Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Cné Nov 2016
i like to dance
with the devil
burning eyes upon me
in hypnotic dazzle
my toes easily
sweep away inhibitions
quieting my angelic
voice's suspicions
as whispered words
brush thine ear
my entranced ego
has no fear
as it may be
our bodies entanglement
appears free
with soaring thoughts
of ecstasy
we ebb and flow
in ****** mystery
seduced in music
playing rhythmically
i dance willingly
Shofi Ahmed Jul 2018
I wished to see my beloved
living in my heart.
When she appeared
for the first time, her radiance,
her light dazzled my eyes!

But so clear I can see her eye  
in the corner of it is a tear.
Days, months, years passed by
like it did then till now her eyes
whisper in every single word!

Speaks in the words in my alphabet
and in the words that are her
I am yet to know that makes me wonder!
Ashley Chapman Jun 2018
We fall,
and hard,
and in the shadows,
***** ourselves on snags,
that tear our clothes;
grazed and cut,
we stagger on -
Impressions, ideas, fancies!
Of these have we been disabused.

But is this spring,
come again?

in the bright sunlight,
to see you,
felt green hat in among the photo clouds,
apple suedes on the gallery's dank floor.

and I,
merrily circling with you the light cloud images,
my nostrils full of pollen spikes.
The pictures:
wisps of trailing dreams churning in ‘scapes of infinite blue;
dark clouds,
in amongst them,

Photographs in two time places
at once, all:
the other and t'other.

So excitement swells,
and everything besides us quells,
because the knowing of itself,
and dares beyond the frames;
to skirt knowingly the unsaid;
to want beyond the wounded past,
to pull things,
once again,
inside out.

In whimsy’s currents flow these thoughts,
these feelings,
these drives;
swirling in eddies,
so that as you sit,
on a summer’s day,
it moves,
a mirror to everything above.

The wavelets on the surface,
hammered into shape,
burn, bite and dazzle;
the sun’s flames leaping and dancing on ripples.

In the basement,
on the concrete,
your Y proneness shifts,
releasing knees on black-clad thighs;
two pendulums swinging,
yawing metronomes in the cool,
coolness of my desultory thoughts.

Oh, what am I saying?
Feelings like reveries walk along these silver lips straying languorously.
These myths are too soon made,
carried one to the next,
until contained no longer,
become new truths.
Visited an East End London picture gallery with a friend. Later, she texted me and said she had been called a *****, and I said, we're all that, too. Then I wanted to defend her by describing the intoxicting effect of her connection with me: her beauty.
PoserPersona Jul 2018
Your hair stills heart's rhythmic meter
  For this I wish forever
Strands spun with goddess gossamer;
  softer than touch of mother

Your eyes dazzle with no glitter
  For this I stare o're yonder
Locking jewels with coins of others;
  Leaves throbbing chests emptier

Your form flows as gentle rivers
  For this I grudge past swimmers
Glory bequeathed to the winner;
  drown will the losing suitors

Your voice humbles angel choirs
  For this I listen eager
Songs molding seraphs from satyrs;
  in harmony with nature

Your being stirs wildfire
  For this I bear the pleasure
Ethereal flames dance together;
  fueled by spiritual tethers

You are my love light of summer
  For this I waded winter
Glowing 'bove, spring was made greener;
  blooming nascent desire
jane taylor May 2016
erstwhile a halcyon extant universe incessantly ceaseless
cradled itself in hues of violet phosphorescence
laced with cobalt shimmering stars
perpetually whole it nonetheless
sought to know itself

encompassing all that is bubbling over in effervescent ebullience
intertwined with indescribable catastrophic splendor
it shattered into tens of millions of splinters
of eloquent efflorescent light
shining in the night

each splinter heretofore imbued with sempiternal felicity
began to conjure sumptuous dulcet elixirs
furtively seeking out savory emollients
to mollify the pique of separation
plummeting they fell

into monstrous competition seeking demesne they lost the purpose
of gaining awareness and intelligent consciousness
surreptitious estrangement overflowed
deluging them in excruciating agony
thus an epiphany was born

the carving of the beleaguered fragments inked with tremendous pain
created a transfiguration of splinters to crystals
hence enlightenment commenced as the gems
magnetized together constructing a world
where omnipotence shines

the ineffable beauty formed by the reintegration of crystals
far exceeds the original as they dazzle with universal light
bursting from diamonds etched in deep wisdom
flooding the firmament with kaleidoscopic
rainbow strobes cascading the sky

