Vero Jouline Apr 2016
Shadows sort snapshots on sand
Silver. Shimmering wings of seagulls
Glide over escaping wonderland.
Surprised by their own splendid beauty,
One by one pelicans fly on dutifully.

Dark, thin fingers practice air arpeggio.
Pressing invisible keys palm leaves
Suddenly extract notes from a piano.
Generously, the sky leaks abundant sun,
Accumulating light in form of puddles.

Can iguanas hear the music too?
The heat freezes them like rocks, grey
And scaly, they look at me, as if saying -
Go away, go away, go away! In two days,
Someone new will be here instead.

You don't belong to the dazzling feast!
(I sense it quite vividly, utterly clear.)
This dance is not yours to learn. Return
To where you came from, and leave
Behind all you saw, all you felt, all you heard.
Silent Thoughts Oct 2014
This kind of love
Heartbeat is racing
My chest is aching
I would be happy
Not ask for a thing
If something this deep
Was returned to me
Mikaila Apr 2014
Tonight, the wind sings, "Welcome home."
In a soft, sighing language that the dusk wrote upon the sky in starlight for you,
And you alone.
This place missed you. It was mournful all winter long.
See, they return; ah, see the tentative
Movements, and the slow feet,
The trouble in the pace and the uncertain

See, they return, one, and by one,
With fear, as half-awakened;
As if the snow should hesitate
And murmur in the wind,
      and half turn back;
These were the “Wing’d-with-Awe,”

Gods of the wingèd shoe!
With them the silver hounds,
      sniffing the trace of air!

Haie! Haie!
  These were the swift to harry;
These the keen-scented;
These were the souls of blood.

Slow on the leash,
      pallid the leash-men!
murielle lemaire May 2014
we meet at starbucks and i can almost pretend nothing changed until i feel the distance in your voice.
i am calm and quiet. i did not expect this
yet here i am sitting in front of you as you explain how you feel (a rarity).
and you and i are alike in more ways than i realized before.

flying through the young night air
i feel alive and free and happy again.
i meet theresa j hanson. dancer, 19, long thin hair and long thin body.
she says she's heard a lot about me and i am surprised and i like her very much (or my first impression anyways) even though you told me that one time that you had sex with her and other girls would probably instinctively hate her. but i can't. she's just so nice and anyways that sex had nothing to do with me.
she gives us cantalope and me ice water.

cigar smoke.
we go out on the little apartament porch and you smoke the cheap cigar, the kind your grandfather smokes. get a red solo cup for the ashes and i found an old dirty butter knife out here. and we sit. and unexpectedly you say can we start over. and im shocked(you've suprisde me so much tonight) but so grateful and of course we can. you blow smoke rings and when you say whooo are youuu i cannot help but think of alice in wonderland and you are the smoking catepillar who asks life's hard questions and am i alice or the queen or the mad hatter or lewis carroll

coming back.
we reinact a a scene as if we just met and i kiss you as if it's the first time and that is how you will remember me and my lips are cold and your mouth is full of smoke and the kiss is fire and ice it's a wonder we did not steam. something so you'll remember me{i will never forget} and i guess we'll figure out on the way.
Infamous one Mar 2013
You lived her but not ready to be a step father
She moved out of state haven't heard from her till now
you want to tell her how you feel she was married now she's divorced
You don't judge her but she left you feeling abandoned
She called you after years of being ignored
You respected her till she got with the guy you despise the most
You could love her but couldn't get over she's a single mother who stripped for a living
Many factors that canceling  out not meant to be
Not sure how to act or respond but life does go on
WistfulHope Oct 2014
Meet me
At the place
We laid in
The long grass and
Could see Boston
On the distant horizon.

Would you travel
From lake Michigan,
For one last dive in
The Atlantic with me again?

Meet me
At the place
You teased me saying
You hated the hill and walking.

Meet me
At the place
I teased you showing
More skin than I intended.

Meet me
At the place
Where the lights aren't so harsh,
And I gave you all my stars,
Letting you trace constellations
One by one,
Until you could map me -
Navigate me.

