"pearlescent" poems
Mild currents, gently
****** seashells on the seashore
In pearlescent tones
Apr 30, 2014
Apr 30, 2014 at 4:09 AM UTC
somehow, right now,
it’s winter and i’m wrapped in your embrace.
somehow, it’s winter and we’re all wearing brown,
sitting on soft couches and listening,
pretending we’re oh so smart,
when really?
we’re oh,
so
young.
and all our hearts, they’re strewn across the floor,
all our work is forgotten,
as we kiss and touch and watch the snow fall,
and sit down to dinner,
where we slow dance -in the living room,
then wrap our arms around each other,
repeat the same songs on some ancient tape player.
those slow drumbeats, the soft jazz notes,
the growing thrum of this cursed city
-the one we danced to? sank into the sheets with?
this, this is where we got lost in us.
with the snowfall outside and, who would have noticed
that we smell like something other than fall candles.
i grin, and we grab our things off the floor,
and laugh it off. somehow, we know this place,
it’ll always be our home. after all,
sweaters cover our marks in a way sun-clothes can’t,
don’t they darling?
now, soft skin, pearlescent,
seems like some sort of luxury, a wish made during yule,
something i can only share with you,
because truly, i don’t think i’d want to share this cold place,
unless they were you.
and as we waltz to slow music, as we plan, as we laugh,
as we sit down in the candles,
i think i’m falling all over again,
because your eyes look hodded in the light,
your skin inviting, your mouth soft,
and your smile makes me wish you’d swallow me whole.
Aug 26, 2018
Aug 26, 2018 at 10:00 PM UTC
Slick grass glistened heavy
After summer showers fell before a sun
That trickled veiled toward transcendent trees
Towered on the outskirts of the demesne - It unsheathed
A pearlescent canvas for a dreamer who paints ideals;
A reader finding signs in smiles and glances
Strolling paths free of fear to free imagination;
Summoning hopes against a fresh red/orange
Backdrop, and ignoring perilous heights to cast
A thought to moments yet unlived -
This fool's masterpiece.
Aug 9, 2015
Aug 9, 2015 at 8:07 AM UTC
Work your magic across the sky
Midnight Moon, pearlescent queen
To your smile, my spirit flies
Through the clouds and mists pristine.
Drawn by your hypnotic glare
Proud Selene, eternally
Captured by your silver stare
And the spell you've put on me.
Pearly mistress, guide me home
To my castle by the sea
Blessed, these miles that I roam
Neath your shining mystery.
From the fires in my heart
With rhyming verse, I honor thee
Before the morning makes its start
Thou blazing orb of poetry.
Jun 20, 2014
Jun 20, 2014 at 1:21 AM UTC
I am not the black sheep
I am not the odd duck
I am not the rebel child
I am not the prodigal daughter
Who am I then?
Well...that's a complicated question
I am not your archetypes or storylines
I am not your bad decisions or projections, your should-s
I am
I am what I will be
I am the technicolor, intergalactic unicorn
I am the pearlescent being of divine light
I am the Angel of Death of Dead Tradition
I am the she-Moses getting out of a desert of lies
I am
I am what I will be
Today, I am choosing
today, I am choosing to create me in lieu of inheriting "me"
Choosing well
choosing better
Choosing wiser
choosing more joyfully
Today, I am the randy interstellar unicorn
blazing a neon rainbow trail forward
Dec 28, 2020
Dec 28, 2020 at 4:22 AM UTC
*how many ways may i undo you ...
