Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Colleen Brown Oct 2014
When two people, so different in taste, look at each other from across the dance floor, a secret sparks out of their eyes like electric rays of romantic notation. Words have yet to be exchanged, but the slow steps towards one another make time slow to an unearthly crawl. Those dancing are nothing more than hues of grey, for the two ash-stricken lovers cannot see more than those they are attracted to. Hearts pound to a rhythm that can no longer be found within the upbeats of the swaying samba. As she longs to be in his arms, he stops only inches in front, his breath caught in his throat. The increasing amount of love being released from just his simplistic gaze makes her want to run as far as she can. With him of course, though it is not a realistic approach to the turmoil surrounding their troublesome secret. A secret that increases as he gently slides his fingers against her cheek, resting the palm of his hand on the back of her neck. Feeling the contrasting temperatures of the cool evening and her racing heartbeat, her head begins to get foggy with the vision of love that is shortly about to engulf her every fiber. The kiss, so gentle and sweet, brings back the times of innocence that was not thwarted by the interruption of time and changed lives. If only they could run away…
I feel like discussing the movie that inspired this would desensitize the raw emotions behind it. Nevertheless, it is The Great Gatsby. The movie that has my feelings wrapped around every line, regardless of how many times I've seen it.
RW Dennen Oct 2014
Trees hold the deep earth together way below with crooked fingers of the underworld and catches foul above
Upward to the heavens on finger towers,
clapping on winds they shake their dander
And the makers of green bras on mountain tops

They are the landlords of ground,and air beasts, and
incumbent giants of the ages
They whisper being puppeteered by winds of old
They are the alchemists of oxygen
They are dangling playgrounds
They are the Autumn crunches beneath our feet

Trunk etchings by bards, trees reflecting
cultures' dissemination
We walk under penumbras that deny the scorch of summer
as cool water douses fire, so too, shade douses heat

Watching trees in my pleasant reverie I observe how they
help break the carpeted land, bringing about a  certain diversity in moving tranquility and rustling of their songs
This poem was inspired by my poem "Ancient trees of Majesty" which catches rhymatic couplets
Meagan Marie Jun 2014
back and forth,
slowly,
gently,
but just enough so
I can escape
this world.

I have to look in
just the right spot,
but when I find it
I'm gone
to a lush forest with
only
trees and skies
around me.
No more houses
or cars
or streets
or televisions
or toys.
And
no
more
people.

Just me,
swaying
in my own
little world
from my backyard.
This is one of two poems that branched off from one poem in my head. It is quite interesting to see how very different they turned out being. The other poem is "Daddy,".
i Apr 2014
running through
the meadow under
the scattered,
shining stars
on the dark sky,
and after a long run,
you'll start
dancing around,
swaying and spinning
with that wreath
on your head,
the one that
i love too much.
and you'll get tired,
and be out of breath,
you'll fall onto the ground
surrounded by
yellow grass and
wilted flowers,
the one that you love
too much.
and you'll stare
and stare into
the stars,
until your eyes start
to close and you'll
find yourself
falling into a peaceful
dream, filled
with flowers, stars
and me.

— The End —