"lavander" poems
I remember her.
On days like these,
she would light up
a few oriental sticks
to make our house
smell like lavender.
On days like these,
she would make some tea.
She had her own rituals,
she dried some herbs,
by the window,
and,when i think about it ,
her hair smelled like lavender.
On days like these,
she would take long showers,
and sit by the fire,
waiting her hair to dry,
and i would kiss her skin,
and touch her body,
which had a scent of lavander.
On days like these,
she would stay until dawn,
to watch the snow fall,
her soul had traces of lavander.
On days like these,
she would lay in bed,
she would talk to me for hours,
until all the pillows and sheets
had a smell of lavender.
on days like this i would
bring home many gifts for her,
but i picked only the ones which
smelled like lavender.
This year she is gone,
but the snow...
it has bittersweet smell
attached to it,
a smell that is familiar,
it smells like lavender.
Dec 27, 2014
Dec 27, 2014 at 4:11 PM UTC
Like the delirious rivers in spring
I am drowning in the arms of lilacs
and enjoying the purple dawns,
lavander happiness.
Snowdrops!
no need to be ashamed anymore.
I drink bottled dreams of eternity,
as suicide-bomber butterflies stir my veins.
Aug 24, 2014
Aug 24, 2014 at 5:01 PM UTC
Yes I'm still playing guitar and yes I still write poetry. But lavander is no longer my favorite flower, it tends to leave a bitter aroma in the air. And now black is my favorite color, like the color of my bedroom all the nights I lay awake searching for stars on my ceiling. I still think of you from time to time but the romance my mind told me to feel has disappeared. I can't say I'm much happier but that's because I've been damaged. It's not entirely your fault, but you're not faultless. I can honestly say that I've stopped missing your hands. I don't love you.
It's 2:31 in the morning and I still have trouble sleeping. But I'm no longer laying on a pillow drenched in tears. I'm laying next to someone who loves me more than you ever could.
-k.d.
Jan 29, 2014
Jan 29, 2014 at 5:35 AM UTC
Starting honey sweet, light as a feather
the first spring breeze
thats breaking the brittle cold
of past weathers.
Longing after what seems
but a distant memory, my heart is tethered.
I cannot stress enough, express such need
to feel warm earth against my bare feet;
dewy breeze down my exposed spine
all the mental sighs of summertime.
Laying hands and lips against
sun-kissed skin
feeling relief from the heat ridden beach,
as we suspend in the calm, endless ocean
To be out until pink, and lavander
bursts of fragmented light graze the sky
and watch the dozing sun
set in his espresso eyes
We'll lay upon the soft emerald grass
watching all the stars and satellites
hands naturally entertwined
on our beautiful August night.
Feb 18, 2015
Feb 18, 2015 at 11:22 PM UTC
I am from the battered symbol and
Dolce and Gabbana perfume and
Adam's peanut butter
I am from the honeysuckle vines
Creeping up the pillars and twirl around my ankles
It tasted like exotic spices and smelled like pond water
I am from the blueberry bush
The lavander rushes
Curling softly around my rusted heart shaped wind chime
I am from Christman Eve birthday cakes and
Writing my name in charcoal on cliff faces
From Tom, and Phillip and Gerard Butler
I am from the judges and
The singers
From marshmallow farms and
Watermelon seeds
I am from the Kool Aid Communion and
Stolen animal crackers
I am from Providence and ancient watchtowers
Bangers and Mash and ginger beer
From the crickets, wickens and picket fences
The bright red porcupine
I am from heron beaks and the green shuttered house
With the bow and arrow creek
The plum cherry trees
Young ****** noses
And the note I keep in my pocket to remind me who I am
Oct 25, 2012
Oct 25, 2012 at 7:48 PM UTC
Lavander sweet, butterfly breezes
Love in the dusty yellow sunshine
Mason jars filled to the brim with liquid amber and honey
Fragrant daffodils, flourishing tall as trees
And
Darling panseys and daisys
Who dance like suthern bells
Bees take flight and the nights are filled with wonderlust
and longing
Starlight grazing the slightest lullaby
As is grows like thunder
And threatens to tear the unconciousness from your eyes
Nov 20, 2013
Nov 20, 2013 at 9:02 PM UTC
You once asked me why I never left.
"Familiarity" was my answer.
I often answered my phone without looking who was calling me but once I heard your voice, i already knew it was you.
You had the habit of sneaking up on me, but even a couple meters away I already know that you're around. Your scent that smells like coffee and cigarettes with a pinch of lavander lingers through the air and I already knew that you were there.
We used to stay all night on our rooftop just to see the stars I loved. I counted every plane that would pass by and you would count the hours of sleep you get from then on. For a moment there was silence and I knew you fell asleep, even breaths and slighty snoring, but i dont mind. I loved the way your face's calms when you sleep, your lips curve at one side and your eyebrows not scrunched up like always. From then on, i knew i would love to wake up everyday to your view.
