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Belinda lived in a little white house,
With a little black kitten and a little gray mouse,
And a little yellow dog and a little red wagon,
And a realio, trulio, little pet dragon.

Now the name of the little black kitten was Ink,
And the little gray mouse, she called her Blink,
And the little yellow dog was sharp as Mustard,
But the dragon was a coward, and she called him Custard.

Custard the dragon had big sharp teeth,
And spikes on top of him and scales underneath,
Mouth like a fireplace, chimney for a nose,
And realio, trulio, daggers on his toes.

Belinda was as brave as a barrel full of bears,
And Ink and Blink chased lions down the stairs,
Mustard was as brave as a tiger in a rage,
But Custard cried for a nice safe cage.

Belinda tickled him, she tickled him unmerciful,
Ink, Blink and Mustard, they rudely called him Percival,
They all sat laughing in the little red wagon
At the realio, trulio, cowardly dragon.

Belinda giggled till she shook the house,
And Blink said Week! , which is giggling for a mouse,
Ink and Mustard rudely asked his age,
When Custard cried for a nice safe cage.

Suddenly, suddenly they heard a nasty sound,
And Mustard growled, and they all looked around.
Meowch! cried Ink, and Ooh! cried Belinda,
For there was a pirate, climbing in the winda.

Pistol in his left hand, pistol in his right,
And he held in his teeth a cutlass bright,
His beard was black, one leg was wood;
It was clear that the pirate meant no good.

Belinda paled, and she cried, Help! Help!
But Mustard fled with a terrified yelp,
Ink trickled down to the bottom of the household,
And little mouse Blink strategically mouseholed.

But up jumped Custard, snorting like an engine,
Clashed his tail like irons in a dungeon,
With a clatter and a clank and a jangling squirm
He went at the pirate like a robin at a worm.

The pirate gaped at Belinda's dragon,
And gulped some grog from his pocket flagon,
He fired two bullets but they didn't hit,
And Custard gobbled him, every bit.

Belinda embraced him, Mustard licked him,
No one mourned for his pirate victim
Ink and Blink in glee did gyrate
Around the dragon that ate the pyrate.

But presently up spoke little dog Mustard,
I'd been twice as brave if I hadn't been flustered.
And up spoke Ink and up spoke Blink,
We'd have been three times as brave, we think,
And Custard said, I quite agree
That everybody is braver than me.

Belinda still lives in her little white house,
With her little black kitten and her little gray mouse,
And her little yellow dog and her little red wagon,
And her realio, trulio, little pet dragon.

Belinda is as brave as a barrel full of bears,
And Ink and Blink chase lions down the stairs,
Mustard is as brave as a tiger in a rage,
But Custard keeps crying for a nice safe cage.
Prince of humorous verse Ogden Nash
Bell Apr 2021
yestereve we succame
A lengthy ballad of longing
formerly one of obstinance
flared in a cacophony of passion

Whilst usually twirling in a seemly epitome fashion,
yestereve a caprice thought laid heavy on hearts
as there was no doubt of desire
nor were there objections to her
for even when my affections consumed you
lady desire was just an inexorable

yestereve she picked petals from a Sinensis blossom
there went the pain
any semblance of grudge
along with sanity
reason
and lastly, walls as carefully constructed as that of Pyramus and Thisbe's
such vulnerability unmatched
for your sweet scent lulled me from the arms of reason
for reason, although safe,
is the most intricate and fragile part of the ballad
and the first to fall victim to the cascade

What a fool I must be to have gladly forgotten the kinks of your hands
or the freckles on the back of your neck that form a perfect triad.
The way your upper lip curls when you grin
made my glissade blissful and passionate
Your flustered twirl
the very epitome of aubade

Ignorant of the harsh retombe of reality
Your flustered face En L'air
Every touch a pleasant surprise that formed a grand symphony

A moment of unfiltered emotion
A heavenly ballad
so cruelly of yestereve.
twas hard to replicate this feeling after knowing how it all ends
Rather than
allowing Oneself
to get upset and flustered-
lashing out in negativity;
seek to transmute that Energy
into beneficial positivity:
set out to make it right.

Such self-discipline is truly auspicious.
CM Rice Dec 2013
He heard a last echoed clink of liquor-laden ice-cubes,
Stuck between two stools that screamed for company,
I gazed across his vacant stare to the barman –the silent DJ,

Professionally ignorant as I gestured my hoarse thirst,
I waited a little minute, another minute an’ just one more,
Enter our businessman, full-schedule, long-hauled to drink,

With a rib-eye steak of a face an’ breath surely barbecued,
Two satisfied cheeks, pink-puffed with brows fit for burial,
Teeth ground with tension but brighter than the lighting

A fungal-lung nose perched upon a smile that I could smell,
He plumbed himself wet-shave close to my stiffened neck,  
“..Hana Drink..?” (Silence) best to follow the DJ’s example,

(Bullish huffs) (Lips licked) “.. Ya’ll wantin’ a drink, Mister?..”  
Flustered by the company, I replied “..Non, Je think eh Je chi..”
A retort of sorts, faux languages not my degree, “..Leaba..Bed!”

Spluttered just at the end – an insulting first impression,
He seemed nervously joyous, loosened from being himself,  
Yet his trouser belt buckled, pulled tight to conversation level,

An’ Redwood-trunk hands, alive with the latest deal struck,  
“..Bedtime for us..” he bare-bawled, splitting my weary eyes,
His numbed arm clumsily flung around me, “..bedtime for us!..”,

DJ unmuted, the music paused, I mouthed softly “..just the bill..”
(Silence)
“..Who’s Bill?.. a friend?…Is he cute?.. So this drink?” I panic still.
Kimberly Clemens Jul 2013
Like all days, I wonder.
I wonder what you're thinking.
If you're thinking of me.
If that's a stupid thing to think.

Like all days, I wonder.
I wonder if I stop you.
Stop you from whatever you're doing.
Because the thought of me gave you butterflies.

Like all days, I wonder.
I wonder if I frustrate you.
If you're frustrated that I haven't kept in touch lately.
Maybe we're both too stubborn to start the conversation.

Like all days, I wonder.
I wonder if I make you smile.
From a memory you don't want to forget.
There are so many of those that you could recall.

Like all days, I wonder.
I wonder if I haunt you.
Just as much as you've been haunting me.
We're both ghosts haunting what we hope is still there.

Like all days, you wonder.
You wonder if I wonder about you, too.
If I'm just as flustered with these thoughts as you are.
Maybe we've been sharing these feelings all along.

Like all days, we wonder.
Phairy Aug 2014
"But he shall never know who I am!" Nicotine said in total desperation to her noxious best friend. "You don't understand, you never felt what I'm feeling!" Nicotine pulled away from her friend and ran downstairs
"You will get caught" Lela shouted trying to talk her sense out of it. "What if you got caught?"
"Then I shall be punished for this love but I refuse to regret trying to have it." She wore a jacket and a baseball cap and took off.


Nicotine wasn't a normal girl, she wasn't like Lela or girls in her age. In fact, she wasn't like anyone ever.
She was very brave and creative, dreamy but she makes it happen. She doesn't care what people might think and she doesn't like rules. She grow up with merother and both brothers, her dad died with surgery complex of  adjustable gastric band when she was 13; and he told her before he took the breath of his death "don't ever change, don't be like me. Change them without trying. Just be you, they'll follow! And never chase love, love will find you." And she never lived by any rules except for those.
She was the youngest among her brothers yet she was the strongest emotionally, physically and the brightest mentally. Nicotine never understood why the world decided to be a man's world when she is a woman and better than a lot of men!

Nicotine was a strange girl that wouldn't let anything stop her. And nothing stopped her indeed.
Until this one time...

She was 17 years old when she met a boy. Travis was his name, Travis has traveled from his school to hers and they met in English class. The only seat available was next to her so he sat there. For three seconds, there eyes met and Nicotine never been that much hooked. She was straight forward and hate the games. So by the end of the day she asked Travis out.
"Sorry, I don't tend to be rude but my sister died few months back and I don't feel like being around girls."
Nicotine flustered when this time, she didn't know how to get what she wants. She smiled and waved goodbye.
She wouldn't lose hope and she was determined to be Travis best friend! But Travis never showed on the second day of school or the third. Travis never showed up again as if he disappeared with fresh air up the mountains where people lose their way back in the forest.

Years went by but Nicotine never had forgot his details...

The way his long brown darkish hair flew unlike mainstream. Dark skin tone with black wide eyes. Even though Nicotine was 5,9 feet considered tall, Travis was almost 6,4 or something.
There have been nights when she dreamt of him hugging her tight telling her "wait, don't leave. I'm coming" or the times when she sees him everywhere and never been able to love anyone as half as the love she feels for Travis. Some nights she thought, maybe... Just maybe I love him too much because he is the one who left not the other way around! But most nights, she dreamt about way long French kiss.

