"collaborative" poems
Light , curvy rays,
bending,
while traveling from air to water world.
My eyelashes - window wipers.
Crystalline lenses,
sending lovely
but blurry pictures
wait.. let me focus my retina,
underwater dream,
or is it really you?
Dark, straight silhouettes,
frightening,
falling from the busy water above
My chest - darkened vents
reaching far,
wanting lovely,
but faint pictures
I can’t wait any longer,
for the dark room to lighten
I need you to show me
I take a deep breath
And dive in again.
Debrees of scars
And piercing pain.
Your soul still mauve and blue.
I press my lips
respiring pure love into you.
Breathe your best
into the spine of my life
Expelling fortitude
And forgiveness
Hidden in this deep blue
Revitalized for the first time
This moment opened its eyes
to see the beauty
of what beneath the surface lies
Nov 15, 2014
Nov 15, 2014 at 3:03 PM UTC
Most of my life, I’ve been a highly independent person and proudly so. I have grown myself up, travelled alone, personal decisions. I am even praised for being so independent. I can’t say I did not enjoy the glory. I have rejected my support system fiercely and craved the glory of independence.
Growing up and be independent! That’s all that has been a goal. I had made personal independence as my virtue. Independence from parents, from education, and when you have your heartbroken, independence from being in love. I hated the word “compromise” and the only way to achieve. Doing something all by yourself takes no compromising. I don’t have to think about someone else’s feelings, I don’t have to worry about their needs, I don’t have to take care of anyone but me. Now, this sounds more and more like selfish than independence.
I realise the bigger struggle is to collaborate and come to a solution where everyone has their needs met, to give as well as take. Now that felt like growing up, the test of real courage. Are we glorifying independence because we don’t want to take care of other people? Because everywhere I went, someone was telling me I needed to find my freedom. Everywhere I looked, I searched in vain for that independence I once had, finally having to accept I would never be an unemotional, unattached person again.
Maybe we need not be independent. Self-made Is so overrated. Nobody is. We need not be. Even world war was won by the alliance. We need 2 for a clap or make a life. You need light and day to survive, you need bones and muscles. The world is not singular, the world is not independent. Even earth is going round and round the sun with a crazy crush that it can’t collide into and it can’t move away from. Earth is so on its own, so much in its own, but its existence is a collaborative one.
I know now that I can’t go at it alone or maybe even if I can I don’t want to do this alone. I want to live a life with friends and family supporting each other through the good, the rough, and everything in between. And I want a romantic partner to experience life with me. I want to have support emotionally, physically, and financially a coexistence.
My feminazi is in admitting that we need more feminine collaboration than the masculine ideal of success and independence. I want to find that freedom of shared submission and being part of something bigger than self-sufficiency.
Dec 16, 2019
Dec 16, 2019 at 6:17 AM UTC
Collaboration is key.
A thought that penetrates one imagination
Can become an idea formed with another.
Two heads are better than one.
It's fulfilling to grace one's mind with friendships.
Don't our thoughts get lonely?
Trapped inside our heads all day...
Never being born into a blue world of possibilities.
The imagination is the world's philosophical ***
Imagination is a collaborative process to make purple from blue and red.
Two heads, creating one coherent idea that leaps into the world,
Ready to exercise its originality.
Oh yeah, the world needs some more imagination,
Because *** is just too good to pass up.
Jun 14, 2015
Jun 14, 2015 at 2:10 AM UTC
Life was amazing. Boats will fly causing mass transportation. Sometimes I think exclusively until I erupt through word Bothered, enlightened, and hungry watching gay cinema eating bananas but not ripe until next time I hate myself for liking weird cinema, Striking matches without touching myself when hearing groans from my basement which come apart from the throat. Knocks, bangs, and poottitangs among our findings in timely minute fashion. The weather will forever be surpising under a burnt out hookers muffintop. Mashed feces under but over kinfolk of a studious wellbeing transcendence, stupendous sacred.
Feb 5, 2013
Feb 5, 2013 at 12:12 AM UTC
WHISTLING AND SNIFFING SIMULTANEOUSLY
Whistling and sniffing at the same time
Can’t hold hands or rather get married
United and collaborative in any case
This duo may perhaps land into the life of some person
The kind of man whose who acts,
Performs duties of the shepherd on the flock.
Like his initial master,
He condemns wickedness,
Goes against what is religiously evil,
And exults the righteous.
