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lX0st Aug 2018
Nightfall,
Morning breaks
Our hands fit
In the same place
On that one side of the bed
Where cool sheets unwrinkled
Leave a lingering presence
That smells of vanilla
And torment

Your twilight, my dawn
So alike, so far
We cling to our sheets
Awash in old memories
My cheeks toward the sun
Your moon shining on what used to be
What could never be
CK Baker Dec 2017
sages and brethren
gather, and share
and slowly souls
are bared
their tempered voices
and quiet eyes
reserved of judgment
with passing smiles

moments blend
in current trends
opinions wide
and reflections deep
the concepts
and irregularities
once murky
now clear

they prioritize
and familiarize
that staunch resolution
of generation net
will remunerate
and illuminate
through the checkpoints
and formal reviews
through the purple curtains
and open stage
nothing tainted
or bitter
left for taste

cause its they
who’ll plant the seed
the captains of commerce
healers and jugglers
the coaches and councilors
negotiators and compromisers
the kings and queens
hustlers and hellcats
(who've all found their way!)
let us tip our hats
and salute them
Chameleon Dec 2018
We got back from the bar and were sitting at a makeshift one in our friend's ratty old trailer that was barely suitable to live in.
He grabbed a piece of paper and began writing something out of my eye sight.
He smiled and slid it over to me like we were passing notes in class.
"You are cute. Wanna hold hands?"
Check YES, or NO.
I put a check mark in the box next to Yes and just as quietly gave it back.
We smiled at each other and I shoved the yellow piece of paper into my purse for safe keeping.
It now hangs on my fridge underneath a magnet from the Aquarium.
Muffled whispers
in the dead of night
I'm far out me mind
He's crystal clear
in my sight
Drops of
vermillion
blood
pour
as we
become nocturnal
once more
our twisted fate
is still quite
vernal
clear as
night
we are
written
in the stars
headlights
illuminate
us
from
passing
cars
Seanathon Sep 2018
Inches away from you
        Never there but ever present
        As your breath is lifted up unto the heavens

Elevated is the air upon your words
        Escalated, the anticipation of your voice
        Among the noise

Where the only scene to see is peace
        Held quietly in reverie
        And respect for your mere presence

Find with ease
        The smile of the self-reveals
        A quietness of hearts appeal

Not to be seen
        But to seek the conversation speak
        And to peak the words of interesting

Mere inches now away from me
        With no voice let to find the time
        Or threnodic melody

Don’t let me down
        My inward voice
        Speak
My articulation often fails me because I secretly want it to fail (so as not to try again). But still, when she walks by, this is what I often hear. Inspired by Goldmunds - Threnody | https://youtu.be/mdEuCRiW2l0
Jesse stillwater Jun 2018
a breath of fresh air
tickles still-waters
a lone swan's quill
let fall, takes flight
  carpe  diem ―
nigh weightless,
buoyantly skitters
across the water,
laissez faire;
barely dimpling
the shallow peace
on a lake in the wood

a wild feather's
mindless pirouettes
emanate from
the steeping silence
lapping  its
superficial  refection  

the true nature
of wildness,
unspoken freedom,
an untamed
wilder – ness
skims the skinny waters
seeking their own level;
leaving no trace
of  ever being  containable
 
like a breath of fresh air
reinvigorates
unconquerable souls
touching in the
conscious moment ―
a gentle passing breeze
arousing a rogue gust


Jesse Stillwater

01    June   2018
Thank you for stopping to read my soul scribbles :)
Randy Oct 2018
Depression comes on softly,
Yet it's power hits so hard!

Loneliness comes so strong!
But can flee with but a smile.
And these things shall pass (by).
Jesse stillwater Jul 2018
I’ve finally stopped
writing
unrequited letters;
there were too many
wasted breaths
left unsent

Lapsing intentions
befallen on timeworn
tawny crumpled  pages;
aging like spent flowers
in fading earth tones
and rumpled paper regrets

Multi-hued words uttered—
mummers of voiceless exhalations
spoken without a sound;
indelible spilled ink
left behind,
lays fallow for so long

A love once new,  and
a growing silent ache—
a hungry heart
left for dead—Déjà vu

We leave a lot behind,
fallen leaves in unspoken ink
a restless soul laid bare
by a passing moment's
random gust;

atrophied
like unwritten poetry
stifled stillborn
in a wadded up paper lament


jesse stillwater ... July 2018
feelings aren't right or wrong, they're just feelings ...

