Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Silverflame Mar 2018
A loaded gun behind the perfect shot,
infiltrate my mind with memories I forgot.
Pills and potions couldn't help ease the pain,
the man with the mask I can no longer keep sane.

And in the bleeding sky I saw,
scars I've encountered once before.
The depth is scary, but I can't look away,
I dive and drown in this red ocean every day.

I close my eyes and hum a song,
trying to outshout the things I've done wrong.
It's a suicide mission to try and win this fight,
so I'll just get lost with the strangers of the night.

On the gleaming tracks I run with no goal,
it's just an endless journey within a distant black hole.
I'm just a fraction of something that could've been great,
but, I know it's too late to change my bulletproof fate.
English Jam Apr 2018
Each time a dark thought to sin gleefully entered me
Every one of those days blurred into one another that were tinged with blue
All those nights insomnia took hold, and I wished to end my life
Well, I'm glad I didn't

I'm glad because I was waiting for the day
The day the sun bursts into a kaleidoscope of light
The day the sky quickly parts itself, making a path
The day the clouds willingly sacrifice themselves to hold a gleaming white horse
And on the horse's back, sits The King
Holding a sword that shines magnificently
Wearing a crown that dazzles for all to see
I can't wait to see Jesus
Still I wait for that day
Still I wait
Paul Hansford Aug 2018
The first cold letters, alone on the page.
A quick pencil found them,
and the lively and beautiful syllables blossomed.
The pale book felt the pencil,
and the terrifying, hot words entered.
The lines grew, living and sensitive,
gleaming as never before,
and I knew the unheard lines!

First, a tiny and unselfconscious sound.
A noun struggled to appear among overpowering words.
A strong, golden adjective ran out,
a short, fragrant adjective, beautiful in the early spring.
A young verb grew among tiny blue conjunctions,
and a fortuitous adverb understood, instinctively.

The first sentence dreamed of trees, and a sad cloud.
It dreamed a grey rain,
and the tall trees felt the rain.
There was a first and unknown river,
imagined, inconsequential, like snow in summer.
A red bird glided beyond reach,
as if it had never happened.
The soft sounds fitted the lines,
and the quick bird cried,
Remember the short rain!
Remember the sad poem!
This one was a "collaboration" between myself and an app that I imported to my computer. First I entered lists of nouns, adjectives and adverbs (including adverbial phrases), then clicked to start the process.  The computer didn't "compose" the lines that you see here, but it gave me lots of ideas, and I had to work quite a lot on them. Streams of sentences poured out onto my printer, most of them complete nonsense, and when I had enough I pressed Stop, and started the process of weeding out the *******, editing the more promising lines, and re-arranging the order. My favourite line is "There was a first and unknown river," which I could never have dreamed up by myself.
zebra Jul 2018
flex and perspire my darling
would you mind a small suffering for craven kisses
to have your dark fig **** and drenching *****
stroked with a tickling finger lingering
and strong hands around your sweetly curved throat
that shunt the breath
to yield willingly for sharp-toothed nibbles with surprise tongue whipping?

will you present your soft belly and cupping *******
for dark cruelties that excite beyond tabulation
will you present yourself with smiles
and goddess leg show
sobbing for feral pink spires gleaming
while quivering thighs
turn hot red from the slap of the leather strap splitting stings?

will tears of love
mix in wild berry utterance
and flashing spitfire’s tongue?

are you made for this?
your every whimper an invitation
like an open pink gate
do you need the saint of dark desires to rescue you
from banal dim-witted all american in and out?

do you need to drown in oceanic wave tsunamis
of hot butter **** glitter, blood flooding gasms
and tender aftercare?

