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Ella Dec 2018
believing when the world crumbles
She won’t crumble with it
The girl in the red dress
A wild horse- a beauty galloping at full speed
Never forgetting her worth or her means
full of fireworks
With a passion overwhelmed
by the aching love of the world
The girl in the red dress
Who is freer then any being
Because she lets herself be
Free
Yet more tied down then she seems
The girl in the red dress
Who will fight ferousicialy for anything
And anyone
To the girl in the red dress
Who has the wisdom of the moon
And the brightness of
The sun
The girl in the red dress is the person I want to be.  She is  the person who is me, but it’s taking me a while to find her vibrancy. This poem is about finding yourself and being brave. One day, I will be the girl in the red dress. I dream of that day.
Sabila Siddiqui Sep 2018
When I write
I let myself taste the expanding darkness
deflating my cells of its vibrancy.
I let myself be touched by those crawling hands embedded in my bones.
I hear my oozing heart’s echoing angst.
And watch as my thoughts turn bitter
and my shoulder starting to weigh me down
As the memories start to climb up my spine.

Now that I’ve written
How do I close those doors once more?
Sabila Siddiqui Jul 2018
People are here.
I reach out deep within
to the place of various hue and vibrancy
to paint it in the air and on me
but that place is empty.
neko-nae Aug 2017
a light-headed
easiness is my breath,
finding footing and security
in the simple act
of breathing in
& out--

i am figuring out
what feels good, natural
like the length of leg-hair
that grows with steadfast vibrancy,
a thickness i accept
like the curves of my thighs, touching--

your words bring nurturing comfort,
this feeling of acceptance
& patience in your arms, distant
while i caress my own heart
with sweet nothings,
knowing full well we're both worth it--
Loving yourself makes it much easier to love another.
Rockie Feb 2015
The world is dull
Without you around
To speak vibrancy
And colour into it
RW Dennen Aug 2014
The great New York metropolitan
stretching its  vibrancy
trafficking its wears.
Car horns combating in contemptuous arguments
habituated eardrums unwittingly pulsating

Great buildings upward; towering behemoths in grandiose splendor
This great asphalt jungle sprawling its electricity for blocks,
for miles
The jazz of the city continues the chanting; the sounds of bass and the blowing of the **** sax, the horn, the piano
and the drums drumming on its rhythmical beat

Beating hearts feeling the vibrancy; the shock waves of nuances echoing the great hustle
Multitude of voices singing praise to the different tongues;
vibrant in diverse rejoicing, the poetry of men and women
Metropolitans claiming the world condensing into small
blocks and listening to its RHAPSODY.

— The End —