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Anonymous Dec 2014
You used to tell me how you didn't like the way I lacked a sense of intimacy,
How I wouldn't hold you the way you wanted to be held,
The way she held you,
I wouldn't kiss you much in public,
So you didn't give me a chance to get away,
You would hold me tighter and my escape was found within the lock of our mouths,
I liked it,
But I always wondered what normal really is,
Were you like this with her or was she normal,
Do you crave the touch of women who lack the intimacy you desire, or do you simply like playing our little game,

As of late I've tried to touch you more, say words which feel like rosebuds,
So sweet and elegantly delicate,
And the more I show this foreign concept if an intimate relationship,
The more I fall in love,
The more I fall into your trap of smiles and fingers running through my hair,
The more I crave your kisses, your touch,
What happened to me?
Because darling,
I'm afraid.
I'm trying really hard to feel comfortable to show how deeply I care for him in public. I think it's making him happy but my anxiety is going through the roof
Tara Marie Jan 2017
7 little mason jars
in a sequenced line
filled with 7 spices
displayed much like a shrine

I thought I'd have a use for them
to steep myself some tea,
yet they have remained stagnant
on this wall, they stare at me

one contains dried rosebuds
pink and red and pale
confined within a little jar
their fragrance growing stale

another holds some cardamom
and one is filled with cloves
slowly drying on this shelf,
labeled and enclosed

someone picked these rosebuds,
and dried all of these leaves
so they could sit within a jar
with nothing to achieve

tonight these 7 mason jars
all look at me, so somber
their families enjoyed a breeze,
had sun-soaked days to squander

they've not reached expiration
yet soon, they'll be disposed
no longer trapped in bottles
in death, they'll be exposed.
Sometimes simple gazes at simple things make me think about abstract things.
Kelly McCarthy Jan 2014
Listen to my thoughts and remember my words.
Like honey stuck on rosebuds, I'll always kiss the starry night goodbye.
A death so silent yet violence covers the Swan's song.
Close you eyes, lower your lashes, the dark of the night has come to stay.
Inspired by music created by The Tiny.
Marian May 2013
Like a gazelle she ballets with gracefulness
Like a ballerina
Dancing to Dance of the Little Swans
With beauty and grace
Oh let me see thy fair face,
Sweet sister of mine
Let me watch you ballet gracefully
Through woods, fields, and meadows
She sleeps soundly in a bed of ferns
Oh sweet sister of mine
With the most prettiest satin wings you ever saw
And a pretty pink flowing gown
And soft pale pink ballet slippers
With the most pristine pink ribbons
Tied around her delicate ankles
She ballets, Oh sister of mine
With a crown of baby rosebuds on her
Head
And rosettes on her gown
She dances with delight, Oh, fair sister of mine
She dances even more beautifully
And gracefully
Than the yellow sunflowers
Of gold that waltz in fields and meadows
Dance for me, Oh fair sister of mine
Dance to me on hills of sublime green
Dance, Oh, beautiful sister of mine
Ballet for me gracefully like the
Lotus ballets upon the sapphire lake
Ballet Oh, sweetest sister of mine
Waltz for me in a field of dancing flowers
Waltz for me, Oh, dear sister of mine
I love you, oh, graceful sister of mine

*~Marian~
Written for my sweet sis, Adreiska Moonlight!!! Ballet to Beethoven's Moonlight Sonata played by piano in the Moonlight which dances through my room. But you, dearest sis, can ballet much more finer than Moonlight!!! Because you are those rays!!!! :) ~<3
Spring memes
Cuddle under iced sheets
Seduced by frigid lies
And a burberry scarf;
As snow ploughs rule the runway

Glazed rosebuds,
Thimbled thorns,
Strawberries wrapped in cashmere;
And a carrot-nosed character dressed in white,
Play the fiddle

Naked limbs creep
Into the sky,
Seeking green accessories
For fashion week in June
Amidst global miles of warmth

Grandfather's  clock
Ticks wisely ahead,
Hands free of politic;

And the memes of Spring delayed
Propagate through verse
And cliched controversies...

Eclipsed by tweets from the Black Sea.

~ P
(#TheMemesOfSpringDelayed)
(3/7/2014)
William Crowe II May 2014
Pale heave of heavy *****
with each blossom of panting
breath--blue
roads of veins line the
tops of tender *******--
the hair on the head
a straw-colored pigeon's
nest unbrushed and dull--
the eyes are sunken and darkened
like Cleopatra and Isis
beneath light and gentle brow--
the lips soft and pink
like the skin of a babe and
the light of the Crucifixion--
rosebuds, rosebuds, darling rosebuds!
Reach out into empty silent air
spread out on the velvet sheets
to become scarlet and inflamed.
An old man from behind the pew genuflect's to a strained audience

“Gentlemen, what are the four pillars?”