my wish
that you shimmer like silver
possessed
by the saint of sadism
popes of eros
who fill you with the milk of the moon
all stars that melt you into the depths of paradise

and that this dark ecstasy
is the only suffering you will ever know.
your pain is my pleasure
mmmmm
zebra Nov 2018
Oh the virgins ravenous vault
college girl ******
a seething abashment
with mixed loyalties
who belongs to no one
ferocious for annihilation
*** blast
poured out from essence
spread shanks
wet spot
hot shots
meditative and gleaming

huge hearted
she is one and many
choking on desire
far flung in Turkish bath fantasies
a singing **** tearing heaps of suns
like burns and spatters
her ***, a high pitched note
his ****, rage at bay
poised hot **** ****
gasping fire

*** criminal's

foot kissing
****** biters
Sylvia Plath was referred to as "The Smith College ******" in some biographical material. I love her poetry, like incredibly, and so by the proxy of her literature I remain very much in love with her both as a writer and as a woman, albeit a vivid fantasy. That love remains amplified by her suicide as I find myself still aching about her now, 50 years after her death. I remain continually mesmerized by the appalling dread, yet sensuality of her draped corpse hanging out of the oven. Her dead body is an ineffable poem of grace in form and shuddering despair. I always want to rescue her.... It gnaws! This poem is prompted by Sylvia Plath, a Goddess of modern language, her youthful passions, and inconsolable despair.
I have seen you posing in pictures,
But i wish to see you smiling in front. I have heard your sound,
I wish to feel the depth of your voice whispering in my ears.
I have seen your eyes from far,
But I wish to have a contact with the gleaming ones.
I have heard songs sung by you,
I wish to have them as the background music of my life.
I have seen your hands playing guitar,
But I wish to hold them as we step forward with time.
I have seen you only in my mobile screen,
And many wishes still crave for your magical presence.
ryn Oct 2014
tell me...

will tomorrow bring,
     all the things
i'm longing...
    stowed upon its elusive wings,
tirelessly beating
    and fighting
to show what's dangling
and hanging...
          ready for the picking...

                          awaiting...
such time so it could begin its need for unloading,
                   delivering
                                      and dropping,
its gleaming
                      treasures
on those who are deserving,
        in no way lacking
so they could be at the receiving
end of this pressurising,
           inking
                      of dwindling
                                        words...

carel­ess thoughts conceived only to
              fuel
           my deranged ramblings...
incessant mutterings of a shattering
                         mind...

           bending backwards, almost breaking,
         risking...
the chance of ever fully
                                          mending...

hopin­g and praying
   for a sentence that's pending
dawn's approval...

allowing
   the rising
of the sun...
                  paving
            ways for thriving
                                          wishes,
unbarr­ing
                  gates for soaring
                                                dreams, unlocking
                   latches,

relieving...
the heightening
                     anxieties of grieving
                                                        ­ hearts.

constantly whispering
                               utterances, promising
good will, happiness
                              and titillating
                                                     ­ sanity.

we're thinking...
     the earth is spinning,
         the moon is setting,
     so the sun must be rising
                         but...

             tell me,
                           tomorrow...

                                *is it coming?
Cynthia Aug 2014
The moon reads the abstract of our past
Always refining our path
The stars are the editors of our lives
Always stirring
The breeze sensitizes our memory
Upon the gleaming of the night sky
We journey along the memories of time
Until each star slowly disappears
Without a trace.

Copyright© Cynthia Ulloa
All rights reserved.
seethroughme Nov 2009
all the blood and violence
awakened ferocious appetite for life
a bright gleaming hunger
on the edge of the knife
every moment a juicy morsel
born from strife
Mara W Kayh May 2017
I am your bird of prey

Caught between 2 posts
And a glistening fence.

Neck broken,
beak to the ground,
Half way trapped inside
your field of green.

I am your bird of prey,

Wings on a wire,
Still soft and light,
with feathers gleaming
where promise of flight,
newly broken, fell to earth.

'Twas passion that lured me to your
nest, where the cloud kissed Sun
with time
turned ashen my listless frame.

A testament to nature's seduction,
there was no escaping
your embrace
As the warmth
slowly left
my still
beating
heart.
Inspired by a beautiful Robin I found yesterday, stuck in a fence I had put up around a field of garlic.. it must have fluttered to death, trying to escape.
CEFord Jan 2014
Whispers hello as the first streams of sunlight
inch their way in through their black chiffon veil,
gleaming on our garden of stale breath,
and down feathers.

