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Alice Wilde Aug 2018
Dead heavy eyes stare...
Glued to stoplights lining rain soaked streets.
An arid tongue placed, no permanently stuck against pink flesh bone
Waiting for when everything doesn’t seem like a dream.
She thinks blinking is a way to clear her sea foam eyes,
Like how polishing stone makes it brighter.
But no matter how hard she rubs
The rain falls harder and
Clarity seems like a wish
She dropped in a puddle.
Adrianna Jul 2018
I began my life active with sports and other meaningless award systems.
Girl's recreational soccer, basketball, bike riding, math competitions, the works
Today, I feel weightless
useless would be best fit
As if all the running, jumping, yelling, point requiring statuses pushed the light out of my transitioned life.

I find myself sitting in one area often, as one may do
But different than sitting on a bench or sitting actively in company of others
I sit wondering exactly who I am looking at
Why am I empty lifeless longing towards an imaginary spot in the distant wall
I imagine some events in these minutes of stoic despair
Hearing goes weak and frozen, in this second, while I continue my Sunday brunch with non-conformative attitudes and her mother, the sweet old dementia
I don't mean to have their meetings often, I must of first acquainted as the first grade trauma or the Broadway rendition of Alone Thoughts featuring the Broken High School Years.
I hope to work the wheels again, to end these meetings and to live for once, in the midst of motion and pause.
This time, stopping and starting as I please.
Hi everyone, this is my first poem! I write a lot when I am thinking of my life and this world. Hope you enjoy
Dad lays on the couch,
And clicks and clicks,
And wonders where it went wrong,
And the clock ticks,
And ticks and ticks some more,
And the wrinkles deepen,
A persistent fog of weariness,
Clouding,
Clouding his perspective,
Unsure where to place blame,

Too heavy of a weight to carry himself,
And his head shakes back and forth,

The History Channel plays a feature on the Battle of Gettysburg,

And Dad shakes his head some more,
Battles in his head what to do,
His mind and heart battle each other too,
To stay or to go?
Tensions high, passion low,

And the clock ticks to 10:00,
And Dad lumbers upstairs for bed.

Another night and nothing was said,
The words all jumbled in his head.
Heart flutters
Mind stutters the words
that I want to mutter
Another chance, perhaps
another

Your presence
Completes my puzzle of life
Makes me feel like
a picture whole, rather than
a piece of society’s
ever-changing mural

We intertwine
Grapes of love and hate
on emotional vines
Relishing these fleeting
moments
one day at a time

Your presence
Completes my
mysterious existence
Makes me feel like
a human empowered,
rather than
another person going
thru the motions of life



Melody
3/7/19
Love is profound.
Shelby Marler Apr 22
Make me an ocean,
So I may still all my dreams,
And my motions' devotion,
For sweet melodies.
ryn Sep 2014
Sun up till sun down
Trapped in a perpetual frown
Moon comes then she goes
Drops free fall from my nose

Waking hours in the daylight
Aimless motions; clumsy, puppet-like
Waking hours in the night
Uncomfortable in my own skin and psych

Sleeplessness be my companion
Restlessness be my actions
Despondence be my demon
Crest fallen be my reason

Frantically sifting through my head
Vertically upright or supine in bed
Compartmentalising might be key
To fend off self inflicted insanity

Desperation hangs overhead; ripe and bruised
Excuses upon excuses ridiculously overused
Furiously typing before my mind curds
Hopes of finding peace in these unspoken words
Darkness is upon me... Please excuse my rantings
Anecandu Jun 2014
Waiting for me after a long shower and shampoo

I dry my bronze silky skin and come to you,

Your smiling sweetly sitting on the edge of Marble countertop,

waiting while your loving gaze at me never drops.



I reach out my moist hands, we brush,

You shake nervously and seem to turn to mush.

Your wondering really how innocent are my fluid motions,

I'm smirking, while grasping a scented lotion.



You sit there amused blushing from Pink to rainbow,

Each angle gives you a new mellow, a glow, wow!

I'm missing something , something I pretend to forget,

You look impatient now with sighs of regret.



You sulk as I glimpse with a lean of my head,

through the frame of my door from my now made up bed,

I pull up my slacks, your sunny smile fades to dreary,

I put on my shirt, your turning the evil fairy.


I know you feel there's someone else,

Some disappearing genie or magical elf,

because you sense but never see,

Me happy in other pleasant company.



You want to be all over me that much is clear.

I want to take you too in my arms dear,

But today will have to be just that touch,

Your lingering smell on me makes others lust.


But silently you understand,

Your sealed mouth is as dry as sand,

I blow a kiss as I pick up my key,

I know in the dark you'll wait for me................