The boys stand and return:

“Patience, honour, discipline, excellence."

An emergence in civil (dis)obedience, i mean ...

In unity ... this time read it with flourish

"Patience, honour, discipline, excellence."

The old man at the pew smiles inwardly

“Excellent!” says the proto-Mr. Burns

Lets fill some big shoes Mr. Anderson

Now one more time but mean it!

“Travesty, horror, decadence, excrement’

Time, time, time … we’re late for a very important date

Gather ye rosebuds while ye may

Orson Welles or was it HG?

Why does the writer use these words?

Because he’s in a hurry.

No. Ding! Thank you for playing anyway.

And the phone rings…

Mr. Anderson, it’s for you.

It’s god!

Cause we are food for worms, lads.
Written while watching Dead Poets Society
Hilda Feb 2013
~~~~~~English~~~~~
Snowdrops sparkle with pearly dew
and all the world wakes anew
with breezes soft which caress my cheeks
on this balmy afternoon
dappled sunshine crowns the world with gold
and the Thrush's flute like song fills the evening air
crocuses and daffodils nod and sway
and the mountain stream reflects the sunset in the west
the golden sun turns to red and sinks below the sunset's curtain
and takes its heavenly sleep
while the moon hastily wakes and provides
a dim light to the world while the sun sleeps
beneath the sky
the stars twinkle merrily
as the owls hoot some lullaby full of melody
and the whole world is hushed to sleep
'til morning doth appear
with it's sun rays dancing through my window
and greets me with a sunrise which God painted so beautiful
a brand new day has begun
with work as mothers always do each and every live long day
pastel pink clouds drift lazily
and little rosebuds drop their dainty dew
such a lovely day hath dawned
and I wish everyday could be like this
now it is nighttime again
and the moon's rays hit my bedroom floor
and as I lay here I think about how days are so very short
that is why we should make the most of time for it is so precious
like moonlight because it does not last long even though it happens most
every night
it is the same with time. . . it does not last long even though it happens everyday
that is why we should make the most of it

~Hilda~

~~~~~~French~~~~~~
Perce-neige brillent de rosée nacrée
et tout le monde se réveille de nouveau
avec les brises douces qui caressent mes joues
cette après-midi doux
soleil pommelé couronnes au monde d'or
et la flûte de la Grive comme chanson remplit l'air du soir
les crocus et les jonquilles hoche la tête et se balancent
et le ruisseau de montagne reflète le coucher de soleil à l'ouest
le soleil passe au rouge et disparaît sous le rideau du coucher du soleil
et prend son sommeil céleste
tandis que la lune hâtivement se réveille et fournit
une faible lumière au monde alors que le soleil dort
sous le ciel
les étoiles brillent gaiement
comme les hiboux hululent certains berceuse plein de mélodie
et tout le monde est étouffée à dormir
jusqu'à ce matin apparaissent
avec elle sont les rayons de soleil dansant à travers ma fenêtre
et me salue avec un lever de soleil qui Dieu peint si belle
un brand new day a commencé
avec le travail en tant que mères, toujours faire chaque jour vivre longtemps
nuages roses pastels dérivent paresseusement
rosebuds peu déposer leur délicate rosée
Cette belle journée a l'aube
et je souhaite à tous les jours pouvaient être comme ça
C'est maintenant la nuit encore une fois
et les rayons de la lune a frappé mon plancher de la chambre à coucher
et que je pose ici, selon moi, sur combien de jours sont donc très courts
C'est pourquoi nous devrions faire le plus de temps car il est si précieux
comme la lune parce qu'elle ne dure pas longtemps même si il arrive plus
tous les soirs
C'est la même chose avec le temps... il ne dure pas longtemps, même s'il arrive tous les jours
C'est pourquoi nous devrions faire le meilleur de lui

**~Hilda~
Paul M Chafer Nov 2014
Our butterflies, and sweet, rosebuds,
Languishing lazily within a dream,
Once together, but now lost forever,
In fading memory’s drifting stream.

We shared every pleasure, she and I,
Two girls embracing, love so sweet,
Tasting our butterflies and rosebuds,
Consuming our passion’s, *****-heat.

