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Mymai Yuan Sep 2010
Barely awake, it was only dawn
My sleepy feet stumbled out the front door
And onto the old swing on the grassy lawn

Awake in peaceful stillness, like death
No one else in the entire neighborhood
Not a sound, nor a breath

I yawned, my vision spinning side to side
The old fence creaked as I opened it
Trying to stand but swayed right outside

That’s when I saw a little girl who ran
In the distance; laughing happily and carefree
As only the innocent and young can

She had ruffled yellow hair
Shoved into two short bouncing sprouts
That bobbed merrily as she skipped, looking so fair

The sweet freckled face had the quality of a dream
The button nose wrinkled cutely
The white teeth flashed in an innocent beam

She had thick, warm honey eyes
That smiled as big as her red lips did
A smile that could warm the iciest heart full of lies

She wore the brightest of yellow overalls
And canary-yellow shoes
That bounced up and down like rubber *****

Out of her overall pockets floated out golden sparkles
Thick-looking and sweet-smelling, spraying heat
That left a glittering trail behind her dancing feet

A chubby brown hand clutched a swinging bucket
Filled to the brim with warm, sweet sunshine
The other scattering it behind her in an unordered line

She didn’t seem to be walking
She didn’t seem to run
Her feet pattered, like tap-dancing
She skipped to me with a happy beat
And as she did, she stopped and
Sprinkled some sunshine near my feet

The toddler looked up and saw my bewildered face
Her red dimpled cheeks blushing joyfully
Honey eyes sparkling with an unworldly grace

She did not say anything but came closer
Bringing a dizzy sweet fire
Erasing all cold cuts, leaving treasures to admire

She skipped around in a circle, tossing glitters on me
A sprinkle here… and… a little bit there…
And sat cross-legged right then
Wondering what my reaction would be

As I was about to ask her what she had done
Something with a slow melancholy beauty
Indescribable, yet true, and happening
Something vivacious and full of life’s fun

The golden sunshine diamonds sparkled on my skin
Wiping clean all scars on my heart
And with a golden, pulsing love beat
Seeped through, melting away all sins

I felt alive to the brim
My fingertips tingling
My mind filled with wild dreams
Pouring, gushing over the rim

A sudden, sweeping golden heat rushed from my heart
From the roots of my hair
A rush of great, great happiness
That reached my whole body, ever part

My cheeks flushed from the joyful heat
My lips redden from the welcoming warmth
Feeling the energy of a restless dance
Tapping in my normally dull feet

The three-year-old laughed as she saw my expression change
She handed me her bucket of sunshine
Her little warm hand in mine
We started to skip along the road

I reached into the yellow bucket
And felt the smooth and fine
Warm and sweet sunshine
In the palm of my fire-hot hands

Strange the heat did not hurt me
But made me crazy
Something one may only feel, never see
With all its powerful magic

I laughed like the toddler holding my hand did
From the bottom of our beings
I danced like the baby did
Never ceasing; without rhythm or rhyme
For an immeasurable time

We danced, and threw sunshine dust behind us
Watching the trail of sunray dust
Glitter and spread

Together, we brought dawn
The sandy, spicy glowing sunshine
Spreading out to blanket the land
Sunrise was brought by this child’s hand

When dawn had completely broken
She kissed me on the cheek
And hugged with her plump arms
Then bid goodbye forever with a
Twinkling voice full of innocence’s charm

