"collaborating" poems
Sunny afternoon
75 degrees
Breeze
Flowing
Blowing softly through the slightly cracked window
Trees
Swaying
Laying rhythmic undertones to lyrical chirping
Me
Smiling
Snuggled so tightly
Pressed against your skin
Entangled limbs
Indistinguishable as to where you end and I begin
Our
Hearts and Breaths
Synced
Collaborating
Producing a soothing lullaby as we drift off to...
Sleep
I miss afternoon naps
With you
In
The afterglow
after...
© Tina Thompson
Mar 21, 2012
Mar 21, 2012 at 6:45 PM UTC
newly fallen yellow leaf
suspended in mid-air
passers by
absorbed in their heads
missing this magic
missing her gifts.
Mother Nature
her creatures
her elements
collaborating together
every moment
bringing art forth so new
gravity and
season Fall
a spider's strong silk thread
and all
leaving this is small
wonder
for all to share.
of which
no other
can compare.
Sep 11, 2015
Sep 11, 2015 at 7:49 AM UTC
California has two places we would escape the hectic bay area Central Coast and Disney land. We were staying at a smaller hotel right by Disney we got to know the owners they were very down to earth. We were setting in the glassed in game room by the pool well the husband came in with nine business men from Japan they were talking about buying his hotel. This was back when everyone bashed Japan. The next morning my wife went to the pool I was thinking about those men did I want to bash them or go a different way. God gave this to me it came in a rush it was written in fifteen minutes it is patriotic and it deals with our great blessing that is wrapped in diversity
Imposter
From where did the lie first spring
The face I show I don't even know
The truth does sting so to falsehood I cling.
Best to wear this disguise, continue with the faceless mass.
America proud land of liberty; too long it's been just a veneer.
Freedom you espouse, to have this you must clean prejudice from your house.
True greatness finally you will know, when it shines through all colors.
To do this you must rediscover the bedrock of your heritage.
Truly believe the words that say "We the people."
Words that shook the elements, only being surpassed at creations stage.
To long our apathy has been collaborating with our enemies no more.
This challenge is given to restore.
Opportunity's open door let us our energy out pour.
That freedoms passion soars, as in the past ******* it tore.
Land of light continue, Miss Liberty your lamp burning bright.
Nov 17, 2011
Nov 17, 2011 at 4:30 AM UTC
I don't usually do this (status updates instead of poetry) but I'm really in the mood to flex my creative muscles and share ideas and concepts with my fellow poets here on HP. I love collaborating. I would like to use kik or fb messenger since it an easier means of communication for me. My kik is hottymelly25 and my facebook is Melanie Wilson (TGWLY).
Also, we have a thriving group of poets chatting together on kik. We're just a small group of poets who have met on here or on Poets Corner (another poetry app we like to use a lot) and we talk about life, poetry, what we made for breakfast, the importance of the decoy vaginas that ducks have to prevent **** and everything in between. It's quite entertaining and we're kinda like a family. If you're interested in joining us, just message me. :) 16+ only please.
Thank you for reading. ❤
Aug 14, 2016
Aug 14, 2016 at 4:33 PM UTC
For ***** sake, why the hell am I awake?
The clock strikes past twelve in many leaps and bounds.
I lay here with out a sound, desperately throwing my self at sleep.
Reasonably speaking, I'm being tormented by the secrets I am keeping.
Weaken the divide between sanity and my reality.
Exams in short time, all I can do is work out line after line.
Something in my soul is aching, fabric of gravity is breaking.
I'm floating away on my daydreams of peace and tranquility.
Listening for when it’s said you’ve lost that ability.
I just want to lose my mind in solitude, don’t be pained its not my intention to be rude.
So voices between my ears, expound no more fears.
It’s of small concern, every flaw you can discern.
Brain ill punish you, ill trip you and trick you, hold my breath until I'm blue.
Collaborating with my heart and spirit to break down walls we toiled hard to build.
No sleep for me.
My mind is filled.
Feb 10, 2015
Feb 10, 2015 at 7:40 AM UTC
I am seeking in life another body to help validate me;
To move my spirit from thinking that all I am is
This insignificant spec of dust floating in a vastly empty universe.
