"cordate" poems - Hello Poetry

light of a fire, staring in the bright eyes of a tiger as you wear your golden heart on your sleeve & try to fight off watery disaster but it'll come in the form of orange rose petals and bright blue lights and ink from your dangerous veins will seep through the pale of your jeans even on the days that the sun never seems to set as you sit atop a dusty mountain that shares your middle name so you climb back down with a look on your face that could only be one of either light determination or distant satisfaction, like the difference between citrus lime and citrus lemon in a coffee cup enough for 2 morning breakfasts and a sky full of shiny stars that you gracefully painted over with red chalk because you were on an adventure

0

Apr 14, 2017

Apr 14, 2017 at 11:22 PM UTC

kulsnens

cordate

light of a fire, staring in the bright eyes of a tiger as you wear your golden heart on your sleeve & try to fight off watery disaster but it'll come in the form of orange rose petals and bright blue lights and ink from your dangerous veins will seep through the pale of your jeans even on the days that the sun never seems to set as you sit atop a dusty mountain that shares your middle name so you climb back down with a look on your face that could only be one of either light determination or distant satisfaction, like the difference between citrus lime and citrus lemon in a coffee cup enough for 2 morning breakfasts and a sky full of shiny stars that you gracefully painted over with red chalk because you were on an adventure

1

My favorite dreams are those that are Possible, Yet so unlikely to ever happen. Dreams can be a random mix of brain Processing, But sometimes truth is evident in dreams, Only detected by God and the dreamer. Holding hands for comfort, Even in dreams, Hands give strength and support, As well as conformation of love. I hope my "happily ever after" Involves me holding hands for ever and ever, With prince charming, The man of my dreams. I know he is out there: I dreamt of him.

0

Apr 19, 2014

Apr 19, 2014 at 6:42 PM UTC

aeyajj

Cordate

My favorite dreams are those that are Possible, Yet so unlikely to ever happen. Dreams can be a random mix of brain Processing, But sometimes truth is evident in dreams, Only detected by God and the dreamer. Holding hands for comfort, Even in dreams, Hands give strength and support, As well as conformation of love. I hope my "happily ever after" Involves me holding hands for ever and ever, With prince charming, The man of my dreams. I know he is out there: I dreamt of him.

17

Intoxicated on the reminiscent spice of love laying dormant in a heart of natural golden hue, Love is skinned in pelt of glory flowers as morning glory rises, Rising to the heights of passions' kiss for an eternal dance, To endure love through hours awake, until the joy of sleep doth take, Stroke a spine with satin touch , Fingertips party dancing in cordate motion, Aching feet soothed with soft massage, in unspoken message of love! Livvi Kent 2013.

0

Jun 23, 2013

Jun 23, 2013 at 4:49 PM UTC

olivia-kent

A Love Poem!!

Intoxicated on the reminiscent spice of love laying dormant in a heart of natural golden hue, Love is skinned in pelt of glory flowers as morning glory rises, Rising to the heights of passions' kiss for an eternal dance, To endure love through hours awake, until the joy of sleep doth take, Stroke a spine with satin touch , Fingertips party dancing in cordate motion, Aching feet soothed with soft massage, in unspoken message of love! Livvi Kent 2013.

8

My heart is glass, she's fractured, Clear slithers set asunder, Tiny shards of razors bite, While dust blows through the storm, My eyes are punctured via flying glass, Particles send icy tears, To scratch my scathing cheeks, Ribbons ripped by fragments, Of blown sand in cordate form, A heart made out glass! By ladylivvi1 © 2013 ladylivvi1 (All rights reserved)

0

Jun 24, 2013

Jun 24, 2013 at 8:27 AM UTC

olivia-kent

Glass Heart!

My heart is glass, she's fractured, Clear slithers set asunder, Tiny shards of razors bite, While dust blows through the storm, My eyes are punctured via flying glass, Particles send icy tears, To scratch my scathing cheeks, Ribbons ripped by fragments, Of blown sand in cordate form, A heart made out glass! By ladylivvi1 © 2013 ladylivvi1 (All rights reserved)

12