Every year on that day, I wake up to watch
The dawn of hers and mine
She had not only two pocketfuls but a bucketful of sunshine
And a heart and soul
Full of pure, simple love
Sunshine Baby
Lucky Queue Nov 2012
A body and soul stretched to extremes
Yin and yang
The most and least of both worlds
Opposite sides of the coin
Cleansing and pure
Tainting and pitch
Light and dark
Of the purest white
And the most tainted black
Earth and air and fire and water and aether
Sun and rain
The brightest and hottest fires of sun
Beating and firing heat from the bottomless flames of hell
Breaking into a cold sweat without cease
The flaming evil of health
Rain and sun
The darkest and iciest rain of clouds
Pouring and drenching from the endless pools of heaven
Chilling into a cleansing soak never long enough
The freezing good of pain
The contradictions, the back and forth
The intelligent confusion
The stupid direction
The leather and biker tough guy
The shy and bookish sweet girl
The false realities and true lies
Love in strangers and indifference in close friends
Hope in troubled times and loss in peaceful
Banding together the unlikelies
Separating the probabilities
Pain in love and happiness
Contentment in fear and despair
The sound of one hand clapping.
Strangely whimsical title for my outpouring of passion, but I suppose it follows with the oxymorons and backwards-forwardsness...
Dreamer May 2014
Hot cocoa,
so saccharine,
so sweet,
Warm me through the bitterest winter,
the iciest claw of the wind

Hot cocoa,
melting on tasteless tongues
warming my tiny, gelid hands
You trickle and run down numb throats
leaving milky, brown streaks
on colorless lips

Hot cocoa,
rolling and tumbling in nippy stomaches
as my belly rumbles and thunders for more
Written in 4th grade! :)
aj Mar 2015
apollo's dead-set light shines on beauty.
the gushing of blood boils high in the guilty crowns of gored kings.

TO COURT BEAUTY IS TO BATHE IN IMMACULATE, ETHEREAL ECSTASY!

YOU ARE NOT WORTHY.

ichor spills in the cursed name of the light-born.
blessed with the scrutiny to scorch the iciest of hearts.

they sit on their faux thrones, just above Olympus,
with the wide eyes of wander and lust;
the bodies of gold and trust.

they sit high on their thrones,
with their own
black-light sun.

they sit on their broken thrones
stained with the blood of seraphim.

beings of smokeless fire burn away the truth

and we love them anyway.
For Joseph, who always seems to light my fire

(Not about you, though you really know how to get me writing)
Nicole Corea Jul 2015
For years ...
My heart sat in a box of icy glass.
Shivering every night, through the wake of daylight.
Cracking slowly over the years.
Hoping ...
Longing
for the righteous touch.
Many sought to conquer but failed...
I would crack thinking
it was time for me
to beat lively again...
But they failed...
They all failed
Not one has come close to my heart.
My heart was detached from me.
I was in cage chained,
watching my heart,
deteriorate through the years.
So
The cracks of my heart began to
rebuild its icy veins.
And my heart sat in box of icy glass.
Longing through ever shutter.
Wondering what am I beating for.
Slowly the temperatures dropped
And my heart became colder.
My heart alarmed signals of  
heavy frostbites hovering over my soul.
I slowly try to crack ,
by enduring this
emptiness of my icy heart.