After a couple of months you asked me why I was leaving you.
"Familiarity" was my answer.
Days would pass and you seldomly call or text me. The only time i could hear your voice was when I look through our old videos.
Time was never on our side, we suddenly had no time for each other. There were no more time for making out, no more time for some warm hugs, no more time to share how was our day. No more time to say and let the other feel loved.
It rained and there were no stars in the sky that night. I fell asleep on the window seat, watching every raindrop fall on the glass. The next morning when I woke up, it was like you were never there.
Jul 28, 2015
Jul 28, 2015 at 6:24 AM UTC
The birthing sun of the east, it rises with a certain beauty
Crawling like a new born into the sky, curiosity illuminating all it touches,
magnificence as I begin to feel the pureness.
I can see sun rays bursting through the window of my soul
shining down with its bottemless luminosity.
Light creeps into the depths of my blood pumping heart
and in that very moment it twists open to the warmth
like a blooming blossom in the gardens of my chest.
I take it all in at once and savor thee emotion that has filled me.
It is the rising of the sun, dawn of a fresh new beginning.
On the contrary,
its the wise sun of the west, its soft wisdom now puts my restless mind to bed.
Wrinkled in knowledege, beginning to ******* down by time
seeing the whole world while it slowly passed.
While sinking away it paints a glorious memorial never to be forgotten,
a canvas sky filled with tangerine oranges and lavander purples.
I become saddend by its goodbye, yet accepting at the same time
because the sun will be reborn the following day,
like a never ending galactic reincarnation of the ever lasting beauty it holds.
Oct 24, 2013
Oct 24, 2013 at 5:14 PM UTC
Thanks to you I feel like I'm living a longer spring than what I thought was posible and now I've grown used to sighs that taste like roses and lavander, rainbows in every pond, and ambrosy-like kisses.
I feel summer coming, but it's warmth doesn't trick me. The melting sun feels like the ****** to the symphony I didn't know how to write until we started making music.
And right behind summer comes autum as the last breath of life. Landscapes worthy of the best museums, all nothing more than a facade to hide the smell of death.
The circle closes with winter and everything that once bloomed in spring is nothing more than a memory covered in frost, in cold, in silence, in empy words, and painful goodbyes.
But right now, we are in spring and I foolishly hope that this relationship is located somewhere in the equator line where we can stay forever in spring.
May 24, 2018
May 24, 2018 at 9:10 PM UTC
I fell in love with her.
She has a soul as black
As death on a sabbath morning.
Her eyes are deeply set in the astral-plane that is her facade.
She is the captor of the attentions of many.
She is not without agenda.
Neither is she not without heartache,
For the sun that shines the brightest is always the first one to burn itself out.
Tawny windblown streaks are waving in the lavander twilight, as her arms would move to hold the sky.
She draws me closer to her.
I alone can see inside her,
And her secrets, I help hide.
It does not matter
That she does not love me.
Sep 19, 2016
Sep 19, 2016 at 1:32 PM UTC
i left a few hair ties,
half a bottle of lavander shampoo,
and my favorite knit sweater
in a west coast city
i'm heart-set,
i'm hell-bent,
i'm coming home
this east coast blood
boils too quickly
in the sun
we are addicted to
seven different kinds of pills
& we are slurring our words
with sleeves pulled over our wrists
& we are counting down the days
til this ends,
but we don't know what this is
or what happens to us when it breaks
so we are skipping rocks across
the susquehanna and
speeding down 6 and 11
to the diner off college ave
& my eyes are burning from the wind
ripping through this quiet town,
and i can wear that thick hoodie
you bought me in philly,
with flannel interior
(i like that hoodie,
it smells like the warehouse
we snuck off to,
to smoke your dad's
cigarettes when we were
fourteen and first flirting
with the decline that we're
now hopelessly devoted to)
but my organs
will shiver each time
you change shifts
on the way out of town;
chilled to the bone;
an omnipresent ache
we are running to jersey again,
for a salt water sunday
and a breath of ***** air
always taking laps around the tri-state,
trying to stop the boredom from
burning holes in our shoes
so portland,
hold my hand,
drag me back,
my legs are tired
from all this running
& i need you now
*west coast whispers,
west coast whispers,
you're safe here
where the ocean
meets the land.
