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Snehith Kumbla May 2016
the cuckoo still sings
over the traffic smoke,
children still carve
forts by the sea,

gulmohars still bloom
over the widening road,

you could still stir early,
jog through frozen silences,
travel for an hour, still
bathe under a waterfall,

walk up a ruined hill fort,
watch the falling of meteors,

you could still save yourself,  
here in this decay and filth,
you could dig up a little earth,
and ply a little ***** on it,

feed it like a little child,  
and make a tree out of it...
Gulmohar - A tree that blooms orange flowers in summer.
AM May 2016
tell me you worship
the watercolor painting
of a blended sun and moon
within my deepest heart

and I promise to make a life;
a dancing trees and owls
a raining stars
a soothing waterfalls

out of the ghost
you've been carrying
inside your flesh
and tired bones
Stanley Wilkin Mar 2016
That day we came
and having come
lapped at by perfumed light
at once separated.
We bathed in the pool
the water like crystal
in the sunset
our limbs like glass.

On the bank
in the hot conjoined air
we made love again
our sweat
like silver in the moonlight.

the water's suppurating flow
drew our limbs
like flotsam in the reeds
grappling glistering lilies
as we floated in slow, *******
currents.

along the bank, the Camphor
shades the forest flowers
through the long-leaved grass
the python slinks

We leave for home
darkened by the sun..........
tongues digging into melons,
pomegranates laid out
neatly for dessert


******* out the Rambutan-
once the hairy skin is peeled-
fiery, red
the soft core sweeter than coitus-
and stays longer in our thoughts.
is this where the dreams are,
or where the dreaming begins,
between the first caress
and the final gasp of satisfaction?
Where the threshing limbs
devour the sun-shredded wheat
and the panting ribbons of air
swallow the final sigh-
the sleek river flowing
seaward, ocean marshalling
the land,
coral languishing in green pools
of broken light.

Here, within this infused beauty,
******* has power
beyond the weather-bound senses
of our northern homes,
encased in dull precipitation
sunshine a blunted knife

beyond the ***-shaped mountains
high above the trees
like a tear emerging from the sky
drops the waterfall
its descent
languid, its fall sharp and effortless;
tinged with azure, carefully sprinkled flakes
it spreads out like a clear, chiming puddle.
There we spread ourselves
naked in the sunlight
the sea's rumbling noise
distant and fumbling-

spreading its curling claws
into the slyly forming sunset
in reiterated rhythms
like beating hearts
like lungs-
the carefully manufactured beats
blending.
Julie Langlais Jan 2016
Existing in this infinite stream.
Observing the towering waterfall above me.
Seeking a peaceful habitat,
liberation and re-birth anywhere except here.
This excessive baggage I bear,
fighting against the current.
Wondering why I started at the bottom of this waterfall,
while others, at the top.
Detained by unrelenting forceful water,
drowning me to the shadowed ground.
Rubble marking and defacing my skin.
Hiding and scared from the revolving threats.
Burdened by understanding my surroundings.
Currents throwing me around with availability.
Examining the colors of life sparkling through the reflection of my water.
Trapped in chaos,
Starved for happiness,
Losing hope in this dark stream.
One day I will see the calm sunlit waters,
I will swim past this abuse.

© Jl 2015
E Townsend Jan 2016
perhaps I can finally lose
every thought of your name
every memory of your eyes blinking
slowly, trying to hold back the waterfall
certainly willing to spill
had I not made the promise to stay alive.
Rah-Rah Dec 2015
All my life I was taught
Feelings come and go
As the rain and wind do show.

All my life I was taught
I must stand in line,
That it must stay as sturdy as the Rhine.

All my life I was taught
Rules are to be followed
As birds walk on a tree that has been hollowed.

But must we believe
What we have been taught
For I have for so long thought that not?

Must we believe
What they all preach
Or become new like waves on a beach?

Must we believe
That they stoop so low
Or be individual like a river’s flow?

I now believe
That I must indeed
Find something that the world does so need.
A pretty simple poem I though up recently. I am open to any critiques that you have (ALSO GOES FOR ANY OF MY OTHER PEOMS)
Beleif Oct 2015
The sun forever guiding,
Their hoods forever rising.
The times are never changing,
Our cave forever breaking.

A cause so lost in the dust of the Earth.
A pause so long, the ancients heard.
A man so strong, the river yearned
To cloak his self and the life he earned.

Under the waterfall,
I am shunned by nature's screeching cries,
And drowned in hooded leeching lies!
A great machine that changed the time!

Twisting in a brilliant path,
Above the cave, the water's last
Falls upon the empty man
Willful to be drowned in red.
Part VI and finale of "Blooming Subterrane."
Incapacitated, infuriated,

In doldrums.

Cardiac explosions,

Waterfall eyes.

You are

My downfall.
Jordan Fischer Oct 2015
On a new conquest, I embark
Travel light
I found the temple in the dark
Wet, yet warm
Beautiful stems
Curl around my arm
Deeper I go
The water does flow
I feel it in the walls
I hear all of your calls
Carrying on, through the dark damp walls
I found the spot, The spot that has eluded all
A trophy in the form of a waterfall
Cascades over me.
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