Lie within chaos, and create comfort
In visions of endless love.
Riding slowly on the crest of a morning fling, and flutter,
The body stutters
Like a street dancer.
Shine in different directions
And end the yearning
For a love of creativity
By stripping off
Into a sea of uncertainty,
with a sense of
Unimaginable **** for what keeps you
Ticking like a sturdy clock.
Find the rhymes that combine
With what lies inside the mind,
To stumble upon the future pleasure,
That you unearth with delight,
As you wonder.
Inspiration is born out of desire.
Fuel to fire the birth of creation.
The mind quakes for a taste
Of the cake, that is blessed with greatness.
She gazed out long and far,
Past half closed curtains
And dozing, docile cars.
Witness to a world double glazed
Dampened by a passing rain.
Sound drowned still by fragile,
Stained glass pane.
Skies lay grey, like every other day,
Shrubs shrug and trees sadly sway.
She feels for the trees,
(And to an extent the shrub)
They're not so different from you or I.
We all plant roots, grow, love?
Thoughts disturbed by a startled dove,
Flew the coup, done, had enough,
Rose as Icarus toward the sun.
Basked in light of new found freedom.
Never heard the hunters gun.
I've fallen in love with a ghost, a man, an angel with crooked wings.
I've fallen in love with the way he speaks, every tick and twitch, the way he looks when he's anxious.
I want to preserve him in poems and picture books.
His soul bears the weight of every cigarette and tear he has shed.
Poor lonely ghost, why do you hide behind closed curtains and mountain man ****** hair?
Poor lonely ghost, no one can get close to you,
Only because you are too scared of getting hurt.
So instead, you hurt yourself because it's easier this way.
Poor lonely ghost, you live inside a cave, insist it's better being alone with your things and your heavy thoughts.
But the weight, it grows.
Poor soul, you were not built to hold the weight of a lonely mans world.
With all of his tears and broken hearts and anxieties and cigarettes and sad poetry.
Please take care of yourself, my lonely ghost.
And please try to open to curtains and watch the sunrise.
wants to be my friend, for I am poet-woman nineteen.
she is sweet but sad. super sad.
a good poet who wants to guide me.
but there/theirs is the odor, not faint, of wants wanting,
the pus of corruption behind the curtains,
the Wizard-ess of Oz's
special blackout curtains.
seen how easy, how her illusions,
my medium rare rejections,
morph into her delusions,
and her delusions devolve into
her conspiracy theories.
"SHE will be my mentor, poetess lover, teacher for no charge!"
my parents thinks it's great, she wants (to be) skin in my game.
my parents will find this poem accidentally, exactly,
how I do not want
to be skinned alive.
for I am poet-woman nineteen and still! now, long past
the point of being fooled, the point of no return.
and see no point,
have no intention,
of returning to either valley
no more con the my mind into letting my body
that ain't me babe.
I can hear her singing,
that's how I know she's home.
'Hotel California' to her
man who's on the phone.
But when he hangs it up
she'll be all alone,
sitting pretty, feeling lonely,
drawing little pictures of him.
And she doesn't know it,
but I get lonely, too.
Each time I do I hide myself
inside and drink her perfume.
Then after it's all gone
I paint my ceiling blue,
light another cigarette and
sit there with the curtains pulled.
You knew it, I knew it,
I blew it all in front of you.
Don't do it. I'll do it.
Just ***** it up like I do.
It's true, it is true that
it's you, O how I wish I knew.
Light another cigarette and
sit behind these curtains, blue.
Written to the rhythm of "Sixteen Saltines" by Jack White.
