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Moments Before Mar 2016
Wispers touch my neck
and tell me to be selfish
Isaac Jul 2018
I made a new friend,
Though old she may be.

Spotting her at the end,
I invited her for tea.

Sitting with me for a moment.
My worries became obsolete.

Her sting so potent.
It made everything sweet.
Written 21 July 2018

I have learned that your own death can become a valuable friend.

John Eldredge says it beautifully:

The most dangerous man on earth is the man who has reckoned with his own death. All men die; few men ever really live.
Poetic T Jan 19
She was a daisy dipped in cyanide.

     Her petals when they descended
    like tears corroding
           what ever they fell upon.

Kissing her was like razor wire
on
          my senses,
and everyone
                        lacerated deep.
Scaring me every time we touched,
But what is a touch  
                          without painful lust.
Dead Rose One Jun 2015
Lush is the quietude
of the late Saturday afternoon,
rich are the silencing sounds,
as variegated as the shades of greens
of a man-seeded, nature-patchworked lawn

rays reveal some bright,
some yellowed spots,
all a potent color palette

resting worry wearied eyes,
untroubled by the gentle fading light's illumination,
that soon will disappear and seal officially,
another week gone by

the lawn,
acting as an ceiling acoustic tile,
absorbing and reflecting
the varied din of disharmonious
natural sounds orchestrated,
an ever present reminder
     that true quiet
is not the absence of noise

I hear
the chill in the air,
insects debating vociferously
their Saturday evening plans,
the waves broom-swishing beach debris,
pretending to be young parents
putting away the children's toys for the eve

the birds speak in Babel multitudes of tongues,
chirps, whistles, clicks and clacks,
then going strangely silent as if all were
praying collectively the afternoon sabbath service,
with an intensity of the silent devotion

this moment, i cannot
well enough communicate,
this trump of light absolutes,
and animal maybes,
that are visually and aurally
presented  in a living surround sound screen,
Dolby, of course,
all a plot of
ease and gentility,
in toto,
sweet serenity

here to cease,
no more tinkering,
leave well enough,
plenty well enough
for Sally and Rebecca, who love the lushness best....

JUNE 2015
From Potent Treasures despite Five Months past
The Sixth Great Angel suddenly appeared
Reminding my Lost Voice which Virtues last
And preached the Sermon of True Self revealed
How Wonderful must your Header advise
Being the Younger of your Sister's sprite
From there Unknotted Loyalty devise
Though snubbed by Pink Dandelions in spite
Now I can see why he chose over you
His Charming Sense knew your Heart was that Pure
And please keep on; Keep that Silver Disc blue
Coat them with your Wings from being demure.
Yes I Agree. Of your True Coating's stand
Thank you so much for reminding me at hand.
#daleysangels #katierobsonx
ryn Feb 2015
)
       o    (              (             (                  
O   )     (                      )        
            )                (      o
    (              (      (                       O  
   )     o              )   O       )        o
(    O              (     o      (         ) 
)    o                              )    (
**make me a cauldron of a witch's
brew•let it bubble and boil...;
simmer and stew• allow the con-
coction to churn•feed it with raw an-
guish and spiteful spurn•whisper my wi-
shes into shady ingredients•scatter them in
to render it potent•stir it wild...with an iron
ladle with a wooden haft•raucous incanta-
tions of a long forgotten craft•...now give
me a vial of the witch's brew•let it
**** me or grant me the gifts
promised in lieu•
Michael Briefs Jul 2017
From white canvass,
a blank ledger of potent
expectation,
awaiting form and function:
the seminal swirl of
her brush signals,
simple hue,
subtle structure.
From flesh stroke
sanguine blush of
satin seams
and outstretched limbs,
the artist invokes
shade and light.
Spring greens, rampant peaks,
reaching aloft into
gossamer mists; calm swells,
verdant bosoms,
inviting fields of
luxuriant temptation.
From an eternal cool,
the (all too) temporary warmth
of her embrace
lies just beyond:
enticing, luring, coaxing
into heady desire.
From whence,
the dream
unfolds...
See a photo that inspired this poem: https://www.facebook.com/photo.php?fbid=10209365905400609&set=a.10208174166607884.1073741828.1113041505&type=3&theater
Debbie Lydon Mar 8
Silhouette stranger's scattered lights,
In hand-me-down houses and council flat nights,
In not being known, a private delight,
But as a bird in it's cage, it's sad, out of sight.

The smell of disdain in the pouring rain,
Becoming ever more potent as it falls again,
The bitter-sweet pain of elusive strife,
I'm swiftly sketching a stagnant life.

Tomorrow's demands stretch out their hands,
Trenching my feet in these old sands,
Night's ink comes back to blot the Sun's ray,
Oh, you cruel architect of my new day.