Whispers goodnight as his proud freckles
become the constellations outside my window,
and the moon stretches her arms
for another night's work.

Whispers sorry after his words became feather-lances
jousting through my arguments until my armor
was askew and torn
at its paper seams.

Whispers tales of tomorrows and fortnights
to come under illusions of rich greens, blues, and yellows
he will finger paint on my forehead
like a warrior.

Whispers goodbyes, sweet and forlorn,
as he realizes promises and paints will not keep the morning
from snatching his prized possession from his cotton laced roost,
leaving him alone with just the rays of the sun
to admire his tail.
patty m Apr 15
Notre Dame is burning to the ground
people are sobbing in the streets
all around the world.
How helplessly we watch  
as you become engulfed in flame.  
You endured everything,
the French Revolution and two world wars..  
standing as a beacon of Christianity and history
for 850 years.
Now the bones of your
cathedral lie fragile,  
as angels cry for the loss
of your majesty;
My heart too burns in anguish,
this Monday after Palm Sunday.
How beautifully you held your cross aloft
almost touching heaven with it's gleaming.
jonni inferno Jul 2018
i met her    
in a waking dream    
as i walked beside    
the sylvar stream    
whose chattering laughter    
shifted suddenly    
into a sylvar pool    
of enchanted silence    
a mirrored glaze    
in muted    
misty
dawning rays    
    
her cascading mane    
a crimson flare    
sea-green eyes    
alluring stare    
my heart stopped    
to see her there    
reposed    
'pon a verdant garden lee 
beside    
the misting sylvar mere    
'neath    
the weeping willow trees    
    
dahlia lips    
whispering desire    
vermilion plunder splayed    
spellbound 
by her charms    
heart pounding    
thundering    
captured    
i stay    
an' wi' faire
lithesome beauty lay    
'pon a lush an' vibrant field    
beside    
the misting sylvar mere    
'neath    
the weeping willow trees    
    
we lay there    
lost in time    
locked    
in the silence 
of kindred minds    
an' i knew her name    
tho she spoke it not    
sipped i then
the misty morning dew    
from precious lips
that from me drew    
all that i    
ever thought    
or felt    
or knew
'pon the grasses lush and green    
beside    
the softly glowing mere    
'neath    
the weeping willow trees    
    
soft sings    
the whippoorwill    
the meadowlark    
an' mourning dove    
their voices weaving spells    
for lover's yearning hearts    
in the meadow    
by the way    
where my love an' i    
do lay    
entwined  
'pon the gleaming sylvan shore    
beside    
the shining crystal lake    
'neath
the weeping willow trees    
    
alas    
the dawning days    
were passing
when came malevolence    
within
a thund'ring tempest    
lightnings flashed
in ragged gashes
'cross the heaven's    
stygian passes
an' from those
gnawing caverns
spewed
a raging
howling
demon's brood
an' down flew they
by the sylvar stream
where my love
and i
entranced
did lay
beside
the mystic sylvar lake
'neath
the weeping willow trees
    
then from my arms    
vile creatures tore    
my lifesong    
my heart's blood    
my one    
and only love
her scintillating form    
they ripped    
her silent
piercing cries    
bleeding    
thru my soul
an' took her they  
far from this    
battered    
desert shore    
as her soundless    
painful    
chorus fades    
an' leaves me
here alone    
to lay    
'pon these shifting lifeless sands    
beside    
this sylvar lake of tears    
'neath    
the weeping willow trees    
    
the meadowlark    
her spellsong sings    
thru ebon winter's    
weathering    
the silver stream    
her laughter froze    
this heart    
once fire    
a soulless stone    
    
so now this raven
winged    
doth fly
to scour the bruised    
an' shadowed skies    
to find my dove    
an' bring her home    
to lay
'pon these frozen brittle stones
beside
the darkened sylvar tarn
'neath    
the weeping willow trees    
    
