Quitterie Nov 12

Look at the skeletons – they’re dancing in the yard –
And the violet smells in the new day forward.
Yesterday is so far, and the party is done;
Gone are the petits fours and the sound of the drums.

Today the wine is red and I push with my thumbs
Some leftovers of bread on the table, some crumbs.
Wasps are nibbling the grapes and the time can’t rewind:
How cold are the graves; I am losing my mind.

They’re clicking the laughters and clapping all the bones;
Their pidgins are swishers in cages of the zoos:
Mariette and Amir went all the way up there,
– Like an old souvenir – and it makes me shiver.

Look at the skeletons – they’re dancing in the yard –
And the violet smells in the new day forward.
Amir was a poet and Mariette a dove.
Who can tell that the death is watching out for love?

Yesterday the river saw us throwing some stones,
And drinking cans of beer. The sunlight and the glows
Of tiny water hints: we had to fold the eyes.
Who can tell that omens were these water lilies?

Mariette was wearing her pretty yellow pearls,
Her simple golden ring. The long mane and the curls
Of Amir, and his mood, were like hot butterflies
They were so young and proud: Why can't I stop my cries?

Look at the skeletons – they’re dancing in the yard –
And the violet smells in the new day forward.
Of what kind is this waltz, this triple meter dance,
This strange time with no source, which always starts and ends?

Yesterday, tomorrow; this day: a stunning ride
On horses of sorrow where I cried as a child.
Knucklebones of my hands, and my feet in the snow:
Of what kind are these wounds spoiling red my pillow?

Mariette cried and laughed, this all at the same time,
As Amir depictured the story of their fine
And very first kisses under the almond tree.
Their sweet and calm faces have fired poetry.

Look at the skeletons – they’re dancing in the yard –
And the violet smells in the new day forward…

(c) Quitterie Kerlach

A beautiful violet dancing in the wind.
Without a care, she bloomed.
Picked from the field by a heart matched with Hers.
The Violet eyes, now downcast and filled with grief,
Looked out towards the grassy knolls opposite the battlements
He had made up his mind and left for the last time.
Lost in His own turmoil, He was blinded to their future.
A Violet without its fragrance.
She wilted at the lack of Him.

Written by Cristina Rivera and Mercedes Caballero
Pre-AP English 9 Mr.Quinn 2015-2016
ambient Oct 4

when the sun screams,
the violet is choked
while others feed from
their natural mother.
when the fluffy clouds
piss their dirty water,
the violet despairs
while others sip it
through a bent straw.
when bleary eyeballs look,
the violet is imprinted
while others take pride
in being noticed.
when there is darkness,
the violet wakes
while others cow from it

and the violet shrunk
no more...

10-4-17, 22:30 (best thing I could sum up...)
Noah Guthrie Jul 5

Drive by my skyline
Dip in my highlight bath
Drink the dew from my small world

Ashes of branches
Keep up with me my son
Don’t you dare fade inside me

Please don’t evade my thoughts
And go hide away
I will rejoice and cling to you all the way

Stuck in this fun world
Too many colors
Now can we get to the plotline

Let’s stage a robbery
Get lost in silhouette
Live for the big one, Run for the giant gates

Shiny apartment
I love the smell of walls
Shrink into the thick carpet

Don’t run away
I’m just letting go of me
Sometimes I am free

Violet times are exactly what I need
Dip in the wild
Slingshot my child far

sarah s Jun 2

acknowledged
the violets in the window box are pungent
sitting on this old wooden floor
ankle over ankle
eyes closed
grounded
connected
intertwined with consciousness
i press my tongue to the back of my mouth
create a vibration
nung nung nung
the amethyst vacillation
it pulses from the root of my skullcap
i am united
with everything around me

the sahasrana chakra, or crown chakra is the chakra of inner-connectedness. this poem is to describe the setting and feel of crown chakra meditation. vacillation is just another fancy word for vibration. i will be doing more poems on the chakras starting from the seventh to the sixth, fifth and so forth.

Look at their hearts
How they light up for you
For you are a flower
In these barren fields
Nourishment for tired souls
Your eyes are our rose colored glasses
You make this world beautiful
And you can't even speak
Anyone who gazes upon you
Wonders how anything could be so good
In this world full of so much ugliness
Yet here you are
So sweet and precious
A little Violet smiling up at the sun

~You make the rest of us Smile with You~

WJ Thompson Mar 30

It was an atmosphere
It was an atmosphere
It was an oxygen mixed with southern fog
Southpaw gloves tied in sailor knots
Waves of golden grains in ocean wind
The rolling hills behind property lines

It was the question you asked
It was the question you asked
not with words but in the way you breathed against the window glass
as I leaned against your Corolla
And we sang under the overpass

It was graffiti
It was graffiti
It was the cavernous concrete cats with purple hair and acid wash jean jackets
melting the light of their city's street lamps into the obsidian void of moistened pavement

It was the way the reverb spread the major seventh across the sky with burnt orange cascading into the violet of the minor ninth
which reminds me of crickets and summer nights (and violins and cellos and midwestern jazz bars)
and how bar chords are a guitarists way of flipping off a crowd-
surfing the web for an answer to why I'm still single-
handedly the handsomest man in my car currently.

It's the cloth in my empty passenger seat
soaking up the air of my A/C heat
and the scent of the soil spilt from the succulent I was given at a wedding last fall
and now I don't know if my trunk will ever smell clean at all

But I'll let this night be interstellar
I'll take a bath in the Big Dipper and write you a letter about Orion's Belt
or how I miss the stars sparkling in your eyes making contact with the E.T. in me.

Phone me home, darling.
I'm lost at sea.

-W.J. Thompson

A repost but with a different ending.
Zero Nine Mar 19

Long ago love looked like romance
it held a subtle sheen of madness
Chaos and passion left in pair
Our beds lie oceans apart
My heart can't swim the carpet
In the night we camped the platform
I hadn't yet bought matches
as the smoke was yet to lick me
inside my virginal lungs
My heart grows tumescent, we
never sat close to view forever
in the dusk of violet July
To fulfill happiness fully
suppose we just kiss goodbye forever
and bare the carpet to cement
May some poor soul once more find
their face between too hairy legs
and with my chin I'd trace constellations
Sail our beds both furthest apart
Sail our beds into the dark

In the violet July

Mommy left when I was young
But daddy never cared
And I don't know what's worse of the two evils
Because daddy let my skin bloom in violet stains
But mommy...well I guess mommy was mentally deranged
I learned from a young age
That I'm the only one I got
So if you thought
I needed you
I don't because I've fought
For my spot
With everything that I got
And you're not the only one who's lies I bought
But I've learned
Trust is earned
And I'll never give it away again
countless times I've been burned
I'm exhausted
From everything it's costed
I'm done
You've won

Kendra Mack Mar 13

Violet – I am lavender,
Soft and sure.
Calm laughter.
Focused dedication.
10 minutes meditation.
Violet – I am silence.
Balance.
No violence.
Violet is nothing wrong.
Like the sunset,
it can’t last long.

A stanza of a larger poem I'm working on for the equinox.
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