One day she was walking down the streets on her way back from college. She is a senior now and a vergin.
Nicotine was in her usual bubble listening to her IPod music when she saw him again.
She wasn't sure at first. His hair was shorter and she didn't recognize the smile. But those eyes and the skin tone. **** it, she can't let him slip again.
"Yo, Trav" some whiteish guy across the road yelled to him.
Trav? Trav? He said Trav? What's the short name goes for????¿¿¿!!!¡
"For the million times dude, its Travis. Never call me Trav" Travis flicked the white guy forehead. "Whatever, u going to Delphic tonight?"
"Yep, best arcade ever!"
Nicotine stood still for awhile, losing her ability to control her lungs. Shortens in oxygen. Her mouth was all rusty and words too little. Suddenly she started running home as fast as she could. Called her best friend and told her about her plan.

That's when Lela started to be noxious.

"Okay okay, hold on" rising her hands up to shush me "you are going to the Delphic arcade across the city tonight to stalk a guy you have been in love with-one sided- for years faking that you are a guy?" She paused. "That's so normal, nothing weird about this." Laughed sarcastically
"You don't need to understand" said Nicotine.
It almost felt as it she's mourning "why are you doing this please I need to understand?"
Nicotine was racing the clock trying to get ready to be the coolest guy. Wig of short hair? Done. Thick eyebrows? Done. Guys shirt? Done. Jeans? Done. ******* corset? Done. She was very sure he is the one. "I don't know how to explain all the feelings I have for this guy. But one time I was a girl and he turned me down because his sister died months ago and then disappeared! Look at me, Lela! Do I look like a girl to say no to?"
"All this trouble for a revenge?"
"Of course not, its a give in to my heart"


Nicotine arrived at 9 pm sharp. She doesn't know is Travis here already or not but she doesn't waste time and she starts looking for him. By a pinball machine Travis stood next to his friends and the white guy she saw earlier. She knew no time should be anymore wasted.

"Excuse me?" Said nicotine in loud, stiff and sharp voice
All the guys turned around of the pinball looked at her. Except they weren't looking at a girl but a handsome guy.
"I've lost my phone and I think my friends left, can I use one of you cell phone?"
"Sure" Travis said first. Pulled his cell out of his ripped jeans pocket and handed to me.
"Thanks, won't take long"
Nicotine pulled herself aside and started pretending that she is talking on the phone by calling her cellphone voice mail. Next step, spend some quality time with Travis!!
"*******, *******!!!" Nicotine shouted through the phone and close the line dramatically groaning.
"U ok?" Travis grabbed nicotine by the shoulder.
"Yeah." Nicotine paused "I need a ride home"
"I can give you one if you like." Travis blushed. "Do you need to leave now?"
"No, I can stay for a while more.... I'm nicotine" we shook hands
"Travis... Don't ever call me Trav. Nicotine as THE NICOTINE?"
"my dad was big fan of the 70's rock bands, I happen to be a sin" Nicotine leaned closer while still grabbing his hand then she whispered "btw Trav, I never play by the rules"

Travis stood there, studying Nicotines face like a map dotting every detail as if he planning to get an A+ on geography. "You're... Different" Travis murmured.
Nicotine grinned.

They've spend days and days having fun going out for ice cream or movies. Concerts and jams. Late night phone calls and early breakfast making. They never talked a out girls which was odd to nicotine but she was relifed Travis didn't like any girls around.


They were on a hill laying down gazing at the stars in the middle of an afternoon sun. It was one the weird games they played that nobody understood.
"Listen" Travis said "I need to tell you something"
Nicotines heart pounded "listening but whisper"
Travis took a moment before he spoke again. "I'm gay." Travis sounded edgy. "I'm gay for you... Don't bail on me I love you,
nicotine. Kiss me"

In a matter of a second nicotine lost all hope for words all hope for love and all hope to forget this love that now has been so close to be reached. She got up and ran away. But this time not home. She ran to the cemetery where her dad laid...

She was caught up between telling him the truth or go get a transgender surgery. But she was afraid if she told the truth, he could never love her like he loved nicotine the guy. If she told the truth, he could not forgive her for the lie she told. She lived. Nicotine was torn in front of her dads grave and wanted for angel of death to come and take her soul. Just for a day or two. Just for a while, until Travis forgets. Until she forgets. Before this, ever have been done by her.

"Why are you crying?" A voice shifted nicotine's mind from lost to found. "What are you doing here? How did you find me" she said.
"You told me, that's where you go when things go wrong." Travis tenderly spoke, sat next to me. "Have they gone wrong?" He said.

Nicotine was trying to control her sobb "yes." Wiping her tears with her arm "I didn't mean to go so far"
Travis stared and stared and looked at nictone in a way she couldn't read his face. "There is something I should tell you" nicotine whispered frighteni for the first time in her life since her father died. "Speak" Travis whispered while his forehead clicked to mine.
Nicotine froze as soon as she felt his skin on hers. She closed her eyes not wanting to look at the disappointment in his eyes. The frown on his face. She couldn't focus when she had his breath on her face. She didn't know how to begin, she didn't know how to open her rusted mouth. "I..." Travis pulled nicotine closer placing both of his hands on the sides of her head and kissed her. Kissed her like he never seen lips before. "I know." Travis said.
"What?"
"I'm 25 years old, don't you think I'd know a girl when I see one? Specially a girl I wanted to kiss the day I met and thought I've lost for good"
Nicotine crocked a smile and rushed to his rough lips. Biting the lower lip as if she never kissed a guy before. It wasn't just lust or the need for ****** *******. It was craving to touch a skin you adored. It was listening to your favorite song alone in the dark. It was comfort that made love.
Travis slowly pulled her away "why did you fake to be a guy?"
"I was afraid to lose you again if I was a girl if you had a lover." Embarrassed nicotine spoke her words. "I'm sorry, I love you. Don't leave."
"You're nicotine... And I'm heavy smoker seeks death if it means to die by your love"

And that's how Romeo and Juliet died of lung cancer. Just kidding. They died with poison
Daniello Mar 2012
Our consciousness is often conjured in the noggin the way
pompously-starved college kids microwave Ramen: phenomen-

ally over-heated and eaten up unbelievably quick, wow, you’re a
genius, now you can hurry back to completing your awesome thesis!

Neatness!

But having burned your tongue, you vilely cursed inside
with words rougher than ***, not knowing where they were from,

and flustered, said you were done; plus, **** it, this work is dumb.

Oh, freshman, if only you had savored dem noodles!
just having fun with words
Damaris ZA Sep 2018
a soft look, was drawn to my direction
blushed cheeks, came towards me; that filled my madness
a single touch, in every part that i could handle from you
letting, every part of you in me..
just to repeat the moment
again.
and again.
It's something I find myself doing; is letting everything happen now so that in the future I repeat the memory again and again
She doesn't know me, nor recognize me anymore,
as if the trees have changed shades of blue they never were
and dandelions have melted into an orange color.
She stood back in a shocked unacknowledgement
a painful stare right through my flustered skull
taking notice to every little ant but silly old me;
the chilled sizzles in her passionate eyes
passing by my attention seeking debonair,
easier than skipping stairs on her way
out of work every Friday afternoon.
she sometimes speaks to me, but the tides are shallow,
and our depths couldn't even bathe a babe.
Red flakes of the greatest nothing
incapable of breathing the slightest spark in her mind,
but her blazing hair has caught my attention.
Flaking embers that have sprinkled thousands of burnt marks
upon my coarse skin
like freckles stained to my body unable to be brushed off.
Her burnt heart is on my sleeve but I'm afraid not in my arms;
a fire pulsing through my veins like a slightly more addictive ******
because she is my little red, of course, from afar
and that is all I could ask for
no more, no less
because she is my little red
Terry O'Leary Sep 2013
The warden’s bewildered, the keeper’s amazed
as the gate gapes behind us, a hole in the haze.
Our steps seem uncertain, the cobblestones crazed,
pearly stars burn above us like pinwheels ablaze.
Though lanterns hang vacant in streets staring blind,
broken paths paved in puzzles compel me to roam,
                                       I’ll not leave you behind.

The cannons keep calling, the piccolos shriek
and the druids drift, drumming, while pale pagans speak.
They’re urging me forward, my senses they’ve mined,
and the trail is erupting, come hie to the hills
                                       I’ll not leave you behind.

The looking glass glistens, a firefly glows,
and the brownies leap lightly on tiny tip toes
for the twilight’s collapsing, which serves to remind
that as dusk turns to dust, with no time for farewells,
                                       I’ll not leave you behind.

The ponies of plunder prance, passing nearby,
as crusaders on stallions cast stones from the sky.
The figments they’re facing have paid them no mind,
but our broncos are bolting. Corral what you need,
                                        I’ll not leave you behind.

My visions are swirling, they flash from the crown,
from the rainbows of summer, the tinsel in town.
While the compass wheel’s spinning, the minutes unwind
inside evening’s auroras – so cling to my cape,  
                                       I’ll not leave you behind.

