"orbs" poems
And I just want to feel your breath
On my neck
And your *******
On my chest
And I just want to feel your lips
On my cheek
Telling me I’ll be okay
When I’m feeling awfully weak
And I just want to see your eyes
Meeting mine
Soft orbs of blue
Too mature for your time
And I just want to hear your voice
Whispering softly in my ear
Be here with me
Be near
I can’t handle this distance
Not only of miles, but of mind
I never could catch you
But god how long I tried.
Oct 23, 2012
Oct 23, 2012 at 12:42 AM UTC
I...I love you.
That is the only way i can dis scribe this,
i love it when you kiss me,
your lips are soft,
and gentle,
no ones kissed my like this before.
you say you love me,
and my heart roars,
its a gushing volcano of hot lava.
you touch,
plants gardens.
your eyes,
big,
beautiful,
Russet ,
orbs,
i cant look away.
the way you look at me,
speaks a language,
without words.
You are Virgo ,
and i a Gemini.
you are kind.
and loving.
i cant let you out of my head.
BOOM
you broke my heart.
the way you kissed me was terrible
the volcano is inactive
the garden is a decay of mold, chopped trees, and weeds
your eyes are the color of ****
and now everything is silent.
I can't believe i let you in.
at least i didn't give you anything important.
its just a heart
nothing special.
Jul 29, 2018
Jul 29, 2018 at 10:27 PM UTC
Soft melodies of the deep sea echo
Moonlight dances on my pretty scales
And icy bubbles whirl under my chest
Through my slippery hair
And down into my lungs to clear the way for overflowing foam
Laughter splashes behind my lips as my anticipation rises
Waiting for a night of twisted fairy-tales and uncalled for surprises.
Shimmering bodies swarm in spirals
Grinding in unison with the waves crashing at the surface
We're anxious for overflowing foam and hidden treasures
Purple light pierces the dark like shards of crystals
Casting a ghostly shade on bulbous faces
Pressure rises as each wave surges
Whirlpools of hot breath suffocate our gills
But the sidelines are shallow
And stragglers float motionless
Hair like seaweed at the nape of his neck
Unbuttoned linen soaked and dripping
Her hollow eyes glow green
Like the jelly orbs of a fish under florescent lights
She’s pressed against a boy who has hooks for fins
Searching for the parts that are edible
Tender, Scale-less, Slippery
Nothing wrong with being the catch of the day
Right?
Bubbles rise and pop as the last melodies drown
Schools of us are begging for shiny hooks and bad decisions
A handsome boy has been smiling all the while
He’s caught in a fisherman’s net
Craving salty lips and the spell to make him a man
But fisherman don't care for little mermaids
With hearts like sea glass and no hidden treasures to steal
Sweaty fins splash and cheer
The fishbowl shatters
Sea glass spills out onto sand
We squirm and flop onto land
Gasping without air to breathe
As our mouths and ***** thoughts dry in the sun
Leaving behind fresh meat without mouths to feed.
Rainbow confetti was stuck in the grooves of my scales
Wet clothes left on the floor of a steamy bathroom
Gasping and moaning into tile
With the face of a handsome stranger
Because this meat shouldn't go to waste
And I'm drunken with desperation
For overflowing foam, jewels, and shiny hooks
But I'm just another fish in the sea
Tumbling in the waves with my rainbow confetti scales.
Oct 15, 2018
Oct 15, 2018 at 6:00 PM UTC
I'll be eaten alive one day:
one day, i see it in my mind
so close to closure along an empty street
late at night
(owls just retired and birds
not yet up),
orbs of light tethered to tall electric poles
cast dappled circles on cracked pavement;
illumination and safety
(for that two metre radius).
Stepping between them
like a girl child on stones
across a garden,
I anticipate each missed step
as sinking into sand or frightful waves.
Singing drunk back-alley lullabies
i'll soothe the skelebabies in their sleep,
their poor crusted noses snuffled against
a cold shift of air
(their private torment plastered over billboards
with corporate logos and dim colours,
suggesting the city's lights have gone out and
the local government is in frantics.