Thanks for stopping here
September Rose May 2018
We are tied together by our stories, our history
Tales woven through our ancestry, when our parents talk of their younger days
When their life was ahead of them, the future was anything and everything, they speak of their old friends with ache in their soul
Of times when their hearts were filled with fire and passion, running through fields growing memories  planted by the world around them
When they could sprint the wind in their hair, adventure ahead, hope in their heart.
They speak of the days behind with woe
Because essentially just their ideas of the future as a young mind, was more exciting than reality.
As dreams failed and hope faded
As their minds wear and their treasured stories that made them who they are fog over
As threads begin to wear
As tales they once yelled to the world with pride frays at the details
Your whole world slipping away as the thread unwinds
But they get the joy of passing down the tapestry to their pride and joy, to the life they made, every one of us
Every moment we live with ease of no appreciation for every experience every laugh
Moments we take for granted
Moments we will pine for when they run out
Moments the elderly urge us with fire to be aware of the importance of
Moments we'll wish we listened to them about
There is a vast tapestry of memories behind you and infinite thread panning out in front of you, connecting to other tapestries, visiting at friends, at enemies, joining with soul-mates future, some cut away, some ripped from the tapestries to soon before they could weave their own
A loose thread cannot be fixed once more are made, and the patterns will never be what you want them to be, savour each stitch
Take time on every thread
You don't want to be sitting there 50 years old thinking about the life you wasted
About the memories faded
About how every slipping memories never like the moment you made it
Don't be sitting 90 filled with regret
Filled with hatred for every opportunity you left
Screaming into the voice about how much you hate what your life become.

because they say time flys when your having fun truth is time only flies when you're young.
unidentified Aug 2016
.
Honeybees, birds and blooms unfurl
an enchanting spell
when spring comes by here

Memories waft 'neath burled rustic trellis
where flowered tendrils grasp fleshly
like the newness a love once tenderly embraced

Songbirds in your garden sing
of swooning memories rapture.., of velvet eyes,  
the fragrant spicy nectar hidden within her walls                            

A song of honeyed bees'  sweetest stinger,
and the poignant ***** of intoxicating surrender
lingers, bemused spellbound by a thorny heirloom rose

Sharp beauty beloved like a blameless trap
caught blissfully, breathlessly inbetween
all you wish for and all your wanton needs

Desire 's wellspring an unspoken passion
coquet swollen buds adorn blossoming,
sensual, untamed carnal grace

A picture perfect natural beauty;
sunlit chassé … feathered brush, demure blush
dancing with basket of lace petal’d perfume

For to colour a heart's blank pages
rapt in the poesy a joyous ecstasy ..,
enrapture with rainbow's luscious taste

What seems lost is but a tender vestige unfound
a passing moments innocence lost
to steal away like rumors of gold

These silent reveries seep from a hole in my heart,  
as if ripe strawberries of yore, gently weeping sweetness
when pricked by a thorny rose  

The ides of spring do still bleed a timeless ache
onto the page ... sweet naivety stung
by a mesmerizing dart to the heart

Songbirds in your garden do sing
of sweetest things immersed in nature's nectar
blissful memories sleeping in the petals of a rose




Sung to the wind by a song sparrow — ♪ ♫...✩ ☼✩ ✩☺✩
If only now in dreams of yore
a sky full of stars shine brighter,
a garden of flowers fragrance more pungent,
and songbirds in your garden from yesteryear
sing tantalizingly more beautiful ...,
when you were near

.
M G Hsieh Jan 28
I want to hold you until a certain time 
of day when the sun lays his head 
on the winter grass, gazing steadily unto you.


We turn our eyes and avert meager glares and 
hoisted brows.
Alas!