each sublime
i crave your vermilion waters
copper gilded plush
falling to my hungry naked mouth
drug euphoria
drooling ***** toy
as i stroke your ankles
with tender fingers
and brush your delicate feet with my lips
before i lift you
floating girl
and you lose yourself
thanking God
for the inconceivable pleasure
of unbearable pain
as you are split and ruptured open
oh pink flowers splashing
in a stained tub
of
blood like a blotter
sanguine perfume
mouth melting kisses
heaping vulva's detonations
adorations petition
am i not vulturous
holding you in my warm arms
while i whisper in the caverns of your hollow breath
that you mean the world to me
i drink rain storming from torrid gates howling
from your cleaved ******* and unfurled belly
your eyes
moons trembling
immersed in your fathomless yawning soul
as you take your last breaths
tell me baby
is it tender cruel
are angels kissing you yet
are you caressed by powder pearlescent clouds
are you butter on the lips of God
while dark curtains flutter and shut
while i weep and convulse
in heaping waves of ecstasy
there is only you
like
heavens thunder*
Jun 4, 2017
Jun 4, 2017 at 3:55 PM UTC
Vanilla frozen cream
over slices of pink-orange inner flesh,
steam as something cold
is lain upon something hot.
The fluffy-whiteness spreads
the soft-firm peachiness apart, leaks
into the space between, gathers
in a small puddle of thick milkiness,
almost pearlescent.
Rolling-back eyes,
scent of precious fruit,
burning cold bowl
in hand, contents slide down the throat
all at once, swallow.
May 14, 2011
May 14, 2011 at 5:58 AM UTC
*A soft, and magical pearlescent blanket
Covered the alluring streets
Lightly and gently, to the touch
Falling slightly, beyond adorable tiny feet
With sparkling snowflakes
Streaming into delicate strokes, with ease
And frosty icicles, decorated the land
On this snowy, winter freeze
In laughter, tots place their teensy fingers
Upon their crimson precious face
Looking up in happiness, and reaching out
Capturing the beauty, of tumbling sprinkles, in amaze
While gently unfolding their little hands
And flakes, mysteriously disappear
A fantasy, and wonderful experience
As they mesmerized the season and shed joyous tears*
Oct 3, 2014
Oct 3, 2014 at 10:09 PM UTC
The clouds curl over mountains cold and blue
and rains hiss whispers back to thunder's speak;
so all is mist and green and gray of hue
and in this land a child would wonder seek.
Cowichan coat warms her in its magic
with knitted forms of mystic dancing deer.
That she's alone might seem all too tragic,
but in her mind all that she dreams is here.
She holds an abalone , pearlescent grey
And wonders at the colours caught inside.
She lifts it inside out up to the day
and wishes every heartfelt dream applied.
The abalone then vanished all aglow
and in its place appeared the bright rainbow.
Jul 16, 2012
Jul 16, 2012 at 3:29 AM UTC
Adjectives continue
their downward spiral,
with adverbs likely to follow.
Wisdom, grace, and beauty
can be had three for a dollar,
as they head for a recession.
*Diaphanous, filigree,
pearlescent*, and love
are now available
at wholesale prices.
Verbs are still blue-chip investments,
but not many are willing to sell.
The image market is still strong,
but only for those rated AA or higher.
Beware of cheap imitations
sold by the side of the road.
Only the most conservative
consider rhyme a good option,
but its success in certain circles
warrants a brief mention.
The ongoing search for fresh
metaphor has caused concern
among environmental activists,
who warn that both the moon and the sea
have measurably diminished
since the dawn of the Romantic era.
Latter-day prosodists are having to settle
for menial positions in poultry plants,
where an aptitude for repetitive rhythms
is considered a valuable trait.
The outlook for the future remains uncertain,
and troubled times may lie ahead.
Supply will continue to outpace demand,
and the best of the lot will remain unread.
Mar 9, 2014
Mar 9, 2014 at 3:05 PM UTC
Her hair, reminiscent of glass
Dusty perplexions, missing pearlescent marbles
She's a dream awaiting the arrival of the next writer
To speak of her story to the masqueraded creature
Posing as light to the dark universe she's encased in
She's the raging madness in her soul
Thrashing yet loving anyone who kisses her
Hidden love affairs, descending silhouettes
Leftover clothes tossed unruly; a decadent stench
Intrusive but polite to wilting foliage
Lip stains, droplets of blood, dislocated jaws
Time, unforgiving as always, punishes its victims
Misery coats her barely twinkling soul
The one who shatters her mirror
May forgive her to finally be free.