That is, after all, what you'd focus on)
Girl child games were so tipsy and magic
(and so close to real coldness);
between two orbs of light i'll slip
through the cracks
in the pavement.
THE END.
(eat me alive,
eat me alive,
eaten alive by the
wolf at the door)
Sep 25, 2014
Sep 25, 2014 at 6:36 PM UTC
Her lips constant at the utterance
Of sweet and serene words filled
With adoration, praising him,
He who made endless hearts
do cartwheels and somersaults
Of multiple, millions nigh and far
their hearts loving
As long as he’s living
Nonetheless, changing courses
Of history was what she excelled
One glance, one encounter turned
Her lips managing
to do none but stutter
To his shielded heart
no one managed to flutter
His deer like eyes observing
With admiration, eyes sparkling
every look, crook, nook
Of her smile that shook
The worlds and heavens
Devout in his heart and mind
His earth's plates shifting
His massive planets orbiting
He witnessed it all in one being
The gravity of the universe on her
Shoulders heavy from responsibility
The heavens challenging her capability
Her hardships conveyed as she blinked
their dilated orbs communicating
language barriers unstoppable
To what her eyes held
He understood his needs
To care, to cherish, to love,
Feeling his heart pumping blood
Faster, quicker than light
Travelling the dark domains
Undiscovered, just like her soul
That he felt the need to explore
As his heart finally fluttered
Jul 15, 2018
Jul 15, 2018 at 2:46 AM UTC
Of all the super heroes who exist
like legends, or monuments in entertainment,
or essential cultural commodities,
and
my favorite is Moon Knight.
Never met a good reception.
Never had a particularly well done story.
I like Moon Knight in theory;
a superhero with mental issues,
with friends who face the moral challenge
of playing into his insanity,
versus helping him stop serious crimes.
It seemed like a social commentary to me;
why do we hate dictators, but love superheroes?
How is it we understand absolute power corrupts
absolutely,
yet also think having an alien demigod semi-rule the planet
is really in the best interest of our species?
The design for Moon Knight has always been immaculate
to me; directly representing the fallibility of the hero,
diving into the night with a decadent radiance,
he wears all white, and declares he enjoys it-
for his enemies to know he's coming.
Does it make sense? No.
Much like the Punisher, Moon Knight doesn't struggle with
being morally black and white, but does struggle with
keeping that identity intact. His eyes glowing,
no face shown... just darkness.
All the emotion in the world broadcast through
two glowing orbs. sometimes red, sometimes green,
often white.
A visual hint to clouded mind of Moon Knight;
Marvel's true Batman gone awry. Gone insane.
A failed son who won't die.
Here's to it.
Apr 26, 2014
Apr 26, 2014 at 12:32 PM UTC
even
the beads of your sweat
warp
from the intense gravity
of those dense but sensuous orbs,
making a gentle detour
like a river,
before flowing into the whorl
of your beautifully chiseled navel
© 2022
Mar 27, 2022
Mar 27, 2022 at 10:50 AM UTC
The first new star flashed waves of blue tonight ,
securing my belief in the afterlife
A grove of ferns lit my imagination
For I became a shipwrecked captain -
that stumbled upon an island nation
Exploring the deep jungle without machete ,
potable water nor compass
Knee deep in mangrove forest
Tropical winds whispered and moaned
A lean-to of fronds became my maritime home
In the presence of a million stars
An army of sand ***** paraded before -
their newfound master from near and afar
Crashing waves lulled a poor sailor to rest
The whispers of Poseidon
A dream about a lookout in the crows nest
Counting orbs in the tail of the Milky Way-
with visions of mermaids , ghost ships and rogue waves
Aug 1, 2018
Aug 1, 2018 at 9:05 PM UTC
Something caught me off guard, that hot day,
an unexpected thunder roared its presence,
violent...continuously rose in volume...
the throbbing...the thumping...the
pounding intensified...while swarms of red
and pink fragments simultaneously emerged,
and skillfully created arcs...becoming orbs,
multiplying, spreading...merging...then
shaping into rounds, like atoms...combining,
revealing...bearing a scary realization...