But he soon he craves for another pair of his robe
For he does accumulate an avalanche of resources,
His eyes are soon blinded.
Would his robe evade being soiled?
Co-operative sniffing and whistling,
Can hatch into temptations to anybody,
Even the half-human, half God
Did he not get tested in the wilderness?
Our big man opens his eyes one day,
Finds himself campaigning and competing for,
Trying to woo for citizens’ keys,
Essentials for serving the people in a wider circle.
Perhaps his whistling guides his path.
Brings him in the companionship of
Other servants of the people.
Any devoted service present in that house really?
Brotherly whistling and sniffing,
May make one’s conscience slither backwards,
Two or more steps into mud.
He is now influential,
A famous societal figure.
His fat salary seconded with some allowances.
Or even thirded with public developmental resources,
Guarantees him total luxury.
Is this not an opportunistic opportunist?
Our Sniffer and whistler is contended,
Complacent with his success.
Jubilant with him servant is his ‘first Master ’
For keeping to the ‘sacred’ scriptures.
The vehicle which carried him straight,
One way to heaven gets crippled,
It can’t manage to hit the road
Like its American, British and Chinese counterparts,
His sincere promise goes unfulfilled
Unmet due to his pretentious pretence.
His ‘second’ Master gets extremely mad.
For loyalty and faithfulness denied.
And furiously plucks him from glory.
Simultaneous whistling and sniffing,
The ‘initial’ heaven can’t simply put up with them.
A wise servant of the masses
A true leader should only whistle at a time,
Sniff at a time.
But not sniffing and whistling simultaneously.
May 6, 2013
May 6, 2013 at 3:28 AM UTC
Some poems never end,
Nor were meant too.
Alliterative phrases, invitations,
Add a verse, a word, even a sound,
An exclamation of delight,
A stanza in its own right.
Unfinished work, forever additive, collaborative.
Modify mine, pass it on,
Free to steal it,
For ownership passes to you,
with your first reading,
And lost when you close it,
Stamp it and release it into the atmosphere.
But some poems do. End.
Unique and distinct,
Pockmarked-faced at birth.
Owned by my initials,
Never to see the shelves of a
Lending Library.
Like this one:
*Cannot remember a single day
When suicidal thoughts
Were not heard clearly above the fray
Of jingle-jangled, responsibilities
Demanding my immediate attention.*
The end.
NML
Jun 5, 2013
Jun 5, 2013 at 10:56 PM UTC
Sharing her beauty,
Mother Nature wears flowers
In her sweet green hair
Glowing with wonder
Her aura breaths through the airs
Natural essence.
Unable to fight
Her petals taken away
Replaced by buildings
Yet remains patient
Waiting for a hand to plant
Primordial touch
One tree left standing
Each leaf blowing in the wind
People walk on by
Only to receive
A fur covered paw, wet nosed
Kiss and tenderness
Where memories of
beauty once blossomed, now part
Of yesterday's past
Because nature is
a giver, a mother that
we take for granted.
Nov 9, 2017
Nov 9, 2017 at 7:53 AM UTC
Some people say Im mad I just blame the L-RAD
Attacked by services syndicate post grad
Breaking the code of conduct that's sad
Criminal cause nullify's the collaborative ad
All privileged storm troopers got more than I have
Is the conscience alive while watching that sat-nav?
As a key worker your care is what we have
But straying for a kickback is a dent & bad
The mental health stigma is the foot soldiers weapon
Labelling us mentally ill with the DSM con
Exclaiming we're mental while the victim is alone
Stigma comes from the compound hear us groan
Hearing me everywhere have traits of a stalker
Attacking innocents with energy weapons lawbreaker
Violating human rights piggy back hijacker
The conspiracy hypothesis is the startler
Whats the biological molecular structure
Of a mental health disorder
A caucus of people of who can shout louder
Followed by misrepresentation from a reporter
Jul 10, 2020
Jul 10, 2020 at 6:35 AM UTC
Bitcoin is Revolutionary
As power structures rearrange
Bitcoin is Immutable
A pristine record we can’t change
Bitcoin is totally Public
It’s for all to use (and see)
Bitcoin is Collaborative
Community run - by you and me
Bitcoin is fully Open
No permission required for use
Bitcoin is Resistant
To censorship and abuse
Bitcoin is Decentralized
Making the ledger strong
Bitcoin is a RIPCORD
Join the team and come along
Apr 16, 2022
Apr 16, 2022 at 11:41 AM UTC
*Your lips move slowly,
yet, in this moment
there is silence.
