Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Marla Apr 17
Sitting on a beach as the wind sways gently,
A slender palm tree moves as in a dance.
Reminiscing about each moment lived happily
As the panorama of dusk takes the ocean's lamp.
My senses, though numbed, are primed
To receive the night's embrace.
This evening, though young, burns sublime
Energy into our enlightened grace.
Nathalie Jan 29
You cannot tame
a woman who is
wild with desire
in fulfilling her mission

She is with purpose
and soars with spirit
She is choosing
the path of her heart

The confidence she
wears is electrifying
and she exudes a light
and vigor like no other

She is love
in action
and answers
her call.

"A life's outcome is determined by the vigor of one's youth."
Emily Miller Oct 2017
The world from here looks like an endless landfill of human trash,
Crime, pollution, hate, and death,
Fill our ears and eyes and noses from the moment we wake,
Till the moment we medicate ourselves to sleep.
The air is too hot,
The people are too many,
And when I walk down the street,
I feel like an **** alien,
But there’s a little place,
Nestled in the veins of the city,
And at night, when the air is heavy,
And the sky is quiet with darkness,
The doors open to this little place,
And the people go inside.
In this little place, everything is so lovely,
Even when the beer grows warm,
And the rain floods in through the poorly sealed garage doors,
Even when the powder on the floor is spread too thin,
And there’s not enough seats,
And the old curtains haven’t been dusted,
It’s perfect in every way.
Here, in this place,
The bar is unevenly lit, but it’s got what you need.
The old, black chandelier gives you just enough light to see what you need to see,
And the stage always has instruments,
Playing away your blues.
The curtains and tapestries swallow up the sound of the outside,
And when the music starts, you can pretend that you’re somewhere old.
A time with saxophones and an upright bass
That cry out an ode to the dancefloor.
It calls to people,
In trousers and Mary Janes,
As they swing, ****, and lindy across the concrete to the sound of their anthem.
Skirts swing,
Shoes slide,
And the people close their eyes when the notes are especially smooth.
Glasses of watered down scotch and lipsticked martinis are left at the tables
And inhibitions are left at the door.
Low, sultry tones resonate through the creaking wooden platforms beneath the tables,
So no matter who you are,
The cat swinging his gal on the floor,
Or the one nodding from the booth,
You can feel it.
But everyone,
Everyone down to the big man at the door,
Has to get on their feet.
The music is too sweet,
Too good and too smooth,
Not to try it on.
Gotta try a little taste of that jazz,
That old swing,
That smoky blues,
Whoever you are,
Oh, you’ve gotta try a little bit of that.
Someone takes someone else,
And off the people go.
One foot, two feet, three feet, four feet,
And on the floor, they slide, swing, and ****,
To the excited fluttering of everyone’s collective heartbeat
Into the microphone,
You can’t resist,
Whether you’re “good” or “bad”,
If you dance, you dance,
In jeans, in a dress,
Suspenders or sweats,
If you dance,
You dance,
That’s all there is.
Someone sings out your deepest woes from the stage,
And you shake, rattle, and roll,
Until your feelings are all over the floor,
You don’t need love here,
You don’t need any of it.
There’s no husband and wife,
You can’t go steady,
Romance is a faintly remembered legend,
All you need here is dance.
Rhythmic pounding of feet against the ground.
That bass starts to strum,
And everything you thought you felt is replaced,
Replaced by air moving through you.
If you thought you missed someone,
Think again,
If you thought you had unrequited love for someone,
Think again.
Here, the people hop, skip, and glide from wall to wall,
And whatever they felt before,
Flies off of them like dust.
Because we’re the dancefloor people,
And we can’t feel a thing.
By the end of the night,
You’re lucky to breathe,
Feet red and sore,
Body wrung out like a rag,
There’s nothing left to feel but your mattress and a gratifying ache in your limbs.
The dancefloor people can’t see the kingdom of trash,
We can’t see it from here.
Spinning, wild and hot,
Just trying to stay on our feet,
Grins splitting weary faces,
No, we don’t see that bad, bad,
****, ****,
We’re the dancefloor people,
We’re aliens, we’re characters in a story,
And when you come looking for us,
We’ll swallow you up,
And you’ll be dancefloor people, too.
Seanathon Apr 2017
Like swimming in the sea
I am a wave crashing over you
With a current too strong
And too deep

On the side of a cliff
With arms outstretched and fingers clenched
Reaching for everything
Be it far short of eternity

When I’m standing tall
Like a pendulum
Rocking in the springtime of youth
Until my stride becomes a bitter fall

As the wicked winds are howling
Having carved their way inland
Ever trying to push me off the edge
Midway through my own decent

If you dare

If you will

If you'd like to see

All of the *TRY
that is left in *ME

"You're not going to be happy unless you're going Mach-2 with your hair on fire and you know it."
Anonymous Jan 2016
That hot-blooded youth
Expired at last
Cold grease-fire ashes
Just soot on the soul.

Where are the children
And where are the wives
Where are the stocked-up answers
For the rest of his life?

Here is the bourbon
Here is the wine
There the eyes sparkle
But the limbs have all declined.

His speech is fiery
His decisions forthright
But where there was once a cuff to the cheek
There is grasping for a cane.

I respect the man
I acknowledge his might
It's death I despise
And its sapping of rights.
Amitav Radiance Aug 2014
My old self keep dying everyday
To keep tryst with new beginning
Young heart beating with vigor
Every vein filled with brimming hope
Charting new territories
Being better than my old persona
Inception of fresh perspective
Every cosmic particle in me enthused
After fresh lease of life

— The End —