Drooping droplets of wax adorn pinched candle wicks
while the vampire steeple’s cathedral clock ticks
of the terrors in tombs where ****** flames lie reclined
with their flickers fast fading – abandon the glim,
                                       I’ll not leave you behind.

The orphans and widows lean into the breeze
watching horrified hangmen descend to their knees
for the angel of mercy’s no longer inclined
to forgive vengeful  phantoms (oh Furies of night!) ,
                                       I’ll not leave you behind.

The bandits are brazen, the highwaymen lurk,
some imbibing dark brews of a hag’s handiwork,
mostly gulping from goblets like goblins maligned.
Woman! Widen your wings, catching wisps of the wind
                                       I’ll not leave you behind.

The lepers laugh, leaping from tombstones of steel
chasing rollaway caskets on luminous wheels;
while their shadows shake, shrouded, twixt trees intertwined,
twisted time melts at midnight, take hold of my hand,
                                       I’ll not leave you behind.

The gremlins *****, grinning face down in the dust,
while the sprites and the pixies are watching nonplussed.
They sling bolted arrows at spectres enshrined
within winds somewhat flustered, just fly from your fears
                                       I’ll not leave you behind.

The tattered toy teddies and raggedy Anns
have escaped to the skyways in kid caravans
but now, spellbound by fancies, know not that they’ll find
their parade’s evanesced into echoes of dawn –
                                       I’ll not leave you behind.

The wind’s my enchantress, beguiles and commands
me to search for my fortune in faraway lands
and whispers her mysteries of passions entwined,
for the wind is Isolde – unfurling my sails
                                        I’ll not leave you behind.
SassyJ Apr 2016
The rattle is shaken and life becomes unfixed
Torrential rains cascades downwards on ancient bricks
These stunning moments have been rediscovered
In wonder all is flustered in awe as the state of silence honks
Love creeps out of tune in time, the unsureness of cold feet
The voice fades, the toned whispers continually erased
Stormed and soaked, stilled and stalked by a heart that stole my dream
Drenched in uncertainty, non-favouring multitudes won't let me be
These flutters flattens and deflated, I stroll and I will not run
The floating fun fares vanishes, the morning bird furnishes
The time capsule evaporated, unstripped and frozen

Ohh, how I wished to plant and harvest inspiration
Wake up with a renewed breath of air, the flowing river
Of the days when the gloom masked, I hated what life had become
How could humanity be so self centred and selfish?
I looked for silence and the banging never ceased
The masses rushed, never to let me be, they snatched my freedom
I inhaled the hope of the freeness and longed for the racing momentums

How so?
That over time the weather collapsed to coldness, the darkness marbled
A nag of the songbirds, as I escaped in the ****** ozone layer
A disconnect of the mind, body and soul; when I saw my spirit sail
A snail sailing on its own course and journey slowly but steady
Reflections and visions of the timeline of growth and fertility
A heart of one, the soul of all, the mind of many, a tongue in sums
The chandelier hanged on a ceiling, high, holding the flickering bulbs
A condense of energy, the modelled nature of a prognostic intervention
A laughter and synergy rests in the symphony of the unsung melodies
Andrew Switzer Jun 2015
History's greatest artists would fail to do your frame justice. Their fingers would fumble clumsily, brushes and pens flustered by the impossible request of copying a face which would shame Aphrodite into seclusion.
Those with mastery of the worlds languages couldn't hope to come close to capturing the magnificence and depth of a soul that burns brighter than our sun, papers crumpled in frustration from futile attempts at capturing a shooting star in a mason jar.
Virtuosic musicians can't comprehend melodies which could equal your soothing atmosphere or complex structure. Theorists would spend eons attempting to find an ordering of notes which could sing harmonies fitting the one that pours from your eyes, each one being broken by the realization that no such string exists, that they have attempted to match the glory of a choir of angels, and that God has found them unworthy.
Reality is ripping at the seams in its vain efforts to make room for an immaculate Phoenix which can not be tamed, corralled, or controlled by a physical world, not when its immortal splendor transcends description or dimension. Moments feel like eternity when blessed with the presence of one who's life illuminates nights which previously contained impenetrable darkness, thick as ink and as all consuming as the fires which now burn so brilliantly and with such calming warmth.
A priceless work of art, surpassing the limits of what can perceived with eyes or ears, and must be experienced by the heart, felt by the soul, and loved by the whole of my being. A greater masterpiece has never been born, and can never be duplicated, for she is the universes greatest achievement, and only a fool could think to improve upon perfection.
Colm May 2016
Deep, somber, reflective pools.
Stirring by an ocean of blueish gray.
Vast as the mountain and all of its roots,
Clear and deceptive as the piercing light on a cloudy day.

Not flustered by the coming storm,
But troubled instead when it is blown off its course and swept away.
Unshaken by the torrential downpour of warming rain.
For cool inside they will ever stay.

Such pools as these are ripples away from some escape.
Yet when all other pools would've walked away,
They stir themselves and still remain.
Fixed and introspective.

Much like the tides which arrive anew with each coming day.
These waters rise and though they reach,
The wonder and bewilderment is never washed away.
From within such pools.
"The most amazing thing to me about the sea is the tide."
-John Dyer
MissMalice Feb 2015
Quite admirable , awe-inspiring , a divine piece of manufacture
It’s capriciousness is an equivalent of swooning of rapture

This carpet conveys itself as flawless , the fragrance is pleasant

The glossy finish generates a yearning to have it present

The blissful texture is mesmerizing , subject to perfect knitting

Not to mention it’s size is perfectly fitting

~

Though the alternative side seems worn and tattered

And the fabric surrounding is scattered

There are pockets and splits

There are strewed fiber bits

Along the edges are multicolored spots

And the yarn had formed knots

~

At that point the onlooker would become flustered helplessly

Were they to take it into their tenancy ?

Sure it was depleted

And maybe it was slightly untreated

Though it was equally handsome

Despite it’s opposing filthy expansion


~


Then the beholder would ponder a tad

And realize the flaws weren't so bad

They were to be contemplated abnormally

Though as well stood out morbidly

The allotment seemed now suitable

And each side was mutable
Designed to stand metaphoric for point of view among society
MAJD S May 2014
She approached me
Tiptoeing from across the room,
Although no one was asleep around us to wake;
I watched her lower lip bleed
From biting too much,
As she deciphers the DNA codes on her hair
With her fingertips,
Stroking the life out of it
Up and down-
And up and down again.
She said don’t get me wrong
But I found myself;
I found myself lurking underneath the light of your words
Bending with your o’s and standing straight with your I’s,
Because I
Got lost;
I got lost in the stories you wrote
About the girls who broke
And they felt just like me-
Dazed
By the love poems you cried down for her,
And I wondered how beautiful she must be.
I got flustered
In the blank spaces
That you chose not to write in,
And it felt like I should cut parts of myself
And add them in the vacancies
But I just don’t know what to add.
For every time I rest my soul
On the tip of a pen
I feel like I’ve said too much,
And every time I scratch my words
Throw away my being
Behind
Unread books and dusty light stands
I believe I haven’t said enough
For I could give more,
Be more,
If only I could start over,
And you
You seem to know me more than I know myself;
You have built bridges
Out of my paper shreds,
Tunnels out of my unexpressed thoughts-
You have created your haven inside my brains
And settled down in my heart.
You’ve managed to make me chew your words
Like breakfast
Was a poetic meal to be served
At all times of the day;
You’re an image,
I re-create you in my mind
Before I sleep
After asleep
And even during I sleep-
The thoughts of you never quit my head
Like a gamer would never quit
A game of Warcraft
In the midst of hunting season”
She took off her glasses,
And I could see the marks of them
Being there for too long.
She closes her eyes
As if she was about to take a leap of faith,
But instead she leaped two steps into my arms
And that was when
I got to ask her
What her name was.
And that was when I realized
It didn’t even matter.
Joshua Haines Jul 2014
Dear Talia,


My mattress is tattooed with your scent.

You held me as I slept.

You kissed my forehead and told me you love me.

You whispered three syllables into my mouth. You create waves in me that wash away cigarette burns. I would hold you tight in the unforgiving night.

I want to drink cheap coffee with you as you smile between each sip and as I master the art of looking at your smile. I want to make love with you like it's going out of style and until our lungs are burning like California wildfire.

I want to evaporate into your breath.

We were side by side in a bed made for us, and I fell asleep in your arms, listening to the calm of your breathing and the frantic beat of your heart.

Your fingers weaved through my hair, and I counted heartbeats, hoping never to stop.

My brain is soup and my hands are worn down from hours of typing your name. Talia. Talia. Talia Betourney.

I want to rock in and out of your body, as you kiss my lips with precise lightning strikes. After you shock me, time and time again, I want to wonder if the lightning misses the sky.

I am flustered and as I type this, I lose control of my thoughts as I become swept into your green-eyed, dark haired heaven. I cannot dream a better dream than your reality. I want to kiss you for every gasp I've never been around for and for every moment of pain. I am not here to save you, though: I am here just to love you.

