the thought that is unrecognized during contemplation?
Are these really the bait for the goldfish in the mind's pool?
"Oh no, what am I going to do?" as a "bad" trip shortens my view.
The bone dry feeling of the fear of God, crushing every tendril and way that once carried me along merrily.
"What if I lose God by taking too much nutmeg?"
"You can't (or shouldn't) do that" a voice whispers to both losing God parts and taking too much nutmeg.
Now I'm contented and thoughts will no longer emerge from the pool.
So I must dive into sleep.
Good night.
Subtle thoughts after 2 tblspns of Nutmeg 4 to 6 hours later
Next page