::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::
suddenly, arms and hands felt cold,
thunder softened...waned...arcs and orbs stilled,
chest started to rise and fall, peacefully.......yet, here i am,
anticipating a next time...when thunder roars anew...
Sally
© Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan
June 19, 2018
Jun 19, 2018
Jun 19, 2018 at 6:22 AM UTC
Translation From Catullus.
Equal to Jove that youth must be—
Greater than Jove he seems to me—
Who, free from Jealousy’s alarms,
Securely views thy matchless charms;
That cheek, which ever dimpling glows,
That mouth, from whence such music flows,
To him, alike, are always known,
Reserv’d for him, and him alone.
Ah! Lesbia! though ’tis death to me,
I cannot choose but look on thee;
But, at the sight, my senses fly,
I needs must gaze, but, gazing, die;
Whilst trembling with a thousand fears,
Parch’d to the throat my tongue adheres,
My pulse beats quick, my breath heaves short,
My limbs deny their slight support;
Cold dews my pallid face o’erspread,
With deadly languor droops my head,
My ears with tingling echoes ring,
And Life itself is on the wing;
My eyes refuse the cheering light,
Their orbs are veil’d in starless night:
Such pangs my nature sinks beneath,
And feels a temporary death.
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You were my gift,
Soft, sweetness, little one,
Eyes of moon and ocean
Hills of creation, of shadow
And bread. In your nakedness
I fled the earth and bathed
In starlight and dust at the end
Of the forever of the sky.
In that silence,
Of exploding cosmos and vapour,
I fell, feeling in your smiles the suns
Decay, I felt light beyond
Its barrier, and was decimated
In the gravity of the neutron
Blue of floating eyes in separation.
Your faraway orbs were lost
To me in the frozen dark energy
Of shunted light and the cold
vacuum of space.
It was my birthday
And you were set on leaving.
It was my birthday
When I nearly died.
Jul 11, 2012
Jul 11, 2012 at 11:45 PM UTC
Over hill, over dale,
Thorough bush, thorough brier,
Over park, over pale,
Thorough flood, thorough fire,
I do wander everywhere,
Swifter than the moonè’s sphere;
And I serve the fairy queen,
To dew her orbs upon the green:
The cowslips tall her pensioners be;
In their gold coats spots you see;
Those be rubies, fairy favours,
In those freckles live their savours:
I must go seek some dew-drops here,
And hang a pearl in every cowslip’s ear.
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Not Particularly living up to his name,
Fear stands with open arms,
Welcoming me with a smile.
He is Handsome.
Standing tall with no suspicious qualities;
Beautiful eyes carry no emotion,
Crimson orbs, fiery yet tranquil.
He is Kind.
Like the boyfriend you've always wanted,
He will embrace you with warmth,
Completely faithful in your name.
He is perfect.
And yet, he is what flaws mankind.
Stalking your mind, making you wish
you could walk away from his embrace.
He is persistent.
Making you hesitate with decisions,
Closing your mouth before you can speak,
Making your eyes surge with eerie anticipation.
He is aggressive.
Knocking you over with ominous thoughts,
Choking you, restraining your voice.
Shackling you, turning you powerless.
He isn't real.
Conjured up by outside voices,
By your own nature, and though you know that,
he is more real than any person.
He is Fear.
And he will consume you.
Dec 9, 2014
Dec 9, 2014 at 10:40 PM UTC
Against the lavender of a Capricorn:
less chubby at age fourteen than at eighteen,
produced at the wrong time.
Her stars are their least private in December,
moths pick up ovaries and eggs
from below her dress
left behind from relationship number one.
A lesbian curse, no offspring
for her girlfriend was a Capricorn spirit too.
A nymph who took ten seconds to leave
though eight years to disappear:
nurses say, “it just hurts for a moment,”
but needles ruin your whole ******* week.
But out of two Capricorn women,
one is sure to get pregnant.
The first’s not heard of powdered milk,
nor would she have any,
calcium-deficient so others break her bones.
She has a cabinet of amber orbs
held with sickly insects, a million years old
and brown hair in like tiny ***** of yarn.