All I am asking for is someone with whom to exchange
Conversation, hopes, dreams, fears, woes, and comforts;
To exchange glances, gestures, touches, and ****** fluids;
So that my brain receives the chemicals it needs
To feel a sense of happiness, of purpose;
To give meaning to my existence through collaborating,
Overcoming the deathly gripping reality, the notion
Of feeling so small and insignificant;
So that I don’t have to dwell on the fact that all we are is
A spec of dust floating in a vastly empty universe,
Hoping our presence can be validated by the mutual exchange
Of conversation, hopes, dreams, fears, woes, and comforts;
Of glances, gestures, touches, and ****** fluids,
So that our brains receive the chemicals we need
To feel a sense of happiness, of purpose.
Is this what love is? Or simply the kindness of small persons
Helping to distract one another from our shared worthlessness?
What then is love? If not the gift of blindness to our cruel fate, lending
Some sense of meaning that we give ourselves in such hopes,
Then what instead? What greater gift could be received from another
Doomed human spirit than the ignorance to turn us from the coldest truth:
The acceptance of an existence void of purpose, justice, and answers?
Aug 11, 2013
Aug 11, 2013 at 2:16 PM UTC
Crick crack click clap snip snap on the concrete
The city is on the move and to stand would be
The slapstick comedy of stopping a treadmill.
Acceleration animation gravitation from the rotation
Apathetic friction that is devil-may-care like your heart
Dragged down on the gym floor and the sweaty men laugh.
Tick tock nonstop the clock hops and bops away the time
Of the day and eternity seems like a fairy tale
Because this era is neverneverland faith, we are young.
And getting younger, we plan to die naked as we came,
Lounging in retirement, the summer that knows no end.
But sighing the dying are crying relying upon our move
And we move past, this blur of momentum that the city has become,
Because stillness is for the hippies and the natives and we are neither.
Capitalistic colonial conquering captains of industry we charge
Credit or debit because it isn't ours anyways and the bank is moving.
Down the street in the heat can't beat the beat of the sweet treat
That the homeless remember the memory of the taste of mercy.
Like dogs in heat they pant and beg and we shake them off our pantleg
Because it is designer and the label buys manhood cheap and sells it high.
We split hit and quit and never commit because we spit words like blessing
Out when we wash our mouths out every night and every morning
Because it is the only way to get the taste out of your mouth when you wake up.
As if the jacket I wear can't clothe a man from the cold or sell for more
And my closet is lined with the clothes I don't remember to forget about wearing.
It is not hate that congregates or abates the rate the weight is pulling me down,
But fear of the immensity of impossibility colliding with reality inevitably,
Because one man's sacrifice will suffice to pay the price of my vice.
Yessir hearts are racing toward the first heart, we are collaborating.
That the dying need not remain the dead but know life to the fullest.
The poor and the sore need not abhor or war with the rush of the city.
Because saints and saviors are not just bedtime stories as long as my life
Has the power, no the will, no just the faith, all it needs is faith.
The sick have been tricked that their wick runs quick
Like crick crack click clack snip snap on the concrete
These hearts are moving this city on a hill.
Mar 24, 2011
Mar 24, 2011 at 6:28 PM UTC
she was a masterpiece behind the glass draped in gold
he was tired and homely, his rage was growing old.
the line between them was bold
but it's fine
because they ignored the disparity
of dissimilarities
through this discrepancy, they painted their canvas
with lust and expectations
they could never keep it going, a senseless apparatus
neither could sense the strength of the connection
binding them hiding them individually,
the two became as one
two to one,
counting down the moments to their
untimely demise;
when the two are no longer as one,
but none.
none could've predicted the end,
not once
but twice
when they failed
they tried
and tried again
he told her she was heaven sent,
and he was shrouded in sin,
what they didn't know is that
they were one and the same.
cut from the same cloth
but rarely clothed when they were together.
Stayed high together
one could say they were
birds of a feather
they were lost but now they're found;
she was once was okay but now she's drowned.
deep under her love for him,
she tried to float and coast through
but it was no use
his love and adoration was all she had to lose
it was enough to clear her mind of the emotional abuse
but it was not enough to clear her heart of the love.