Jun 3, 2024
Jun 3, 2024 at 3:36 PM UTC
The splashing sound the waves make
Accompanies the frizzing sound of bubbles
Against the gargantuan stones
Sediment from the ocean salt
The distant sound of seagulls
And the whispers of the marine winds
The faint sound of wind chimes tinkling
Are an orchestra filled with gentle lulls
The sunlight radiating from the setting sun
Looks like an ocean of raging reds and fiery oranges
Reflected on the surfaces of the crystal blue waters
They are two worlds combining as one
You are like the warm rays of the sun
I notice as my eyes look over
The ends of the radiant rays of the sun cool over
Blending with the indigo of the night
There is warmth in your serene smile
As your ocean deep orbs look blissfully
To the work of art no human artist could perfect
There is warmth in your fingers, entwined with mine
The shore is our secret little sanctuary
Below the swaying leaves of coconut trees
Here may be where our last kiss of the night
Shall serve as an eternal bid of goodnight, I fright
The yearning I feel for the day to come incomplete
So big so I could keep this paradise and the summer heat
A heavy deep sigh I heave
As this passing day reminds me to leave
I have to return to land
Where my people belong and stand
Where they dance and prance about
And hustle and bustle around
As much as I want to take you with me
Alas, there are bounds even we can’t beat
Demanding that you belong swallowed in the sea
That you do not belong with me
So when the time comes by
Don’t shed your priceless mermaid’s tears
Don’t let your pain produce
pearlescent pearls tonight
It’s my turn to do my share
It’s my turn to cry
Nov 15, 2014
Nov 15, 2014 at 5:00 AM UTC
The exploration of womanhood,
viewed by a child, who had failed to birth an heir
and was auctioned amidst a war,
to lay beside the man who Lyrnessus heard before it saw,
and felt, before they felt nothing at all.
Plucked from childhood to motherhood,
failed motherhood, into obedience and slavery,
despised by her husband's mother for the absence of life she yearned to grow.
Then veiled in a soft pearlescent,
that blurred, but did not hide, the reason she survived,
and her brothers and husband did not.
Her barren belly proved a blessing when the girls in tents sprouted kleos from their swollen stomachs,
to carry the son of foreigners, bloodthirsty for their native home.
These girls, they are just girls, brainwashed by glory and trauma,
carry children that will slaughter their brothers of blood,
in the name of a woman seen only as a measurement of egotistic revenge.
And what of Briseis?
Aristos Achaion, they cried.
To them, he will always be: the best of the Greeks,
even after Apollo favours the hand of Paris and forges fate to impale the accidental hamartia.
What is her legacy?
Aristos Achaion, they cry.
As the boy who carries his blood rises from the fire and carries forward after his father's body hit the ground.
Nov 28, 2018
Nov 28, 2018 at 4:01 PM UTC
Shards of sail staple sky to sea as fingernail-thin boats lean in to the horizon.
The surge of surf converses constantly with the silent shore, urging its message upon the oblivious beach.
My children scramble on the man-made groyne, a facsimile of wild rock, in which they find caves 'with a proper rock on top' (Bea) and 'a hundred miles deep' (Willem).
We are here on bikes, salt wind in our hair, and my *** slowly absorbing moisture from the almost-dry sand as they unburden their youth upon the rocky playground.
And then come the treasures.
A flat shell the size of my palm and worn pearlescent smooth.
A fossil pebble of concentric ingrained ripples.
'Something amazing Mummy,' comes the cry. 'You have to see this stone; the colour of Coca Cola,' shouts my boy.
More treasures emerge and are grafted on to the sandy pile.
Quartz-like lumps and a mussel entangled with tiny seaweed strands and miniature white shells, like micro leaves and hints of feta in a fancy restaurant.
The boy wears welly boots, no socks, and a plastic medal around his neck. 'Batman, Batman, Batman,' comes the cry, while Bea determinedly scans heaven and Earth for jewels to stud her imagination.
Sep 28, 2013
Sep 28, 2013 at 11:03 AM UTC
Tonight's grey cloud hangs over the pearlescent blue and pink of today.