Some parts of a person can belong to another.
This was not their cornflower-eyes
but an ability to bear child from straight ***
female parts tangled like herbs and stars.
May 25, 2013
May 25, 2013 at 1:00 AM UTC
You look at the world through empty orbs,
ignoring the beauty that swells within.
Your lips work like anesthesia,
numbing your words till they have no meaning.
Sometimes I have to wonder, who you really are.
If I’d knock on you, and hear an echo,
sound bouncing off skin walls.
I want to reach down your throat and strike a match.
Ignite a fire in your gray soul.
Fill you up with fiery flickering hues.
A passion that forces you into motion.
Awakening your mind, realizing your truth.
A yearning for life beyond just living.
Apr 23, 2012
Apr 23, 2012 at 3:59 PM UTC
Over on the crescent wing
The bitter gales bring waves of rain:
Listen. Frozen windows sing.
Enraptured by the searing pain
Like pestilence in hurricane.
Buildings rise up to the halls
Impenetrable planet-bane
As summer lost, and spring withal.
Then the writhing storm-clouds bring
A storm of ice and wind again:
The sun rears up, but sets during.
And past the steel-laden plane
Silver orbs first wax, then wane
Then plaster to the mighty wall
Midnight buses, lane-by-lane,
Of nature not, but city fool.
Ascended like a spiteful King
The whispers rise, then sink in shame
No sound is here, no, not a thing.
Soaking in like liquor-stains
The buildings survey their domain
Not city-life, nor life at all;
They wander in the pouring rain
Where love is lost beneath the sprawl.
Tears and laughter, much the same
All are whispers, doomed to fall.
Dystopia without a name:
Not so distant after all.
Nov 14, 2018
Nov 14, 2018 at 5:19 PM UTC
I’ve found another gem in the creek,
it shines with blue orbs in the sun
and white pearls before a coffee
black canvas. I will keep this one
but I can’t remember
where I put the last one… time
took it away on travels tragic— mythic—
and I don’t miss it anymore
now that I have you, my shiny gem,
smoothed geode, cracked
down the center
like the last earthquake that struck my passions
terrified I’ll lose you, I put you away
in a perfect box, in the perfect darkness
of a crawl space crack, a loose closet wallboard
where I will never look again,
hidden
by an idea, hidden
by what I need you to be,
hidden with furious passions
only rivaled
by that of a 12-year-old’s rock collection.
Feb 17, 2011
Feb 17, 2011 at 11:24 PM UTC
In
the
beginning there were
Stars, millions of
Fiery orbs clearly visible in
theVoid of
night.
But do you see stars now?
The world has become our pollution,
Our demise. Making planets our to be stars
But if we want to--and we will, we can
Shine, shine bright, brighter than we've
Ever been before.
And we will be noticed
Nov 26, 2014
Nov 26, 2014 at 8:27 PM UTC
'Neath canopy of paradise
Super troupers' shafts of light
Illuminate his terpsichore;
***** he struts, the impresario
Gyrating on spindle shanks;
Needle thin and knock-kneed
He dances a samba
On stage of verdure;
Midst Elvis blue-black thrusts,
Steel rimmed amber orbs
Seek admiring and desirous glances
From the dour drab hen,
Mousy in her beige twin set
And mottled tweed skirt;
With nonchalant disinterest she exits
The arena; audition over.
Jun 24, 2010
Jun 24, 2010 at 11:40 AM UTC
Crack some fire
everywhere
on the way heaven.
Light the shadow
light a candle
down the moon.
The sun in fact
does it every day.
Scurries towards
the last dark room
down the moon.
With the colour plate
intact and full
passes by shining on
every corner and nook
every untouched end in the day
the rainbows peep on the way.
Sneaks its way through
the deep forests of orbs
up and down the passages
in the mountains of stars
even after nightingales
and robins go deep silent
the sun tiptoes on the go
lights a candle on the moon.
Moments after the sunset
facing its true north in the West
only to find in heaven
the way The Queen of Heaven
puts her footprint less step
it's the sun's true West
shows up the new crescent.