it falls through the glow of the wintery trees
building a cover under the breeze
luminous lights sparkle and hatch
snow pack high on the briar patch
pine cones fall from majestic fir
squirrel and robin rustle and stir
sitka spruce at tunnel bluffs
ravens roost on cedar rough
dusted peaks at hurley pass
snowline cuts the avalanche
fox and lynx are on the prowl
hollow eyes from spotted owl
cool winds up the valley trail
whirling snow from diamond vale
chilling flakes in candle hands
moonlight shines across the land
northern lights in krypton green
the sounds of verve are bitter sweet
curtains hang on a cold dark sky
counting stars, a lullaby
sages and brethren
gather, and share
and slowly souls
their tempered voices
and quiet eyes
reserved of judgment
with passing smiles
in current trends
and reflections deep
that staunch resolution
of generation net
through the checkpoints
and formal reviews
through the purple curtains
and open stage
left for taste
cause its they
who’ll plant the seeds
the captains of commerce
healers and jugglers
the coaches and councilors
negotiators and compromisers
the kings and queens
hustlers and hellcats
(who've all found their way!)
let us tip our hats
and salute them
Whitest of white against the darkest of black
Tossed around in the biggest of waves; I'm but a tiny speck
Prominent like the moon out on a sunlit sky
Attempting to live again after every night I die
Time slips by... The days have come and then gone
Drawing the curtains of dusk; to unveil the arrival of dawn
To everything else we should be indifferent because for each other we truly care
At opposites we stand for I am here while you are there...
The first thing he saw early this morning
When he pulled back the light green curtains
Was a hectic blue 'n orange butterfly
Wavering in the fair sun of his garden -
'tween the enclosed well and the laurel tree.
On a sidewalk, red and radiant,
Strutted two maidens together,
A turquoise skirt wore the one,
A chocolate T-shirt the other.
Jubilant they were together,
As the cadence of their laughter
Waved in the air like Tunisian silk.
No harvest did his screen display today,
No mountain range did loom far in the distance;
All that was shown were a laughing sidewalk,
And a quivering sun in a small garden.
I'm transparent like a window
but I'm prone to keeping curtains closed
to cover up my youthful,
aching, ***** soul.
I used to be promiscuous;
my essence on my sleeve.
a charming laugh; a crystal glass
from which many a fool drew drink.
A chalice of life;
warm like cinnamon wine,
soft like angel's delight.
Beheld by every eye.
But it never felt right;
I was smoke off a fire,
yet still smouldering coal.
Just a young, beautiful
byproduct of desire.
There's no smoke without fire.
Although, I tried to fan it cool;
the flames ran only wilder.
But as the old wind blows, it seems
a withered tree still grows new leaves.
A dandelion spreads its seeds
but they lie far away from me.
Now, I move transcluently-
ultraviolet invisible ink-
I speak in soothing whispers;
they travel further than you'd think.
Iridescence is things seemingly changing colour on their own- I think we all have the power to grow and move away from our pasts.
I love how fire is a destructive yet cleansing force.
Let me mold my body along your curves; trickle yourself into my entire being
Vulnerable, ****, my heart exposed, palpably we connect across the starry sky; you ... within me
I want your intimacy to linger along the edges of my lips hours after you've gone
I ache to be consumed by your eyes, intense with emotions, long after the dawn
Take me to your intimate chambers where hearts race; the rhythm of our silhouettes melded on satin sheets
Leisurely feel your way; a slow descend along the avenue of my rhythmic swell; forgive me of my quivering wanton needs
Allow me to graze at the gates of your femininity, drinking the honey from your pink walls; to feel your crowning point between my lips
How can I resist those wandering lips that stirs the curtains of my garden alcove; perfectly painted in honey dew, I throb for the touch of your kiss
Drape your thighs upon my shoulders; let the waves of satisfaction cascade up your spine
I beg to be released, dear God, of this intoxicating spell; I submit myself, heart laid bare; oceans of emotions no longer can I hide.
Find your eyes locking with mine; my torso parallels yours, my body pressed to you; equal in ferocity and tenderness
Mesmerize by your burning eyes in our melting flesh, so strong your hold; yet so tender your caress
Utter our names in fiery moans both whispered and screamed in heated breaths on our solitary night
Vile obscenities float out on heated breath, as cool air kiss our molded skin on the evening our time takes flight
Take me to your heart & cast away the flesh; allow our souls to weave in the throes of passion as our bodies mix into one; slow-motion ecstasy
A longing deep inside, the locked chambers of my soul to exotic places beyond our imaginations; you sneak into my heart to fulfill my every fantasy
Feed me the lullabies you paint on your canvas; orgiastic symphony we conduct in cascading tides; trembles throughout our bodies when our fluids mix
Let me paint upon your heart a ballet of our duet; the crescendo palette of my tide drown you in the spirit of our lyrics
Your ripe fruit quivers tenderly while our union completes; take my hands and let me be yours
Hold my sated body that tremors from the wake; *a union of our souls ensnare a bond secure
Weather isn't too good today
Seems like heaven's in tears
Not because I'm broken
Or it broke along watching me
Once again another being would metaphorize it with her grief
A pool of light, a flight of stars across a sky,
dawn from night, curtains part or rise or fall.
