a maki Feb 2012

Crates of fruit from names of colors,
Strewn about like our past lovers.
Left alone and peeled apart,
Pulp fills the drain but leaves the heart.

Yellow, Cadmium, Aureolin, Lemon
It's the shades of your true nature.

Sheen, Spring Bud, Bitter Lime, Lime
It's the other side of you.

The day when I met you is Lemon,
Drowning me into the watery trap of yours
Lemon in Water, that's how you cast a spell on me.

Sour, it's the taste of waiting for you
Bitter, you left me rotten and lost
Sweet, it's when you smile to me
Refreshing, the reason why I look forward toward tomorrow
Plain, the black truth behind your kindness
Sour+Bitter, the days when I must forget about you

Lemon, Lime,
I got addicted to your freshness,

Lime, Lemon
You stir me up like a juice,

Those dream felt so real

I should've known, that I never belong to you, ever.

It's been a long time since I upload another poem. A lot of things happen so fast that I could't express it properly, and so here I am! another weird ones :') a recent heartbreak...

The was one little lime
It was a race against time
Who could first reach it
Before we did quit
If it is not mine it's slime

We are having a race for a lime that is about thirteen feet away. They are a very rare and valued food. I will update you on who wins in about two or three hours.
Monique Olivier Oct 2013

Sold my soul to none
Told my tale to some
Held my secrets to tame
The flame that was madly

Felt the horror and pain
Melt to whatever brought heart
Smelt the desire of depart
With every tick of the clock in your

Read the letter of lime
Lead me to the end of the line
Said you'd be mine
For no longer than I've been

RKM Nov 2011

He filled up the bathtub with ink
and told her it was art. She asked how they
should wash. He shrugged his shoulders, and
then he mumbled something about buckets.

She cordoned off the  kitchen,
said he was not allowed in and that she
was conducting experiments
regarding the solidity of limes.

He exploded their duvet so
Feathers pirouetted and flew again.
He said they had found their being.
She said that maybe it was time to leave

He followed her down the street, just
a few steps behind. Watching her hair bounce
upon her shoulders he wondered
what would be the best thing for him to say.

The glamour and glistening, the perfect touch,
the sound of applause at the runway strut.
The cloths the fashion, I love it all,
my favorite past time; the shopping mall.
when I go out into the light,
my looks tern heads. oh what a plight.

This was written for a friend.

Oh beloved princess,
I'm just a commoner,
I just drink cannabis,
Lime & shank I have.

You are daughter of the king,
I lack any maids or servants,
You are protected by shawls,
I lack even a blanket or rug..

Get married to a moneylender,
Marry a lucky man...

I have pieces of purity,
But I'm just a commoner,
I just drink cannabis,
Lime & shank I have.

You live in the palaces,
I roam the wilderness,
You are not used to it,
I am used to roaming.

Get married to a rich man,
Marry a lucky man.

I just have purity in me,
Yes, I'm a commoner,
I just drink cannabis,
Lime & shank is all I have.

I carry on my austerity in incense,
I drink a slurry of cinders,
I tame hundreds of snakes on my neck,
I will scare you off my saturnalia.

You need a man with wavy hair,
A man with wavy hair.

My hair is dishevelled,
I am a commoner,
And I drink cannabis,
All I have is a lime & shank.

Translation of a Haryanvi folk hymn.

According to folklore, Lord Shiva tells this to his future wife Sati who was a princess that wanted to get married to Shiva.

She has things her own way in the end and marries the God.

In the story, Sati enters the fire when Shiva drinks the venom after Samundra Manthan - a tussle for the Nectar and thus sparing Shiva his life.

Sati was reborn as Parvati who in turn is a manifestation of Shakti - the energy.

Such are mythical love stories.

My HP Poem #781
©Atul Kaushal
c quirino Jan 2013

now it's my turn. I feel no different. No one else remembers that name but me. I don't know how that makes me feel. It's like objectively, the whole thing never happened, that it was another machination of my own will.


my skull is heavy in my head. It solidified into copper some time during the night, and whenever I walk through my days, my head bobs this way and further, and on the sides of streets, people glance for a few seconds before returning to their own thoughts of hardened skulls within their own sloshing head-cavities.


'shepherd me a sheep, I, near my god, beyond my hopes, beyond my fears, from death into life,' as i remembered it wrong, bone rattle in a brick alley three years this thursday.


the division between days, illusory, quietly reclines itself between us, so deep and historic that our eyes see it time immemorial, forgetting that it is itself one continuous day, the breadth of it, this our time, that if left unhindered, it would have extended sloping and tumbling in its eaves and want of stars sailing for a morning. you and i were both there, for we were the nascent point from which all the souls fell from.

Meaghan G Sep 2012

Dress me in lace,

color me porcelain,

drench me in white cloud and blue sky and dandelions.

Touch me yellow,

Tell me you’re swallowing sunshine, tell me again

how I am the floating door and you are the ocean.

Even if we do let go,

our love doesn’t need dressing up.

It doesn’t even need poems.

It doesn’t need glitter and flash and spark pop sizzle

but we still like those things, regardless.

Our love is the crooks of elbows.

Our love is 250 miles apart, is so close to the sea, is

a word that doesn’t feel big enough.

Our love is floral, is big black boots, is seashells and lime-green goggles.

Swallow me whole,

shower me love,

our bodies may be brittle but we can still breathe,

can still sing,

can still dance in the kitchen,

can still have chocolate-chip-pancakes-lots-of-smiles-kinda mornings.

I am forever regretful that our brains have been unforgiving,

but I’ll try to never let go

and I’ll always know, your collarbone dip and soft hip and laughter laughter laughter

are the best things I’ve found in a while.

So dress me in lace,

color me porcelain,

cover me doily and southern sky and make me breakable.

I will be breakable for you.

I will be antique-shop yellowing whale bone corsets, I will be glass on the floor, I will be the floating door.  

And I’ll try

to never let go.

Morgan Ella Jan 2011

Once upon a midnight, dreary,

Top Hattie twinkles, lipstick smeary,

...spinning girls like Mischief Managed all glittery on the ball room floor,

I was taken, most completely.

...Batting lashes indiscreetly.

D'lilac lips that pouted sweetly, a Circus Girl that knew the score.

I pinched myself, could i be dreaming?

Of this Nymph, this Empress gleaming?

was her Diva charm misleading? Shoe Addicted Troubadour.

A Siren in Styletto thrilled me,

Abracadabra wish fulfilled me,

......Medusa eyes that drew, yet stilled me- Retro-Futuristic roar.

Like an Airborn Unicorn descending,

advanced upon me unpretending.

my heart of Dragon Scales extending for this Cupcake Thief I'd cover for.

"Mirror Mirror" she whispered, smirking.

Countessa Fluorescent had caught me lurking,

and sent my Great Pink Planet jerking, Cosmopopping, Centrifuchia war.

My Beautiful Rocket was set to swinging,

No She Didn't hear the ringing

in my ears the Twilight singing, to the Limest Criminal on the floor.

Lime green because life is to overwhelming
To be anything but free flowing
I bet you chase it,
Shouting out it’s too precious to waste it
I think I should spend more time with you
Deep blue could learn a thing or two
About contentment and a proper self-assessment.

Austin Heath Oct 2016

I didn’t know it’s
unfashionable to wear
Your heart on your sleeve.

I didn’t catch that
lying was part of a game
that we’ve been playing.

It’s just a story
we tell with our bodies and
wash with our bedsheets.

Spenser Roper Mar 2014

Every limerick follows a ratio
like, Alas, poor Yorick, Horatio
you've known them before
then after line four
they predicatably end with fellatio

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