Your hands swallowed mine, as I was closest to your body. My eyes drank the darkness, and my mind escaped.

In my sleep, you told me you love me. When I woke up, you told that panther something and I wanted to know what his ears heard that mine didn't.

You wouldn't say, and your hands grew slight tremors, the same way farmers grow slight weeds.

We started to kiss like our lips were the antidote. You whispered into my mouth. I asked what you said, being able to make most of it out.

You said, "Nothing." But, baby, that wasn't nothing. That was everything.

After a few minutes, I told you that I made out most of it and that it was okay.

You turned to your side, and your hands shook. I love you so much. I love you. I love you. I love you. Turn back to me. Look at me. Hey.

"It's okay. It's okay, and it's going to be okay, because I love you, too," I said to you, as I looked into your eyes, seeing myself.

You smiled.

We kissed like famine was non-existent, and like the apocalypse was imminent. End my world with every kiss, revive me with every flick of the tongue. Wash me with lava, and give me acid to drink; nothing could **** me in that moment, except the batting of your eye lashes.


I wrote you this poem and it *****, but it spilled out of my fingers after you left:

In a far and distant galaxy, there is a father for you, and a father for me       
And a silver car for you and I; driving underneath the alone-grey sky.
And a blue soul that learns to be happy.
And our blood will dye the Dead Sea.
And underneath a together-old tree, our young love will try.

And while our muscles are far from weak,
we will kiss until our mouths are dry.
We will kiss for an entire week. We will kiss until we forget how to cry.

Our brains will tell us we’re irresponsible.
Our hands will shake from all the trust.
You chew on my lip like I’m impossible.
You’ll ******* blood; I taste like rust.


How you could be afraid of my not loving you escapes me.

Don't you know why my heart beats so fast?

Today was the first day we said that we love each other. I hope it isn't the last, because I love you very much, and I don't think my mouth can go a day without knowing those words.


Yours,

Josh
Izzy Stoner Sep 2013
The radio clicks the worn out song
of days gone by and governments gone wrong.
Its static, the rolling of clouds before a thunderstorm.
The newsreaders rustling papers,
High pressure systems on the move.
The hush of the people as they gather to listen
Breath bated, held back by obedient tongues
The bulletins are nicotine bullets,
they're so incredibly easy to get hooked on.
News comes down the wire like commuters on the tube
Jostled and shunted along.
Through underground networks it spreads
With absolute efficiency
And yet the platform on which it departs is more than often wrong.
Outside the park swings are empty,
There is nothing unusual about that
But the kids sit by speakers with their hands over their ears
The high frequency waves dance around them.
This day is marked down as one they wish they could forget.
The headlines blazed into their minds,
More dead.
Oppressed.
Injustice.
Religion.
Elections.
Disasters.
Tornadoes.
Politicians flustered.
Corruption.
Famine.
And Hollywood Blockbusters.
And now we move on to the traffic
Two hundred more just come in from Pakistan
They say there's a pile up in Europe
There's an awful lot of wreckage on the road
and now they are left with no place to call home.
The M1 is running slow again, no surprise in that
Row after row of red brake lights
Join them together to make constellations
And you have your very own metropolitan galaxy.
Because who needs the stars when we have brake lights!
And who needs the moon when we have Big Ben.
Down the telephone lines comes a battalion of lies
“Honey... I'm going to have to work late.'
If you listen very closely to the nine o'clock news
You can hear the reporters wristwatch
And every five seconds that tick on top of his pulse
Marks another slice of news coming in.
The little hand chases the big hand
You cannot tell the time with just one.
The details escape somewhere between
The real world and what's put down in papers.
The trouble with black and white
Is that you miss all the shades of grey
And if you've never seen stars
Then brake lights, are just brake lights
And disaster is just another day.
Sawyer Mar 2018
I love her.

With her dark brunette hair,
always down over her shoulders in cascading waves,
Or ******* behind her head so that I can see her eyes.

Oh, her eyes.
Bright and alluring and sweet.
Alight with a smile that compares only to the one on her lips.

And her lips.
Always tilted up in a bashful smile.
And one side always goes higher than the other,
But I don't tell her because I think it's cute, and I don't want her to stop.

Someday she'll kiss me.
Because I'll never be brave enough to try myself.
And the lips I love so much will touch mine.

I love her

For her hair and her eyes and her lips and her mind,
Which is logical, but with a hint of romance and a vast imagination,
An artistic eye and a sweet, flustered girl just beside that.

She's perfect.

And I love her.

I love her so much.
Forty days and Forty nights
Kachina dolls danced
pounding deer skin drums
rattling snake gourds
whistling circles of
flustered chicken feathers and totem poles
around the drooping firmament

here and there wisps of
sunken chested, shrunken breasted
castrated clouds dragging their empty
rain barrels could be seen straggling
across heat infested waves

at times I swear I could hear the wind
cussing through dry crackling branches
Pine wearing wide brimmed straw hats
squabbling with over bleached blond Palms

How we languished and thirsted for the
dulcet, pure, pellucid taste of Your crystal kisses
lavender squeaky clean smell of rain-bells
oh! to feel those torrents gushing down our
upturned faces, slicked back hair,
engulfing our flowering *****
drenching us to the bone

then this morning we heard an unfamiliar sound
fairy feet tap-dancing on rooftops
excited I ran outside
crowing the Gayatri mantra
flapping prema pink wings
waddling like a duck in slap happy puddles

Yes, Dear God
a grateful, thankful swan,
gossamer reflection
glistening fervently up at You
from diaphanous depths
inexhaustible wellspring
diamond spa of Your Love
Hari Om

