"dryest" poems
Life is a rose
Sometimes it showers you in its petals
Sometimes it makes you grab it by the thorns
But even when you bleed the rose is still the prettiest gift you'll ever recieve
My favorite flower will always be the radiant sunflower,
But my life sprouts from the seed of a rose
And I may never be as tall or happy as a sunflower
But I still refuse to walk away from the sun
The beams like glitter dancing off a dream
A dream I'm too small and scared to reach
I am not afraid of being and accepting who I am
This little garden patch grows despite going through the harshest summers, dryest droughts, and most desperate winters
Other roses wilt and wither away
I make this garden shine with the sunflowers in my eyes
Dec 30, 2018
Dec 30, 2018 at 3:27 AM UTC
I cannot see a path before me,
Nothing but a pestilant haze.
Bathing all resistance,
Hiding hope from my lonely eyes.
You the focus that holds me steady,
I fabricate a story that makes you love me.
Without you there is no reason,
To hang on parched in this dryest of seasons.
Dreaming up the missing mornings,
Filling in the longed for nights,
Your face and voice the origin of my delight.
Every morning alone heart strings tight.
I beg for my own salvation,
Set me free from this beautiful imagination.
Tell me to leave you and no longer love you.
So free and heartbroken,
Drifting like feathers over a seamless ocean.
Jul 30, 2011
Jul 30, 2011 at 3:43 PM UTC
I couldn't tell your skin from sadness on the dryest, darkest nights.
I refused to acknowledge the rising tides that licked my ankles, threatening to fill my lungs with seafoam. I threw my head back and laughed, instead.
I, born of Neptune, am no different from the hungry tides. I want to wash you ashore and squeeze the water from your milky skin. You'll be as translucent as a jellyfish.
And I will smile, disgusted and aroused.
Oct 12, 2011
Oct 12, 2011 at 2:20 PM UTC
living down here in this chasm
high hopes, no one has them
erosion has us sinking deeper
and these rock walls just get steeper
at the bottom of this rocky gulch
in dryest hopes, we endulge
living in this deep ravine
we are somewhere in between
May 11, 2016
May 11, 2016 at 2:24 PM UTC
The joy of the fresh sunlight
and the ecstasy of the darkest night
are unexplainable by any word or voice
but can be explained by the silence in the noise
Retreating is the winter's fog and mist
and advancing is the time of a spring
And in the dryest moment of a rain
to the brightest moment of the darksest night
Happiness will prevail
Embrace the greatest moment of life
Abandon all the anxiety
for resting in reward of tranquility
Awaiting the darkest night
to vanish in prescence of light
The remorseless music of river,
as it flows
ending in the sea,reflecting the moon
as it glows
Now the moon glows no more
Comes the Darkest Night,as it came before
Feb 22, 2011
Feb 22, 2011 at 7:06 AM UTC
Meanest
Bleakest
Blackest
Dryest
We are the meanest, bleakest race.
Hail from the blackest, dryest place.
Apr 24, 2014
Apr 24, 2014 at 11:01 AM UTC
Watching the sunrise as it inches up the horizon is like...
Waiting for the popcorn to pop
Watching your favorite movie with that special ending
Remembering your last great kiss and wanting it again
Gazing into your fire pit with nothing else on your mind
Seeing a close friend for the first time in years
Having the greatest news delivered to you
Opening your eyes on a hike to see the most amazing, new sights
Hitting a hole in one
Driving down a long boulevard and not hit one red light
The smoothest, glassest water, to water ski on
The freshest, dryest, deep, untracked powder to float in
*** The sunrise is all this and more!
Start you day with a
SUNRISE
May 30, 2019
May 30, 2019 at 9:39 AM UTC
In dryest desert
Lay hidden jewels,
The monuments of days gone by,
Beneath the holy
Sands of Time,
Where altars to the Old Gods lie,
I found myself
Without my faith,
And could not pray, for I would die,
When I awoke,
Beneath the palms,
At the temple of the Ceruni.
To see their Gods,
Such power and fear!
For I've felt no presence as I have felt here,
So strong, so pure,
So rich; Alive!