Your warm breath
caresses my face.*
And with anticipation
I don't need words.
Everything you need to say
is whispered in your thoughts
and echoed by your fingertips.
*Your touch is thunderous,
resounding deep within us
penetrating all my defenses,
filling that space between us.
In these moments I submit.*
Powerless to resist this passion.
Ecstasy and lightning entwined,
flashes of lust and love
spark from skin to skin,
as the silent storm surges over us.
*Briefly the world is muted.
Only you and I exist, fully exposed.
Vulnerable, we surrender completely,
trusting this silence to satisfy
our unquenchable appetite.*
Dec 15, 2016
Dec 15, 2016 at 3:39 PM UTC
*
a collaborative piece created by Papaya and Stephan*
I know the story of an ugly old fellow
Who taunted and cursed and told many lies
But did you know that an ugly old fellow
Was merely the skin that held his disguise
"Spare me a quarter and I'll spare you the lecture"
Often he’d say to the young and the brave
Laughing they’d pass without barely a glance
Thrusting the man into temper and rage
When along stepped another into the commotion
Stopping to listen to all he did say
Shaking his head he reached in his pocket
Pulled out a quarter to proudly display
Then closed his hands into two equal fists
Held them up high as he said with a grin
"I’ll pay your offer so you will stop ranting
If only you can guess which hand it is in"
Stroking his beard the man gave a smile
"I do love a challenge, so let us begin
But once I have chosen and reveal your coin
You’ll stay to listen, and we both shall win"
The old man reached out, with hand on each fist
“Son, you cannot fool a man that’s my age”
Then pulled out from behind the younger man’s ear
The same coin that earlier the man had displayed
The look of surprise on his face was alarming
He glanced down at both of his two empty hands
Then thought to himself, now how did he do that,
I held it right there? but then said to the man
“A deal is a deal, so I guess I will listen
But I have a schedule, it’s my day to teach
Please hasten your words holding all of your wisdom
And here I shall stand till you finish your speech”
"I can say nothing you've not already learned
That each man has something special to give
To stop and to listen and open your eyes
This is how all men and women must live"
"Some will spare time, others spare a dime
Still others will play tricks as you see
You must be wise, separate truth from the lies
And always be the very best you can be"
Aug 25, 2016
Aug 25, 2016 at 10:44 AM UTC
A Collaboration between Ovi Odiete and Evna-Luna
Bring me rain, rain, boom
*Bring me rain, rain, rain,
Let it boom or blossom due
Sunsets kissing the earth
Sky filled with crimson's view
Flow river flow,
Run, earth run
Bring me days unending waves
Days unending tales
Bring me rain, rain, rain,
Let it boom, flow, grow*
Evna-Luna©
**Sun kissed earth adore the air
Mild blown tears falling freely
Give me paradise, blue or white
Give me years true or through
Bring me rain, fall, fall
Days of glowing health
Trees on river's fronts
Bring me through a broken seal
Give me love that sweeps me in
Bring me rain, rain, boom**
Ovi Odiete©
*Give me night, nights, boom
Watch me moon, stars, sky
Give me paradise blue, white, blue
Bring me rain, fall, boom
Give me days unending bliss
Give me years unending peace
Bring me glow, glows, boom
Give me earth and paradise blue
Watch me sleep, dream, boom
Bring me paradise blue or white*
Ovi Odiete and Evna-Luna
A collaborative piece/poem between
Ovi Odiete and Evna-Luna
© 2016, all rights reserved
Aug 27, 2016
Aug 27, 2016 at 9:27 AM UTC
It's in the sequence
within the space
on the slow turn
at the touch of the page
it's more than the optic
less than didactic
much more tactile,
less than merely mercantile
it's more immersive,
deeply collaborative
a match that's unconventional
beyond art, words and materials
avoiding any deference,
embracing our difference
flicking 2 fingers
without fear of irreverence
it's greater than the sum
of its many surprising parts
more than what was found in
the inspirational, original art
and whether it's deliberate
or accidently incidental
these are books as art,
beyond the coffee table
May 16, 2019
May 16, 2019 at 12:24 PM UTC
My therapist recently asked me "have you ever tried mindfulness?"
I laughed a bit, remembering of the week-long mindfulness camp (sugarcoated for in-patient psychiatric care) I attended for troubled teens. I went to this twice.