Visit my author's page:
https://www.facebook.com/sairapture
amazon.com/author/sonyatomlinson
and my website:
sairapture.com
Livingdeadgirl Apr 2015
“No one understands me. I don’t want any of these guys; they just won’t leave me alone!” I said to my best friend, Sarah Heart.
“Well, Μαρία, try not to look so nice!”
I am 17; long black hair, hazel eyes, and deep red lips, am about 5’8”, and have unusually pale skin. “I don’t ever look nice, and you know it! Besides, you’re the one who looks great, one of the best in Femenino.” Sarah is 16, long blond hair, blue eyes, pale pink lips, is about 5’, and has very tan skin. “They only like me because I am almost of age.” Here on Femenino, when a girl turns 18, she is ready to be wed. The guys are born with their wings patterns. When the girl decides to marry a certain person, she will mirror the design the guy has after they both say their vows.
“Μαρία, why do you always talk down about yourself?” Sarah said.
“I don’t know, but can we discuss this tomorrow? I’m tired.”
“Ok, but tomorrow we’ll talk about who you’re going to marry. You only have 1 week left to decide.”
“Ok, Sarah,” I yawned, “good night, sweet dreams.”
“Yeah, I’ll have sweet dreams, of the prince marrying me!” she said with a devilish grin. No one knew the prince’s real name, so we just called him ‘prince’.  We laughed at that, “but, good night, girl, we will definitely talk tomorrow.” I fell into a fitful sleep, plagued with the question of who I was to marry in 1 week.
Raven black hair, one eye brown, one eye black, tall, tan, and body like a warrior.” kiss me, Μαρία” he said, “Never leave me, please.”
“I won’t leave you, ever, I swear.”
I woke up, not knowing who the man was. ‘Well, all I know is, it’s time to make a new potion.’ “Ok, let’s see, a bit of baby’s breath, wild flower, lilac blossoms, and a pinch of rose petals. Ok, add them in boiling water, mmmmm that smells good.  Hmm, now, before the dream with him, what did I do with the potion? Oh, yeah, I dabbed it behind the ears, and everyone was happy to see me, even, surprisingly, the girls.”
“Maybe I shouldn’t try it, because some of the girls have never liked me, and I’m probably going to forget what I did, and wonder why they are happy to see me all day, I’m always forgetting things, that’s why I put all my spells in a book, after all.” I mumbled to myself. I went to write it down, calling it the ‘Like Me’ spell. Ok, I have the ‘Love’ potion, a few body, hair, and ****** changing spells, a ‘Find it’ spell, a spell to bind the heart to a specific person. Oh, cute, I still have the spell I made when I was seven, so my heart wouldn’t break if I found a guy, but I didn’t cast it because then I would be sad in the end if I never found the guy I had asked for.
‘Oh, boy, I’m going off to dreamland again. Sigh, will I ever find my kind of guy?’ Well, the only thing that could be worse is the prince picking for me, well, except that we were born on the same day, but at different times, he was born about an hour before me in a room next to me, and since he’s royalty, he chooses a wife before I choose a husband, and I will be mortified since I have to stand next to him, but I doubt anyone would want me as a wife because I’m, in my Aunt Feranium’s words, “an inexcusable excuse of an abomination, no one could possibly want to even be near me, much less marry me”. Well, Aunt Feranium, you’ll get to see if your right or not in 1 week.
Well, today I have to go meet up with some of the guys here, and get some ingredients for my potions and spells. I’m hoping at least one of the guys is ok with how I am and who I am. I guess I’ll meet with guys before I get my ingredients, so I can cheer myself up afterwards.
I met with three guys for the first half hour. Each and every one of them was wealthy and smug. All I could think was, ‘I can’t wait to get away from here and finish up talking to some other guys.’ One guy, named Damien was saying, “When we get married, you will love your life.” Another named Lucas said, “No, when WE get married you will be in the laps of luxury, far more than either of these two could ever give you, Μαρία.” The third guy, named Jordan said, “We all have wealth, so why don’t we let Μαρία choose for herself?”
They all turned to me and looked expectantly. I smiled politely and said, “Well, I have quite a few more people to talk with, so I must not say who of you fine,” and I almost choked on that, “gentlemen. I’m sorry to say, I must go now to meet the others. Good day.” I smiled, got up and left before they could argue/complain/persuade me to stay longer.
I went to meet one of my friends, who was being forced by his mother to court/marry me. I saw him and waved. “Hey, Alejandro, what’s up?”
He did a slight nod of his head, telling me his mom was nearby, eavesdropping on us. He said anyway, “Not much, but you look lovely today. How are you?”
I smiled, because he was not usually like this when his mom wasn’t around. “I am fine. You don’t look so bad yourself.” He blushed, which made me smile, since he only sees me as his one of his best friends, which is the same way I feel about him. I nodded to him, letting him know his mom can no longer hear us, or see us. ‘Goodness, I love being able to do spells with little effort. I just wonder where his mom thinks we went.’
“Thanks Μαρία. So who’d you have to deal with first?”
“Three rich guys.”
He rolled his eyes. “Let me guess. Full of themselves and saying who you were going to marry?”
“Yea, well, except the one, he actually asked ME who I’d marry. It was interesting, since no one would usually care what I thought.”
“What did one of them look like?”
“One, named Jordan, who asked my opinion, had short brown hair, tan skin, about 5’ 10”. A second, Damien, has medium ***** blonde hair, dark skin, about 6’. The third, Lucas, had sort of long blonde hair, sort of pale skin, about 5’9”. Why?”
“I think they are following you.” He pointed behind me, and when I turned to see, there they were, a few tables over.
I looked back to Alejandro, smiled, and called for a waiter. “Excuse me, could you send a note and a round of drinks to those three gentlemen over there?” I pointed to the three guys, and gave the waiter 50 coins, and a tip of 20 coins, which is our currency. He smiled and lightly bowed, for the most a waiter would usually get as tip was 5-10 coins.
“What is your note?”
I told him, “Chill out and have a fine day.” He nodded and did as I asked.
When the guys got their drinks, I told Alejandro to come on. We left them there, and made sure they didn’t follow. We got to the market district, because, in truth, Alejandro was the only other person I was to meet. We got there and I showed him a list of ingredients I needed. The list went as follows:
Dew Drops
Sunlight
Sun flowers
Fresh Baby Laughter
Freshly Fallen Snow
Tear of Love
Hair of a Beauty
Sob of a Broken Heart
A Child’s Doll
Petal of a Fully Bloomed Rose
Lilac
Babies Breathe
Final Breath of the Dying
Rose Thorns

He whistled low at how much I needed.  I smiled; because that was the least I needed in quite a few months. We went about getting my stuff and just hung out, until we came upon Sarah, who knew me and Alejandro did not like each other, but teased us saying we did all the same.
She smiled and said, “Hey lovebirds. What goes on? Oh, are you guys finally realizing you’re meant for each other and going to marry each other?”
We said in unison, “No! We are not.” Alejandro scowled while I laughed.
“Sure sounds like you’re meant for each other to me!” Sarah laughed while Alejandro’s scowl grew longer.
I said, “Sarah stop teasing, poor Alejandro couldn’t possibly take all the scowling.” ‘And the heart break, since he’s in love with you Sarah, you just never see. I’m about to tell you straight up.’ I looked over at Alejandro and smiled, since he didn’t tell me, he didn’t know I knew, even though it was written plainly on his face, he thought he was discreet.
He looked down at his feet, letting the hurt pass over his face for a brief second. “I need to get the rest of my ingredients from my list. Okay, let’s see, just a few rose thorns is all I need to get.” We went to go get them. And there, a few feet away, were the three guys again. I pointed them out to Alejandro, and he rolled his eyes. I walked straight up to them.
They acted surprise to see me, I said, “Why are you following me?”
They were all flustered, but Jordan said, “We weren’t following you!”
“Oh, really, you three, follow me, Alejandro, Sarah, you can come to.” We went into an alley way and I continued, “So you three just happened to be at the same café only a few tables away, and then be just a few feet away from me?” They nodded in unison, and I got raged. I used a spell and had them pinned against the wall behind them and asked angrily, “Who are you working for?”
They looked fearful, and Lucas said stammering, “You ought to stop, ‘cause there are witnesses.”
I looked at him, “They are the only thing keeping me in check, you idiot, now, answer my questions, why were you following me and who are you working for?”
They looked at each other, then at me, and swallowed loudly and hard. Damien said, “Sheesh, when we saw you, we thought you’d be no problem to us, but dang! We might as well tell her since she got us, and ‘cause I don’t know her limits.”
They all nodded their heads, before looking frighteningly at me. Damien continued, “We are guards, some of the finest, and I now see we are some of the most arrogant.” I rolled my eyes.
“Why were you following me?”
“We were told to act as the people that we were told to be. It seems your something of interest.”
I glared at them, “You’re lying.” They were wide eyed with fright.
“No! That’s all that we were told!”
“You two might, but he was told more, and he’s not telling.” I glared at him and came close to his face. I looked in his eyes and asked as calmly as I could, “What are you hiding?”
He would not answer, so I let them go, and said, “Don’t follow me anymore! Just leave me alone.”
They stayed in place, frozen with fear, but Jordan piped up, “Wow, with your strength in spells, Μαρία, would you ever consider joining the guard? We really need you and your strength.”
I glared at them and said, “Go!”
They ran, still not sure of my limits when I was mad. My friends burst out in laughter after the guards were well out of ear shot. They said in halting gasps, “I can’t believe you bluffed them while you were mad!”
I smiled, knowing I wasn’t someone that could harm anyone. When I get angry at someone, I always try to bluff them, I guess I’ve either gotten better, or they were not good at telling my bluff. “Well at least we learned something out of this whole episode. Now, let’s get my ingredients and get back to my house, I had a dream about a new spell last night.” I felt a pair of eyes on me, but when I looked, there was nothing there. I shrugged and thought, ‘I must be getting paranoid.’
When we got back to my house, they helped me put my ingredients away, and I showed them my new ‘Like Me’ spell. “I don’t know how long it lasts, so I won’t let it be used on either of you.” I felt the eyes on my back, I turned and saw nothing. “Do either of you two feel like someone’s watching us?”
They shook their heads no, Alejandro said, “Maybe you should do a spell for protection over yourself for whoever’s watching you.”
I nodded, and found one that was simple to do but difficult to break through and lasted a long time. I cast it over my friends as well, who smiled when they felt the spell cover them as well. Sarah said, “Ok, now, Alejandro, shoo, me and Μαρία have a few things to talk about.” She grinned wickedly, and so he left.
He said, “Bye.” And got out as quick as he could.
I looked at her, “Now why’d you do that for? He doesn’t even count as a marriage choice; it’d be too much like marrying a brother.”
She shrugged, “Does it matter? This is girl talk, now spill who you like.” She looked at me expectantly.
“I really don’t know, I’ll just go with my gut when the time comes, okay?”
She sighed dramatically, “Fine!”
I laughed, “You know, it’s not your time to pick, you have a few years, and more than a few admirers.”
She flipped her hair and laughed lightly, “I can’t help if guys like me, Μαρία!”She shrugged, "That's my image, Μαρία, I have to keep up with it, or I'll be ruined!" I laughed.
"You can be so dramatic. You know that?"
"Yea, and now I know you can be to. ‘They are the only thing keeping me in check, you idiot', nice one, especially with the idiot, it added to your tone."
I looked at the floor sheepishly. "It just came to mind, and I went with it. Was I that convincing to you?"
"Are you kidding, I thought you would of killed 'em on the spot! Your bluff is way better Μαρία."
I smiled, "Thanks Sarah."
We went about our own thoughts for an hour, until it was time for Sarah to leave. "I'll see you tomorrow Μαρία."
"Okay, see ya." I flicked my wings out, mostly because I still felt like someone was watching me. I thought about my wings, and how soon I'll have a design. I remembered a type of fairy that used to exist long ago. They were called the florescent fairies. Unfortunately they died off. They all had wing patterns of their own. Even the females had their own patterns that they kept after marriage. Their wings were always so big and elaborate.
I felt my wings tingling, so I went to my front door. There on my doorstep was the guard that I knew as Jordan. He was in his uniform. I said, “What do you want, Jordan, if that is really your name?”
He cleared his throat. He was afraid, but put up a brave front and said, “I came for you were summoned by the head of the royal guard.”
I rolled my eyes, “And why would I be summoned this late at night?”
His bravado was fading when he said, “Because the head of the royal guard wants to see you now.”
“Why?”
His bravado was completely gone now and he was shaking in his boots, “He just wants you to come.”
I rolled my eyes again, turned out the lights, and locked my house up. “Lets’ get this done and over with. I do need to sleep like others’, you know.” Then I felt magic welling up around me. I found them easily with my magic, and brought them out in front of me. I threw them all into a pile in front of me. “Tell me three good reasons I shouldn’t put you all in a magic hold that would leave you motionless for the rest of the night.”
They were all struggling, and I was holding Jordan with a glare. “I am tired, and would not regret it. And you all need to learn to hide your magic. That’s how I knew where you were.”
They all tried to plead for me to let them go, but with a wave of my hand, they fell silent. Jordan said stammering, “They were only supposed to be back-up in case you wouldn’t come.”
I waved my pointer finger side to side, “Tsk, tsk, tsk, not nice to play tricks with me.” I used my magic to send the pile of guards back to the palace, while I looked at Jordan and said, “I told you to leave me alone.” I flicked my hand at him, and he went flying back to the palace. I went back into my house, went to my room, and after taking a hot shower, went to bed.
The next morning, I got up and ready for the day. I was about to leave my home when my wings tingled. Someone was at the door. I looked through a peep hole and saw my friends, Sarah and Alejandro. I opened the door, and they came in talking at me. I couldn’t understand what they were saying, so I said, “Slow down, now what?”
They started laughing. Sarah said, “Apparently, you gave all the guard’s a scare. What did you do?”
I looked at them, confused for a second, and then I remembered, and told them the events of last night. They laughed, so I said, “What? I was extremely tired, I wasn’t taking their crap.” That just made them laugh harder.
Alejandro said, “Remind me not to get on your bad side, Μαρία.” He chuckled and said, “Can you teach me some of your **** kicking moves?”
I grinned devilishly and made to look like I was going to use it on him and said “Sure,” and mocked what I did with the guards without using my magic. We all laughed. There was a knock on the door. I rolled my eyes and yelled, “Who is it?”
Whoever it was just knocked again. I went to the door and looked through the peep hole. There was no one there. I motioned my friends back, away, and I used a searching spell. I calmly looked all around my house, then finally smiled. I opened my door fast and
Comments appreciated/wanted!!
Samuel Mar 2012
speechless more
often than not
Jules Wilson Oct 2013
It is not until my parents leave my brother and I to wander about the Musée d’Orsay