We explored all nature had to offer,
Sun-drenched glades, darkened woods,
Fantasising, and illicitly tantalising,
Our butterflies, and sweet, rosebuds.
Dedicated to Jeanne Midtowns and inspired by her poem ‘Coming Om’ to understand the full flavour of this poem, a visit to Jeanne’s poem is required.
You see that porcelain ranged there in the window--
Platters and soup-plates done with pale pink rosebuds,
And tiny violets, and wreaths of ivy?
See how the pattern clings to the gleaming edges!
They're works of art--minutely seen and felt,
Each petal done devoutly.  Is it failure
To spend your blood like this?

Study them . . . you will see there, in the porcelain,
If you stare hard enough, a sort of swimming
Of lights and shadows, ghosts within a crystal--
My brain unfolding!  There you'll see me sitting
Day after day, close to a certain window,
Looking down, sometimes, to see the people . . .

Sometimes my wife comes there to speak to me . . .
Sometimes the grey cat waves his tail around me . . .
Goldfish swim in a bowl, glisten in sunlight,
Dilate to a gorgeous size, blow delicate bubbles,
Drowse among dark green weeds.  On rainy days,
You'll see a gas-light shedding light behind me--
An eye-shade round my forehead.  There I sit,
Twirling the tiny brushes in my paint-cups,
Painting the pale pink rosebuds, minute violets,
Exquisite wreaths of dark green ivy leaves.
On this leaf, goes a dream I dreamed last night
Of two soft-patterned toads--I thought them stones,
Until they hopped!  And then a great black spider,--
Tarantula, perhaps, a hideous thing,--
It crossed the room in one tremendous leap.
Here,--as I coil the stems between two leaves,--
It is as if, dwindling to atomy size,
I cried the secret between two universes . . .
A friend of mine took hasheesh once, and said
Just as he fell asleep he had a dream,--
Though with his eyes wide open,--
And felt, or saw, or knew himself a part
Of marvelous slowly-wreathing intricate patterns,
Plane upon plane, depth upon coiling depth,
Amazing leaves, folding one on another,
Voluted grasses, twists and curves and spirals--
All of it darkly moving . . . as for me,
I need no hasheesh for it--it's too easy!
Soon as I shut my eyes I set out walking
In a monstrous jungle of monstrous pale pink roseleaves,
Violets purple as death, dripping with water,
And ivy-leaves as big as clouds above me.

Here, in a simple pattern of separate violets--
With scalloped edges gilded--here you have me
Thinking of something else.  My wife, you know,--
There's something lacking--force, or will, or passion,
I don't know what it is--and so, sometimes,
When I am tired, or haven't slept three nights,
Or it is cloudy, with low threat of rain,
I get uneasy--just like poplar trees
Ruffling their leaves--and I begin to think
Of poor Pauline, so many years ago,
And that delicious night.  Where is she now?
I meant to write--but she has moved, by this time,
And then, besides, she might find out I'm married.
Well, there is more--I'm getting old and timid--
The years have gnawed my will.  I've lost my nerve!
I never strike out boldly as I used to--
But sit here, painting violets, and remember
That thrilling night.  Photographers, she said,
Asked her to pose for them; her eyes and forehead,--
Dark brown eyes, and a smooth and pallid forehead,--
Were thought so beautiful.--And so they were.
Pauline . . .  These violets are like words remembered . . .
Darling! she whispered . . . Darling! . . . Darling! . . . Darling!
Well, I suppose such days can come but once.
Lord, how happy we were! . . .

Here, if you only knew it, is a story--
Here, in these leaves.  I stopped my work to tell it,
And then, when I had finished, went on thinking:
A man I saw on a train . . .  I was still a boy . . .
Who killed himself by diving against a wall.
Here is a recollection of my wife,
When she was still my sweetheart, years ago.
It's funny how things change,--just change, by growing,
Without an effort . . .  And here are trivial things,--
A chill, an errand forgotten, a cut while shaving;
A friend of mine who tells me he is married . . .
Or is that last so trivial?  Well, no matter!

This is the sort of thing you'll see of me,
If you look hard enough.  This, in its way,
Is a kind of fame.  My life arranged before you
In scrolls of leaves, rosebuds, violets, ivy,
Clustered or wreathed on plate and cup and platter . . .
Sometimes, I say, I'm just like John the Baptist--
You have my head before you . . . on a platter.
refresh mesh May 2015
Your fingers are on my throat
   the world is rocking like a boat
an ocean
is unbearable
because it never seems to end
   and all I can do is float

   Your lips are rosebuds that never stop moving
   and somehow I find my own disgust soothing
my fingertips
are numb
whenever I lose myself to the waves
   but you're deaf so I'm unsure what I'm proving

   Your move was the deadly spawn of knight
   I sacrificed my pawn, paralyzed by fright
we will protect
the king
from sicknesses like you, *******
   Checkmate. I never lose a single fight.
delete this poem
Amanda Jan 2016
That stranger had cheeks stained by berries & a summer's day.
Hihi sunshines!
x
Munzer A Absi Apr 2016
No more shall we come back to life,
No more shall we remain.
When death prevails the sphere one day
No more can we sojourn.

