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solEmn oaSis Nov 2020
Bring out a couple clue
within their double clue
:
1) there was this existing ^height that attracts the rising of unwavering sound of a slow movement,

2) meanwhile,those impending rapid motion will all gathered by only one force then it will be spreading in to stable downfall  !!!
i originally entitled this....
°°°°° "poem like a foam" °°°°°
©solEmn oaSis

before i,
there is h
to O part
time teller
of his fortune saying him a...
hello responses by simple hi
SøułSurvivør Jun 2020
Sometimes I am water
Sometimes I am ice
Sometimes I'm a vapor
Condensation on your face.

Sometimes I've the air truth
Sometimes I'm a liar
Sometimes I am of the earth
Sometimes of the fire

I am always fickle
An untruthful fact
I am a deluge trickle
I have a gauche man's tact

I have hideous beauty
You'll have no argument
To abandon me's a duty
I'm hell's firmament

You will always love me
A simply complex game
Becoming bound you will be free

Lucifer's my name.
I've been thinking I should be on HP more often. I just spend so much time on other social media, it's difficult. Please bear with me.
Michael R Burch Mar 2020
Sometimes the Dead
by Michael R. Burch

Sometimes we catch them out of the corners of our eyes—
     the pale dead.
          After they have fled
the gourds of their bodies, like escaping fragrances they rise.

Once they have become a cloud’s mist, sometimes like the rain
     they descend;
they appear, sometimes silver like laughter,
to gladden the hearts of men.

Sometimes like a pale gray fog, they drift
     unencumbered, yet lumbrously,
          as if over the sea
there was the lightest vapor even Atlas could not lift.

Sometimes they haunt our dreams like forgotten melodies
     only half-remembered.
          Though they lie dismembered
in black catacombs, sepulchers and dismal graves; although they have committed felonies,

yet they are us. Someday soon we will meet them in the graveyard dust
     blood-engorged, but never sated
          since Cain slew Abel.
But until we become them, let us steadfastly forget them, even as we know our children must ...

Keywords/Tags: pale, dead, shades, shadows, fragrance, mist, vapor, fog, rain, forgotten, melodies, dismembered, tombs, graves, catacombs, sepulchers, mausoleums, graveyard, dust
Michael R Burch Mar 2020
The Effects of Memory
by Michael R. Burch

A black ringlet curls to lie
at the nape of her neck,
glistening with sweat
in the evaporate moonlight ...
This is what I remember

now that I cannot forget.

And tonight,
if I have forgotten her name,
I remember ...
rigid wire and white lace
half-impressed in her flesh,

our soft cries, like regret

... the enameled white clips
of her bra strap
still inscribe dimpled marks
that my kisses erase ...

now that I have forgotten her face.

Published by Poetry Magazine, La luce che non muore (Italy), Carnelian, Triplopia, Net Poetry and Art Competition, Poetry Life & Times, The Eclectic Muse, Strange Road, Inspirational Stories, Kritya and Centrifugal Eye

Keywords/Tags: Memory, effects, affects, hair, ringlet, neck, moonlight, vapor, evaporate, bra, clips, wire, lace, flesh, dimpled, kisses, erase, name, face
Grace Haak Sep 2019
Shadows grip our tongues in fear
Stopping us from spilling words they might not wish to hear
They choke us with their invisible hands
Stopping us from unflinchingly taking the stand
They stare into our souls with veiled eyes
A vaporous possession from ghosts in disguise.
A poem written around Halloween...The imagery seemed fitting.
Aseh Jun 2019
stumbling bowlegged through the last subway car,
loose-fit black rags bandaging frail limbs,
face twisted in a permanent scowl,
matted grey hair jutting from a flaky scalp,
she jangles her paper cup of coins
each flail of the arm a sharp crescendo;
I flinch.

She extends her hand with a gaze that says: pity me;
I cannot look. I don’t want anything to stir in me,
my own pain is already too heavy,

but --

here they are: spoiled thoughts wafting over me like the waves
of her robust stench: warmth
between my thighs,
tattoos
bounding up thick muscular arms that aim at me in such earnest that my disillusionment melts away, and I am paralyzed
by the lure of pheromones and the smell of skin
which doesn’t quite leave you after you leave him.

And then truth clangs hard in my chest:

but her bones are made of steel!
So who am I to look away?
Maybe if something were to crash into me,
I’d pulverize
into
dust.
Stephen James Mar 2019
a vapor rises.
in the breath of an instant;
gone. to be no more.
a haiku
Tiger Striped Nov 2019
this existence is but a breath
vapor drifting past the lips of
life
a secret kept obstructed,
eclipsed by perennial paradigms,
mutinous mobs snuffed
out by the wind
a broken hourglass, the
sand seeping through the
cracks in the door
the dust on the floor,
flattened by footprints beyond
differentiation
a conflagration quenched as
soon as it catches
by the swelling tides of time
whether we're cursed or
self-destructive, our
affinity for chaos will
unravel our transcendent, twisted cataclysm before
we ever know our
beginnings and endings
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