thru timeless age    
an' dangerous realms    
i followed    
her silent    
morbid    
ravenings    
as her grisly    
mewling pleas    
hollowed out my soul    
'til at last    
i found her    
chained an' bound    
lost    
deep within    
peculiar planes    
an' baneful realms    
far from    
the laughing sylvar stream    
far from    
the weeping willow trees    
    
her lament    
of bitter tears    
an' fear    
sliced    
thru my defenses    
a doomed    
pernicious heart    
she was    
wandering    
thru deepest depths    
where madness reigns    
all hope destroyed    
hell's minions    
reveled
unconstrained    
    
my dove    
called i    
my love    
'tis i    
once more    
thrice more  
time  
and time again    
till finally    
she hearkened    
to my voice    
    
true love    
recall us    
you and i    
dancing    
thru ageless realms    
consider us    
twirling    
under heaven's wings    
she
spinning
at my fingertips

an' i  
drew her then    
breathless    
into my arms    
ambrosia lips    
her sweet alms    
from her dark pain    
i did drink    
of her    
malignant sorrow    
i did partake  
my questing    
thirsting hunger    
willingly  
did i sate  
gathering all    
her shattered pieces    
from those altered    
blighted    
reaches
    
chains    
now broken    
i carried her
'pon wings    
of true love's    
sylvar light    
far from    
these darksworn legions    
into    
the dawning night's    
farthest regions    
    
an' there    
close by    
the laughing    
whispering    
sylvar stream    
lay her gently    
'pon the verdant flowing shore    
beside
our gleaming slyvar mere    
'neath    
our weeping willow trees    
    
under glimmering    
starlit heavens    
sing    
the whippoorwill    
the meadowlark    
an' mourning dove    
whose soulful songs    
compose    
for yearning lovers    
charms of hope    
where pools    
the laughing    
sylvar stream    
whose mirrored gaze    
draws us deep within    
celestial    
starlit    
wanderings    
  
as the wind    
whispering
sighs    
thru our hearts  
as we lay entwined    
'pon a verdant garden lee    
beside  
our misting sylvar mere    
'neath  
our silent    
weeping  
willow trees    
      
p j upchurch
laura Oct 2018
Lazy sundays with the sad glow
there’s nothing to be sad about
except that it is all over
of course, my one day off vanished

outside blowing meager paychecks
emerald hillsides topped with leaves
abutting, climbing the city
plunged into histories soon gone

like the cold, gold sun gleaming off
the ribbon of the tarmacked road
we returned to from our escape
peering back through the car’s windshields
okay that last one was too pretentious and came off way wrong, so i deleted it. it’s dead now
Natalie Aug 2018
My limbs pinned and flayed.
A curious crowd of men hover overhead,

Floating faces bobbing closely
Like great bearded balloons.

In a flash of white and sharply gleaming silver,
They swiftly strip my leather skin

And, upon prying the cage, are astounded to have found
Only a cavity in the place a heart should be.

Throughout my warren of vein sits the last true proof
That anything once flowed there—

A thickly pickled ichor to make sickened
Wives’ stomachs turn at their evening roast.
Cunning Linguist Jul 2015
Sacred fires burning bright
Purging the flesh of my being
Becoming one with the light
Scorching the cells of my mortal body

4 Illuminate
3 the masses
4 Self-immolate
3 to ashes
1 break
3 conciousness
4 cosmic I lapse
3 death cleanses

8 dissipate into the nether

4 essence of life
3 extinguished
4 the chains that bind
3 relinquished
1 Pain
3 Surging through
4 Serenity
3 Gleaming blaze


I, long to be cosmic,
dissipate into illumination
To, become the nether -
to lapse in lost
consciousness

Then I shoot off in space and time,
soaring through illusions
Light years from reality,
distant pixels

8 Obsessing through the tesseract,
6 scouring past illusions
7 beyond spatiality,
4 distant pixels

Drifting, no sense or feel
Flames of color, figments of my creation

Drift in-to the surreal,
Chasing fractals defragments my cognition

Dreaming in discordance
Life confined in simulation

A glitch in the matrix
Lies conceived through my perception

Breathe


I, long to be spectral,
fluctuate right through this oscilation
To, attain the ether -
planetary
cognizance