This peaceful brain training was designed to give us a retreat when the world is too loud. During group therapy, most teens shared their experiences with domestic violence, yelling, S.A., running away, abuse. Endless. We were all numb, but there was so much comfort in being locked away with others who needed the respite as much as I did.
We would eat skittles and describe their flavor and textures. We would focus on our breaths. Make beaded art. Tell collaborative stories. Follow guided meditations laying on unfamiliar gym floors, giggling a bit as we "soared through clouds".
I jumped back into the talk session, remembering my dedication to mindfulness years ago. My anxiety followed me into adulthood. I think mindfulness can be out of reach, stupid.
And yet, I looked out of her dusty, sun filled window decorated with three vases of dry arrangements. My mind started to posture into how warm and antique this image felt. I felt hot, quiet tears building up from feeling that peace again.
Mar 4, 2018
Mar 4, 2018 at 2:42 PM UTC
(In this poem, the authors alternate stanzas.)
AUTUMN'S CALL
In the stray
sweetness of yarrow
and starlings’ trill by dusk
rejoin the fading
without regret
as the foot worn grass will
receive morning’s frost.
And whenever that green yarrow fades
then I fade
in the dry husk
of this autumn of fire
this autumn of smoke and regrets.
Wake in sidelong sun
light half hidden
days under curtains
of violet and scarlet
leaves so soon
will bury the moss
inch by inch.
But I
being the beast that I am
will burrow through the moss
past every encumbrance
beyond hope and fear
and finally find the freedom of one
sweet day
in October
the air still
not a sound
but leaves settling
into the detritus of dreams.
Aug 31, 2017
Aug 31, 2017 at 6:08 PM UTC
Spiralling into unconsciousness I know I brought this exhausting ordeal I feel nothing and everything at once it's like I'm trying to eat while I'm about to lose my lunch
Falling under pressure and avoiding that its to no fault but my own wondering when I finally break from my blindness to others emotions & my deafness to their tone
I've never come down off of a high before but this must be what it's like
If I wake up, no when I wake up I'll be flatter than the inner tube of a bike but such is life I guess random unconsciousness coupled with stress
Oct 3, 2014
Oct 3, 2014 at 3:47 AM UTC
I broke away, suddenly and on unsure wings
I stepped forward swiftly into darkness
Giving chase to brighter things
And even I can say that faith is a beautiful thing
Even if I don’t possess faith in the typical things.
Even if it is only a faith in the fragile space
That exist between our heartbeats
Where quiet locks are kept
And keys are exchanged ,
Where lovers each learn
To pronounce
another name.
I have been broken down by numbers
And the harsh realities time has uncovered
Things that remind you, That fragile things die
Like butterflies lose wings
to vindictive trees
I have been stolen,
And I have been lost,
Bound in life’s ties,
I have failed under different eyes
But I’m divorcing self hate
For a real chance at our
first real date
And let me make this clear,
my love, my friend, my dear
it is faith in the parts of you I will never see
in the layers of love
transending your physical touch
that evades any tie to the end of my pen,
in the reverberating sound of your name in my brain
that I found this thing
that makes me brave
that keeps me sane
And it is in these things I found my faith
And it is faith that makes me believe in improbable things
I broke away, suddenly and on unsure wings
I stepped forward swiftly into darkness
Giving chase to brighter things
And even I can say that this faith is a beautiful thing
Even if It is not faith in the typical things.
Even if its faith in the fragile space
Between our pain
Where we share the stories of which we are made
Collaborative artists, stenciling words to fresh page ,
Where lovers each learn
To pronounce
another’s name.
I have faith that your eyes and
“I love you” both say the same thing.
Nov 22, 2013
Nov 22, 2013 at 11:29 PM UTC
(A note: in this poem, the authors write alternate stanzas.)
FREEDOM
has always demanded
my surrender to an instant in time
surrender to fate and therefore
to glory
Though my wily will
has oft gotten in the way
with grand illusions and the necessary
fiction that I am in command
But in the end, it is command
of nothing and no one
for that is the nature of time,
mean shrew who prunes our hopes
A clock that does not click
nor clang, but flies tirelessly; one day
its talons will ****** us away, releasing us
forever, from the burdens of the day
And until those burdens take flight
I carry a candle for the hours, open a book
for the days, and teach my trembling hand
to hold on to hope.