When curfew tolls, the train must leave,
Can travelers save their heed?
To catch the trip, the soul must rush:
No bags we’ll ever need.

In tunnel, we’ll tarry until,
The siren has been blown.
And this will bring our tour to halt
What next might we be shown?

No choice we made to come to life;
We have no choice to stall.
When winter comes, the wind will blow,
Can leaves choose but to fall?

For your depart avail daylight,
Rosebuds environ weeds;
Ahead nightfall fill up your bag
To brim with better deeds.
Travis Green Aug 2018
I listened to the soft sounding consonants
rise above my foster home, swirling against
exuberant trees and iridescent leaves falling
in twisting rhythms on the scratchy gray pavement,
an indication of distant metaphors flickering with
no sound, a slow spiraling square root evaporating
into thin dust, as I gazed at the overlooking sun, how
its shining depiction cried for validation, scorching
light, harsh vowels twirling around galloping clouds
trying to discover perfection.  There was the crumbling
landscape lost in the background, shifting in smaller
silences and flaming depths, filled with complex thoughts
and stumbling languages.  As I sat on the silent steps
watching the various figures fade into each other, streetlights
and skyscrapers, scurrying pedestrians and corner stores,
my stained blue eyes crammed and slammed, drowned
and pounding, dying every second when I realize the essence
of reality, the way it burns bright throughout the night sunken
its own intensifying flames, endless shapes disguised in anger
and pain, like a raging moon vanishing away never to be seen
again, like a vicious galaxy burning everything in its past to
a satisfying defeat.  My heart is cracking and splitting in
expressionless puzzles, a puddle of solo soapsuds, a scraped
brick building resembling shattered walls, scrawny hands hung
in smeared surfaces, stuck in a blob of yellow paint scrubbing
away its flawless scenery, leaking subjects and predicates scattered
in misaligned pages, wet alleyways branching into quivering caves,
while I reminisce on memories of my mother, the way she used to
hold me in her arms, every touch of her thin fingers pressed
against my waist, its magical rhythm traveling around
my beautiful body, rushing down my angled spine.  I could
feel her smooth skin sinking into my ochre-tanned flesh,
how she embodied every glorious kingdom, a crowned queen
draped in extravagance, how the bright hues in her frame
made me feel all the serenity within the world, so magnificent,
igniting every imagination inside my being.  She was my hero,
a glorious gem that gleamed like an array of galaxies surrounding
earth and Saturn, a melanin masterpiece purifying the atmosphere,
a wheeling instrument strumming its enchanting melody across the horizon.  She worked hard all the time, trying to make my dreams come true.  Most nights she would grab a second job to make sure the bills were paid.  She never complained or grew tired.  She was determined that I would be somebody and make a difference in the world.  She was the inspiring teacher sitting on the floor beside the living room chair, demonstrating how to solve an equation, how to disentangle the numbers and simplify it into its equalizing state., the way she would educate my mind and unwind the questions in my brain, the way she showed me the value of an honest living, letting it seep inside my soul until I could breathe in the definition of a true man.  Now I can see how the warm days drift away into restless nights, how the hummingbirds that soar past my sight remind me that she is never coming back, the way the sinking flowers stand in confusion, crying rosebuds, trembling petals, stripped stems roaming in loneliness.
Katelynn Sep 2014
There once was a boy with summer sky colored eyes.
His mouth was made of wild raspberries.
His laugh of falling leaves.
He fell in love with a girl with trees in her eyes.

There was once was a girl with trees in her eyes.
Her mouth was made of rosebuds.
Her laugh of rushing waterfall.
She fell in love with a boy with summer sky colored eyes.

His hands were made of water.
When he touched her,
Her strawberry heart grew.
And grew.
And grew.
And grew.
She bathed in his summer eyes.
She tasted his wild raspberries
And always wanted more.
She danced in his falling leaves.

She lived to see the sunshine sparkle in those summer eyes.
To feel his water hands
Ingulf her in his sea.

But then the summer sky eyes filled with icy snow.
Her strawberry heart gave a sorrowful squeeze.

He told her he had to leave.

But he told her he would be back.
He kissed her rosebud mouth one last time.

And flew away.

