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ryn Nov 2014
If only we were figures...
Accentuated in the night sky.
Starlit effigies bound by cosmic tethers...
Secrets of the universe many would attempt to pry.

If only we were figures...
Painted on pored upon canvas.
Fantastic renditions by masterful painters,
Abstract oil swirls dancing to a whimsical opus.

If only we were figures...
Given life in the lyrics in a song.
An example of harmony in verse,
Bridge and chorus...where we belong.

But we are only figures...*
Trampled on by indifferent feet that came to mock.
We can't undo such a potent curse...
We are but grounded figures outlined in chalk.
CK Baker Oct 2017
they’re pouring out of the
woodwork
those pretentious machiavellians
in ailing albino frames
eccentric masked figures
milling about the glow light
like night moths
in a cold london fog

lunatic gazers
with seeping moles
pinned by frogmen and twine
spider climbers
on **** fire
splitting seams
in the fading
and hideous ink

guards of the perch stand
on hades hand
monsters and demons
with severed limbs
taunting the condemned
and wanting
souls of the ******

cauldron fire
in blood red sky
silent screams
hack and wheeze
gas lines broken
words unspoken
teetering backward
on the dark shadows
of the phantom abyss
D A W N May 9
i remember the way your hair shined through the sunny day
studying the way your eyes flutter every time you stutter
the words you cant say
i remember how pleasing your voice was beneath my ears
i remember being with you
washed away my fears
do you remember the days where we used to lay in the shade?
forming figures in the clouds
having long conversations for hours
nights where we stayed up late
getting into ****** debates about who's right or wrong,
picking out the right song to play over and over again.
remember how we fought over ****** stuff?
and even though times get rough, we'd just laugh it all up
do you remember when we met in September?
in english class where the hours didn't last
and that's where it happened so fast
creating memories that we thought would remain
but all we created
was pain
and that was the last day i saw you.
sitting on the bench
with another girl
my heart clenched
cheeks tear-drenched
my pride craving for revenge.
listen darling,
i just want you to remember
from the beginning of september
remember the long-lasting splendor
the last moments of us being together
because i remembered
and dare i keep it in my heart forever.
wrote in 2015 for R.C
Wade Cook Jul 22
I found you here, asleep
Listened to you breathe
Air reeled in, caught in the chest
Blackening our shapes
Two figures quiet in the water
Could that have been love?
We found here in the forest,
Curled around my neck
I've inched forward to see
To hear your breathing
A foreign touch folded on the cover,
Feeling the same thing
J
GreenTrees Dec 2013
The small but ample cottage tucked in among the trees with large trees like bedposts.
A small hum of excitement stirs the air. The ocean kissed sea air moves past the cottage searching for just a peak at her.

But not tonight, the windows drawn tight, and still sweating from the  warmth there by the muted figures in the flames.
Just a glimpse of  her edges out from the corner of my eye.
And only she warms me in a way, that even now the figures in the flames seem less willing to speak her name.

With her heat comes a light, and with her light the words are more clear and the beauty of season more evident.
She is a muted flame edging out of the corner of my eye.
Kissing me quietly as she drifts off in to cozy corners of my mind.



COPYRIGHT 2013
Karl von Mecklenburg
Somewhere,
I've lived you.
Enjoying
the lensing of solitude,
the breeze, the trees, figures surrounding
the dark grey moisture-laden clouds;
All of these ingredients,
must've been tasted before--
For you to rinse the sweetness in them
Again.
Jeff Stier Oct 2016
A most pious man
whose well-tempered music
brushed the cobwebs
from the throne of ***

Evolution was made manifest
across deep time
these lyrical figures
achieve the same purpose
in the space between the morning star
and the dawn

A fallow field
is sewn with pearls
a moonlit beach
illuminated by shadow
every scrape of the fiddler's bow
merges mind with the present
harvests the meaning
in the moment

The composer
that good man
was
for a time
church organist at St. John's
its notable steeple leaning
all askew
as a rebuke against ***
or perhaps the drunken architect

A finger of candlelight
plays across the manuscript
a fugue echoes
through the still church

And though no living person
on that still winter's night
shares the organist's solemn delight
the stirring mass of possibility
that is posterity
awaits
Robin Lemmen Aug 8
I love company
In the form of anxious thoughts
I am less lonely
Accompanied by twenty screaming voices
Tearing at my every inch of flesh
Pouring pain into my veins
Crying is good for the soul
They laugh in union
As I lie lonely in my bed
Hoping someone will find me
Bruised and broken
And take me into their arms
Hold me like a child
But you are too grown to feel such ways
These voices whisper licking blood
Carefully off their fingers
Spikes poke at my sides leaving no room
For me to move or breathe
I am slowly dying
And yet I tell you I am fine
For if I were to ever admit
That this is how I truly feel
My demons would take form
No longer shadows but figures
Ready to take me whole
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