For these and this—Look! And with God's
smile upon this place—LIFE IS!
This house is silent now, this new smart house
The storm has downed the power lines; wild rains
Against the windows beat like hungry wolves
And all house gadgetry is silent and still
And just as still: the Barnes & Noble Nook™®
The Ipod™® unsupported, the dead FitBit™®
That failed before its third Christmas day
The La Crosse(tm)® that failed before its second
And dead are all the promises that they gave:
Our silent gadgets in this cold, dark cave
a crocus opens and
closes with the stream of
the playmate of exhaustion
crosses the room
in his heavy, black boots
to close the curtains.
goodbye, pride of lions
and boy transformed
into a werewolf.
the cuddle of
maple leaves rotting,
the magnet spinning
in rocket-ship orbit.
all secrets held in
in hair compounded
into strings of
and limbs stenciling
five feet of woman.
nothing in the talk
can suffocate—a quick
and easy birth of
ecstasy and the emotional
sidestep into the dark
seemingly feminine but
dreams strong as
when to sleep?
a question finger-written
on my chest.
There, dark recedes.
Its mantle fallen—
And Heaven spills
Into our hands
This is my expression of wonderment at a moment of increased or new awareness upon applying Scientology.
By seeing this Show of Nature's Great Players
You muse at their Songs and lay your Best Arm
First around her Neck, then towards the Breakers
Praising her Legs for your own Private Art
Best indeed, was your Snickering Advance,
Thinking such Act would be overlooked in-Call
One Classic Method, Man! This Begging Romance
Elders as such know when your Heart takes the Fall
Goodness, Lover-Boy! Wrap those Curtains around
If you both need to perform your own Script
Some of us are Touchy when hearing those Sounds
Of Slips and Slurps which pump your Nerves one Bit.
Check your Programme. There is Something you missed
Those Thespians above also deserve a Kiss.
they float over the currents
braving the undulating waves in our overture...
around their necks, hung time-worn pendants
struggling to convey my sentence
like wreaths adrift perhaps with hope
like a requiem filled perhaps with remorseful penance
but more like weakened footholds on a slippery *****...
only spoke grandly of sprawling blackness
where nothing did gleam
only thoughts heavy but...
a repertoire of transgressions...
raucous and obnoxious
mischievous taunts that pull me back
smothering me senseless
that was my consciousness
where second chances exist...
in faint sporadic eruptions
through the heavy curtains of uncertainty's mist
finally awakened by hastened breaths
heavy and laboured
as like previous temporary deaths
I could hear my heart
to set its beats apart
allow the new day's air sink in
rise fully from sleep
let today begin
Based on a dream.
~ ⚘ ⚪ ⚘ ~
After days of long studies comes the
days of rest. My violet dreams were
slumber-soft filled with lucent lilies
of curling flames born of ever colour
known and unknown. And I stood
in awe of them as my fears fall back
and cower in the shades of my mind.
~ ⚘ ⚪ ⚘ ~
I muse at how quickly my body
relaxed. Due to my marjoram'd
pillows and sheets of pure silk
and eiderdown? Or due to the
sips of the lavender tea in my in
my teacup decorated with a
~ ⚘ ⚪ ⚘ ~
I remember the sips in fours as
I blew the steam from my cup;
The first sip balmed my lips.
The second soothed my throat.
The third lulled my thoughts.
The fourth stilled my soul.
~ ⚘ ⚪ ⚘ ~
Though the tea, the pillow and
sheets were had a hand in my nightly
rest, the real answer is on my brow -
for it was when the night's cool air
blew, and where you placed your
sweet Morphean kiss.
