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Anastasia Aug 2019
the warm wind filled her dreams, while she dreamt of what she was missing
her eyes shined
and her cheeks blotched
the stars whisper a soft hello in her mind.
her hair gently floated,
the breeze playing with her locks
the beasts in her head nuzzle softly against her skull
tired
she watches the stars
guarding them in their slumber
collecting her crystal tears
to make a chandelier
her shadow twirls in the dandelions
catching fireflies underneath the violet sky
stitched together
as a blanket for the night.
I don't remember writing this, but I found it in my drafts. Written June 4th, I love this poem, and I think I could call it one of my favorites. It didn't have a title, but I was able to create one. I hope you enjoyed, and have a lovely week.
Anne J May 2019
Strings around porcelain skin
Bruises that are so thin
Skin never grows
Face never shows never feels
Twirl can she ever
For my art project, I took my first poem on this site and made a black out poetry of it.
ardnaxela Apr 2019
one finger or two?
pick a direction; apply
pressure, aim and twirl.
enter the garden.
Kiara Hoxie Mar 2019
Sunshine gleaming
Against the evergreen trees
Shadows stretch along the river
Leaves fall, moved by the gentle breeze

The river glitters
The light spots flashing
The clear water dashing
Around jagged rocks

The current creates darkened ripples
Expanding upon the ridges
Inky patterns billowing
The swirls glint and twirl
Rowan Elizabeth Dec 2018
the way she swayed and leaped
embodying the strokes of a paintbrush
dancing across the canvas
a solid blur of pink and white

every twirl was breathless
every pliƩ like silk

in that moment,
she existed as the most elegant force alive

every move commanded attention
she was grace
ANu de girl
dat made me twirl
ANd made
my moustache curl

She winked at me
I got knock-kneed
and had to
smoke some ****

It worked indeed
she puffed with me
then we both
watched this tale unfurl
More fun with words and my name
Helene Marie Apr 2018
She twirled around,
turning circles
in the stardust
as her gray eyes
lit up,
bringing depth
and luminance
to the fog
in her soul
Ellie Geneve Feb 2018
Twirling in the living room
Of my childhood house
Fast.. faster

Suddenly I stop

But the Earth
never stopped rotating

I left my wrist watch
At home today

I don't need to be reminded
By the passage of time

My bones are osteoportic
And so are the walls of my life

Its only a matter of time
Before they start breaking

And I really
Really
Need a break
Vyiirt'aan Dec 2017
The reek of bourbon vanilla lingering through the sappy tones
Of creased leaves and crooked horns, enveloping the royal grave
Embedded with stone, the coronated statue of vines and thorns
Twirling around the remaining cores

Rotten cells and dark floral gourd, an unstable mass crawling
Amongst the bare, rotten shores
The empty shells howl its name - the king
Of naught
Brought to death on the brink - in a whim

Clasping roots and grasping vines,
Luscious soot and dull amethyst,
The graveyard of which the warriors of Gaia
Patrolled in everlasting melancholy - the betrayal of the monarchy
In which they found pleasure in the guilt of misery
They atone for the death of the reign,
Raining in droplets of sulphur and rosebuds,
Meek of the pink of the roses, embroidering the newfound majesty

Alas, the journey of futility,
The thorns grasp its throat
The emperor has been coronated to cease once more.
27/12

dark empty graveyard journey melancholy pink pleasure twirl unstable vanilla
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