As she lay in his bed
praying for him to come closer,
he stayed as far away as he could.
and although he knew he could love her
he wasn't sure if he should;
she was jaded
and the time they shared had faded.
but in her heart she made it,
she could fade it!
She was lost it in all her minds of minds.
Trouble is growing from underneath the seams
how they've stayed intact is a mystery,
leave all the bad in the past
it's history
the present envelops her
with his presence
and it consumes, it engulfs her whole.
She finds she cannot live without him.
he grows cold, distant
she realizes he's already gone
and she disintegrated into his front lawn,
with all the dead leaves
and fallen trees
He says,
"i'm already gone."
Nov 28, 2013
Nov 28, 2013 at 10:06 AM UTC
Walking down the pier
I remember her playing
An instrument of love
Her melody notes
Kept tuning deep in my heart
Beyond the horizon
as the ships passes
Through the night
I imagine myself
Collaborating a song with her
Knowing jingle will be born
Now she is gone
As I lose her sound
Feb 11, 2010
Feb 11, 2010 at 7:58 PM UTC
Dream-walking I can explore opportunities
Collaborating and engaging in the process
Creating a synergy of thoughts and images
That may or may not stand the test
In the light of day
There’s comfort in dreaming of possibilities
Unblemished notions
Untried hypotheses
Perfect in their synthesis
My secret desires
They fill a need
Until the need is filled.
Jan 27, 2010
Jan 27, 2010 at 5:53 AM UTC
Alexander k Opicho
(Eldoret, Kenya;[email protected])
Of Orwell George and his satirical 1984
Manufacturing words abracadabra and demagogic phrases
Making juvenile English to swell in size and all
Beyond Shakespearean bossom of a teen African woman
Forming ubiquitous the double-speak whose
Attendant ****** sisters of England are
Double talk, double talk, and double smile
Who said the suavity in double love and double cross are
The twin progenitors of Eric Blair the farmer of animals
Collaborating with Jones to sleep in the pigsty where swines mate
Plummaging the world with plethorae of yutopianisism
Wherein glorious big brothers watch you African double speakers
As you sheepishly Sleigh international criminal justice in a beautiful ploy
To obfuscate mellifluous bambinos off the buffoonery powers that be
But When 1984 comes after a full circle of idiosyncrancies, the fools will be seen
Dec 14, 2013
Dec 14, 2013 at 4:17 AM UTC
As the smoke of a forgotten lover rises from your tainted skin
You sigh and realize what you've done; total annihilation
The bones you carry lie within you limply as you lie still
Your joints clatter like castanets collaborating to make a song of anxiousness
Your eyes like sunken chasms of a feeling of longing
Your lip quivers like the string of a bow and arrow before you shoot it at the target
The castles you've built within you, the forests that blossomed and the towns of everlasting memories inscribed in your brain
Burn incessantly, ashes flying up to heaven to touch unknown holiness
To touch the clouds in a forbidden romance as if Romeo and Juliet
****** of Vietnam, what once destroyed bustling jungles is destroying my sanity
Burning me from the inside and out, a caged bird inside of me
My soul's last dying wish is to unlock the cage that my fate was sealed in
The skeleton key dangles in front of me hypnotically, drawing me closer to your poison that is disguised as aromatic perfumes
As I took my dying breath, from the smoke of sin rising from my skin, you touched my hand, only to let it slip as I pass into the light
I realized solely one thing: I was your victim, the job was done
I vanish, within your mind, to be consumed by the ruins of time as you move from woman to woman
mbm
Sep 4, 2018
Sep 4, 2018 at 8:23 PM UTC
You
are a dancing
dandelion
lioness,
lounging lovely
in the liquid
sun rays,
licking power off your paws.
An audience stands
awestruck as
you
parade through town
picking primroses
to make them all
their own crowns.
Tell me
tenderly,
as we sip blackberry wine,
about tearing up
the space-time continuum
and jumping,
cannonball,
into oblivion.
You,
miss maestro,
make marvelous
mountaintop melodies,
collaborating with the
yodelers and the
midnight goat herders
as the common man
in the valley
bites mouthfuls
out of your music
to warm his belly
and bring him to bed.
