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Daniel Long Dec 2
Anchors slip away,
in a sea, calmed by
nightly solitude.

A puff of wind,
eases a bedroom
shade open.

A flake of dust,
drifts alone,
gently on.
This poem I wrote in high school years ago and haven't changed a word!
My poetry/short story website: www.gothicsurrealism.com
Marco Carlos Jul 10
Hair, looping about, intersecting through one another, locks, like a sea of being.
Smell, scent from an unseen utopia, lingering, waiting to be consumed by my roaring lungs.
In and out, it controls, to the point of complete isolation, eyes become obsolete, lids contract, breathing in slowly the calming breeze.
Like a sea shell, the ear witnesses the origins, beat after beat, separated by intermissions of quiet, her inner mechanisms at work. I feel our souls coming alive.
Cné Apr 30

Many days without a muse.
Whatever shall I do?
Too long away from poetry
and sans a point of view

The moon has been so beautiful.
But words just would not come.
The sunrise has been glorious
the sunsets strike me numb.

Romance is in the air tonight.
Perhaps a muse will see...
And strike a chord that gives
a voice to verses now in me.

I close my eyes and see much more
than sight can ever see.
Colors swirl behind my lids
and rainbows, vividly.

Butterflies and hummingbirds
a ship of clouds glides by
Howling wolves in the wilderness
a pink and azure sky

And so, I find I need no sight
to find my inspiration.
The mind is far more "visual"
and gives its own sensation.

Just writing....
Cress Rosario May 2014
I closed my eyes, leaned my back
Relaxed, unwind, and lids locked
Suddenly, I opened my eyes
We were running away from fires

Eagerly holding his hand
I was afraid and terrified
He looked at me giving the bravest smile
"Honey stay with me, you'll be fine."

I blinked half a second...
We're inside a building left undone
Grunge, old, and sad
Something has been chasing us

A huge thing, a dauntless thing
Is it a wolf? No... It's a beast
They are increasing, expanding
Approaching, my heart is fast beating

This guy holding me never lets my hand go
With him by my side, I know what to do
The run never ends, the pant never stops
I closed my eyes, ran fast and then hopped!

My eyes were opened, he was beside me
It's a light cool dawn, I've been in a terrifying sleep
I continued leaning my back on a soft, white sheet
Stared at the window, what a dreadful dream!
This explains what happened and what I felt on my dream last night. Not an exact explanation.. but it's a terrifying one. I always dreamed of being chased and being on a scary places or scene. I'm glad I am with my beautiful guy there in my whole dream. Giving me the safest feeling.
ren Apr 2014
Her hips were poetry 
When she walked,
Leaving the room hushed
And breathless;
Gazing in awe

Her lips were poetry 
When she sang;
Clearer than the birds
And prettier than the stars
And bolder than the moon
And softer than the night 

Her eyes were poetry
When her brows crinkled
In delight
And her lids fluttered
In fatigue
And her irises sparkled
In passion

And the way she spoke
And the way she did
And the way she was,
It was all poetry to me.
For my best friend.
zero Nov 2017
Ashen doves float within the waves,
slinking like silent demons in the night.
They curl around my body,
jaws operating like steel machines,
gnashing at my limbs.
I begin to scream for help,
but they ****** my breath,
they drag me under their tides of black,
unleashing my unremitting fear of water predators.
their teeth, sunken into my flesh,
gnawing at my mind,
painting me my new mortality.

These are my demons,
the sharks in the bath when it comes to hygiene.
the fear of the below and the depths of human mentality,
the untraceable percentage of human worthlessness,
the detestable attraction to the demise of our minds,

I float lower into the aqua,
pressure building,
unforgiving and foreboding
I close my lids, and dream of the sand,
praying it to be underfoot when I open my eyes,
but when my lids open, the doves loom closer.

The irony of a hydrophobe,
dying at the hands of the sharks.
The fear of the ocean is the greatest fear I know.
-Z.xo
Amy Irby Jul 2012
My
heart
feels 
warmer
when you are around.    
Not quite a fire,
more like the gentle warmth    
of the spring sun    
melting into my skin.    
pleasant and peaceful,    
I close my lids and could believe    
for a moment, there is    
no enmity in the world.    
    
Your
movements
are
strange;    
fluttering hands and slow,    
nearly stomping strides.    
And sometimes, you sprint    
in parking lots.    
It's dire to get somewhere!  
But you usually get about    
six feet then stop.    
    
    
Your presence 
is 
mighty.    
    
So mighty that many times I can    
Know your feelings    
when words fail you.    
But your words are not always easy to read.    
When you're in a closet,    
a scream only tells me where    
you are, not how to get to you.    
    
Small children, tucked in beds a bunk.    
The clouds' tears would patter on the windows    
and angrily bang pots and pans.    
But the clouds did not wake me.    
I woke to the feeling of small,    
cold hands and feet, wriggling their    
way under my blanket in the top bunk.    
I'd meet the gaze of little tear filled    
eyes, then watch them close waiting    
for them to dream again.    
      
    
You have my blood, my eyes, my promise to be present.    
And without doubt, you lovingly robbed my heart.    
Any stranger could see you smile,    
and hear you chuckle, and you    
would steal theirs too.    
No, they would give it to you.    
How could you not give your heart    
to the source of its warmth.
- this was for my younger brother

Thanks so much for reading friend
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