Aug 27, 2017
Aug 27, 2017 at 4:38 PM UTC
I could ascribe to you few things.
Few metaphors represent your wondrous making.
If I were to compare you to the roaring waves,
far reaching sourced from still ocean depths,
like the conviction of your voice,
I would miss your true joy at growing from fault.
If I were to compare you to the setting sun,
sharing the glory of its day on painted sky,
like the skill of your hand,
I would miss the grounded feet with which you walk
If I were to compare you to the intricacies of a watch,
it’s beautiful movement formed by delicate layers,
like the way you put one foot in front of the other,
I would miss your collaborative tick.
If I do not tell you how wonderful you are I will miss you. If I do not listen to your dream then it will sour the sleep. If I do not shout I will miss your echo.
I hope to soon rid any other miss* from this paper,
as our Ruler has more notches for us to mature.
Now I will be happy right here, sitting across from,
lying next to, on the other side of your screen.
Jan 29, 2019
Jan 29, 2019 at 12:47 PM UTC
Hello my fellow poets
I would like to say I've enjoyed writing and reading poems on this site and will continue to enjoy through my days.
Alas I will soon be going on a hiatus and will return after awhile, but before I go I would like to issue a challenge to all my fellow poets.
It's a collaborative poem challenge
It's very simple two poets pair up and write a poem no restrictions.
The rules are simple and are as follows:
1. The submissions will be from today till the end January 25th
2. The fellow poet has to be on this site.
3. Whoever uploads the poem their partner has to share it.
4. They have to be mentioned either in the title or side note.
5. Once the poem is uploaded send me a link so I can add it and you and your partner to the collab poem collection
6. What's a challenge without a prize, the winners will receive a notebook a pen and a hat
7. How do you win you ask. Well after the 25th I will tally all the views on February 2nd and message the winners.
Have fun writing and I hope to see many interesting collaborations
Jan 6, 2015
Jan 6, 2015 at 11:47 AM UTC
dead summer
sun shines between my bones
long crooked shadows
how long have I sat here?
oaks shade gave way to yellow
oblique rays illuminate
these dessicated sockets
gilded parched pastures
all dew has been up and took
long before I first awoke
autumn crows' appetite
my earthly flesh plucked away
I hear my heartbeat
thump thump as the rabbit runs
knowing winters frosty breath
the rabbit-catcher's campfire
cannot warm shivering bones
under their dry leafy quilt
all desire is quelled . . .
content with malodorous meat
from this hollow frame
my ice-glazed scaffold
coyote steals a femur
it was mine to freely give
suffering it was his to take
my gnawed bleached bones
scattered ,full transformation
predator to prey
play to the nature of things
sea transience by precipitant moon
4.12.12
A collaborative renga written with tsac
Apr 13, 2012
Apr 13, 2012 at 9:20 PM UTC
Inspired by Jason Silva
There is a revolution in the way that we think
Each day we push our bodies, thoughts, and voices to the brink.
Most of us most of the time, see the world through a very small set of filters
We must break these filters and let our thoughts flourish instead of die and wilter.
This is a time of communication, connection, and collaborative innovation
This will bring us progress and give humanly thought salvation
You use perhaps one millionth of the potential energy that’s inside your head
Lost in vibration, are the ideas that are said.
In my mind it is life that gives meaning to life and what we do with life
By preserving knowledge and science with the creation of music and art are the gains of our strife.
In the science of today we become artist. In the art of today, we become scientist
We use this to progress our species to become worldly finalist
There are no boundaries. There are no fears
We use this to accomplish and not look to our rears
Imagination allows us to think beyond our limitation-
It allows us to conceive of what might be -
And go farther that we ever thought possible
No idea ever to grand or radical
The point is in order to use your head you must go out of your mind
In order for you to gain the knowledge needed to unbind
You have to get beyond your routine ways of thinking
In order for your mind to be free of pollution and shrinking
We can break free of our genetic heritage
We have circled the moon, artificially reproduced DNA, and cut our death percentage.
Why should death itself our last enemy be considered beyond conquest?
We as humans have defined ourselves by overcoming biological contests
We are teaching people how to use their head
And have their thoughts ultimately shed
You are ready to have your perspective about yourself and life dramatically changed
And have your body thoughts and life go beyond the possible range
Because you will be a different person, and you should be ready to face this possibility
Because soon we, ourselves will become whole new entities.
Dec 6, 2011
Dec 6, 2011 at 11:16 PM UTC