You
are a fantastic
flying
fingerling potato,
finding your way
deep in the ground,
growing
outwards and beautiful,
towards the surface and the center.
Your eyebrows could level lava spewing volcanoes!
Your laughter leads lambs back to
their loving homes from
the fertile fields they roam!
You,
vivacious Venus,
waltz in from the kitchen
calling out harmonies to the song birds
and slingshotting kisses
to all of your faithful
misters and misses.
Your bag may hang heavy,
but you have so many hands to help carry it.
You,
my dear,
are the sun
beaming magnificent.
Jan 14, 2015
Jan 14, 2015 at 2:13 PM UTC
I began collaborating with the old western ghost towns,
constructing the basics to whip my luck back into shape.
Yet, I hoped to find guts and glory from
the time chasing stories played out on the big screens.
I wanted to talk to God from the pavement, so
I let my knees kiss the asphalt with the idea
He'd give me some sort of incentive to leave this
small hellhole called home.
I welded my toes deep into the road
maybe to come across some kind of faith.
I let my fists get a contact high with the rocks
gathered in piles on each side of me.
I made love to the ground, hoping it'd
love me back,
but then I focused on my ears and I couldn't
hear the hallelujahs anymore.
Jan 16, 2011
Jan 16, 2011 at 7:11 PM UTC
The Ataman of the Cossacks
Or the "Father of the horsemen"
I imagine him to be a good man
Proud of his heritage
And leader of his people
The wealthier Cossacks
Fought for the White army
Some of the poorer ones
Fought for the Red army
During the Russian Civil War
Their territory was divided up
They were viewed
As a potential threat
To the new regime
During 1919 and 1920
The Bolshevik regime
Killed of deported
300,000 to 500.000 Cossacks
During World War II
Most fought for the Soviet Union
While others sought to
Settle old scores
By collaborating with the Germans
Jan 23, 2016
Jan 23, 2016 at 1:44 PM UTC
fawning is much practiced
at that establishment
the sycophantic all kissing
each other on the tail
seemingly this behavior
is most desirous there
some of the old hands
have it down pat
tail kissing
will give a boost
to a person's popularity
there are some who refuse
to join the sycophants
as these people don't like being **** ants
they keep the lips unsullied
they keep them true
never
collaborating
with
the
tail kissing
crew
though you may seek
to be in a higher station
you are better thought of
if you resist
this kind of temptation
Aug 15, 2013
Aug 15, 2013 at 10:32 PM UTC
laying here
i am blank
i see nothing
i hear nothing
i sense nothing
not even my heart
rising and falling
in my chest
i am nothing
but blood and tissue
collaborating
to make up
me
an able body
and uplifted mind
laying here
i am blank
Jul 24, 2015
Jul 24, 2015 at 11:06 AM UTC
You say support for us is “collaborating with madness”
I must really be nothing to you
Someday I will wake you up
The alarm clock will not come with a snooze button
If you want to quiet me, you will have to throw the clock
Against the wall
Let it smash into a million pieces
But you will always hear a faint phantom ringing in your ears
It will grow louder
And louder
It will never truly be silenced.
You think I’m crazy
A queer little copycat
Let me let you in on a little secret
The world moves on, with or without you
I will move on, with or without you
I know that it is likely to be the latter
In a way, I almost want it to be
Black cannot become white without first having specks of grey
You are the deepest, darkest black of night
I am a myriad of colors
“Have I gone mad, Alice?
“I’m afraid so. You’re entirely bonkers. But let me tell you a secret. All the best people are.”
I wouldn’t have it any other way.
We’re all mad here.
Some of us just refuse to see
People hide behind their bibles
Yet speak of things that aren’t even written in them
Where does our God say, “Thou shalt not be transgender?”
You use the book as an excuse
As a shield for your bigotry
You may as well spit on the cover
Or light the pages ablaze with your disrespect.
