Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Jade Oct 2014
Let's pretend
             For however fleeting of a moment
That you really do care
             In a fantasy, we could exist together
That you're more than just a body devoid of feeling
            Not just living, but loving as we were meant to do
That your words held depth
            Only in my head
You're mine.
Marshal Gebbie Dec 2014
Across the blistered gibber plain where flies die in the sand
Through swamps of prickly sago where rotting death is planned,
To stride in windblown tussock hills where wind vanes carved their say
To saunter groves of green tree fern where moa giants did play.
In clearings cut with alkali, tusked elephant would loom
With crevassed hides, Methuselah, once aged in terms of doom.
Whilst high above the rocky crags of ancient mountain high,
The keening screech of kestral soaring up to deep blue sky.

Heavy boots in crusted sand where tiny lizards flee
Amidst the rust red rubble of volcanic rock and scree,
To clamber up the ignimbrite, great Vulcan's steps of stone,
Encrusted with thick epiphyte in lichen's mossy home.
Up into the altitude where dark cloud clusters here
And the threat of rolling thunder indicates that rain is near,
Torrential in it's downpour with sudden squall of gale
Surmounted, all quite suddenly, with a blinding blast of hail.

Staggering to shelter in a tiny alpine hut
To find hot coffee on the woodstove and a curvy, hot young ****,
To find us frollicking together beneath a patterned patchwork quilt
Was quite beyond my imagination's comprehensions built?
And afterwards in slumber through the curtains of our room
I watched, in fascination, at a hanging, frozen moon
And wondered, in amazement, at the doings of the day
And speculated, sleepily, where tomorrow's prospects lay.

Blearily I stretch out from the covers, nicely warm
To nullify persistence of that alarm's intruding horn,
Yawning into morning I remove myself from bed
With panicked realisation....all dreams evacuate my head.
Vanished are the alpine hut, the dolly bird, the caves
The crash of rolling thunder and the plunge of mighty waves,
Gone are those phantoms which dwelt inside my mind
Devestatingly dismissed until re-dreamed another time.

M.
Pukehana Paradise
13 December 2014
I still remember
Frollicking in the garden with you
Falling in love with
Magical colorful lights
Your hand entwined in mine

Sweaty palms
Widened pupils &
Your pretty eyes
Infront of mine

A fairytale,
As psychedelic
Trips usually are
That's what you were
One big trip
An illusion
An idea of who
I thought you were

What I thought we were
What I was to you
Wasn't enough
Didn't mean more
Than the next party
We escaped to

It wasn't until
Frollicking in the garden
Past cold fingertips &
Warm coffee sleeves
A beautiful family
Holding hands

Fresh baby face
All theirs to hold
Did I realize
That's what I
Wanted
Instead

-It was within that one moment I wanted to escape to reality for a change.
#breakup #lsd #sad #follow
Martin Narrod May 2016
Winter is up to my ears
Water's in my eyes, the dull chanting squeaks of
Frollicking field mice, dark hungry souls eat dark hungry shrubs
They tear apart the grass until the dirt is overturned. The ministry is dead, into the shapes they throw, weapons in the syllables where voices dear to go. The Spring is hazing the moon, and the gallow falls, the Pines of Rome are just a symptom of autumn's calls. The mouse while he saunters in, gives no notice to the gray wolf's evil grin. Panting the tousle takes them both, no insides give, into the night I sit and stare from my window's ledge.

No apothecary seems to work, all the medicines they give like names, until the doctor fools the patient she's well again. Cloaking in the shadowy stirs of the wicked herbs we picked from our garden and yard. Mellow to the taste, cold to the face, and stings like the tantrum does when the pain is just too much too much.

Have you seen the stirring woes of the frogs, stuck to the cement, thrown from the heavens by so many angry gods. Children hated for their voice, their skins and arms and legs dispersed, any dolt can name a common cure. Sicker than the pain it shoves, while the mood settles into to a rain water bath. In a crevice their may be some thought, but it doesn't even help at all, then the cold comes in and shucks awe and feeling where the aches and screams haunt the unhealthy whims.

After Easter and beyond each birth, no one calls and everything's inert, in the desert we call to the stars, but the birds return to us and make us stop asking for cause. Misunderstanding takes its awful view, and the children stop asking too. The events of hatred unfold weirdly, broken glass bottles splinter on the ears, even blood runs warm, we run hot, and shake our chills through the spine until stranger's call us out on our eyes. Even the wanting can't, and no one can. But the help makes the worst of it even more wrong. Until they can't speak or sing to themselves, whispers on the night break the shapes on the shores.
Hailey johansen Dec 2018
In the land of shattered dreams
Shadows follow my every step
Demons gather around me in reams
As Dancers leave blood where they've leapt
Frollicking through meadows of gray
While picking bouquets of death
On a dark cloudy day
And with each shaky breath
I take the darkness in and exhale with ease
In the land of shattered dreams
I knew there was another 'other' world
But i couldn't quite work out
How to venture into it
Until early one morning
Just as the sun was shining
Having awoken from a dream
I found my small collection
Of glass marbles
I knew which two i needed
Picked them both up
And holding one between
Each index finger, and thumb
Held them close to my eyes
Then explored the patterns within
I imagined myself within
The whirls, and twirls
And found myself in Victorian London
This was to random, so i tried again
And arrived at my own birth
Watching in amazement
As i came kicking, and screaming into life
With the cord wrapped around my neck
Like a hangmans noose
As the midwife disentangled me
From the cord that had kept me alive
Within my womb with a view
That was now trying to strangle me
I glanced at the marbles again
This time
I arrived at my own funeral
I could see my name etched into stone
And date of birth
But not date of departure
As thankfully
A mourners cloak
Was billowing in the wind
Obscuring my view
I hastily looked into the marbles a third time
Entering this time
Into a strange surreal world
Full of fairy folk frollicking
Pixies, and pretty princesses posing
As strange, curious music
Was floating on the breeze
Accompanied by a symphony of singing trees
I was so enthralled by these visions
That i wasn't in the least bit upset
That during these events
I realised
That i had completely lost
My marbles!
So was destined to remain
In this strange, and curious world
As i got into a deeply interesting
And profoundly intriguing conversation
With a tree called Bertha

by Jemia
Jill Tait Aug 2020
Finding a seashell in the silvery sand
Brush off the particles with your hand
Make sure it is empty with no creature inside
shake it incase a sea serpent does hide

Place your seashell to your ear
Listen carefully what do you hear?
Only the sound of the abyssal sea
Ebbing, flowing beckoning thee

The tormented, timeless, tempestuous waves
Battering the rugged rocks
Engulfing the caves

Mightier than humanity
More powerful than mankind
Betwixt spirituality & the unconscious mind

Mysteriousness of mythical creatures below
Mermaids scaley tails aglow
Frollicking in fathomless depths untold
Braving the briney surf so cold

Ship-wrecked carcasses line the seabed
Ne’er unearthed tho tears were shed
Hardy heroes lost in salty brine
E’er hallowed in Oceanic shrine

— The End —