Then I shoot off in space and time,
soaring through illusions
Light years from reality,
distant pixels

Obsessing through the tesseract,
scouring past illusions
beyond spatiality,
distant pixels

Drifting, no sense or feel
Flash of colors, figments of my creation

Drift in-to the surreal,
Chasing fractals defragments my cognition

Dreaming in discordance
Life confined in simulation

A glitch in the matrix
Lies conceived through my perception

Breathe
Lyrics for my band's next song.
Margo May Apr 2015
she is a
glowing gleaming glorious
flower
in the midst of a
sea of gray.
she is a
radiant righteous ray
of shimmering sunlight
in a clouded world.
and she carries
a golden heart
full of
hope.
CautiousRain Nov 2015
"I'm afraid of the dark," he said,
but what he meant, I couldn't grasp.

I'm afraid of the light instead.

What more could terrify me than a future I have to face,
a gleaming torrent of certainty,
a resounding push forward,
but the dark?

The dark is my putty; a shadowy liquid,
a fickleness that prays on hope and fear,
and with it holds an escape.

He fears the dark because it can deceive him.
I fear the light because it is the truth.
Late night drabble.
zebra Aug 2018
i was told not to read that book
it said right there on the cover
that if i did
i would become a scourge
like a hidden genies dagger
the sight of which would terrorize some
and draw others to me
those strange few
who cry to feel it wound their flesh
and crave its rupturing cold edge
an obsession in motion
demanding they lose themselves in the rapture
of dangerous weapons of pleasure and pain
their kiss an obscenity

sure i thought

and as i read it anyway
it's words  
where like a cocked gun blasting
a slow-motion bullet
like a bomb in the skull  
shattering brains
with a storm of licking tongues
and kicking feet

my death scattered me
into a great light that casts a long shadow
of headless prancing nymphs
their menstruum,
kaleidoscopic winding red ribbons
fruits of both heaven and nightmares
like a river of elastic mouths
shifting form like chewed gum

thunder filled the house
a dark paradise found
lost in the realm of the senses
quaking and torn
from
this gleaming blade

its caress a sanctuary
pulled tight
over searching fingers
that roam for damp places
in a flickering daze
hiding a frozen scowl
in
impossible times
Sally Tsoutas Nov 2017
It's that time again.
When rangey youth
in wounded utes
are sent to pick up tin.
Eyes peeled for
shiny mangled bikes
and steely bits
of thing.
I want to see
the crucible
they put it in.
Behold the pearly
metallurgic
mess unfold.
A gleaming steaming
mass of brassy storm
So cooked
and cooled
and coaxed
and clicked
and jewelled
into mercurial form
Then moulded
bright and fine
once more.
This is the
Copper loop
of life we mine.
Eternal
Circulated
Alchemy
Divine.
Council cleanup in my neighbourhood this week. A scavenger's delight.
Bison Jan 2017
I always love that which
Is far away
From passing aeroplanes
To four years ago's yesterday
Call it nostalgia
Call it an inability to commit
A fear of holding love
In scarred hands and
Knowing I don't know
Enough

I always love the idea
Of love crossed by
Gleaming oceans of starlight
Because there lies safety
By default
No heartbreak in fate
Only a useless fight
As love burns
Forever into that awful
Good night