It Was Dangerous Severed Heart

My heart was coped up in ice and loneliness.
My heart began to fall into abyss of winter
Everlasting for eternity,
My heart in a icy box.
For eternity....
No longer beats due to
The exhaustion from shivering .
From receiving little cracks of hope...
Open and closing to the wrong warriors..
They failed .
To save my heart .
And most importantly to save me...
My heart didn't want to be loved
My heart wanted to be misused
To be mislead through every sin.
That was my love for my heart.
Loneliness sunk into my icy box.
My heart shed tears through every shiver.
The shivers through every wrongful touch.
My heart grew weaker into the abyss..
Quitting.
Slowly
A Silhouette emerged from icy dark waters.
My heart watched this beautiful masterpiece swimming,
across every strenuous wave,
Vigorously. Powerfully.
Eyes with flame of devotion.
So much devotion...
Beautiful Dark Eyes
My Heart and I will always cherish
His eyes ....
My heart deteriorated by the time
As this ghost reached my heart...
My heart began to look for its shiver
My little trickle hair began to alert.
Waking my heart from is devastation
My heart manage to hook
it's eyes on this ghost...
He wasn't a warrior ...
He was a hero.
Angel guardian ...
With eyes that flamed devotion.
Igniting my icy cracks to reopen.
Quickly shunned ..
As when he reached with an anchor
To the iciest veins part of me
Which was my heart in the box...
My heart let go of the anchor.
It didn't want to be save.
It wanted to live in naked loneliness.
You would drop your anchor waiting
For my heart to reach.
Shunned
you
over
over
and
over
again.
Yourself shiver through the nights into daylight.
Waiting for me to defrost into your saving arms.
My heart was incapable .
My heart whisper apologies every shiver you shake waiting for me.
But my heart sank deeper into the haunted memories.
Terrifying questions
"Why weren't you becoming one of my sins"
"Why aren't you a regretful touch"
I couldn't sink deeper because your anchor followed through every pressure..
Through every flaw of my icy veins.
Thawing hard through my icy veins .
You became my hero in that very instance.
My angelic savior .
My heart began to crack to weigh on your anchor.
By the time my heart began to reincarnate itself
I found myself in shaking in shivers
My cracks began to burst with ice
I began to sank....
It wasn't my time to be saved.
Was it?
Then you became alluring serpent of my heart.
The possessed thought of my mind.
Your poison began to shift my veins .
My heart began to pump warmly ,
Slowly regaining its redness through every
Memory of you...
Through every caressing moment from you.
You.
My heart felt this unknown feeling.
It was a masterpiece forming as it began to feel.
It began to feel what my angel has been fighting for.
What you have been fighting for.
Since the moment
he let go of the anchor,
To save my heart...
Most importantly me..
I became yours a little too late .
He loves me...
And I loved him.
Then I love him
And then he loved me.
My heart had to crack
For my angel.
For myself
The time has come.
For my eyes to spark again...
With the same love and devotion
As yours...
My heart is missing heaven.
Missing home.
Missing my virtue.
There are many things,
I know my heart,
Can devote to many,
Beautiful things.
It's not easy for
My heart to start to believe again...
But my heart confides in you .
Only you...
When my heart opens ,
You will be there
with your anchor
Receiving me...
Loving me...
As I waited for awhile
to learn what home feels like .
Not in the icy box ,
But to be  in another heart full with warmth.

That is the moment I been waiting for.
To love you and only you.

Because I righteously deserve all of  you
And you righteously deserve all of me...

I thank you ...
For staying in this prolong battle...

I love you
with all the cracks
and bruises of my heart.
Soon I know I will be healed .

I love you my angel .
This is one of my heartfelt poems please enjoy
Poetic Artiste Jul 2014
The quiet nights spent alone
Cold as the iciest winter
Wandering wondering
If things had happened in reverse,
Would they be somewhat better?

True Affliction
Unwise decisions
Regretting forgiveness that was once given
Faulty thoughts
Impaired judgments
Logic flawed with justifiable reason

Transgressing to levels uncertain
A tornado of doubt destroys every light in sight
With every dreadful memory that resurfaces
Of the darkest times in her life

The anxiety clouds her mind
Uncertainty glares from behind her eyes
Scars of past loves, past exes, past wounds, past lies
They cover her face

Shown in the bags above her cheeks
The darkness behind her pupils
And the depression contained in them
A midnight black
A dark hole only caused by deep sorrow
Unfathomable Heartache

Overly afraid of the unknown
How will she learn to let go?
As if instinctively hesitant of others intentions
She treads vigilantly amongst
Those of even the utmost caliber

Stern refusal to release her guard
Such little remaining to give
She clings sacredly onto the last of her

To think,
Never again will she slip and fall
Blindly into loves tainted cage
Never again will she be trapped in loves locks
Like an animal untamed
Internally shattered in a zoo of impure emotion
How will she decipher the wrong from the right person?

