#preveda - Hello Poetry

All that was left were the colors and hues After death or divorce Or more mundane, change of residence Whatever, the flowers do bloom always in their season The colors of the walls Though they can be torn down I saw them, earth tones, brown and a summer oak beige Reminding me of warm days under India green and azure; After everything's gone and the ghosts of stars simmer like dying coals, no eyes left to see; even if the scientist says its just an illusion of light Like faith i believe, i see and i remember

0

Apr 14, 2016

Apr 14, 2016 at 3:50 PM UTC

pvda

After;

All that was left were the colors and hues After death or divorce Or more mundane, change of residence Whatever, the flowers do bloom always in their season The colors of the walls Though they can be torn down I saw them, earth tones, brown and a summer oak beige Reminding me of warm days under India green and azure; After everything's gone and the ghosts of stars simmer like dying coals, no eyes left to see; even if the scientist says its just an illusion of light Like faith i believe, i see and i remember

10

the small boy leaning against the high grass, feet perched on a rock looking down into the turning water of the river below Running forever, for days on end, nights running, even when sleeping the mind never rests. A miraculous (mi-rac-u-lous) winter stunning of silver and gold glitter being tossed in the air as the sunlight comes over the white hill dancing on the hanging ice, shuttering trees dressed in lace.

0

Feb 1, 2016

Feb 1, 2016 at 11:12 PM UTC

pvda

(untitled)

the small boy leaning against the high grass, feet perched on a rock looking down into the turning water of the river below Running forever, for days on end, nights running, even when sleeping the mind never rests. A miraculous (mi-rac-u-lous) winter stunning of silver and gold glitter being tossed in the air as the sunlight comes over the white hill dancing on the hanging ice, shuttering trees dressed in lace.

6

The procession of the equinoxes Antiquities dealer The unspeakable beauty of the amethyst Gods fingerprints I don't know what I'm doing or where I'm going.......... But that's Okay. Is that what surrendering is? Blending, learning, adapting, evolving, individuation in spite of universal oneness. Being less proud. Happiness. Cinnamon. Cookie cutters from the domain. Keep your herb garden alive. I'm - A fox. El zorro. Le renard. Daily rituals, Water w lemon Apple Green tea face splash A history of happiness Chickens. Color. Collage. Yoga. Art. Cooking. Lists. Recording foods. Evelyn and Alice. Vivid, lurid descriptions. High Gothic and almost steampunk. The weather. Things unspoken that leave huge impacts. Small tokens of love. Repressed emotions. Hx of zodiac. Constantly working for perfection Inner outer Nuts, lemon, lime Keep fire of dreams alive Read read write create read Spells for finance and success Altar space You're alive Preservation of breath Realness if beauty, tranquility Overcoming sorrow Cyclical <i>Les sorts</i> to make them mad, passionate... Charms for living. Perfection. Attraction wealth abundance. Clouds and sky and draping cloth, sandstone and quartz and onyx. An incredible self confidence. Don't waste a minute of you're life on unhappiness. D.I.Y. smudge stick. Driftwood. Feathers. Gemstones. Secrets of a style maniac. Blog. Hidden treasures. Be my mercury, the wings on my feet. Amidst the creaks of old trees and the fallen colored leaves.. I see half the future, gone, cherished and perished The art of self love. Devotion. Organization. Keep calm. Its ok to have secrets. Stories and fables and illustrations to go along. Mix of collage, ink, pastel and watercolor Refine your life like a black and white ink drawing, the fluttering of pen-lined pages like white feathers. Floating on dreams, its fun to let your feet dangle into the blue warm water, be swept away into another world. We try to avoid those moments in life. We plan ahead we keep our toes together and our hair ironed, but one can never totally abate the power of wanton embarrassment or other random outbursts...