The trees died.
The rosebuds stopped blooming.
The waterfall stopped rushing.
The strawberry heart grew still and quiet.

She looked.
And looked.
And looked.
And looked
For those summer sky eyes.

She saw
The deep blue of oceans,
The emptiness of a cloud covered night sky,
And honey filled hives.
Even green colored lemon trees.
But never the color of summer sky.

She thought they were gone forever.

But he was her forever.

He flew back to her.

She saw the summer eyes again,
When she thought she had stopped looking.
Her trees shook with raindrops.
His water hands engulfed her.
She felt the pulsing of his waves.
He said "I told you I would come back to you."

And she floated in his summer sky eyes forever.
xmxrgxncy Feb 2016
Seeing flowers in the convenience store
Leading up to today
Made me so
Happy

But now just thinking of them
Starting from 5 PM
Makes me feel
Hopeless
I didn't receive anything. It's not about presents it's about the thought behind them.....but apparently there aren't any
Marian May 2013
For my Enchanted Woodland Fairy
Who is so very sweet
She always encourages me
With the sweetest of words
She loves me and I her
She has little fluttering wings
And she has a crown of rosebuds
Sitting upon her pretty hair
Today is my Fairy's Birthday
She will eat the most sweetest cake
And drink the most wonderful honeysuckle dew
With her lips of cherry
She kisses the flowers sweet
She weaves the most prettiest gowns
For the other little Fairy folk
Who use those gowns to dance in
Under the Enchanting Moonlight
That dances through my bedroom at Night
She is a sweet Fairy with a pretty
Face
Her has the prettiest ringlets
That I ever did see
She dances through the rain and through the snow
And yes, you've guessed it
Her name is Adreishka Moonlight Luciano

*~Marian~
Happy Birthday, dear Fairy!!! I love you!!!! I hope you enjoy this!!! :) ~<3
sweatshop jam Jan 2014
you came to me in the first dewdrops of spring
with the scent of newleaf lingering on your lips
and the taste of fresh rosebuds and honeysuckle
a mere whisper on my tongue
your kiss the heat of summer sunlight blistering against my skin
and ripping my throat open in a blaze of inferno
heaven knows how you quell the flames
with the same brush of lips against mine
you dance forever in my mind’s eye on dappled autumn leaves
with the swirl of the breeze tousling in your hair
a symphony of red yellow brown and glittering eyes
footsteps going crunch crunch crunch over the carpet of my heart
your goodbye is the wind that whips through my eternal winter
as the snow settles in the silent solstice
i crave crave crave crave the fervent heat once more just once more
REPEAT.
cyclic cyclic cyclic
as i fall in love with you all over again.
(like the mist that rolls in with the first snow that tumbles like waves from the sky/like the budding of the flowers in the garden and the fallen petals beneath your soles/like the gradual melt of ice cream onto sticky fingers and stained flip-flops/like the green fading into a myriad of blossoming colour the facade of beauty disguising slow death)
baby, you break my heart slow
Raychiel Smith Jul 2013
Why does the deepest part of me resemble the seed that grows inside the bud of a rose? My maker knew me & he knew what know one else knows. but with time i grew cold. Eyes opened, mind closed. In the land of the wicked, eyes hoping mine closed. so i keep eyes open but, sometimes mine doze. My rose couldn’t bloom in this land we call earth. So before you i stand …hurt. With thorns in my hand. Searching for man in this wicked land & found none. judging by the outcome i’m now questioning my makers plan. Still wondering why the deepest part of me resembles a seed that grows inside the bud of a rose.
Robin Carretti Feb 2019
Hey, another week whispers love to win "W" That womanly wonder I need to take a step back to "V"  just need to vent out.
I'm here not over there? Medieval times "Roman Festival" of love
I have to catch up to get to V- Valentine things are the sublime wake up take a bite the "Viennese Whirls" biscuit "The Cats Meow"
The Siamese to suit me just fine. The Valentine recruit her day of pursuit. Her lower V back to her higher love loot plays up to her **** and boots.

A victory versus the villain Mama Mia striking gold but I am a face to red like grapes. The Italian Villa making love in her red hot chinchilla. But somewhere over her sheer rainbow, he got sidetracked all the way she looks divine in her "Rosy" slingback chair. Read my lips go smack CD track "V-Valiant" multiplying like ants. She flaunts herself such a venom demonstration. The biblical (V)-sword wins her love sentimental. What aims the bow and arrow a heart is her V village daring. Quite shocking and alarming the poems red silk ties her love force the light shines romantically warm red. V Virtual reality Strawbery Sponge cake.