Passively awaiting
The next bearer of alleged variation
When history has too often chosen to repeat
The differences in being different
Eventually turn out to be exactly the same
Alex Clarke Jun 2015
Even those
with
the iciest blood
and
the bluest hearts
still have
moments
where they wish
there was someone
they could wake
in the middle of the night
and whisper
"This has happened to me
and it is not ok
and I am scared."
Coleen Mzarriz Jun 2020
Deep into the midnight
below the gleaming star,
I stepped on the running wall — the creation of Nirvana,
lights.

Heaven's an enigma
a forged between the steely and the curve
the star's collision and the minor parts
have the iciest heart — a grain of Truth.

Prophesy the future,
shuffle the sheets
and let them look at
your eyes — does it carry the dullest truth?
Or a blundered ignorance?

Does the dawn of the newborns
form the hallowed mysteries
of heaven's plea?
Into the Unborn
where the sky holds a mere certainty.

You climb long — to match the moon's faint
and the beaming sunlight;
where the galaxy
was just as narrow
as the strange fragments
of what we see?

Then if beneath us was the roaring storm,
will it expose the unborn?
Will the dream catch us
when we fall asleep?

Into the future.
this is what happens when we have a clear vision of our dreams, yet an obscure journey we'll have when we try to reach it.

we tend to overlook the hardest part, yet so easy for us to be in a figment of our imagination.

can we unfold the existence of Truth?
Carla Michelle Sep 2015
I found the Lord
in your overwhelming eyes,
in the cozy breaths
riding, like waves down my shoulders.

I found the Devil
in your heart-aching hands,
in the mean grip you used
when touching me,
almost like a strip of fire
set aflame on me,
during Antarctica's iciest
breeze.

I found heaven
when inhaling ashes of my
gone lungs,
as I found my youth on your
bedroom floor.  

I found the underworld
when washing away
****** sins,
the morning after.

I found the galaxy, in the dead sky,
staring out a window.
Aditya Roy Dec 2018
At the iciest  places your
Thoughtless  Calmness  brings
   Heart  Warmth   and Innocence
          Selflessly  Loving Daily      Is Easy        
    Only    ,    For  you                    But    
            Solemnly  Losing You         Is Very           
    Hard for some of the kindest in
    Our world missing you deeply
   At the warmest earthen core
Wild thoughts are like
Arrows
Safer in the quiver
                        Bow
When they shiver
and grow
Shaky when they dive
Poetry says Hello
AW!
Make A Wish My Love
Lady Francis Jan 2014
Your fingers dance along my thighs
and come to a stop at my hot spot

Heat from your flesh makes me
sweat instantly

You breath along my neck
and I feel like I'm on fire

Not the iciest tundra
could cool my desire

Drops form on my head
and drip down slow

I am ready for you

I am soaked for you

In my ocean below

Give me mine
make me feel your all

Take me now
and I'll take it all

Make me arch my back
and curl my toes

Let's dive on the bed
and just let go
It wasn't always like this. I wasn't always like this. I was happy. But it's been so long since I felt the warmth of that feeling, I no longer allow it for myself. I'm so use to the cold empty feeling of sadness that I don't need jackets. I don't need scarfs or sweaters or blankets or the touch of another human being because I've made peace with this monster. This disease. This virus that stomps around in my head and flows through my veins and fills my lungs. This thing is now a friend and I can't tell if that's a good thing or a bad thing, but it doesn't matter. It doesn't matter because it's never leaving. It has built a home inside me and refuses to leave. It grows every time I try to smile or laugh. It pushes the happiness out of me like that is the real disease. I don't know how to stop it from talking to me. During the day it whispers to me. During the night it screams. It screams so loud it's voice echoes and multiplies. It tells me stories of death and how beautiful he is. How soft and caring he is. How painless he is. How gentle he is. It tells me how death enters quietly so not to wake you in your sleep. How death slowly approaches you and softly caresses your hair out of your face. How death, with every touch, slowly strips every piece of life out of you. How death takes your hand and pulls the soul out of your dying, decaying, lifeless body. How death lovingly and carefully kisses your now ghostly lips and tells you everything is going to be okay. But I've always wondered, if death were to visit me, would he shiver when he touched me because I've been so cold for so long. Wouldn't that be something. If I could make death, the iciest thing you can imagine, feel cold for the first time. I wonder if he would weep when he saw everything in my mind. Wouldn't that be something. If I could make death cry. Would he feel remorse. Would he try and fix me rather than **** me. I dream of life after death. I think of how warm I'd feel. How soft the grass would be under my feet. How my jaw would ache from finally being able to smile. How my eyes would be blinded from finally seeing beauty. Wouldn't it be something if this sadness introduced me to death and finally gave me a life I have never lived.
Aoibhinn Sweeney Jan 2016
Eyes.
Those eyes.
Your eyes.
Eyes of the iciest hue,
Guarded by a row of
Dark, thick lashes.