Attire of lowly and shy grey,
No longer will I clothe my body in your cliché,
Passion is still burning in my paralysed soul,
I need not your stability to make me whole.
ryn Nov 2014
If only we were figures...
Accentuated in the night sky.
Starlit effigies bound by cosmic tethers...
Secrets of the universe many would attempt to pry.

If only we were figures...
Painted on pored upon canvas.
Fantastic renditions by masterful painters,
Abstract oil swirls dancing to a whimsical opus.

If only we were figures...
Given life in the lyrics in a song.
An example of harmony in verse,
Bridge and chorus...where we belong.

But we are only figures...*
Trampled on by indifferent feet that came to mock.
We can't undo such a potent curse...
We are but grounded figures outlined in chalk.
DivineDao Jun 2016
Would you consider a pebble
To have a soul?
A mineral formation to remember?
Your hot palms against its sunlit structure...

Her blazing summertime pearls
Smiling, caressed by the wind,
Desigual dress fluttering ...
As a rose bush of papillons playing
With her slender, wanton figure,
Cocoa, brown and beautiful.

Pressed by your torso,
Exposed, tan oiled, burning with
Desire in salted air ~ black long linen pants,
Flickering around your ankles.

Driven by the wind, excited
Your mind
Your body
To body
Manly, potent and bold. Leaning over,
Scenting femininity ...
Body to body
Two tongues
Merging
Dancing ~ Waving
Mutual  as the warm sea waves were  curling
Around the shore rocks, flushing over the tiniest cracks;
Fulfilling, refreshing hidden sea creatures.
***** running for a shelter, silvery fish
Pulsating as one organism;
Making clusters, departing,
Reuniting, re-parting

Swimming, swimming
Glistening

Breathing, breathing in,
Breathtaking
Impatient sandals bumping. . .
At least with Solemn Differences sing
Honouring Friends of Great Cheer celebrate
Your arm on her lap; The other on him
And with a Flash these Blue Knights consecrate
Jolly, so Potent turn Tan into Red
That pleasant alarm Blue Oracles see
And guess which Debate your Incarnate fed
Whether you are or whether not to be
Ready for Cause to the Next Big Event
Telling yourself to Inspiration run
Foresaw this Scope: Friendship and Teamwork's meant
But all of this time it was just for Fun.
Seriousness Adore, Someone licks the Tip
In your Patron; Which was really your lip.
#tomdaleytv #tomdaley1994
ryn Sep 2014
Me
I am the entourage
Of a fantastic mirage

I am the agent
Of my mind's figment

I am a believer
Of mythical creatures

I am a builder
Of splendid architecture

I am a drunkard
Tripping on futures so absurd

I plan construction
Of my own destruction

I am the feeder
To dreams of grandeur

I am a magician
Of wild, potent concoctions

I am a tycoon
Of emotional typhoons

I am an adept
Skilled in exploiting concepts

I am a parasite
Brandishing fangs that bite

I play host
To a monstrous, hideous ghost

I am an addict
Of thoughts derelict

I am the dreamer
Incapable of anything lesser

I am a diver
Sinking deeper and deeper

I am an insatiable thief
Claiming trophies without grief

I am an emotional hermit
Hoarding my all in a bottomless pit

I am a weaver
Fabricating tales that meander

I am a Neanderthal
Adopting behaviours and habits that appall

I am an ape
Mending wounds that gape

I am but me
I'm blind, fighting to see

I am rhymesmith
I lie through my teeth
Getting hard to breathe
Heart to words, I seethe...
I was sad...

You had to pretend to be a man
Cause people are judgy and that's
a shame
Living in some strange body
Cause you had the software
But the hardware made you feel like a glitch
But I know you as a sassy MF biiissh
Yas queen metaphysical masterpiece
Two people in one head
Metaphorical last but not least
Curtain time
One body that is metamorphic
Jazz and sexuality as potent as your rings many rings
Ebonics and conceptualization
Femine energy castrating the masculine
Sincerest and topical spiritual beast
They/ them  she/her
Today We are whatever we feel
curtsey salute fist bumpin friend hugs
Live your full self and hide ******* nothing
I want to encourage you
To be your own everything!!
Erin Suurkoivu Oct 2016
1

Another space arrives. The newborn cries.
And the destiny determined:
Oven or matchstick.

Descendant of both; inheritor of another:
A machine that dreams itself into being,
Dragging its sleeping subjects after it.

Sustenance of nightmares, the food of what
God is, blood the earth pumps forth.
The plastic legacy is siphoned off,

Its artifacts cheap jewellery:
Enamel glinting white and turquoise.
Flimsy chains that never last,

And yet last forever, the paint flaking off.
So too does the rust on this delicate orchid.
It is an oracle of poisons.


2

The city burns in its incandescence.
The indelible halo
Of a lime-green candelabra

Makes light of midnight. Our slumber is
Punctured by gunshots and the drone of the
Ambulance.

