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King Panda Mar 2016
every profile of the body
drapes of a fallen dress
the flowers twang
the bassoons
the wooden harps

the human body is a temple
with the purpose of changing
into new forms
or love
or passion
or life

the metamorphosis of another
the brother
the kiss
the flowers of evil
the death of a maiden

hear me
love is simply a measure of
bumps and holes
love grows out of soft marble
we are one

the mythology of
passion ensues
the act encased in
Nothings more grandeur
Than the grand piano
The peaceful sound
Of a symphony
Violins harps all join together
In perfect Harmony.

Nothings more peaceful
Than a flowing stream
On a summer's day
Such a delightful scene.
At one with nature
Like a beautiful dream.

Nothings more soothing
Than the feel of the Breeze
The gentle movement
Through the leaves on the trees
Pleasant smells from flowery scent
Accompanied with garden bees.

Nothings more brighter
Than the glittering stars
With the glimerring moon
In the universe Afar
The grand piano plays a tune
A wonderful melodious way to start.
Listened to a beautiful sound of the grand Piano
On TV it created a wonderful setting in my mind
Of all kinds of pleasant thoughts.
SteamPhunk Aug 2018
Dusk, old perfume bottles,
Cotton sheets, dried rose petals,
Handwritten letters, cobblestone streets,
Ballet, copper, dark lipstick,
Melted wax candles,
Grand architecture,
Rivers that run through cities,
Women in silk dresses,
Ballrooms, lavender,
Gold jewellery encrusted with pearls,
French tipped nails,
Glasses of champagne,
Harps, long lashes,
Lipstick stains on blushing cheeks,
Marble floors,
We are dancing in starlight tonight.
I've started writing " aesthetic poems " where you just create a visual aesthetic using words.
Donall Dempsey Sep 2018
( for Jazzman John Clarke )

It was as I

there was these
angel chicks

playing on harps
on Cloud 9

other angel dudes
playing trumpets and horns

but man
there was the Big Guy himself

playing a mean baritone

like he was Gerry Mulligan
or something

the lyrics were
you know

hard to catch
" are the music while the music lasts..."

or something
Eliotish like that

I strode up
to the Big Guy

checking his *******
with a grin

"Man, that's real
solid gone!"

"I shall be made
thy music..."

The Big Guy

one long long
final note.
Robin Carretti Jul 2018
She moves with
The Gracious meeting in denial
He's the baron of beef delicious side
Reproduction picture full slide
The most
   Casual face

Met the eternal masterly
    Artist face
Saying Oh! Grace
The other side of midnight
     Mask Face
She could overjoy anyone's
Heart in the right place
    Deceiving Face

The miracle of love principles
Such skepticism could it be overjoyed realism

But a hell of a time with heavenly bliss
What a shock when he gave me my kiss
His Crooked face to longevity nose
Hiding place A-Rose

Beachy trance-set face

Highlands of Scotland,
anybody would want her
     *Joyful face

He's the baronial
Secluded caves but risky dives
The turn only If?? I
could turn back the time
The events strictly

Her apple cheeks bathing suit
He is picking her fruit
So soothing the fiddle
Tinman whistles the ladies harps

Their medieval moment's help!!!
The swords  bust to his manly chest
Sleeping Inn New castle west
Their best bedrest

The cupboards open overjoyed
invitation decorative cans
Of greens, pinks, purple passion

And flourless chocolate cakes
Powdered lips love his reaction

She was seductively awe-inspiring
The top hills of Ireland grass
vividly raised her legs
The bowl next to her
The Rose blush wines
Bare it Fruit and figs

The baronial tug of war wigs

Melodious birds the
Grand One
The thousand piano words
Overjoyed but
under the {Baronial} weather

So lordly new threads tailored
carpenter pants
Men of the herds
She's the
Caron French boutique

There ****** desires
The creature within
Wildly mating like critiques

Her perfumes so extinct
Overjoyed her heart
So cultured violin strings
Dollhouse Castle to restore
With her unique touches,
he wanted more