Would you come
Meet me there
Once more,
So I could try to
Give you all the things
I could not before?
I have to stop this.
Lucas Keith Aug 2012
Flat and Lifeless
These plains so similar
To the untouched canvas.
On and on, stretched and cracked
Dry, and holding its breath.
Lungs full of a Weary,
Nervous, delusional anticipation,
Desire for a strange beauty
Only bestowed by God.
Who of all people can give beauty,
Save the painter himself?
Slowly, like an Hourglass' sand,
Pouring over an eternity,
The first strokes of color
Grace the horribly eager canvas.
Gentle tingling fills my barren soul
As the brush caresses
The lonely desolate landscape.
With the Care and Focus of a Master
A base layer of basic
Emotion, knowledge, and humanity
Begins the agonizing process
Of becoming Human again,
Of learning to love again.
With the precision of a Surgeon
She cuts the layers of skin
Quickly and full of purpose.
Fingers stroking ribs she pulls
Firmly yet gently revealing
The ivory gleam beneath.
Caressing the bone with her saw,
Painstakingly careful to not harm
Lung and other tissue,
Her eyes burn hot as the rhythmic
Beating of my heart becomes audible.
Slowly shades of green are added
To enhance the gradually growing
Soul being created by the painter.
The virulent viridians soon become shades,
Then shapes resembling greater life forms
Born to represent the many facets
Of a resurrected life.
From the base greens,
New colors are added,
And the scene becomes a field
Of Roses of every color
Singing sweetly beneath
A two o'clock sun
And a scattering of striated clouds.
Her hands close gently
Around my still beating heart.
Deep in my chest, pulsing,
Hands surrounding and holding,
She feeds her essence, her love,
Through her fingers
And the black and white line between
Physical And spiritual fades, disappears
Leaving her fused to my soul,
Keeping her closer than my skin.
Brazen brown eyes open slowly,
I look on her for the first time.
The Pale Moon on a clear night,
Hovering over a crystal lake
In no way compares to her beauty.
The intense immensity of the Universe
Compares not with my Love,
Unconditional in its core,
Quintessential in its structure and design.
Blood-stained white walls
Paint the scene behind her
And this strange iron-scented room lurches.
Black specks begin to invade the walls,
And reach across the distance between
Stretching out to consume
The so recently insipid walls.
Strangely the crimson stays.
The two colors refuse to mix,
Operation room no longer sterile
Starts to spin and swirl,
Black and crimson warring
in a circular, Draining sink motion.
Her image fades back into the color battle,
Leaving me alone on my bed,
Still bleeding through my stitches.
Frantically searching this acid induced nightmare,
I leapt off my bed,
Into a green field full of roses,
Under a two o'clock sun,
And a water color scent.
Naked and bewildered I stand
Surrounded by roses of every shade.
The air is richly permeated,
Overflowing with the smell
Of this lover's flower.
The quintet of senses nearly overload,
The beauty of this haven overwhelming.
Each blossom rendered so realistically,
As if the greatest Painter in the world
Reached out and crafted each
And every single one
With the utmost care and love.
My Nose drowning in the reverie
Is awoken by a new scent.
The aroma of a rose,
Yet deeper and with hints of love,
Like the flavor of mint
Added to the finest chocolate.
Quickly succumbing to curiosity
And the strangely familiar
Lacing this feral fragrance,
I venture off following my nose.
Many of these flowers
Are very beautiful
And offer distraction and respite,
But these lesser scents
Cannot hold sway over me.
Closer and closer,
Stronger and stronger,
This one perfume consumes,
And this body soon hurries,
Quicker, quicker, tearing through the field.
Crimson begins to trickle down my legs,
As each rose latches on and
Tries to forestall
The finding of this strange aroma's source.
Pain and fury lance up and through
As the thorns bite deeper into flesh.
Finally stumbling and blindly falling,
The comfortable green grass
Meets my body in a violent fashion.
Spitting out the pieces of pasture,
My eyes wander upward
And land upon the strangest rose.
The blossom of this flower
Is a mess and spiral of black and crimson,
And the possessor of the haunting scent.
Reaching out to caress this most unique of beings,
My hand wanders down the stem
Only to be stabbed and held
By thorns barbed and twisted.
Screaming in horrified pain,
And hastily pulling back,
This rose attached to my hand
Is completely torn from the earth.
As soon as the roots leave the dirt
My heart convulses as if being
Squeezed tightly by two hands.
Clenched and carnal does this hold become.
Insurmountable pain rages through this body,
And it collapses to the ground.
Slower and more infrequent become the breaths
As my eyelids flutter trying to stay open
Trying to stay closed.
Life and Love leave me dying
Shattered and hopeless are my visions
and frozen is the only sensation I feel.
The breeze blows softly across the viridian field
And all that's living responds to its touch.
The grass and roses sway gently
As the stench of death
Mingled with the aroma of Love
Are mixed and entwined
And blown away.
Setting down his Easel
The painter laughs and walks away.
Sterilizing and putting away her tools
The surgeon silently cries a few unsalted tears.
Covered in dried blood
The fool remains forgotten and eternally comatose.
Flat and Lifeless
These plains so similar
To the untouched canvas.
On and on, stretched and cracked
Dry, and holding its breath.
Lungs full of a Weary,
Nervous, delusional anticipation,
Desire for a strange beauty
Only bestowed by God.
Who of all people can give beauty,
Save the painter himself?
Zoey Trope Oct 2017
let me touch your mouth again
let me crawl into your eyes again
let me have my way with you again

let me be smittened by your words again
let my heart race with anticipation again
let me be amazed by you again

let me enjoy our silent pauses again
let me linger on your parting words again
let me dread the stroke of dawn again

let me have just a second more of you begging me to stay
let me leave you with something to remember me
let me have a reason to keep coming back again
Javaria Waseem Oct 2014
Oh Madam Honk,

It's autumn again
And how I desperately wait.
It's been months, please return
As you did the last autumn
The leaves are falling down
Like my hopes, with passing days.
You were the spring I cherished
Oh! It's autumn again.
Miko Dec 2012
This cobblestone led me to
as I skated back a righteous fro
swooning over tin men
with rugged qualities
and wholesome care,
lending me arms
and legs as spares,
to appease to this nomad
trundling for yarn spun lips.
So fine so fine
this great divine
tie back your hair
and cross your arms
this wanderer is aware
with a hoodlum snare
and fully aghast
to these pretentious fiends
Return often and take me,
beloved sensation, return and take me --
when the memory of the body awakens,
and an old desire runs again through the blood;
when the lips and the skin remember,
and the hands feel as if they touch again.

Return often and take me at night,
when the lips and the skin remember....
Jay Mance Jul 2013
Locked out of Heaven
Cast out
By my own free will
Because I wanted to know
What earth was about.
Blue eyed beauty..
The brown eyed sub...
Meant nothing to me...
Couldnt cover up my love
Never thought I'd be here
Big hole but my heart beats still..
I was introduced to the fear
The weapon of evil
Sickness of the mind
Now I struggle to close my eyes...
Short nights..
Filled with lies..
I tell myself that I had time..
I'm done making this poem rhyme..
I'd wait an eternity..
For her to return to me..
The truth I can finally say it..
This is now her game...
But I can't even play it..
No reset..
No re-do..
I left to make changes...
to get better for you...
I guess the moral of this story
I will never learn...
Because we both moved on...
Past the point of no return..
Next page