Not a foot but a juggernaut,
Pandora’s box,
Sowing the seeds of your distress.

Fallout marks the potent epoch.
The neon octopus spews it back,
Invisible print on the murderous air.

Where water drinks
No diving bell can bear
The pressure of such fuchsia.
The first poem in my second collection of poetry, "Blood for Honey", available at Lulu.com and Amazon.
K Balachandran Nov 2015
Don't ever ask me what am I, an ancient story
of a battle lost to remain in the realm of the sublime,
unmitigated grief that visits, again and again,
reminding the journey of pain though galaxies,
far of yore to the days of present.

In a moments of desperation I discover  the bard,it could
be rather told thus, he meets me at last, as was his wont
Bard, celestial lover, before my eyes you appear thus:
I see you holding in your hands a magic lyre, so rare.
that goes on strumming non- stop, to bring birds, the tunes,
that lives in far parts of the universe,even unknown  to most,
they do vary,have colored feathers;memories living in
different layers of my consciousness,always buzzing like a beehive.

I am the single, magic , potent, word, a mantra
that in it's kernel carries the , seeds of eternal, "I am that"

I hear the speakings of the words,that brings to life
experiences of different kinds,on their beaks some one
carries ripe fruits, the result of long days of sweat and tears.
Each fruit has a flavor distinct,each word carries a seed
that will grow to be a mighty tree,many birds would roost.

Bard you are a wonder,tying past and future with one string
of a lyre converging in the heart beat of the ebullient present,
you easily transcend the three, and every other dimension
of time that mingles in your heady brew,unrivaled it stands.
In this journey through unknown paths, what really is the possession
of lonely human being?
(C)  K.Balachandran ([email protected])
Marla Sep 2018
Eyes having opened,
They were met by an infinite blue.
Deeply rich and sapphire-esque in tone,
The sea rushed into the mouth that was held agape
By both marvel and fear.
At first instinct was the will to resist,
But then came the strange comfort of allowing the passionate Blood that once boiled
Chill itself to a painfully distant frost.
It was ecstasy and torture coexisting within
A circular harmony of sensation.

This order of solace was short lived.

With a shimmer,
The once reserved and vibrant sea of blue transformed
Into an abyss of clarity.
The briny and familiar taste shifted in nature to something other. Something potent, something repulsive, something sinister.
At once,
The calm oasis turned into a scathing hell.
His inferno incarnate.
A body that at past times swam with jubilance
Now sank to the fiery depths,
Having already lost both the spirit and the ability to fight.
Crisped,
The corpse felt an enormous pain.
But the mind felt none for there was none to speak of.
Michael Briefs Nov 2017
It seemed so much had been lost.  

So much had slipped through
A grasping hand,
A yearning heart,
A desperate mind
As mine.

The dull march of days present
Was shadowed by the
Gloom of regrets and
Shrieked by a shrill wind at lonely,
Bitter hours.  
What was mine? What was ours?
Gone for good and all?

My love, it seemed, was only
Ever a dark dream.
In my swelling and stinging agony,
Love was
As a locked door
And my heart was a bloodied fist
Beating against it.  
A wraith-like specter of doubt clung to me
With oppressive raiment,
Scrapping over exposed skin
Like course, mortifying fabric.  

Then, from out of a pristine past,
A voice  
Called out to me.  
The herald of an angel
Rung clear and glad as winter bells,
Celebrant!  
The dark narcissus of mortality was
Driven off!
The burial cloak was split;
The stone was rolled back!  

A hope newly found
Surrounds and soars above me,
As a deep, azure ribbon of
Stretching, unending sky!

I am imbued with cheering thoughts
Of our days gone by!
Glories recalled in a moment relived;
Revelries and song lifted with voices
And hearts, stout and full!

Together,
With my beautiful Eurydician queen;
Returned, she was,
From an underworld of time.
We coax and stir
The memories of first passions,
Innocent, powerful and pure.
We are now bending
The arc of our history,
Rending the precious pearl of affection
From the murky domain of
A love denied.  
Renewed and viewed through  
Prismic fractures of sadness
And through the sharp focus
Of blue eyes, in rapt recognition,
Surprised!  

Today is reborn,
Lived again and again,
With each pulse of the clock,
Each beat of my heart.  
The blood within
Is purged of that familiar poison.  

All is potent and refreshed:
You, your face, your voice, your touch, your scent,
Your vibration pours to and through me, once again!
Oh, true friend,
Tender lover,
Gently knocking at my door.
You return from distant lands
Remote and misty,
Bringing light and love
To my lonely shore.
I approach from my realm,
Far removed.  
Age and ages have chiseled
The shape of my soul.
In part, it is smoothed;
Refined with wisdom, empathy, and clarity.
Also, though,
It is,
In part,
Broken, jagged, and cracked,
As the forgotten sculptures
Of ancient empires,
Renowned
And doomed.