i'll hold your hand*
Oct 18, 2015
Oct 18, 2015 at 3:52 PM UTC
Yeah there is some of this still stuck between my bones. White like sea birds dipping on the wind
You are thunder and lightning
A wind that pulls at my only soul
The scratch of the grasshopper
As rain taps here and. There
On the roof
Can you understand
That the gust of your word breaths
Dip deep rooted trees
A haunted howl on the wind
The scent of lavander and rose bud
How that would smell
On the give of your neck
The waves stir demon high
From the scream of your whisper
Floods homes next to the sea
But I would sleep on a wet floor
Sleep cold in your wind
Today I threw it all into the river
And the pieces all splashed
Pulled along the current
If I die
Put my body in the sea
Where your storms boil
Mar 9, 2012
Mar 9, 2012 at 10:35 PM UTC
through your
lavander blue-black
butterfly wings
reflect
your sweet
moonlight eyes
Dec 23, 2013
Dec 23, 2013 at 1:02 PM UTC
sharing the wind
sailing again
we witness
the bright
lavender leaves
Sep 25, 2014
Sep 25, 2014 at 11:24 PM UTC
I still whisper prayers for you even on nights when I immediately fall asleep
as my back touches the bed, my head resting on my pillow
But I guess you are the one who’s tired from running inside my head all day
Some days you just walk, back and forth, pacing, hopping, leaping
Until I find you inside my pockets and then inside my chest where I hear all the beating
Some days I wish you would stop because it would mean that I have also stopped
From thinking about you so much but I guess it won’t just yet — you won’t just yet
I still repeat our fleeting moments when I can’t fall asleep
The smell of lavander can fill my room with all its might but once the thought of you pops
This world I belong to has a habit of pausing only to remind me that you have gotten away
On some days, in an old buick by yourself while on other days, in a carriage with the thing that is supposedly beating in my chest
Then I find myself chasing after you only to once again find myself running in circles
In an empty stadium’s tracks — but you’re there. I see you on the bleachers
but I cannot comprehend if you’re waiting for my victory or for my defeat
On some days, that is the problem. There is this uncertainty that envelops the sparkle in you
And oh, if I could only find out what keeps you from being unsure,
I would do everything in my courage to fight it so that you can stop running
And maybe I can start holding your hands when the lights turn green as we begin walking
Dec 29, 2018
Dec 29, 2018 at 11:49 AM UTC
"Alone in my city"
It is a silent night
I'm Standing out here on a reddish black lavander,
I'm Lonely and lights are creepy bimming,
The pleasant breeze of Gikondo
Are smelling like blossoming roses,
And i glance at the scattered
Low glimming lights of Nyamirambo,
And eye a surreal joyful avalanche.
I grab my phone and start swinging
around the front balcony,
recording my voice singing one of dualipa's songs,
My voice sounds ridiculous
and i hate it,maybe i have
to train it out In the rain.
And i'm Longing to dance like no one is watching,
Because nobody's around for me,
It makes me feel bored and anxious,
And i can't help but lock all the doors
And every familiar window,
my white short,brownish black jumper
and dark red nike sketchers are ready
i need to step out for a while,
And have an ounce wander down my city.
Hot teens of my age are here,
I'm not standoffish,i do some cares,
Beautiful girls with black hairs
and pile black eyes are wandering here,
With skinny ripped jeans
fitting their big sized hips
And my eyes can't help but stuck on
Their cleavage and woow silently,
My city is really too serene and surreal.
Jul 27, 2018
Jul 27, 2018 at 2:39 AM UTC
The soil in the garden,
Pink-colored plastic flamingos
Rusty, and damp backyard
We've planted orchids, remember?
Everything is a palace
Every palace endures solitude
But I am no palace
An apparition,
The maiden I see at night
The roofs are crying
Your memories are still here,
And your clothes, always dusted off your favorite
Your lavander dress, paired with your yellows
Dancing in the meadow
I never liked dancing alone
May 29, 2020
May 29, 2020 at 10:22 AM UTC
should i be angry at God
for all the fractures in my bones
or do i look for anyone to blame
when i thought our world
smelled only of lavander
we appear only to feel home
to feel heaven in someone else's soul
and forget we're of the earth
forget that there will be more damage
even more catastrophic than the other
and we adore another soul
as if our skins were never burned
but we try to love them deeper
and end up in the salt mines
sometimes i wish i wasn't here
under the white sheets
soiled in salt water
seeing the emptiness
of this world
beside someone you truly love
hearing him sleep soundly
while you sleep
with a broken heart
Feb 26, 2018
Feb 26, 2018 at 1:11 PM UTC
blessed be
the eyes of heavens
boundless graced
yet every space
filled with
lavander-scented
clouds
Jul 24, 2014
Jul 24, 2014 at 1:05 PM UTC
Beneath a gentle morning breeze,
splashes of purple play,
at the feet of trees,
Lilacs, in a forest of grey
delicate and sublime,
a purple ocean, a violet sea,
with the scent of lavander,
their aroma captivates me
Apr 4, 2019
Apr 4, 2019 at 1:45 PM UTC