I’ve seen them in
Many states.  
Creased at the edges
By a wide grin.
Red and weary
From salty tears.

You don’t see it.
How beautiful you really are.
If only I could take my eyes,
And replace them with yours,
So that you can see for yourself,
The beauty that you possess.

Thick, charcoal hair,
Pale, velvet skin, a
Set of soft pink lips,
Teeth like pearls.
A face that is perfectly
Carved and flawless.

Your eyes have a sparkle,  
The kind that I have never seen.
A shimmer like the sun on a
Sapphire ocean, that I
Have drowned in so many times.
I’m lost at sea.

They say that eyes
Are “the key to the soul”,
And I have seen your soul
Many times.
Laid bare and raw,
On the soil beneath my feet.

I am hypnotized, every time
I gaze into your two
Cornflower kaleidoscopes.
They are like magnets.
Drawing me in,
Enticing me, tempting me.

Even when I am old,
Infirm and my memory
May be fading, that fond image
will never age, never decay, never rot.
It will be forever imprinted on my brain,
On my heart, on my life.
Matt Mar 2021
She spoke about the moon
Just like the way she felt about me
Loving from a distance
Never really understood her

The careful words stitched into a sentence
“doesn’t the moon look beautiful?” She says
Translated into “I love you.”

She spoke about the moon
Oh the way she said it melted even the iciest of souls.
She sure thawed mine.
I’m forever changed.
Elizz Jul 2018
OK so as an avid book lover when I find a series that I really. Really get attached to and I can read it over five times and still enjoy it. (Yes I have done that before.) It is great. Now that being said I have a series its a really good series. You don't need to know the name of it or such. But that's not the point this series officially has four books. Four books. Now there's no problem with that. BUT. There is the first three books. You know what. Anyone in here watch Naruto? Or read it. You know all of those useless episodes. Or how its like dragon ball Z where it takes five episodes in the order of. Screaming. Screaming. Screaming. SCREAMING.  Kick. Well back to my point. The first three books. Are all over three hundred pages. And this by far is my favorite series. So I loved the first three books. But I wasted my money on the fourth. I was so ready. I waited two years. Two literal years. Pre ordered it. Paid express two day shipping. Just to get a thin book. By thin I mean it was barely over two hundred pages. And it was just. Just. It was bull! I waited two years. I waited two years for an official release date. Then I waited to see the cover. And it looked beautiful but it was just a sugar coated lie covered in fire ants! I wanted to see what happened between Nesta and Cassian I wanted to see if my ship sailed. I wanted to see if Elain picked Azriel over Lucien. I didn't care about Feyre and Rhys having a kid. That was bound to happen. I didn't care about a painters studio being opened. Not when all of you just fought against Hybern and barely lived! I wanted MORE THAN THIS. Instead you just left me disappointed and unsatisfied. This fourth book was like anyone of you. Wondering out of bed. Getting something out of the fridge. Putting it in the fridge and listening as it makes the loudest sounds ever almost waking up the whole house. You burn your finger a bit getting it out. You get a spoon or a fork and you start eating. Just to find out that its cold. It is colder than the iciest depths of Antarctica. This is what that book was like. Can you feel my disappointment rolling off in bone crushing waves?!

— The End —