What makes this day unlike any other?
The telltale signs of freedom and solitude
whispers
among the dreams and fairytaled wonders we foresaw.

I want to hold you one last time.

-----•○●*●○•----

Look ahead
Buried deep in the ocean's array of waves
Evening passes
The screaming nights

The deep silence 
And the stillness of
This moment
This eternity
ˏˋDalPalˊˎ Feb 2016
Passing through those glorious doors together

We find home at Bombay Bakers

Your hand in mine

The sugary air hitting us harder than a brick wall

We both feel the grace of familiarity

Our chemistry hotter than the rolls in the oven

The smell of freshly baked croissants gives me the same warm feeling as your smile

Passing Agora we look at each other with the same bright eyes

It'll just be a quick stop but such a savory one as we sit and share a large caramel coffee

I hate the aftertaste but anything with you is such a candied tang in the end

Your cinnamon dusted lips so close to mine

Your taste so sweet couldn't even be compared

Licking each finger after your touch, trying to save each bit of you

It doesn't matter which side of the world we are on or where we end up in the end

As long as there's that corner bakers shop nearby

It'll be home with you
I'm comparing love to food <3

Short little poem today. not too happy with it but I don't know how to go on with this.

also another note: I love the word tang but I wish it wasn't so ****** :(
MeanAileen Mar 2017
I'm in love with a man I know not to love
his heart will never be free.
I waste my days, a ***** to his ways
knowing he will never love me.

He is the secret I can never reveal
the best lover I ever have known.
I've nothing to give but my body.....it's his-
fresh dirt for him to bury his bone.

Hopelessly hooked on him like a drug
wanting him day and night.
I play his ***** game.....I have no shame
taking it all, knuckles white.

Dead is the conscience I knew so well
and morals.....they ran far away.
Clarity now blurry in a love-drunk slurry-
the 'good me' has gone astray.

To lay with him is like playing with fire,
the flames, they burn me alive.
Leaving me marred, hurting and scarred-
the pain on which I thrive.

A fool for punishment, I beg for more
even if all I am worthy of is ****.
Loving him breaks me.....it overtakes me-
but I'm not willing to quit.

I die a little more with each passing day
until again, I get lost in those eyes....
All doubt goes away, so for now I'll stay
living this life of lies.
You can't always help who you fall in love with...
Watching her
Fake her
Smile
Imprisonment to
Denial
Her pain has
No gain
She is going insane
The world is in pain
She isn’t to blame
Her world is pain
But she won’t break
Her love is
Her mind is unsaid
Impossibly long times in bed
She is waiting for the
I wish she would feel less bled

(Feel better dream when you awake.)
For a friend.
English Jam Sep 2018
The beach smells of tranquillity and salty sea air
The rhythm of the waves gently caresses my skin
The horizon seems elusive, a dream always chased
Yet night foreshadows traumas waiting to be let in

Oh where do I begin?

I love you
I don't wanna be scared of you
I'm waiting in the shoreline
Please don't run away this time


I'm scared of silent reflections, solemn and reclusive
I float futher from myself with each passing day
I have a note addressed to myself taped to a mirror
I'm scared of reading it aloud and being lead astray

And I have to accept that it's okay

"I love you
I don't wanna be scared of you
I'm waiting in the shoreline
Please don't run away this time"


Seashells coated in sand tickle the edge of my ear
The fog carried on the wind sends chills that rattle deep inside
The sun will always be there to break the duskiness
Daunting across the sky and waking up the tide

And the breeze slowly sighed

Please don't run away,
       don't run away from me
Please don't run away,
         don't run away from help
Please don't run away,
             don't run away from the sea
Please don't run away,
                don't run away from yourself


Angel wings take me further than I've ever gone before
Matt Sol Jan 26
Closed and opened
Enter, Exit
The yesterdays
Of fluorescents
Passing headlights
Advertisements
To a stranger
(Flash and heading)