Yet I realize, all at once,
That I am not forgotten.  
I am not doomed
To shadow.
I breathe,
I seek,
I still have hope and
Words to tell!
And I still have my love for you!
My life is now freed from that
Sad spell.  

This breath,
This stony soul
(Sculpted by the Artist of Pain)
And this trammeled heart
Trembles in desire of
Your beauty,
Your touch and
Your presence --
Your calming presence,
Bringing levity,
Reassurance
And familiar stories of
Hopeful remembrance.  
From love recalled,
Comes your unexpected
Embrace and
Sweet sign of friendship.

That time of distress has come and
Gone and we turn to discover that
Our tender connection remains,
True and undefeated!
It rises with the earliest song
Of still sleepy birds,
Lilting on the cool air of the morn.  

This uplifting emotion
Again flows within me,
As an angel granting absolution,
Touching me in a place
As deep as first love.  

Welcome!
your eyes are
more potent
than any pill
i could swallow.

not of this earth
extraterrestrial
the nearest i can reach
to the image of god:
a deep muddy earth
familiar
uncontrolled
i think they're sweet
like chocolate

but they punish me
without thought,
peeling off
each layer of
my endurance until
there won't be
anyone left:
nothing left of
who i was

so here we are

i remain latched
to the thought of you.

and you
you're as blind as ever.
boys am i right? especially boys who don't know who they are.
DivineDao Apr 2016
Slid  slide . . .

Humid.       Hommo.    Lie.      
Lay
Ad Homminem.

Morpheus
Erecti

Potent as a flower
In my hand

Are your hello smiles

An autochtonous wild
Self borne man
Electric feels
Lingering

As all aboding
Spanish essence

Elders
Adults  
Children

Through the air
Around

Sharing
Atmosphere
Some wisdom thoughts

Through those silent lucidities
Knowing
The

Unknown
The you who's caught as I
Am by the
Surprise

Stepping out of, staring at the deep
Dark  event  horizon

Where we meet again
At the day dormant
Vacancy of things
ning
In all iclusive
Blythe mimicries and diversities

Me me cries consciously
Denied

To see Thee as
Next to you

Only-You

Artistic
Friend?

Mini

N   a  ~   n   o

T  h  e  a  t  r  e
Particular  it  is    

This
Bite
Bitten
Li­ps sealed
Ludistic lush
Lavandum
Evers

Fleet
Flattering
Final rounds

Addressing us- n'our
Amazing

Cosmonaut no-order
At its utmost  
Benevolent
Diapason


Eventually harboured home
Sweet
Home

Projections are rising
and scrolling
By the

Middle F

Tame      
the
Times
Thames

You don't have to say  


Anything!
Mohamed Nasir Aug 2018
O, mosquito for taste of blood you seek,
For miles and miles you fly, within radius,
To earn a warm and idle skin to *****;
By day in cravice dark by night with us.
O, mosquito you small but deadly thief;
On wings of silence came you trespasser,
A drop of blood you've stolen whilst to leave
Me unawares that I'm being the loser.
Alas, you left behind a virus strange,
Of potent evil concoction which spread,
And corrupted my veins by this exchange:
My good liquid for diseases I dread.
Like being bitten by a winged vampire,
My body shaking my soul is on fire!
Mosquitoes can carry a host of deadly diseases.
In 2002, I had contracted dengue fever from an aedies mosquito that landed me in hospital for two weeks. I was ravaged with fever. My blood palates was going lower and lower. My body ached and weakened and my thoughts was I'm going to die. Malaria is another disease, mostly in the tropics, transmitted by mosquitoes.
Tommy Randell May 2017
It's all bells and whistles these days
Near rhymes and Doc files
Synonyms for that perfect flow.
It's hard sometimes to cast a line
That gets spoken, that hooks an ear
And becomes a Poem.

Harder still to make it to the page
In these electronic times
To get that kudos paper bestows
That magic pass from print to eye
As words become potent and more clear
And the mysterious becomes the known.

Tommy Randell 11th May 2017
I carry in my mind, What is more potent than violence
A grin, Yellow, Tender and kind
A fraction of what cannot be divided

A soothing poison, Enlaced in this controlled chaos
Which brought endless tears to the soul
Shut down, what is left is a burden
As nature, magnificent yet unchanged
Desire goes on and takes it’s toll

Temptation of the fiery twins, Moon and Sun
A grin, Silver, A reverence to the past
What is lost, will never be shared
Though Attraction goes on and takes it’s toll

What is now seemingly impossible
As already been felt, and it’s pleasures lost
What is now unbelievable,
As yet been surrendered to the darkness of the night
A grin, Purple, Innocence brought death in the eyes of the knight


Altered Perception
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