Her V-Valentine the first day she met him. Where she came from will we ever know? What's in the card do we win or lose to know what in store for you?

You will get to know me 
The sweets got her set
The bittersweets only yet
Plays the different drum
The Valiant V venture
Hum all *** about him
The ricochet "Russian *****"

This is not the end of the alphabet
zoomed in like the Zebra
You got me V for Visa
But Y where did the
( L)_ go we are losing some??
Alphabets 
More victories firelight sunset

Lionhearted heroic I bet
Did you throw me into Lion's den?
Refresh my L- love ******
"O" only roses pink/red sonic
Zippety do day happier
V Day the wine glasses
L-O-V- E Ecstacy

I suppose another tempting
Dose V vitamins
"Valiant Rose" Face
Such velocity
I feel pretty dancing
high castles
   "Valentine"

 Herbivore love me messy
Victorian sleeping beauty
Rose Kiss Hibiscus
Vampire rosebuds
Cherubs ****** red
Red Mercedes
Hubs of love
husbands

For the "Valiant Smart ladies"
High society noses
Pluto-Venus Starwars
V Valentino and their singles
Cappuccino in Italy Portofino
Chic centerfold V candles
Damask Rose pretentious pose

She's the V Voluptuous
Red devil ventriloquist
Pink/Wink Strawberry mousse
The Bulgarian with her cute
Pomeranian and spouse
Elephant Tusk smells
of musk E-love

"Marilyn Monroe" baguettes
Yves The Saint Laurent
So Valiant bond deep
Cut thorns of Reds
Bergdorf Blondes and
Brunettes
Valentine duet V-shape
Headset  vivacious escapes
So mindset
Never forget the one day

February 14 your
Valentine ring
heartedly set
Salute to the cadet
This is the sweet smell of Valentines day or any day that you have plenty of loving your heart will tell you don't lose that feeling be the mindset to take a sip of coffee to melt your heart inside his love words
BellaBloom May 2015
When our night soon devours
I give to you and into hours
Honey sweet Nectar Dew
Gift of flesh Forbidden fruit
Nourishment Rooted like tree
Drink of sweat A Golden sea
Fever rich Night drunk
Parting limbs Anchor sunk
Pleasure pours From thy tongue
Until our rise Unruly sun



©BellaBloom
ashley Apr 2013
Description: Sam's not at all who people think he is. He might be quiet, he might be shy, but he also was diagnosed with cancer. When Briar moves to town, she catches Sam's eye. What will happen once the two get closer? Will Briar light a spark in Sam's heart?

-

Distant Memory

Dedicated to my cousin, Blake, who is currently fighting a horrific battle of Lymphoma.



You're probably thinking this is just some clichè love story, one about a girl having a crush on her best friend's brother, or how two people fall madly in love, but it's anything but. This is my story, with a twist unlike any other.

~

It all started in our Junior year of high school. You were new to Wakefield High, just moving here the previous year from New York City. On the first day of school, you were so unsure of yourself, not knowing what to do or where to go. I watched as you made your way through the halls, nudging your way through the crowded bodies as students made their way to class. Even though the halls were tremendously over-crowded, you were easy to spot. Your blonde hair and strikingly blue eyes stood out by the school's bland beige walls. You were more radiant, more powerful and glowing, than anything or anyone in the whole school.

Eventually, you made friends in all the clubs you'd joined - culinary club, photography club, and ASL. I don't know what made you stand out from all the other girls at Wakefield High, but whatever it was, it was strong. I felt drawn to you, like we shared a connection deeper than either of us knew. And it was then when I made it my goal to get to know you.

For the first few weeks, I'd tried bulking up the courage to speak to you. I had planned it all out in my mind. I would talk to you at lunch, right as you gathered your food and headed off to the library like you do every day. That was my chance, and I was determined to stick with it.

On that day, I was behind you in the lunch line. Once you got up there, you ordered a chicken empanada, then headed off to the library in the West wing. I quickly grabbed my lunch, a light Cesar salad, and trailed behind you.

You were walking faster than expected, and I was just too weak. I stopped, holding my knees as I gasped for breath. That was my chance to talk to you, to finally hear your beautiful voice, and I blew it.

It wasn't because of what you think. I couldn't keep up because I was lazy or out of shape, because I was neither of those.

I was diagnosed with Leukemia last October, and after tons of treatment, my doctor said I could try going back to school. I decided it would probably be best for me to live a normal life - as much as normal can get for a boy with cancer. Knowing that I was going to die soon - my doctor predicted I would only last for another year, tops - made me want to get to know you more.