The Gods have felt so near this night.
I wandered in,
Through sacred gardens,
Which no other man had yet seemed defy,
And came upon her,
Her robes as the snow,
The Goddess of the Ceruni.
She beckoned me
From silvered dome,
Where she was seated, upon silver throne,
I passed the great hemp
And red poppies which shone,
To lay my eyes upon her.
"O Dear Goddess," did i cry,
"Have the heart to tell me why,
When I have spent my days and nights,
Not quite dead, Yet not alive,
Am I shrouded in your Holy Light? "
She gave no words,
But simply smiled,
I, gripped by silence all the while,
Could find no speech
Nor pause for thought,
As she whispered lessons which one time, were taught.
You may think me mad;
I swear I am not!
I'll point out the towers if we find the spot,
Such silver and gold,
Such wonderful shine!
To be in a place where the Gods would recline.
I've witnessed the spires
Of fallen empires,
So proudly they stand in desert dry!
But I've no recollection,
Upon sudden reflection,
Of where the Holy Temple lies.
But when I die,
O, take me there!
Where hemp and poppy kiss the sky!
And on my slate,
Let them write,
"Here lies the last of the Ceruni!"
Feb 19, 2018
Feb 19, 2018 at 12:37 AM UTC
wander down with gentle rains
along the furrows dug along those
long straight rows out
back
I seep and trickle
flow among each drop
seek the lowest spot
and gather
low with my kin
follow gravity to its
beginning
to the neediest root
the dryest eye
make tears
a pied pipers eye
to cry at the drop of a
small seed
into the next cloud
to serenade
each fallen hero
making life renew
stop
and look
becoming
moist
I am
just dew
and heaven
mists
Nov 5, 2017
Nov 5, 2017 at 1:23 AM UTC
I wish I was a shaman or tribal chieftain,
To get the sky bleeding in dryest seasons,
I know there's no rhyme or reason, higher meaning I believe in,
But my mind is reeling, can't fight the feeling,
Hail is a Hail Mary, it's guided healing,
So a Noah's Ark flood would be a sight to see then,
Quite appealing, so even I, the heathen,
I can't deny the sea then.
I just wanna lie outside in the rain,
No sign of the pain, sit still 'till my clothes need drying again,
I can't tell if I'm crying, it's lining my face and I'm dying for space,
Watching droplets pop atop the bridge of my nose, inching so close,
But I'm sitting alone, sniffing on the petrichor, I'm meant for more,
But death's the door I'm headed for.
Mar 31, 2019
Mar 31, 2019 at 5:54 PM UTC
I’ve got a secret that lives in my head
no one knows of it, not even me.
It surfaces slow while I lie in my bed
I wish I could sleep peacefully.
Wind is biting my ear, my left side is ice cold,
I’ve turned numb; I’m not even tingling.
A lifetime of bronze and silver, finally received gold,
but to place around my neck; I’m still hesitating.
It’s been a starry, starry night,
with Rhone’s reflection shining bright
and our Irises connect and only ever see light.
Studying sorrow; pain vs. fear,
so I’ll sit back and contemplate for another year,
would you appreciate the sentiment of Van Gogh’s lost ear?
It will be while on the dryest island where I find my lungs filled with water.
It will be collapsed on ground when I finally stand,
and encased and embraced in ice when I start getting hotter.
Promises will be made
and secrets are kept,
you’re inside me as I’m flayed,
exposed and I feel in debt.
You know that I love you,
that I only think of you,
and no one is your equal let alone ever above you.
It’s been so long at Eternity’s Gate,
I missed the Almond’s Blossom; I was too late,
and The Potato Eaters complain with what is on their plate.
Studying sorrow; shame or a tear,
so I’ll sit back and contemplate for another year,
would you appreciate the sentiment of Van Gogh’s lost ear?
I’d jump to paint your shadow
or even draw your outline in chalk,
I’d drag myself behind you even if you were to allow
me the privilege alongside you to walk.
Feb 13, 2020
Feb 13, 2020 at 2:01 AM UTC