0

Jan 14, 2016

Jan 14, 2016 at 9:12 PM UTC

pvda

The procession of the equinoxes

The procession of the equinoxes Antiquities dealer The unspeakable beauty of the amethyst Gods fingerprints I don't know what I'm doing or where I'm going.......... But that's Okay. Is that what surrendering is? Blending, learning, adapting, evolving, individuation in spite of universal oneness. Being less proud. Happiness. Cinnamon. Cookie cutters from the domain. Keep your herb garden alive. I'm - A fox. El zorro. Le renard. Daily rituals, Water w lemon Apple Green tea face splash A history of happiness Chickens. Color. Collage. Yoga. Art. Cooking. Lists. Recording foods. Evelyn and Alice. Vivid, lurid descriptions. High Gothic and almost steampunk. The weather. Things unspoken that leave huge impacts. Small tokens of love. Repressed emotions. Hx of zodiac. Constantly working for perfection Inner outer Nuts, lemon, lime Keep fire of dreams alive Read read write create read Spells for finance and success Altar space You're alive Preservation of breath Realness if beauty, tranquility Overcoming sorrow Cyclical <i>Les sorts</i> to make them mad, passionate... Charms for living. Perfection. Attraction wealth abundance. Clouds and sky and draping cloth, sandstone and quartz and onyx. An incredible self confidence. Don't waste a minute of you're life on unhappiness. D.I.Y. smudge stick. Driftwood. Feathers. Gemstones. Secrets of a style maniac. Blog. Hidden treasures. Be my mercury, the wings on my feet. Amidst the creaks of old trees and the fallen colored leaves.. I see half the future, gone, cherished and perished The art of self love. Devotion. Organization. Keep calm. Its ok to have secrets. Stories and fables and illustrations to go along. Mix of collage, ink, pastel and watercolor Refine your life like a black and white ink drawing, the fluttering of pen-lined pages like white feathers. Floating on dreams, its fun to let your feet dangle into the blue warm water, be swept away into another world. We try to avoid those moments in life. We plan ahead we keep our toes together and our hair ironed, but one can never totally abate the power of wanton embarrassment or other random outbursts...

46

Brilliance fades away, leaving a harsh raw reality. Induced and imagined colors swirl, fade and burn out. I stood in a white room. White brick walls, white tile floor. Fluorescent lights. I sat on the floor, against the wall, my back arched. Memory gone. Inhale. This light isn't real. Pounding light. Blinding light. Unnatural. Piercing. Like the sound of my breath. Like an interrogation room, a table set in the middle, two chairs. A mirror on the wall. Reflecting the light. My body is sore, but I stand up. Fingers are tight and numbing. I walk over to the mirror. Black hair crossing over my forehead, over one grey eye. I push it back; my skin is still soft and clear. Pale in the artificial light. I reach up, hold my face with my hands. I run my fingers down my cheeks, across my nose, lips, chin. This is me. Squinting at myself. Inhale. Tilt head, quick smile. I run my hands down the mirror. It reflects the light, but it's black inside. Empty. Hollow. The way I feel. Footsteps. I look around - there's no door. I walk around the room, my fingers linger on the mirror, tracing the wall. Cold, hard. I can feel the paint. The footsteps have stopped. There's no sound except for my breathing. There's no sound. There's no smell. The light illuminates nothing. Nothing interesting. Nothing important. I close my eyes, fall back against the wall. The wall on my back. Cold and hard. My head falls back. I remember. Cold and hard steel bars. The soft textures of sheets. A steady flow of air on my face and arms. I can't feel my hands. I open my eyes. Two men, one in a black uniform with silver badges, another man in a suit. They both wore black shoes. They spoke. My eyes flickered, my vision blurred. Their distant voices came into focus, I could hear their words, but I couldn't catch what they were saying. Things, bits of sound. I saw nothing but the light with my eyes. This was too much. An overburdening of the senses. I allowed myself to fall over onto my side, against the wall still. I heard the slumping sound of my body as it reached the floor. My eyes closed. Before I totally surrendered to letting go, I felt hands touching me, trying to pull me up. This is too hard, too much. Exhale. And then nothing. Darkness. And then the darkness faded. * Waking up in that room was hard. I was disoriented. I had no memory of anything but white walls and artificial light. I was put in a room with a bed, bright blue curtains, a window, a red flower. My gown was white, the sheets and blankets were white. I could see tubes and machines, I could hear soft humming and a buzz of sounds from outside the door. Shadows from behind the door. Calmness. Lying in the comfort of the bed, I counted my breaths and blinked. What's wrong with me, I wondered. Where am I? Who am I? Is this death? At least there’s no pain... * Amid the beauty, the sorrow, the pain, the happiness and the pleasure, sometimes it's just easier to let go. It may be weak, it might be cowardly, but it doesn't matter. Because nothing matters anymore. There is no pain. There is no happiness. There's just me. And then the darkness. And then the breaths. Until they stop. And then it's silent. And before I have to wake up, I can rest.