Jan 13, 2020
Jan 13, 2020 at 10:54 PM UTC
Mimosa pudica retreat
Humid glasshouse, rainy day
Pane-separated from the world
Exhaling foggy vagueness
Colours run wet
World through window walls,
a distorted Monet reproduction
Morphing, mixing, mushy
Each canvas exists for a sliding second
Glass and breath
Collaborating through condensation
Our fuzzy-haze masterwork
Panoramic gossamer lens
Magically softens
spiky, scratchy, sharp, crispness
into a smudgy simulacrum
A kind deceit
Frowns, scowls, growls,
and bared-toothy rage,
all smeared
Gently redacted
Calm, dreamy, pillowscape broadcast
Impressionist buffer
In muted pastels
Reality in artful disguise
Remoulded for ease of consumption
Sugary spoonful of subterfuge
Sifting, sorting, selective
Incomplete and fragmentary
Blur-clouded brain-break
Intermittent extra distance
Breath-focused,
soupy-warm,
momentary masterpiece
Just for me
Until my leaves unfurl
Oct 4, 2024
Oct 4, 2024 at 8:32 AM UTC
the duration of the gig will last
for three exceptional years
by the end of it aficionados would
have shed some tears
let us all recall
the two tunes listed below
which were heard in
many a marvellous show
Daniel is traveling tonight on a plane
I can see the red tail lights heading for Spain
Don't go breaking my heart
I couldn't if I tried
Oh honey if I get restless
baby you're not that kind
our glittering Sir Elton John
bopping on the piano
the catalogue of his hits
a lyrical nano
collaborating with Sir Bernie Taupin
together a dynamic partnership
who knew how a song would
stay in the mind's companionship
departing from entertaining
on the world's musical stage
leaving a remarkable footnote
of rock and roll homage
Mar 24, 2018
Mar 24, 2018 at 8:12 PM UTC
I thought it might be fun to do and I enjoy collaborating with others when it comes to poetry. If anyone else enjoys this I would really love to write a poem with you!!
Please comment and message me if you are at all interested!
Oct 17, 2014
Oct 17, 2014 at 7:48 PM UTC
Supermarket tripping
Nuts & Dried Fruits
the Ethnic Aisle
How do they get away with saying that?
perplexed
shoplifter shackled
on display, as if a warning
Seven Box Sale
of Broccoli Au Gratin Rice
Why seven?
"Pickled Beets Tormented"
an undiscovered Jackson *******
smashed glass and splattered pink
on speckled linoleum
with infused grime
from 1956
Art is splashing everywhere
large scale proportional
and messy little mix-ups
Rancor is now spreadable product
it's right next to the sarcasm
found in the Fear Aisle
feel the chills
frozen food fraternizing
with my canned goods
Was that flattery or flouting?
from Deli Counter
take three numbers from ticket dispenser
I pocket two
call for, "78"
"78 - 78"
"79 - 79 - 79, does someone have 79?"
I stay silent
"80 - 80 Is someone holding ticket 80?"
Chanel suited business woman
at my side
tapping stiletto
upper lip curled
eyes periscope about
She spots my ticket
blurting, "You have 80, Fella"
her index finger flickers
in time with toe tapping
My line: "Oh I thought that was 08"
there's a huge "HUFF"
as she wheelies cart away
Rudy, from behind counter, winks
We've been collaborating art for years
Mar 21, 2016
Mar 21, 2016 at 4:17 PM UTC
Truth shall ever be contained in the mind
The decider, debater of life
Collaborating with the body's output
Allowing the face with lies and truth to bind.
But power is described among some
To deceive the ****** risks,
Extirpating all traces of truth to find.
Dec 28, 2012
Dec 28, 2012 at 12:29 AM UTC
There is no lullaby or mattress that could mold me into such a sleep that laying on another provides. The soft rise and fall of their chest, perfectly collaborating with your own. The loud yet slow heartbeat reminds us that though this sleep feels like heaven, we have never been more alive. When the cold breeze chills the skin, there is a warmer sun beating down against my back, your chest, my neck, your cheeks. And we lay in the silence contently thinking that nothing had been, or could ever be, so simple and soft. That moment we never left. Weeks, months, years go on; but we lay there in that moment forever still, never moving or breaking the steady pace of our breath and beating hearts.
May 18, 2014
May 18, 2014 at 9:22 PM UTC