The steps tiring like a killed deer
every muscle he could hear

Over elaborating how people are dating
With a  stamped from the very
heart  approval
But hard times such laboring
Sitting in her
overjoyed chair
His face all Scrooged
no gifts of flowers
What are the odds of this pair

Over and over again her rainbow
her sensitivity we need longevity
The  endless walls are caving in
We are not so overjoyed by
this monster garden
She had her first breakdown
Going up the
Jack and Jill Ireland hill
In the longtime what long run
Way too short
It didn't come from above

The vintage oldtimer
radios sitting
together with
family listening
so long ago
So commercialized
The crazy shows
Where do you really want to go,
you just want to shut everything off

He called her the powder puff
Waiting for the nocturnal star
Those scrubs and hot rubs shower
Over my knee-high boots so in
love cahoots

Oh! It's her
The smart student
Owl Hoot whats to boot
Eating her shepherd's pie
so lordly full lips word-me
Ireland Holy Land
of love and beauty

Overly scrupulousness
The time of blessings

But the baronial loved to be
overly entertained
And she would sit there  
Blue-blooded royal dishes
Got flushed away no wishes

Like the hardest love
of multiplication
The ****** overstimulation
Over embellished
But you're still positive
But why did she
want to vanish

Destroyed her
Apple jubilee computer

Spiritual Zen
Or new lover Amen
Ever touched by Ireland maidens
Like the crimson and clover
I do believe in the
Four leaf clover Face

Like the only thing she picked
were the weeds
More beauty of life and deeds
Or tons of sorrow wondering
how she
would feel tomorrow?
We will never know
Overjoyed by so many things have the beauty Ireland is amazingly beautified or everything feels unnecessary gloomy or horrified you rather pick of ripe blueberry or cherry or blackberry living like your in the castle being summoned on by the Scrooged type Baron
Austin Lyons Apr 2018
May you meet demands
With daring candour,
May your dreams be grand
But the mornings grander.
May the angels hear you
Each time you pray,
And Saints be near you
Come what may.
May happy trails
Leave paths of laughter,
In fairy tales
And ever afters.
May fortune bless you
Each single day,
And strength possess you
Come what may.
May you meet your maker
With head held high,
Through Heaven's acres
Let spirit fly.
May harps strum freely,
Our song they'll play,
In hopes you'll see me,
Come what may.
Kyle Skita Dec 2018
The system wants to stop me
But it harps on "you do you"
They say do what you love
Set your sights on the moon above

And alas, should you miss the moon,
You will land among the stars
But what's that worth if I land among them
And I still can't hide my scars

I don't want cuts, I don't want burns
I want to seize the life that I yearn
But every corner's a dead end, a no place
Only choice is a path with no turns

So my favorite time of the day turns to sleeping
Behind closed eyelids is where I can see
The life that I want and shall work for
I will make my dreams reality
Logan Robertson Aug 2018
The knife of life carves indiscriminately without warning
said the runts of the pumpkin patch now lined in mourning.
A farmer plucked biggest one, cutting vine, as the runts cried
a black harvest, Mama being carted off, as she died.
Sad black crows circle the day and night sky abreast and stressed
as the winds of fate wielded its teeth at the oppressed.
A blur of orange is all the crows saw amongst the quivering patch
as the farmer tiptoed the pasture wide-eyed on getting his ******.
Now at the hour of her death angels play harps of fruition
in wake of the wide-eyed farmer's wayward act of abscission.
Billows of black smoke followed, taking to the ominous  skies
as the incinerator took matters in its own hands as she lies.
Then all that was left were the ashes and whispers of the past,
a eulogy, as her quivering kin sat in the storybook downcast.
Pages cried out, tears filled the chapters of a great pumpkin patch
her roots holding each on the vines with love that's hard to match.
No day came off, of a jack-o-lantern smiling in a window frame
for in this family house cancer snatched mothers life just the same.

Logan Robertson

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