on our own tick tock desire and dollar,

where we take in the sunset and clock frame I recognize from a black and white photograph my mother took when she came

herself, and I almost trip over the rope that protects a Monet—

“Excusez-moi!” I almost scream—

that I am left to breathe in Paris at my own pace.



Perched on a stone bench high enough

that I have to awkwardly throw my body onto the slab

like I’m a sacrifice to the gods of love,

I chew on some ham pressed

between some lettuce and two halves of a baguette,

and I throw the breadcrumbs,

at first caught in my hair,

to the birds,

the ones who wander around the courtyard of the museum,

waiting for fools like me to feed them after viewing great art.



Some are gray with white tips

at the end of each feather, and others

have their heads cloaked in navy blue,

almost black,

as if they

splashed into a River Seine full of paint,

and it never washed off

their plump,

yet delightfully light

bodies.



And the paint stretches down,

surrounds their neck like a

lion’s mane that darts into the same

gray that paints the sky

in the winter Hemingway described

to me in his book.



Raccoon stripes wrap around their wingspan,

and their eye contact

is like that of a Hitchcock psychopath

who wants to ****** me for

not sharing my sandwich.



I am easily guilt-tripped by the pigeons of the world,

and Parisian flutterers

are no exception.

I rip off bits of my sandwich to throw to the grounded creatures

caught in a plight of hunger outside the museum.



They pluck at the chunks too big for their beaks,

and I slide off my perch

to meet and greet with the birds,

flustered by the sudden supply of bread crumbs

and who peck and beck towards me.



I hear laughter, but it sounds old,

and I turn to face the security guard

who shakes his head in his seat, chuckling at me.



His smile is young, but his badge is *****,

like the street outside the metro stop for Notre Dame.

His duty makes him speak French, and I mumble English in return.



“Madame, please don’t feed the birds!” he laughs, and I push

my bread back down into my bag, embarrassed as an American in France can be.



I kick my feet up to hurry the pigeons away, and they fly up around me, like

a wave of the black and white color spectrum, caught up in the next surprise.
Joann Rolleston Jul 2014
Oh Alarm clock
I do hate you
Beeh beeh beeh you go
Till stir and I get up

I don't do sweet music
Bells or the cute rooster
Cell phone just not loud enough
I really need a giant shove

Across the room you sit
Small in corner discreet
But at 6am you shout
And sometimes freak me out

I try to wake before you
Stumble corner fall over
If you didn't play your part
I'd be late for work and flustered

Thanks alarm clock I love & hate you
mostly not needed but i don't know what day that is ..
Tanisha Parekh Feb 2019
when i see my handsome crush
he makes me giggle, makes me blush,
i get so extremely flustered,
it's almost as if i turn to custard,
i melt away at his gorgeous glance,
i look at him and know there's no chance,
how does he do this, i turn to mush,
my god, how my handsome crush is so lush!
Elise E Apr 2014
His smile, how I love it
That very smile that always brings me up
The one that always lights the place
The on that clears the darkness when on his face

His hands, those soft hands
Those strong and hard working hands
The warm fingers on those hands
Oh, how they make my heart dance

His arms, his legs
How strong yet so graceful
They move with such beauty
They make my body want to dance

But those eyes, how I love them
Through them I can see him
His soul, it burns of umber
That beautiful, beautiful burnt umber

And through those beautiful eyes
I see his bright, happy soul
The one that lights up my soul
And causes it to burn purple

Those dark brown eyes, how I love them
The ones that always seem to smile
Even when his lips do not, they smile
They always smile

And his soul, that strong soul
That merry soul, that calm soul
The one that is seldom flustered, or frustrated
Of at least has a hard time showing so

Those dark brown eyes, the windows to his soul
Those dark but shining eyes
Those joyful smiling eyes
Those dark brown eyes, how I love them


#9_11/15/2011
Ever feel like you could get someone's complete personality, there whole life story, and currant feelings by just looking into their eyes?
Samuel Mar 2012
Let's meander down this
road
         flustered so wonderfully flustered by
you, taking the
time to pause and appreciate each little
intricacy along the way

so that some day, when we're older
we can breathe in and pop
evaporate, travel
only as vapor can, spread out and cover
(a part of us in everything and everything
apart from this)

say it louder and louder still, echoing
off your ribcage and shaking my throat
I believe in your words and
nothing slips away without so
much as a nod
that's not the given (not
even close)
Kiana Lynn Apr 2015
With pen and pad in hand,
I’m finally ready to take a stand.
This is how I get my words out best,
it’s kind of like a written test.
It seems to be the only thing that works
when it comes to you, I get flustered by that smirk.
But something about written words is easier,
I bet you’re starting to wonder if it could get cheesier.
Maybe it’s because of your eyes,
and how they reflect the night skies.
Or how every inch of my body reminds me of you,
it’s like to me, this body is brand new.
My hands, they are now meant to hold yours
or how you’re the one my heart adores.
See my body is no longer my own,
my ownership fell apart with every moan.
Thoughts like this, admissions like this,
seem to get lost amidst each kiss.
That’s why pen and paper are best,
for my admission here can attest.
I get a bit lost when you’re close to me,
our bodies intermixed means you’re all I see.
With a pen in hand, my thoughts aren’t all over,
I don’t feel like so much of a rover.
This is where it’s thoughtless,
where I’m anything but cautious.
So, this is so you know that I love you,
and with pen and pad in hand, it's easy to construe.
We had a family meeting
And decided that our tree
Would no longer be a fake one
It would be as real, as real could be

I said that it's no problem
In fact I think it's fine
I truly miss the Christmas scent
Of wet and musty pine

I reminded them that last year
A new, lit up tree we'd bought
They passed off my weak arguement
With barely time or thought

So, with three weeks until Christmas
The search would now begin
For a tree, just full of needles
Not too bushy or too thin

I started with the want ads
Saw the lots with trees for sale
But, most were all on order
I begged, to no avail

My wife said, let's go cut one
In a woodlot, cut one down
I said we're in the heart of a big city
We have to go two hours out of town

I told them, I'm not going
Then my daughter, shed one tear
I don't know how she does it
But, she's got me wrapped....I fear

So we loaded up the family
Drove until we found the place
With so many others out there
There was no parking space

We parked out on the roadway
Half a mile from the gate
When we go there to start cutting
We were told....two hour wait

We'd brought an axe and hand saw
For when we found our perfect tree
Then, we were told...no...only chainsaws
Did I have one...nope...not me

I had to take a short refresher
On how to use their little saw
And of course, this being Christmas
It cost me fifty more

Finally, we started out
There were trees, of every kind
then the fellow said, that this years
Were in the back....way down the line

He said that this year, beavers
Had flooded out the lower plains
And the trees down here were stunted
And would have to start out once again

The ones that we could cut down
Were back a mile up the hill
I wasn't sure then if it was him
Or my family I should ****

I protested, but my daughter
You know. with the one tear leaking eye
Looked at me and smiled
And I said, that I would try

We hiked up to the woodlot,
There were trees of pine and fir
And a spotty faced young helper
Who asked "What kind do you want, sir?"