0

Jan 27, 2011

Jan 27, 2011 at 10:30 PM UTC

pvda

Fluorescent Lights

Brilliance fades away, leaving a harsh raw reality. Induced and imagined colors swirl, fade and burn out. I stood in a white room. White brick walls, white tile floor. Fluorescent lights. I sat on the floor, against the wall, my back arched. Memory gone. Inhale. This light isn't real. Pounding light. Blinding light. Unnatural. Piercing. Like the sound of my breath. Like an interrogation room, a table set in the middle, two chairs. A mirror on the wall. Reflecting the light. My body is sore, but I stand up. Fingers are tight and numbing. I walk over to the mirror. Black hair crossing over my forehead, over one grey eye. I push it back; my skin is still soft and clear. Pale in the artificial light. I reach up, hold my face with my hands. I run my fingers down my cheeks, across my nose, lips, chin. This is me. Squinting at myself. Inhale. Tilt head, quick smile. I run my hands down the mirror. It reflects the light, but it's black inside. Empty. Hollow. The way I feel. Footsteps. I look around - there's no door. I walk around the room, my fingers linger on the mirror, tracing the wall. Cold, hard. I can feel the paint. The footsteps have stopped. There's no sound except for my breathing. There's no sound. There's no smell. The light illuminates nothing. Nothing interesting. Nothing important. I close my eyes, fall back against the wall. The wall on my back. Cold and hard. My head falls back. I remember. Cold and hard steel bars. The soft textures of sheets. A steady flow of air on my face and arms. I can't feel my hands. I open my eyes. Two men, one in a black uniform with silver badges, another man in a suit. They both wore black shoes. They spoke. My eyes flickered, my vision blurred. Their distant voices came into focus, I could hear their words, but I couldn't catch what they were saying. Things, bits of sound. I saw nothing but the light with my eyes. This was too much. An overburdening of the senses. I allowed myself to fall over onto my side, against the wall still. I heard the slumping sound of my body as it reached the floor. My eyes closed. Before I totally surrendered to letting go, I felt hands touching me, trying to pull me up. This is too hard, too much. Exhale. And then nothing. Darkness. And then the darkness faded. * Waking up in that room was hard. I was disoriented. I had no memory of anything but white walls and artificial light. I was put in a room with a bed, bright blue curtains, a window, a red flower. My gown was white, the sheets and blankets were white. I could see tubes and machines, I could hear soft humming and a buzz of sounds from outside the door. Shadows from behind the door. Calmness. Lying in the comfort of the bed, I counted my breaths and blinked. What's wrong with me, I wondered. Where am I? Who am I? Is this death? At least there’s no pain... * Amid the beauty, the sorrow, the pain, the happiness and the pleasure, sometimes it's just easier to let go. It may be weak, it might be cowardly, but it doesn't matter. Because nothing matters anymore. There is no pain. There is no happiness. There's just me. And then the darkness. And then the breaths. Until they stop. And then it's silent. And before I have to wake up, I can rest.

24

Her skin was as clear as the wind, The color of the moon, Smelling of budding flowers and ripening fruit. Deep as summer, smelling of fire Dulling the senses causing me to drift into insanity Thick as honey, sweet sweet abandonment Drenching wild rain She lures me with sealskin and jade eyes Promising many nights of pleasure A cup as deep as the ocean Wine aged to perfection And my thawing hands clawed towards her Tiny pearls of water melting off of my skin Into the grass Burgundy delirium And daisies.

0

Dec 22, 2010

Dec 22, 2010 at 8:16 PM UTC

pvda

Spring Love

Her skin was as clear as the wind, The color of the moon, Smelling of budding flowers and ripening fruit. Deep as summer, smelling of fire Dulling the senses causing me to drift into insanity Thick as honey, sweet sweet abandonment Drenching wild rain She lures me with sealskin and jade eyes Promising many nights of pleasure A cup as deep as the ocean Wine aged to perfection And my thawing hands clawed towards her Tiny pearls of water melting off of my skin Into the grass Burgundy delirium And daisies.

16

you are the color of jelly, sparkling and radiant. as a fish in water, as a bird over soaring green woods. a deer, alone and afraid - hush, the ferns, the wind will bring comfort.

0

Aug 8, 2015

Aug 8, 2015 at 1:31 PM UTC

pvda

sparkling & radiant

you are the color of jelly, sparkling and radiant. as a fish in water, as a bird over soaring green woods. a deer, alone and afraid - hush, the ferns, the wind will bring comfort.

3