AmeriMav Dec 2018
Light refracting gem
Dazzle me with your beauty
You color my life
Rohan Press Feb 6
late to the dusk of her
hands: dazzle me,
a loneliness
best left unsaid.

tipping towards new dawn

her heavy eyes
   collecting ashes.
it's nice to think of loving you again
Faisal Nov 2014
Like a lonely star that hardly stays
Life treats me in its own ways
My days & nights wait for ur touch
Which u had promised me so much
U talked & talked ur eyes to my eyes
Wish v never had these good byes
The color which u always wore
Would dazzle me to have u more
That smiling face & it's glow
Would make the world move slow
The more I had you
The more I thought about you
I saw you in morning light
In clean streams & twilight
In moments & years
In lovers words & fears
In ecstasy that once sets
In love & its regrets
Someone still waits that you'll return
How to quieten hearts that burn & burn
I have turned into a silent stare
The door is open please come here...!
Julio May 18
I don't know there ......
but here,
the morning is of icicles,
of cold breath,
of a distant sun.

I don't konw there ......
Prima silence,
the white roundness,
and the blue clean.

the leaves dazzle,
the water runs dense .....
the ice melts.

And there?

There was not there ...
but here,
I look to the East,
my eternal horizon,
the white vastness.

the creatures enjoy the morning,
the crispy floor,
snort and dare.


I don't konw there ......
but here,
the day unfolds radiant
and full of promises.

Today ..........  any promises radiant there?
HTR Stevens Sep 2018
Ah, ‘rocks’ of the sea
   Thou rise high!
   Blue art thou,
   So is the sky.
   Rise and sink,
   Is all you do.
   Blue as ink,
   Lovely blue.

Ah, thou ‘white horses’,
   Now I see thee!
   Written about by poets
   Over a century.
   Rush forward together
   As in war.
   Rise again, my brothers,
   When you fall.

Ah, thou dazzling 'stars’,
   In the waters blue.
   My eyes you dazzle,
   With the help of who?
   Like silver you shine,
   As well as gold.
   When the weather’s fine,
   ‘Stars’ I behold!

Ah, thou wide blue sea,
   Thou possess all these;
   King of Military,
   Are you not pleased?
Sweety Jan 19
Hey pink.. come back to me..
Powder my cheeks with your hue..
Polish my nails with a shade of yours..
Put some maybelline punch on my lips
Add some dazzle to my tulle gown..
Blush a little on my sandals..
Because I might bump in to him today...
Sam Hammond Oct 2018
I can recall, in the past, with my mother,
How every street was so ripe and alive.
How every sight, every smell, every thing,
Would shimmer and brim and dazzle and thrive.
So, now I ask, as I sit in the dark,
Surrounded and shrouded, unable to see;
Did something change, has something happened,
Or does the problem reside within me?
Eryck Jun 2018
When she says she hears voices rattling and battling in the deepest recesses of her mind, then it's time to beware, take care, and make choices saddling you and leave her behind.

     Shes a case study of its kind. That even Freud would throw up his hands, make a grand stand in his frustrations and demand a vacation to unwind.

She's all that and more.

She'll wrap a man around her fingers  make him putty in her hands,
leave him babbling in his mirror
trying so much to understand.
He should feel something, but just can't comprehend,
left a mute, numb, mumbling...
carcass, of a man.

She's like an itch that becomes a
scratch that's becomes a pestering,
festering ****, till you look down
horror bound as the ****** swollen
thing has taken on a life of its own...

then it starts maxing out your cards,
throwing your clothes out on the yard,
yelling hard. Snooping on your phone. Won't go home. Won't leave you alone.
Is it a wound or a woman or a woman or a wound or both  simultaneously, concurrently?  Yes and no.
Oh the trials and tribulations I've known!

You can really pick em.
Daddy used to say, in his haphazard way, and really lay it on me in the harshest of phrases,  meant to dazzle and daze me, rile and faze me, knock me a kilter off my normal day.