From where might you
Show love
Little light of day
The coast of Italy
Or distant nebulae
Perhaps too close
For comfort
and yet would you
Know your distance
A picnic lain lightly
Upon salt battered bluffs
Love, would you love from
Far enough
K Balachandran May 2013
1
Backwater nymph,
queen of serpentine black tresses
flaunting its coconut oil gleam;
envy of  leggy girls from the Western ghat mountains,
and lissome  maidens from the plains,
who can never eat as much fish, even if they wish.
Wearing hibiscus flowers,
on coiffure like hood of a king cobra,
your coral lips  silently speak
of hot peppery kisses,
waiting for me at shaded corners.
Your sultry body in me arouses desires,
that could only be whispered in your ears.
2
On a coconut lagoon when we met,
for the first time and spoke,
non stop, as if we knew each other life long,
I heard music in your words.
Oh! in the tongue you spoke,
I heard the cadence of a nightingale
ecstatic, on its wings above the clouds,
love had prompted us to fly above the storms.
Your  gleaming coal black eyes,
like silver hooks, tug at my heart strings,
that makes music, only I can hear,
you are a free flying lark,
above Kerala's lush coconut coast,
that extends from sea shore to the mountains.
3
*When we relished steaming brown rice,
mixed with clarified butter,
with spicy tuna curry, tasting so dainty,
cooked in bubbling sweet coconut milk,
my eyes like two crazy butterflies
circled your face, a blossomed Champak
.

Mashed cassava and roasted squid,
melted on our tongues,
in a perfect culinary language
any one would understand without effort.
4
Your lips had cinnamon scent,
spice land's boons,
when we kissed we touched heaven
of scents and spicy tastes.
When our eyes fell on each other,
near the ancient synagogue,
the hay days of which is over,
a long jasmine garland coiling your hair,
    marked you different,
from the  the ladies of your neighborhood,
                                          surroundi­ng you.
How well you did pretend
that you have never seen my face before!

You have mastered love's cunning,
and all the wily tricks to cheat
the enemies of our fiery love
my Freudian mind perfectly understood.
Just imagine the brouhaha we would invite,
when we elope, in the last boat,
to *Alappuzha, stealthily at midnight.
Cochin----(Now Cochi) ancient sea port in south western sea board of India, in the state of Kerala, South India,where,Greeks, Romans, Phoenicians, Arabs, Jews and Chinese used to frequent even before 1000 BCE,seeking black pepper and other spices. Cochi, it  is said had one of the earliest emporiums of Greeks,showcasing their best of  wares including wine in  containers called amphoras.
**Champak---A plant of Magnolia family with musky fragrented flowers(Michelia champaca)
*** Alappuzha--The lake district of Kerala
harlee kae Jul 2014
Just like a penny you left me in the rain
But today the drizzle stopped and out a rainbow came
The weather was so perfect and the sky so very blue
And you happened to walk by and you put me in your shoe
Because i was so shiny and gleaming and looked brand new
I guess that's where i'll stay now, in case you need some extra change
And this relationship is new to me and kinda sorta strange
Going from lovers to friends is hard, but being friends is better then nothing at all...
Tammy M Darby Jul 2013
From the black recesses of the earth
She rose from her long slumber
Icy death smile on her crimson lips
Face gleaming with wicked knowledge


Slanted eyes of emerald green
Glazed and mad
Her crown jewels of the dead
Bleached human bones
Encircled her head

Fine glass complexion of shimmering gold
She spoke the words of The Sleeping Three
Hair falling in rich waves down to the floor of snakes
The color of the crows breast
A rich purple ebony

Snake scale gown of finely woven human skins
Gathered from her poor victims sin
Wrapped round her lithe body
A thousand souls it took to weave

Awakened from its dark sleep
Spells cast in  hell's deep
By a powerful witch
Who stirred the cauldron
Tainted with revenge

The demon was now visible to sight
The apparition appeared in smoke and orange red light
To bow down and submit to the witches bidding
The command never waived from intent
One of chaos and death
Slaughtered, cold in rows they lay

Pity for the one this creature seeks
Of a terrible perfume her heart reeks
That of blood and brimstone
Perfumed smoke and fire
The devil is her line and sire


So by demons touch
Plotting cold hands
She claims the souls of mortal man
More thread for her clothing
The beautiful demon


This poem is copyrighted and stored in author base. All material subject to Copyright Infringement laws
Section 512(c)(3) of the U.S. Copyright
Act, 17 U.S.C. S512(c)(3), Tammy M. Darby
Next page