Long needled, or a short one
Douglas fir, or knotty pine
The choice, well it was endless
And the choice, well ...it was mine

The next thing that he asked me
How big should the tree be?
I looked a little flustered
And then he said to me

Once you cut it down ...you own it
Measure it, and cut it down
Make sure you get the right one
It's a long way back to town

My wife said, 8 or 9 feet
The kids, no help at all
They were both playing on their cellphones
And making plans for later at the mall

We chose to get a pine one
Eight feet high and just as wide
I didn't know exactly
How I'd get it home and back inside

Two minutes, and I'd cut it
We had a tree, and just my luck
They'd started out without me
I had to drag it to the truck

The boy said, they'd wrap and measure
Down front where I came in
I looked down down at my killing
Not too fat, and not too thin

Two hours later I arrived
All wet and soaked and peeved
But deep down, I'd made them happy
And this made me relieved

Once he wrapped it tightly
I was shocked at the tree's price
He said, two hundred forty
In fact he said it twice

30 bucks a foot for pine
That would be dead in two weeks
I was so mad when I paid him
That I could barely speak

I walked back to the truck alone
I left the family with the tree
I thought two times of driving off
Ok...in truth....It was three

They tied it down upon the roof
Said the rope, was free this year
I almost blew my top right then
I saw my daughter....and her tear

We drove it home in silence
Stopped once on the way
I had to spend twenty more dollars
For a tree stand, at the Bay

I dragged it in the living room
Cut it open, let it spread
It, didn't really fluff out much
I think our tree was dead

It took almost an hour
It lay there, dropping needles on the floor
I thought , yep, this is Christmas
Who could ask for any more?

The kids were gone already
When I put it in the stand
I had wired it, into the wall
This was not the way I planned

A simple family Christmas
With a tree is a pain
I've got a fake one in a box
I'll not do this again

There's bare spots at the bottom
It's unbalanced near the top
There's sap all through the hallway
I've got more, just tell me stop

The tree is now all covered
With decorations and with lights
I water it twice daily
So, it doesn't burn up in the night

Next Christmas when they tell me
We want another tree
I'll tell them, go ahead and get one
But, do it with out me!!!!
M Sep 2023
i see drops of water tracing the lines of your hair--
it's like you're crying but you're happy and i swear
even a painter couldn't muster the awe to bear
the sight of you under showering rain

i see nightlights peeking behind your silhouette
and the tones of your flustered blush try not to separate
themselves from the warm comely palette
of the shot of our figures in loving embrace

i see a blanket folded into your solemn sleeping shape
with curves smiling back; in a way, i wouldn't escape
had you had me landlocked within your pretty landscapes...


hug me tight
so that i might see
just how pretty you can be
under the soft glow of a burning moment
sorry i havent written u in a while
Emma Jacobson Mar 2011
do you really know what you're getting into?
i am dangerous
do you like that?
so you like the taste of my danger?
you tasted me last night
what is my taste?
do i taste like sugar?
poison?
passion?
night?
what's my taste?
You taste like happiness, excitement, desire
like clouds and the ocean
like grape jelly and poetry
you taste like good music and smoke
like long conversations about nothing and everything
like long days at the beach and long nights in my bed
you taste like possibilities
like flustered hot cheeks
like kryptonite
like steaming rain and warm silk
I wrote this about a guy i had a short fling with one summer.  I was afraid for him to get to know me.
Julian Delia Aug 2018
My heart
Feels like a frostbitten cave nobody should ever go in.
My soul
Feels exhausted, drained and spread really thin.
My mind
Feels like its fighting battles it can never win.

I find my thoughts
Consumed with anger and despair,
Evil feelings who have created a lair –
A base of operations within my mind,
Staring at the world with a terrifying glare.

And yet, despite all this,
Nothing kills me more than being alone.
This need to experience humanity
Is not simply an act of vanity,
Or a call for attention,
But an attempt at reclaiming sanity.

We are the loneliest generation of all time;
Previous overlords used force to rule,
And whoever didn’t follow was lambasted,
Marked as a traitor and a base fool.
Now, force is merely a tool,
One in many of a lethal arsenal.

Social hierarchies are fake, sometimes downright farcical –
Now, we are divided and conquered.
Our communities have collided,
Our love for each other is drained and flustered.
We are armed with shields of prejudice,
Careening towards a perilous precipice
Of watching out only for ourselves,
With no room in our hearts for anyone else.

I just wish I could let go –
I wish I was an atom of boiling water,
About to break free and become steam,
I wish to taste of true freedom,
To at least get one, tiny gleam.
Yet,
I find myself weary, tired and trapped,
A torturous routine so well-travelled
That, at this point, I could say my brain has it mapped.

I close my eyes
And see visions of you I wish I could forget.
I wish I’d looked before I leapt,
Rather than live with this pain and regret.
I close my eyes, and see
Years of seeking somewhere I belong,
Brothers and sisters with whom I can stand strong.
Yet,
All I seem to find
Is people struggling with their daily grind,
Souls that are just as tired as mine, if not more.

And so, I find myself
Dealing with this constant craving,
Ranting and raving,
Hoping that this frosty cave is still open to reclaiming,
Hoping that my soul is still worth saving,
And that my mind still finds this battlefield worth braving.
This feels like the breaking point.
Sister,
I've been to your chambers,
I've seen that Holy Bible
Kept ***** with your tomes.
I know that you're secretly
A nun, or a Catholic schoolgirl.
But that's impossible,
Because I've never seen you
Flustered pink like
A fragile glass of
Lemonade
On a thirsty,
Sinful,
Sabbath day.

You can't be celibate.
You are way too beautiful for that.
And such beauty left to waste
Is proof enough that my God is
Absent.
He is spending His time
Dodging deadlines to watch
Every move you make.
There are always
Judgments to be made.

I beg of you,
Cleanse this *****.
Get on your knees and pray,
But do it slowly.
Kiss the shaft of your Savior
Renounce your title to Him
So we can both go to Heaven.

You might think I'm just a mongrel,
Filthy in the eyes and mind.
Love is a pearl born from nature,
And yours is due to be polished.

-Juan Carlos Gomez
CH Gorrie Aug 2012
From the visions of sparrow vanguards
that fly insatiably onward.
From the tombs of ancient hearts draped
in flowing, moth-eaten fabric.
From the fighter jets stalling somewhere
above solitary and succinct farmlands.
From the bottom of a broken purple
sunset that lies embossed on my brain.
From the silliest half-thought left
unvoiced in the vagrant light of a damp
and desolate lamp lying in a landfill.
From several mouths at once.
From oracles cross-legged in caves.
From the gills of a catfish on a hook.
From mythical forgeries and the perjurer's tongue.
To the subdued hope resting in a
trembling hand gripped round its pen.
To satisfaction that is oneness that
seems to never arrive but is there
all along.
To the peaks of the Himalayas.
To my spidered desk light, shallow with doubt.
To my flustered and torrential page.
Matthew Harlovic Mar 2015
“The side of her head is shaved,
isn’t that weird?”
Afraid to admit my attraction,
I nodded in agreement.

And in a low voice
I responded with,
yeah, weird…
Yet again he pointed out,

“Look at her septum piercing!
Doesn’t she look like Benny the Bull?”
I looked away. Under my breath
I said, “I think…she’s cute.

My friend turned
with simpering eyes.
Really? Cute?
You’re a ****** too.”

I looked up, “I’m not weird.
I just think she’s pretty,
that’s all.”
He scoffed,

“Nah man, you’re really weird.
Tattoos and piercings aren’t attractive,
they’re weird but I guess weirdos
are attracted to other weirdos.

Flustered, I looked up to him.
“So what?  Punk rock is pretty.
At least I’m not a pretentious ******* like you.”
And with that, I left him there.