Son, you stimulate and exhilarate  the
spirit of an untamed, pained, wild
child woman and it'll be the same, and here this,
as an insane drain on the brain most personally and certainly and most notably and you can quote me.  It'll leave you feeling like the beach storming at Normandy.
Yes, this is about the same girl I wrote about in my last poem called "the end ..of a girlfriend" (give it a read for more tidbits of wacky insights). There's nothing like a heated breakup to stimulate the poetic juices.
your eyes dazzle me, beyond belief,
you care,
even though the world was crule to you,
you love me,
which is still hard for me to understand,
but i dont want you to stop.
because i love you too.
i hope its not annoying,
that i tell you how much you mean to me,
i do that,
because i want you to know,
every day,
that you matter.
I love you seelenverwandter,
you make me happy,
when no one else does,
i want to be with you
to Jacob
L B Nov 2017
This poem comes from a dream.*

Sun—as February ordains it
twisted inordinate—in gray blanket
Snow has sifted to the pockets, wrinkles
the cuff of his woolen cap

An old hand rubs stubbled cheek
Snow flickers and falls again
in a dazzle

As he groans and stirs—
sparrows sing
As he struggles to sit—
sparrows sing
As he exhales into the chill
he considers the lilies of the field
Their luminous curling petals rise
steam or hope?
or just white smoke
wandering from the tiny fire
He sits a while to listen
to sparrows bickering in the bushes
then bursting into song

They have their audience

Across in a court of broken glass
and toppled stones
a room— still partially intact
Kindling gathered
Marta melts snow for tea
peeling potatoes in her lap
Stops to blow on hands
Marta’s heart—decent, visceral
like her hair—bun, kerchief
like her words—few in the failing
like the wounds of her smile

And Mikhail—harnessed
to the sounds of service
Orderly rhythm in ruin
hush    hush     hush
of a broom stroking cobbles
Mikhail—his hands wrapped in rags
old warrior  
now, restorer of places to live
Stops, removes his cap
squinting sunlight into the channels of his face
Then turns toward unsteady shuffling behind him

“You shouldn’t.”
Tears interrupt
reaching for the broom
“You shouldn’t do this for me.”

“No, no, Holy Father. It is little thing—
a little thing I do.”
A number of references from "The Sermon on the Mount," particularly, "Consider the lilies of the field..."  and that "a sparrow does not fall to the ground outside the Father's notice."

White smoke is a sign to the waiting world-- that a Pope has been chosen.

An article in *The Guardian* today about how there are groups that hate the present Pope for his renunciation of  tradition, wealth, pomp, and the "Vatican Courtiers".  Made me think of this poem from a dream.  Although not a practicing Catholic, I like the present Pope.
Zane Safrit Jan 30
I want to be a magician

How nice it must be,
to have a vanishing act,
to disappear,
at the drop of a hat,
to dazzle and amaze
all of the days,
and sleep at their end
with a smile on your face

I want to be a magician

Copyright © 2019 by Zane Safrit. All rights reserved.
Stu Harley Sep 2018
dazzle of
rainbow colored bubbles
as big as
ghost white
storm clouds
another world
the other side
stepped inside of
Priyanka Aug 2018
She is the wind
that brushes your hair
when you walk alone
that dusty road.

The shadow cast
on the earth behind
when you dare the sun
to dazzle you.

She is the storm
you gave birth to
as you touched upon
glisteningly still waters.

The journey, she is
that you never took
yet arrived where
the sun joins the sea.

The glowing hearth
consuming the spirit
that seeks comfort  
on a dark, wintry night.

The vision you saw
last night, alone,
visiting the deepest
recesses of the mind.

She is the rivulet
meandering through
the maze of your heart
to meet the ocean in you...
He's the one, my heart told me.
Here I am, once broken..why? no one could ever tell me.
This being has entered my life I once thought was a living lie, but sweet possession he had shown me.

Am I fooling myself, I don't think I am...the way he kissed my lips, his warm touches against my skin.
Here I am, ready to become a slave for him, dazed as he clutches my hand.

You drifted in and out of dreams, the rush that took over me, the timing of his love could not of come a better time.

These are the things love can do?
Is this me being really happy?
...because I felt it, in his kisses...I have missed him so much.

This feeling is so seldom, and I am scared, not of love but how much I am able to give, yet for the first time it is shared equally.

He, in his own right, is a gem that will for ever dazzle in my eyes, the way he looks at me and tells me he loves much I truly do. This is what love can do**

Shantel Broderick
Next page