~ ⚘ ⚪ ⚘ ~
With a smile, I wake.
Sat on my golden summer throne
located in my marble gazebo; a
jewel in my private garden. With
thin caryatid pillars, draped in
fine doric chitons encircling me.
Their sculpted limbs hold up the
frieze carved with acanthus
that has a stained glass top of
peacocks and stargazers.
~ ⚘ ⚪ ⚘ ~
The sheer curtains billow when
the eastern winds blow. By me, a
gold side table with a mirrored top
supported by three Greek key legs.
A pewter quill pen with a steel nib
and violet feather rests by its clay
inkpot; both beside a silver sinuous
nouveau vase and a small stack of
poetry books of black leather and
~ ⚘ ⚪ ⚘ ~
Part one of my Jasmine Pearls free verse!
(Been having issues with it so I decided to break it down
and make it a collection! ^-^)
A poem dedicated to 'Jasmine Pearl' tea. Inspired y Queen Kim's wonderful 'Golden Hour' and 'Dream Child' poems. I'm very particular about herbal teas, but Jasmine is one of the many few that never fails to relax me when needed. I'm glad I met a fellow Jasmine tea lover in Queen Kim! ^-^
It was rather challenging but I overcame it! Haven't written something
like this since my university days, but I did it!
I really hope you enjoy reading it as I enjoyed writing it!
Anyone else a tea enthusiast?
Do let me know what you think!
Queen Lyn ***
~ ⚘ ⚪ ⚘ ~
As the violet of day
draws to a close...
Witnessed the dwindling
by the horizon.
Ever so slowly,
This moment here...
of the past,
Whilst I shed these
lease of bravery
but I know...
it wouldn't last.
A final skirmish
night and light.
My crimson wings
spread to greet the.
green evening air.
Feather and wind.
spoke to each other;
quivered as if
the same story
that ended quickly before
trail of leaves
from days of
Flying past the
blushing orange cheeks
Evading the beckoning
Into the sun,
I would go.
Beyond world's end,
I would follow...
To find you
where the universe
would run its course.
I'd gladly soar through
warped new planes.
You cover yourself in a thousand tattoos
and then claim you're afraid of commitment
but they're there to stay, they're not going away
and you see the word 'love' as no different
once it's been said there's no taking it back
so you must be completely certain
that you'll feel the same way, the day after today
when you can't hide behind bedroom curtains
you ask to go slow
and say you'll let her know
when you're ready to for this to progress
you don't want any labels
just to someone to cradle
as you both quickly begin to undress
drinking and smoking to take off the edge
moaning and groaning whilst lost in the bed
your breathing is heavy, your back is all scratched
this is the life of *"no strings attached"
Tiny pairs of wings in colours of lavender & mint
flutter over rose chiffon, hanging over the curtains of my window
Outside, the world settles slowly in the white night. It's most unbearable because I recall that such lovely creatures have no place
in this stoic wasteland at all.
There is no warm wind to lift their feather-light wings,
nor flowers in which they may sip on
Jack Frost would nip at their tiny bodies
Father Winter would freeze their wings in motion
The cold winter wind would whip their breaths away. A sunrise pattern on the snow, littered with colourful decay.
frozen; for the world on display
I still collect my voice with a tone of surprise, that they continue to flutter by inside next to this bed in which I lay.
For without your arms wrapped around my waist
the air in here is much the same,
As what lies beyond the window pane
You feel depressed and lost
For all the pain and the cost.
Your efforts have gone in vain,
You are struggling to stay sane.
It is so hard to remain in the light
When you have already lost the fight.
You are watching the curtains closing,
While the world is sleeping.
Your life has been a bumpy ride
Always changing with tide.
And as the sequence continues,
You are scared that you will lose.
Yet, here you stand with the will to try.
Yet, here you stand prepared to fly.
Tanay Sengupta, Copyright © 2018. All Rights Reserved.
Just another one from my lab. So, far it has been just easy lyrics from me and this one is no different. I am trying to keep my poems very simple and humble. I really hope that you are enjoying them.