Conscious flutter
While time doubles
Lexie Aug 2018
I lay barren in my dreams
The words you whispered into my head echoed as if they had been a cry for water in the dessert
I have dug my bed
Now I lie unwittingly in this grave
These sheets a tangle
Wrapped to the corner posts
Bound around my wrists
Like chains around my neck
I am a ***** to foolishness
And I fear I will master nothing
This night she is a maiden
Though she fancies virtue naught
Her companions are a silver sliver of a moon caught in the bows of a pine
Orion's scythe wrought in metal made of stars
And the dying whispers of every poor sinner to kiss the back of her hand
She keeps dreams bound about her waist
A corset of nightmares
Still my foolishness is great
But my fear even greater
Would that I could close my eyes
And awake a poor dreamer from slumber
Still I cannot shut them
My muscles bid me wishes in vain
Still I cannot find the voice
To shovel my own ****** eulogy into the earth
Still I cannot make a way
To rise from this ****, after a life of raising ****
Would you watch me
As I passed
Through this night and on into the eternal
I am nothing to this earth but a foolish handful of ash
Blown into the wind
To chase my way into the beyond
Daisy Marrow Jun 2014
You lay in a field of flowers counting each bird that passes overhead.
You've erased concern and decided to live for the moment because you always would say, "we might be dead by tomorrow."
Flowers grew from your heart and bloomed across your lungs,
creating a garden that sang the most beautiful hymns,
while my garden was withering.
Each breath you took was never wasted,
but I couldn't help but count mine like they were birds passing overhead.
Every night you would view the stars and moon with pure amazement as if it was your first time seeing them.
You gave all your love to me and each kiss was coined in my pocket.
You fell in love with me every night and I fell for all your hymns.
Soon enough the world would pass us by but I wouldn't blink because I could live off your touch for the rest of my time.
You showed me there is more in life than just one color,
but instead, the world is a whole painting with colors that can't be described.
You showed me just how beautiful the world was.
You taught me how to grow beauty from my eyes but lately, I've been dreaming and falling for stars.
Imagining what it'd be like slow dancing with the planets, getting lost in constellations.
But I'm just not ready to go yet however I do not control time.
You showed me that dying can be beautiful.
That we'll be okay because when we leave we all become one with the earth and one with nature.
So love, love me until time runs out,
until I become one with nature.

And many years later as time starts to fly by and you slowly start to watch your clock tick down, you'll know where to find me, my love.
I'll be up with stars.
Somewhere lost in the cosmos.
I'll be spinning with the planets dreaming about what it would feel like to be able to walk on flowers again.
2014
Did God see the bin I gave to him last Sunday ,
the ******* up paper I now call my heart ?
or Chocolate ! What is that ?
I had never tasted ,
like Gods love divine .
The hopes and dreams of my loneliness  part .
the bitter tears ,
songs of a better tomorrow ones that will open up the sky’s of love ,
to seek Gods grace in his arms above .

Songs of sadness and sorrow that brought dark clouds to my eye .

And oh what a simple poem as this as
the passing of the years go by.
for what was birds would fly to their branches
at the calling of the day ,
and now even they have flown away .

So as the eagle and the raven trailed the Saxon battle fields ,
Like shines metal s that guise and glisten in the suns noon day heat ,
we march wearily on to hear the eagles wing ,
to know the raven hovers near .

Did God see my paper are the wings of the eagle low ?
For now my immortal wound the raven pecks and tears  at my flesh and my helmet to the sodden ground has fallen ,

and  now my sword is now beside ,
does it stand with my foes blood ?
embedded in the mud .

This warfare do I seek rest or my bruised body impale ,
yet God be my protector against Satan’s demon hordes again


Now the Abbey of rest I have found ,
a monk tends my every need ,
Yet my helmet lies upon my head ,
around cold peaceful stone walls do I kneel ,
a stronghold my heart must keep,
vanquished for a time man forgot ,
for the passing of the years .
Advent Oct 2014
when the clock ticks at 12,
another minute has passed and another day has been renewed.
it replenishes an entire moment that separates yesterday from today.

when the clock ticks at 12,
a part of me has left something for good.
something that could only be retrieved by the nostalgia
of the passing hours that gives a pang of discomfort and dismay.