After many wasted days of trying - but failing - to get your attention, I gave up. You were too wrapped up in your new life to even acknowledge my existence. Too busy maintaining your new found reputation, too busy dating a new guy every week. I always thought you were a ***** because of it, that you took advantage of different guys and then left them to crumble to pieces, but all of that changed on that faithful day.

I had gotten dropped off late to school because I had to get tests run at the hospital that morning. I tried to get to class on time, running as fast as I could. Only that didn't work because before you knew it, I was out of breath once again.

I headed over to the restroom, hoping a cool splash of water on my face would do the trick, when I heard wailing in the girls bathroom. I looked over my shoulder before entering, just to be safe. As I closed the door, I locked it behind me.

You were leaning against the wall, knees drawn to your chest as you cried. Noticing a presence, you looked up at me, thick black mascara running down your rosy cheeks. Your eyes were puffy, and I could tell you'd been crying for quite a while.

I didn't know what to say or do at that point, so I did what my heart told me I should do. I held you.

I sat next to you and wrapped my arms around you. Your body seemed small and weak, heaving in my arms. You cradled your head into my neck as tears fell from your bright blue eyes. I didn't bother asking what was wrong. Figured I would at a better time.

Just then, you looked up at me, face flushed and blotchy, and grabbed my hand. It seemed to fit perfectly within yours, our frail fingers intertwined in each others.

I tucked a few of your light blonde strands behind your ears as your cries dwindled. Even after you'd finished crying, you sat with me.

"What's your name?" Your eyes shone with curiosity.

"Sam."

"I'm Briar."

Briar. What a beautiful name. I smiled in your tangled hair. I never in a million years thought I would ever talk to you, and even if I had, I never would have expected it to be quite like this.

"You like Ed Sheeran too?" You asked, your eyes widening in delight as you scanned my shirt. I watched a smile creep to your face, lighting up your gorgeous eyes.

"Yeah, he's my favorite singer," I smile shyly. I can feel the heat rushing to my cheeks, and I feel embarrassed for acting this way.

Ever since then, we began talking. The more we talked, the more I knew how wrong I was about you. You weren't a ***** at all; all the guys you've dated broke up with you, but blamed it on you every time. That's how you got the title as biggest ***** of the school. I felt bad because you were one of the sweetest people I'd ever met, portraying someone you weren't.

I felt like that Ed Sheeran shirt brought me luck. It was the start to our budding friendship.

After a while, you completely changed. You stopped hanging out with the populars, claiming they were never into you anyway. And I found you enjoyed yourself more. I ended up joining the photography club later that year. Whenever we would go out on weekends, I was always taking pictures of you, catching the memories within a moment of time.

You always loved my pictures. As we sat in my bedroom, I'd let you pick out your favorites for you to keep, writing little notes on the back of each picture. Your absolute favorite one was that one of the two of us.

We were in a huge field, smiling as I held you in my arms wedding style. Your blonde hair flew around in all different directions and your eyes held happiness and joy. That was my favorite one too.

I had always had feelings for you, ever since that day in the bathroom, but I'd never have the chance to show you how I really feel. Even if I did, why would you love me back? I have no hair anymore since going through chemotherapy. My body's frail and weak, barely able to stand up on my own.

I had went to the doctors two days ago for more tests, and the doctor found that the tumor in my brain was growing more and more rapidly by the second. Therefore, I would be dying sooner than expected. I only had four days left. My mother held me in her arms as she cried, her wet tears staning my t-shirt.

That night, I called you and told you the news. You cried into the phone, and I wish I was there to hold you, tell you that everything would be okay, that I would be better soon. It was a lie, but I didn't want to hear you sad. I felt bad for being the cause of it.

The next day, I was rushed to the hospital after my mother found my collapsed in my room.

It was then I knew my life was coming to a close. I grabbed a pen and piece of paper, and wrote you a letter.

~

Dear Briar,

If you're reading this, I'm probably gone by now. I just woke up to the dimly lit lights flooding into my room, tubes and needles inside of me. My heart monitor is beeping weakly next to me, and I feel very frail. Cold, frail, and in tremendous pain. You're alseep on the couch right next to my bed and I watch you, take in your beauty for the last time. Your blonde hair is flowing around your head like a halo, your lips look like delicate red rosebuds. Even though I am weak, getting skinnier by the second, I make my way over to your side, kissing you lightly on the forehead.

I never told you about my cancer, and I'm sorry for that. I'm sorry for causing you the pain of me leaving you. I never meant for it to be this way. All I wanted was to live a normal life, and you showed me that there's happiness even in the smallest of places.