The gray is an avalanche
criss-crossed
with black
powerlines
that spread like cracks in a mirror.
The rain starts to fall.
To my right is a young blonde
age (17?) unknown.
Her bag and telephone
would
match
but for a shade.
The rain starts to fall.
Young lovers kiss in the calm embrace of one another
beneath an awning the colour of
old ladies - no
boredom - no
subjugation -no.
the under side of an old mattress.
The rain starts to fall.
Across the gap stands an Asian man with the complete accoutrements of a golfer.
Obfuscated now by a train
with the palette of a McDonald's ad.
The rain starts to fall.
The streets are become slick
and every lamp bleeds the start
of an oil painting
with brushes made of light.
The air is cool.
There is a canal that stretches between seats, walled by rows of heads.
In the distance a little girl peaks her head up in the middle of all this,
she wears a bright pink plastic bow on her head that blinks and glows.
Traffic lights streak
green and red
over black gesso.
Cars streak
silver and blood
down black gesso.
"I simply don't need to cheapen things further"
Matching work uniforms.
Matching looks of boredom
Matching shoes and glances
Matching telephones
Matching lack of conversation
Matching hair
Matching matching carpet and drapes
Matching posture
why is everything matching?
(they got off at the same station)
Suburban princess holds the phone like a bible.
I attempt to sketch her arm in my head....but I am too ******
I am hungry.
The outside air is cool.
This is a carriage for the antisocial
3 rooms of solitude.
Everyone is plugged in
No-one dares to speak.
The Art of Conversation.
An old woman sits in front of me, with the face of Ray Winstone in drag.
Her hair is a dandelion
and her eyebrows are birds
painted in the distance.
Hands wrinkled and knotty
like old fruit.
Trains are predictable
the purest form of modern transport
all the little fishies
in the giant metal can
are silent to one another.
The train conductors voice is boredom.
I mistake ambient noise for music.
Aug 14, 2013
Aug 14, 2013 at 11:13 AM UTC
*You deluge my eyes
In aqueous bombs
Because you love me
In ways that defy existentiality,
That hallow my spirit,
That quake terraqueous Gaia,
Exhale me as a Cosmos
―Of the Cosmo-Plexus of the Wildest Love.
Consecrate me O Niveous Dove,
With thine pearlescent eyes
For love
(Ineffably tender)
Is your Gender.
Pain is my golden raiment,
Dirge and piety
For you
Stir in my soul
By the thew of your
Beauteous, Tempestuous Affections.
Create in me
An intemerate heart;
Impregnable,
For then I will know
That the Silver Wings of Dreams
Are impregnable.
Sep 24, 2017
Sep 24, 2017 at 7:55 AM UTC
I'm fixated on keeping my mouth busy.
Sticks of gum leave their packs like cigarettes.
An addiction.
I peel the skin from my lips
with pearlescent spades
and think about
softer edges
Your mouth
Like snow on Christmas Eve.
You taste like spiced wine
and wear ribbons of black liquorice.
Nuzzled in your neck-
I breathe cool peppermint.
We collide as galaxies.
I become clay
Your delicate hands
slide across my form
as I bend and sway
at the mercy
of your creation.
Apr 17, 2018
Apr 17, 2018 at 7:16 PM UTC
*Mild winds romantically whisper,
Beneath a sprinkled lit onyx sky,
Cuddled in a half-moonlit glow,
Beaming upon a fantasy world, air brushed,
In a white winter wonderland, quite high.