when the clock ticks at 12,
a fairy godmother is there waiting for me to move past everything and start fresh,
like nothing has ever happened from yesterday

but when the clock ticks at 3,
my emotions are scattered,
eating me alive.
it kicks me out of the zone - exposing me to a world of nothing but things to hide.
it haunts my core, dwells with my demons,
building up emotions that don't seem to collide

and at 3, I find you - once again with all the sublime images we’ve captured
and grand words we’ve uttered.
i find you, drowning from the roots
of my memoirs... and there I see how midnights took parts of me

because at 3, I’ll always remember how I grew with thee


a.t.
It's 2:43 and I can't sleep
I close my eyes and I can't dream
It would seem to me
I'm going crazy
My mind is covered in a film so hazy
But I must be oh so lazy
For not fighting for a chance to raise me
And lift myself
I tell myself
I have nothing else
To turn to
I lost you
I always do
I always choose
To lose
The few
The truth is
I can't do this
I walk around clueless
To the facts
As a matter of fact
When you look at it like that
I'm fading into the past
As life flies past
And goes way to fast
I wanna crash
I'll come in last
Moments go by with a flash
And it's all I ask
Not to bask
In the rays
of a sun that will be taken away
And fade
As the dark runs away
And night overtakes the day
I was too late
To play
But now it's 3
And the harder I try to sleep
The faster my mind flees
And runs from me
I won't catch it tonight
So I'll just cry
And hope for sunlight
And pray to a god who just might
Listen to my unanswered prayers tonight
Jordan Rowan Jan 2016
The night sounds of fallen angels
Building stairways back to home
And the radio plays softly
Like a crooner left alone
As the night falls into the velvet shades
And beats down the bedroom door
Of all the visions that come to me
It's of one I'm hoping for

The postman closes up the station
And the buses get cleaned with rain
The asylum rests and barely breathes
As the countryside goes insane
Prophets speak of peace
On the dim hue of TV screens
Of all the moments that seem real
I still wait to watch my dreams

Imposed upon the westward wall
Are the silhouettes of weeping oaks
Swaying in the wind that talks
But they only tell me jokes
Swept beneath the silver stars
Sleeping on blanket clouds
Of all the space above me
I feel as if I can't get out

Headlights and passing trains
Sound like time passing by
Gone are the hearts inside
Like the years beyond my eyes
Sounds from the suburb city
Blow like sirens in my mind
Of all the thoughts within me
Only one freezes time
Jesse stillwater Aug 2018
Driving up mountain miles
of washboard switchbacks;
jarring the dusty rearview mirror
in my mind:

"but don't look back in anger"  
... I heard you say
stuck in the cloud of dust
befogging my daydream
back somewhere thereabouts
the washed out bridge
that tore us apart
like a flash flood

It was so long ago
since you were running
and I was hiding in plain sight,
from what the storm
in my eyes did tell

Mindful — you were only watching
the growing distance gather;

finding what you didn't lose
looking back to see
   what you can't forget —

like a hesitant child
reluctantly wondering
if anyone was still looking back
at you ―  still running away
from each passing storm


Jesse Stillwater
June   2018
Thank you for reading my soul scribbles
Jesse stillwater Apr 2018
i used to climb the tallest tree
just to leave behind the ground
sing as loud as i could breathe
about the shapes of passing clouds

mum would haller up to the heavens:
             "STOP IT !"
... "they’ll think you’re Mad!"

... whoever  "they"   were  (?)!
    i naively pondered thence  ―

    now,     the tree is gone,
       "they" chopped  it  
         all the way down
to memories and decomposing roots

    but i still see life unspool
    in the silent shapes of clouds

                    and
  hear the birds sing sweetly
     without a single word


☁  ☁  ☁  ☁  ☼  ☁  ☁  ☁  ☁
                   jesse
26th  April  2018

Notes:
  the memories reach much deeper than the roots
Nicole Alyssia Aug 2016
with each passing day,
i realize
with increasing certainty
that there are not many
people
out there like
myself

cut from a different cloth.

perhaps, you haven't been
properly warned
about me.
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