© Matthew Harlovic
Just something that happened a while back.
Robin Carretti May 2018
He yells!!
1-2-3-4
Oh! Hell 
 5-6-7-8

Who do we appreciate
Hormones Ah Vey!
Pray

So pick up the
Italian horn phone*
Leave me alone!!!
Harmony and hormones
Are like song

Losing beat
whiskers
I am the Queen and your
the Dutch masters
Fit 2-B Flustered
Like rabbit hares
Jumps *****

Hey Bills
Tramping
Playbill

Ridiculous -Pompous
Jumping- Delicious

Playgirl
No sweat
Her vocals
are a threat

The trampolines
the trend he's Jaws
Did you see
her nasty
50 shades of flaws
green pupils

Meter lady and the *****
Wonka tickets
Humbug grouchy
Hands off but way
to touche-y
picking pockets

Barista coffee jitters
*****
The birds and the
Bees like ***
with Monkey's

All dried up
Nothing to sting
Madhatter of honey
lover ding ****
((Hong Kong))

******* hormones
fishy mermaid tails
sardines
ladies eating pork
and beans
At the mezzanine

Fish eggs "Zar" of caviar
By far is the best love
I ever had
Tangerine your
the one for me
If you ever have
half a brain

I will find you
It will take a whole
*****-like City
My speed of Sin city
Someone out there to
feed me
Those up and downs

Hormones crown me
Town $$
country
Central Park jogging
and stomach wiggling

Highs and lows of work
hustling
Even when I am
desperately
Housewife NJ
enthusiastic

I rather knock on wood
You better be home
Smiling guilty good
This world changed
to plastic
Divine from killer drastic
Those hormones
Disney ****** dunes
Wed me I dare you ((June))
Insane asylum ward
When my hormones
are working

My moods sweet candy
hard demanding
I am the one holding the
Award trophy *God

Having
hormones
are tricky
Jumping jelly beans
handy
Trampolines and
Hormones
Mrs. Jones
She has a thing
going on

New monopoly_

Holy Molly
Oversexed Jolly
Mr and Mrs
Robinson
She's older
and wiser
Took her Lover's ransom

Her ****** I phones ring
hormones
Something has to give
Chinese Din sum
He's jumping off the wall
trampolines whats up
with his *****?
Scratchy felines
Egyptian Nile nine lives
Cats  Meow smile

Love affair Prudence
come
out to play
The Beatles
Love the Abby lane
And she
walked
out insane__
The comedy will get you all the Rising star time this one is quite different I hope it blows your mind
Samuel Feb 2012
I die a little bit inside each time
you offer an explanation for my
self,
   stubbed heart [popped out of sync]
   dips toward the ground and
   flutters to a silence

a still, empty blue presiding over
the world at large tonight, permeated
by plumes of white
(from the scrambled heads of dreamers)

nothing to hold against your
fiery facade, flaming formidable
fits of brilliance blazing before
my flustered eyes

and why do we cease to
contract, left ventricle?

to start up again and enjoy
it that much more (the second
time around)
A Thomas Hawkins May 2010
Lipstick and Chanel,
is all she left behind
and scratches on my back
I hope my girlfriend doesnt find

I didn't stand a chance
she knew exactly what she wanted
and now I know prey feels
how it feels to be hunted

Everything she said was right
she played me like a toy
coming on all flustered, scared
innocent and coy

By the time I knew it was too late
she had me in her spell
and now that I have been released
I'm left alone in hell

You have no idea the torment
the guilt and shame I feel
it was like something in a movie
it just seemed so unreal

Its like I stood there watching
like some kind of sick ******
as she gave herself right to him
and he gave himself to her

But now the movies over
cast and cameras spent
and all I can remember
is that colour and that scent

Lipstick and Chanel,
bright red and oh so sweet
only time will tell now
the future that I'll meet.
©A Thomas Hawkins 2010
http://poetryinprogress.com

The Community Poetry Project
The creation of a handwritten poetry compilation featuring poems from poets around the world. For full details visit http://cheaperthantherapy.net
marie Aug 2013
the first and second songs were beautiful ones
melodious and calming ones
about the beauty of nature
and how it does nothing yet so much
how it seems so dull yet beautiful
just like your eyes

the third song was an upbeat song
the kind of tunes that all would dance to
repetitive choruses and long instrumentals
like a circle, they remind me of your
so very long patience on things

the fourth song
was a song filled with raps and curses
talking about injustice and yet
it talks about *** and enjoying it
somehow however, it was nice to listen to
just like you when you get irritated
and yet, find happiness in the
little, irritating things

the fifth song was a song of nonsense
completely irrational
very messy
like paint splattered all over
a white wall
and yet so desirable
just like your smile
that you throw around
to everyone you see

you always thought the number six was
the devil's number
and found it cool
so i placed a song that makes people feel good about themselves
a song that was 'cool'
which was just like how you perceived yourself as
like how you always thought you were cool
and told me with a grin
and i always disagreed
with a little stupid smile of my own

the number seven was a special number to us
our common best friend's jersey number
your class number
my score in a two consecutive math quizzes
our little specialnumber
so i placed our song
a special song that you let me hear
after you heard me sing and said
"you have a nice voice, i think
this song would suit it."

i can never forget that song
so i have it on my mixtape too

you disliked the number eight
for some odd reason
which did not bother me
so i placed a song that irritated you
but made me happy
just to spite you
and to see you get flustered and ******
all at once like no one could
because i like
having you tell me everything you feel
like i do to you

number nine reminded you of
things that were ***** and pretty
so i placed a sensual song
that talked about a guy not deserving
his female admirer
who wanted to love him badly
physically and emotionally
because he did too
a song that was pure guitar
pure voice and soul
and raw emotions
that i believe would make you want to
sing along to it as well
like i do

the tenth song was a sad song
because once you failed a math quiz
with a mark of ten out of twenty
the same score as mine
but i didn't place a song that we both know
a song we both decided on
that was sad
no, instead
i put a song that i knew
but you didn't
which i believed was sadder
because it was like
how you treated me after
i gave you that letter
and made me sad
like this song

the eleventh and twelfth songs were made as one
but had to be cut off due to its length
it talked about a boy who wanted nothing more
than to keep the one he loved all to himself
a boy that flew
and crashed
for a girl that never knew

just like me
when i wanted nothing more
than to send you this mixtape
and have you say to me
a simple "thank you"

or maybe even
a little wishful
*"i love you too."
EP Mason Apr 2015
It all started when I was four
and it came with boys holding buttercups beneath girl's chins
and chasing in endless circles
and my skirt was a little too long
and my face was a little too round
to chase them too

I started sitting indoors and painting scenes
'cause I couldn't run like the other girls could
but four year old boys don't like brushes and  blue skies
they like little girls with flushed rosy cheeks

And when I was six
I couldn't sit inside anymore
it was time to go out and face the boys that called me fat
and try to be a rosy cheeked little girl too
but I just got flustered when I heard the laughter

But at least kids are honest
and I knew I was not wanted

By the time I reached nine
I kept my eyes glued to the ground
when I stood with my mother and listened
to my grandfather drop poison into her ears
and told her that her daughter was a monster
and that's why I didn't cry at his funeral

But at least he was honest
and I knew I was not wanted

Things changed when I turned eleven
self-loathing stayed the same
but the new boys were all skinny compared to me
and they did not hesitate to point it out
although quietly
and subtly
more awash with gasps from choking back revolting laughter
that got caught in the back of my throat and turned to tears
I never did cry in public

And the way I walked through the halls was a carefully crafted way
to make myself smaller
but they still plucked me out and told me
'You're so pretty'
(laced with sarcasm)
'Be my girlfriend'
(prolonged by a smirk)
I always kept my mouth shut

And at least kids are honest
at least I always knew I was not wanted

By age fifteen I was so obsessed with mirrors
that I carried one in my hand at all times
I'd tried every makeup technique I could find
and my mother was sad that my blonde curls were gone
now straight and brown to fade into the background
I never knew why this attracted boys
but for once I was glad I looked like everybody else

I was hearing 'you're so pretty' with a genuine tone
from boys who flirted for fun
but I didn't understand
and I thought I was special
and I thought I would marry every one who called me pretty
and we'd have three children and a dog

What I didn't understand was why every night ended with tears
because I was finally feeling the way all the rosy-cheeked girls did
but maybe it was because kids are honest
I preferred to know when I wasn't really wanted

When I was 16 I felt like a woman
because I'd had a history with boys who were *******
and this is how I thought womanhood should be
every night I rubbed three years of makeup from my face
and removed my push-up bra
and said goodnight to the boy that made my heart skip
and woke up the next morning knowing I would be ignored

I wished people would just be honest

At seventeen, I fell in love with a man
who called me his little girl
and made me feel like the rosy cheeked child
I always watched and envied
I fell in love with the way he threatened to leave me when I forgot something
and the way he slapped me
and I fell in love with how he taught me that it was okay for me to be *****
in every sense of the word
because I was the tiny little girl
with the skirt just short enough
and the cheeks just red enough
to be wanted
Allison Sep 2013
Bone of Bone,
Blue of Blue,
I don't see anyone
the way I see You.

Like a model who walks,
With hair all astray,
That's how I see you,
in a most
Similar Way.

— The End —