With streets coated in a blanket of snow,
Glistening through the night, in a fine array,
And tree branches engaging in a heavenly show,
In pearlescent tones and poetic notes,
As autumn seeps away, and a new season comes to play.*
Sep 22, 2014
Sep 22, 2014 at 1:54 AM UTC
My life flashes before my eyes;
I now have no passage of time
Its a sign;
I'm swimming against
a mighty current of lost souls
Threatening to drown me in the tide
A downpour to compliment this storm;
Daggers falling from the sky and the stars align
With a rush of the most brilliant white
Resembling something like that of a dream;
the likes of which no mortal eye has seen
One thousand invisible hands
usher me toward the zenith
While the choirs of angels sing
A brief gleam captures my focus,
as the pearlescent gates swing open
And without a word,
my kingdom come beckons me forward
I pace these streets paved with gold
my exhilaration is elevated elevenfold
With Hades snare no longer taking hold
my wings unfurl as I soar into the air
Jun 25, 2013
Jun 25, 2013 at 9:32 PM UTC
We listen to the same murmur of;
the chanting of an honest city skyline,
echoes of a symphony on balcony roofs.
Pearlescent eyes,
yearning for a ripened peck upon
the curving of plum lips
an infectious smile, light reflecting
off the lunar eclipse--
Curve of your back arched into
the half of you, that makes me whole.
Fiery embers,
muted colors,
that spark into pinks and red
in a moment of present energy.
Could the journey be embarked?
To search for the one that loves me,
what realm did you come from,
& how does one begin to find you?
An elixir made from lilac,
can be smelt upon her breath-
dandelion wisps of hair,
tucked behind her ear—
so honest, so fair.
Precious lotus petal,
that lives,
intoxicate me with your lips--
belonging to rose water,
I've heard your stories of selflessness,
with so much to give you-
& admire the heroic ways you've written yourself
out of every fable,
to become the moral.
Adoration has grasped the ability to carve these bones,
into a monument;
I've a ribcage with room for the both of us,
lay upon my chest,
sleep safely,
dream blissfully,
& love unapologetically
Jul 28, 2017
Jul 28, 2017 at 7:49 PM UTC
.
Raising his hand
moving from the desk
as spitballs fly
and notes are passed
*Chasing his tale
in make believe endings
with a princess in pink
draped on his arm*
snickers and snorts bellow
his train of thought
traveling off track temporarily,
temporarily
*Dancing at midnight
drifting the seasons
on a feather boa mattress
pearlescent skin and fingers*
silence gathers around
heavy breaths float
eyes squint, trying to focus
not his, theirs
*Drawbridge openings explored
present tense heartbeats
sundown desires drip
saturating the scabbard*
Homework is sidelined
jealous boys, intrigued girls
as curiosity peaks and biology
is not just a subject anymore
*at the front of the classroom
writing in black chalk
so the rest of the class
cannot see*
but he can
oh he can
Aug 22, 2016
Aug 22, 2016 at 11:28 AM UTC
My veins have cracked like fine china
on a cold stone floor
now, I write this, to whom I adore
I swim in a cesspool of love, alone
and these lovely, lovely waters do chill my milky bones
my bones all ripped are gently sewn
by the one I adore
There is a resting place, in the forest of dreams
whereby dreams are only choked by the rivers reeds
and after sewing bones, he is sewing seeds
the hands of he whom I adore
There is a pearlescent white sky, yet I lay on the floor
stabbed by the pins of the one I adore
my body will rot into the flowers that once grew
and they will bloom, and say
''I love no one
no one like you.''
Feb 16, 2014
Feb 16, 2014 at 9:31 PM UTC
I swam in your seas
Dived depths to plunder treasures
From the dark ocean floor
Felt the tumult of your soul crash over me
Floated with you on calm blue waters warmed by the sun
Lapping waves rhythmically revealing belly, breast, pearlescent scales, hair red as flame.
Your lips formed a half-smile
As you sang your siren song
And I surrendered myself to an eternity of pleasures
Now I am cast adrift, rudderless
No horizon in sight
Endlessly searching for a glimpse of you.
Jul 22, 2014
Jul 22, 2014 at 5:35 AM UTC
She wore South wind day dresses
Smiles wreathed in sunshine
Her scent that of wild poppies
For one inhale and you'll want her in bed
Not for sleeping of course
Clouds pass her by in winking layers
Catching glimpses of pearlescent flesh
As twilight falls
Rolling hips center stage
With silver glow of moonlight
Kissing every luscious curve
Apr 24, 2014
Apr 24, 2014 at 12:45 PM UTC