Because your MY perfume
JAYWalker Jul 2018
having you stuck on my mind
is an understatement
in every crack and crevices I find
you there, always present

you permeate in every thought
like literally in all that I think
threatening to fill my mind
so I incarnate you through ink

writing poems during library
when I should be philosophizing Saussure
but don't worry I can cope
I can handle this, be sure

I've drawn you in pencil
heck, even in paint
but alas, my skills are not enough
to depict the beauty you contain

but don't think you're a distraction
you're more of a motivation
like serene blue skies to a young bird's eyes
you are what inspires me to greater motions

oh girl,
I'm chest deep in thoughts of you
but tell me, my love
do you think of me too?
I am spellbound.
faith Nov 2017
i woke up to the sound of my mother's crying,
i knew that she wouldn't be lying,
she said that my poppa is gone,
i feel helpless like i'm just a pawn,
my heart slowly started to break,
my body then started to shake,
i covered up my emotions,
and went through the motions,
i tried not to feel,
to not be real,
now i hurt,
because he's in the dirt.
I miss him so much.
jane taylor May 2016
running
deliquescing into nature
i am engulfed in stillness

i encounter a deer as i round a corner
its chestnut eyes intensely sense
something wild within me
transfixed
we meld palpably
whispering our essence

myopic views warp into acute focus
golden flowers stretch and arch
and yawning into the sun
swell with bursts of luster
whilst violets polka dot the path
with lilac luminescence

dead tree trunks
mutating into masterpieces
yearn for new life
drawing in the squirrels

yellow-bellied birds
hover
sensing my motions
whilst woodland winds undulate
pine scented waves of sea salt oceans

my ears enchantingly enhanced
by bristling leaves caressing trees
as scintillating amber butterflies
dance in synch
with the clock tower’s
ancient chiming

a gust of wind
catches a patch of sand
and sends it quivering
fusing high in summer air
then falling soft as feathers

hidden fairies prance about
answering unheard questions
problems dissolve in emerald meadows
without a hint of striving

essays write themselves
upon my mind
poetry flows through me
wings of meadowlarks
trace my face with nuances
interlaced with connotations

rushing home
i write it down
then bowing i take credit
for what was etched upon my soul
by a sunbeam in the forest

©2016janetaylor
Lilith craved Ficus carica,
Mr. Robot brandished
a branch of Olea europaea.
Would either care to comment
on the state of the world? Their intentions
clear. Is it that "all the world's a stage"
or that all we are is a mirror?
Should it matter that I feel the motions of my mind, and
long to escape without the aid of their counterparts.
Subtle contrarian. Every reaction has its equal
in emotion; each moment has its fulcrum.
Quote:
Line Six from William Shakespeare's As You Like It, spoken by Jaques in Act II Scene VII.
Mystic904 Oct 2017
Ye won't comprehend what I mean
Unless acquire the eyes to have seen
Emotions by their true image
Do you know what I mean?

Once harnessed power to play with emotions
Impossible seems revival, work no potions
When crawl back half alive
Anaesthetised images, walking drunk motions

That deep sorrow, sadness and pain
The efforts and struggles all in vain
Isn't what you cry for and say?
Ask thyself,
Who drove you into that lane

Pitch dark corners of thoughts arouse the feel
Four stanzas including this one's just half meal
Clouds of this kind circle forever
Pressing the haunting words, in time I'll heal
--------
<>
Presence of happiness none sees, a pity
As we surmise, there does exist a Deity
For a reason, all this emerged
In everything, there might be something pretty
<
>
Once gripped that strange feel in the prayers
Shall form over body, invisible protective layers
Addition in tons, not kilos
Of sagacity, on each climb of the stairs
<>
Life devoid of expectations isn't the option
The mindset's worthy enough for adoption
Great expectations pave dirtiest of roads
Too precious to be displayed up for auction
<
>
On Him can we lean and must firmly believe
Direct contact's the medicine for mind's relief
Affordable yet unaffordable jewels await
For the closest beings in His regard to receive

F.A teeri
Shofi Ahmed May 2017
A song like King David sang and everyone heard
It’s the sweet song sang in every mother tongue;
A perfumed speech is heard sweeter than nectar
wreaths round each patch of earth as part of a tongue
in all different variations, directions it’s singing!
  
Mathematically comped that rhythmically span
fashion in both or you choose science or arts.
It’s a lyric sang with finest curvy swaying dance
feel the quivers deep down into the atomic level
still the various motions in various directions turn on,  
nowhere near that look drawing a pause!
sophie mechaune Oct 2018
rhythm is
comfort
and predictability
stitching my days together
through the notion
of repeating the motions
an illusion of stability,
but no matter the way I
structured my day
no matter the perfection
I strived to attain
no matter how many
unkempt strings I cut away
I think deep down I knew
that life
should be a little frayed

as counterintuitive as it seems
the unexpected becomes
the rhythm of dreams
ripping through the routine
changing the patterns
of what I planned to be
into new designs entirely

so I embrace this chaotic beauty
with its endearing knots and
erratic threading, ready for
living imperfectly
balanced in the uncertainty
is rhythm
Tommy Randell May 2017
(one)

i wish to tell you about my cage     shadows for bars
the vestige of faraway things      a fractal miscellany
meditating the while      on the dancing of spiders
the tracery of wings      the passage of tongues over bone
the noise of a pool thrown into by a stone

this is what Longing is made from
that it does not wear out!

(two)

the night pivots on a point of light      i have long known myself to be
the skull of a white bear      on a white page      dreaming
with each cranial line, each graph      a past migration to distant lands
but not that such free body diagrams      without text were
a way out of the cage

in the track, grooved, music begins.
in the bone, smoothed, a polar bear dreams

(three)

held in the curve of circling shadows      dark and vacant sockets
ancient enacted motions      enfolded images
unfolding the forging of a lasting alchemy
that with my tongue i call memory      a scrimshaw
of the catalogue of days everything has served to further

to come, a journey down the narrowing path
towards those rumours of things true
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