Sep 4, 2022
Sep 4, 2022 at 9:10 PM UTC
h your body you caught my attention; I turned my sight towards your direction. With your eyes you mesmerized me; my stare was locked those mystical orbs. Your voice fell so sweetly upon my ears, and lost within your words I became. You walked me out of the shadows which my heart was lost within, and open my soul to the possibility of a new treasure. A feeling that has been so long ago lost it has been forgotten. Now I feel this new sensation and wonder, as if I was a child experiencing my first kiss. In one moment you entered my life, and in another you changed it. Yet I find myself luckily unlucky. I am lucky enough to know better, and unlucky enough to have found someone so wonderful; and still know better. For I know that you will never be mine, nor would I be able to capture your attention long enough to obtain your heart. Yet you have shown me that I could still feel, that passion can still come forth from within me. I’ve searched within you, maybe deeper than you would have wanted. I’ve looked passed the pain, and discover the wonders that could take my breath. Your drive pushes me to be more, when I don’t need more. Your smile raises my spirits, and even more so when I know I’m the cause. To listen to your words, sparks my imagination to the wonders of your life. I could love you; deeper than any ocean. Simply because I find you more enchanting than the stars on a perfectly dark night, and more alluring than Aurora Borealis (the northern light). Still I must hold myself from loving you, because your plans and fear keep you from holding me closer.
Nov 9, 2012
Nov 9, 2012 at 8:36 PM UTC
I hear the thunder meddling
its way among the raindrops
that permeate through sunlight
and realize
that the weather is a motif
for God's emotional prognosis.
God is but a ******
he and I stammer upon the same boat.
Our existence makes a pair
of helplessly hanging doppelgangers,
orbs of confusion that contract
whiplash with every turn they make.
Two repressed housewives
that put all their hopes and dreams
in a shit-stained smile.
This collision of light and malevolance
is but His way of symbolizing
my shame-patronized indecision
in a way that makes people tear up
at the joy of beauty.
Apr 29, 2010
Apr 29, 2010 at 10:50 AM UTC
Thy soul shall find itself alone
’Mid dark thoughts of the gray tombstone
Not one, of all the crowd, to pry
Into thine hour of secrecy.
Be silent in that solitude
Which is not loneliness—for then
The spirits of the dead who stood
In life before thee are again
In death around thee—and their will
Shall overshadow thee: be still.
The night—tho’ clear—shall frown—
And the stars shall not look down
From their high thrones in the Heaven,
With light like Hope to mortals given—
But their red orbs, without beam,
To thy weariness shall seem
As a burning and a fever
Which would cling to thee forever.
Now are thoughts thou shalt not banish—
Now are visions ne’er to vanish—
From thy spirit shall they pass
No more—like dew-drops from the grass.
The breeze—the breath of God—is still—
And the mist upon the hill
Shadowy—shadowy—yet unbroken,
Is a symbol and a token—
How it hangs upon the trees,
A mystery of mysteries!
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Draped in fresh-knitted pearls
we traipsed
into saccharine peach orchard
The summer heat loped about our dew-kissed ******
****** - appropriated from dawn spent on neatly shorn plantation grass
Ambling into the knotted palatial arbor
we sat each in our own tree crux
behinds nestled upon ashen bark
Juice dripping in our grip
down our cast nets of flesh
sprawled about the branches
inset with gravity-defying liquescent orbs
dusted in translucent mink
painted with smears of
citrine, coral, amber, and ichorous
clinging to brass stem
The rondures secede to mandible
taut between palms pull and polished ivories
- torn-
Fluent in dulcet discourse
We cloak ourselves in provocative juice tatting
Until such time that our congealing garments
were found mapping the bark's topography
A saccharine map to the breath of soil
Bloodstone ants found our map
and had begun traversing - portent
to seize our treasure
We surrendered our jewelled cages
and took flight
to the sun-drunken lake to bathe
and swim
until heavy lids kissed moistly
heavily supped on the draught
sleep - beckoned transience
Jan 26, 2014
Jan 26, 2014 at 9:48 PM UTC