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ryn Jul 2021
A notion far too grand
to grace terrestrial minds.
A vision of laced tapestry -
an ostentatious display of
ornateness and
celestial opulence.

A dream so light
and airy.
A dream so majestic.

A dream that remains
unblemished,
by earth-encrusted hands.
Waverly May 2015
He drinks, he forgets
Where he is and why he is there.

He begins to lose himself in his darkness,
Begins to erupt from within.

He stops caring,
Or begins to care too much.

He wishes himself born again
in the purifying sunlight of dappled spring mornings, because he wishes to start over again.

He starts to do things harder than ever,
He gives himself over to the mercury of the moment,
He bathes in his own sin,
Finds the wash of it freezingly refreshing
And repulsive all at once.

He stops talking,
Starts wishing to enjoy the ornateness of youth.

Feels he's old at 25,
Starts to change his mind.

Forgets everything he's learned over a quarter century
And goes back to rudderless childhood,
Even worse in adulthood.
Onoma Jun 2024
Leucothea applies Bavarian cream

to her paired slit, tending to it with

the waning crescent of no moon.

as oval handheld mirrors base the

trim of their metals on the philosophy

of ornateness--perhaps Gold.

gripped by nymphs, whose fingers

flicker off when oceanic shatters

gurgle up from temple steps.
*Leucothea is the: White Goddess in Greek mythology.
I am the wind.
Blowing on your wind
Chimes.
The ocean water slipping onto
Your gentle beach during
The tide.
I'm the dew on your
Rose petals when
The sun rise.
And the starlight piercing
Through time
To reach your surface.
I'm midnight ink soaking your
Your blank inches
That await my signature kisses.
I'm fingers on your strings
Musician playing
your music.
You're the muse behind
My bemusement
As I wonder how
You love me.
I am
The floor beneath your feet
When you're dancing majestically
I get chills over my skin.
My pigments sing
When the sensation flicks
Like cloud lightning.
Such is the depth to
Which you reach
Like a well to draw water
From the earth
You tap into my innermost
Being.
Just speaking metaphorically
Bout the ornateness
Of the passion leaving
me breathless.
You're like petrichor
After a long rain.
Like a closed door
On past things.
Like a new chapters
New page
First sentence
First syllable
First letter
Exploding imagery in my mind.
Like fireworks in the dark night.
Like a candle flame
Bursting into existence
Without delay
Ardent in every kind of way.
I picture drinking your cocoa
In front of a fireplace.
You're spices and sugar
Strong, flavorful,
Saturate my taste.
Laughter that leaves me
Gasping for air
With no escape.
The island of Aeaea
To my Odysseus.
I'm lost in you
Like a raindrop
Fallen into the sea.
A ****** but for your love.
Such is the intensity of
What I have in my heart
I feel I must have brushed heaven
When your lips touched.
When I first truly looked at you
And thought to myself,
She's as beautiful as
The ruby red sun
At dusk
On the ocean horizon.
And I, the artist inspired
By such pulchritude,
Can't get you out my mind,
How could I express such
Presence?
No matter how I paint,
No matter the music I play,
Your description is locked in,
The image burns on my mind
Though I write many a
Metaphor.
Words are temporary placeholders
Neither immortal or set in stone
They can sit and smolder
And sometimes should be atoned
They can linger in greatness
Or never have been penned
Sometimes overly dressed in ornateness
Or twisted from what they intend
Words have many meanings
People don't read or hear them the same
Each have different gleanings
While interpretations are to blame
Thoughts placed with certainty
Can be agreed upon in earnest
Or skimmed over thoughtlessly
Leaving a mind unfurnished
Words are often limiting
Not really ideal to convey
Barely capable of emitting
What a mind has to say
Writing has less misunderstanding
Speech is very awkward
Both capable of landing
With a different understanding

— The End —