When you miss me, look at the pictures of us, pinned to a board on your bedrooom wall. Remember the memories we've had together. Remember the way you always made me smile, the dozens of laughs you filled me with. You showed me how to enjoy life, Briar. And I could never ask for anything more.

You filled my gloomy days with so much laughter I could barely contain myself. Remember me like that, Briar. Remember me happy.

I never realized it before, but I've fallen in love with you; your glowing smile, eyes the color of the raging ocean. I'd never known what love felt like, but I found it with you.

I love you so much, Briar. Never forget that. And remember I'll always be with you.

Love forever and always,

Sam

~

Briar's POV

I woke up to Sam's heart monitor, constantly beeping.Looking at the monitor, I noticed his breaths were slowing.

I made my way over to his bedside, rubbing my thumb gently across his cheek. His eyes were closed as his chest rose every so often.

"If only you knew how much I love you, Sam," I whispered, a single tear falling from my eyes. I watched him smile as he dwindled away.

"Sam? Sam?" My eyes filled with panic as I shook him lightly. "Sam?" My voice rose as I looked at the monitor, seeing the thin red line.

"Help! Somebody help!" I cried. As soon as those words escaped my lips, his hospital room flooded with doctors and nurses. They surrounded him, pushing me away to see what had happened. But they didn't need to. I already knew.

A doctor with black curly hair came rushing over to me. "I'm sorry, but he's gone.."

He's gone... He's gone... He's gone...

Those words rung in my ears, filling my head. I ran over to your bedside, crying my eyes out and practically screaming your name, hoping you'd come back to me.

I lay my head on your unmoving chest, letting my tears soak into your shirt. I noticed a small white envelope on the table next to you, To my sweet love, Briar, was written on it in your handwriting. I stuck it in the back pocket of my jeans before heading out of the hospital, feeling numb and empty.

I reread the letter over and over, tears staining the white lined paper.

"I love you, Sammy," I said, looking up at the bright blue sky. Even though the world seemed empty without you, I know I had to be strong. For you.

On days where I feel I can't bear your absence, I look at the pictures you took, just like you'd asked. I never knew you would change my life in such a drastic way.
A short story I wrote on Wattpad; not that it's any good, but yeah.
Muted Feb 2018
all too often
we carry the
inexplicable burden
of perfection,
the weight balanced
upon our weakened shoulders,
we can hear our hollow bones
cracking like fallen leaves
under the pressure,
and still, we ignore it.
we see ourselves
through a looking glass
of social comparison
and self discrepancy.
she can't be better than me.
we want to believe that we are beautious beings.
we criticize what
intimidates us,
hatred falling from
our tongues
without a single,
rational thought.
it is then that we become wolves in sheep clothing

but let me tell you this:
you and i, will never be the same
my hair will never
fall the way yours does,
clothes will never
rest that delicately
upon my frame.
there is a divergence
in the way my
hips sway
and
that is okay.

i've a geyser
in my heart,
rosebuds in
my soul.
the faults,
crevices,
canyons in
my flesh
tell the story
of where i am
and have been.
i've inextinguishable embers
inside of me,
things that no other
being will
ever see.

and you,

you are
a monument,
too.

so, though
we all aspire to be
that image seared
into our minds,
from the cover
of that magazine
we read when we
were thirteen,
we will never be the same


and
that
is
incredible
Sarah Bat Feb 2014
There is a cage around my heart
Made of rose thorns
They do not touch the muscle
That thrums fearfully in my chest
But only because the proximity of the thorns
Make it too frightened to swell as large as it could
Or should
I am afraid to breathe
Or feel
Too deeply
For fear the thorns will lodge themselves inside my heart
And never let go.

My daily life is a practice in moderation
And careful measuring
Of how much I can breathe
Feel
Speak
My existence is a study in control
And management
How many breaths of ten does it take
To slow the frantic beating of my anxious heart
How many tapping fingers does it take
To quell the urge to drive my nails into the soft skin of my arms
Like the thorns that threaten the exhausted muscle I call my heart.

I am the product of war
Waged on my home soil
The forest has been burned to the ground
Leaving nothing but stumps
And burnt top soil
And thorns
There might be rosebuds somewhere
Among the thorns
But I am afraid to prune them away
They dig into the bones of my ribs
The top of my lungs
It would hurt if I cut them away.

It is said that burnt soil is the most fertile
But I don’t feel like I’m being re-born
I feel like I am nothing but burnt branches and scarred flesh and thorns
If I clean and trim and prune them away
There will be nothing left of me
Nothing of who I once was
Or who I might have become
Sometimes I cannot feel my heart beat
Beneath the cage of thorns
I am afraid  I might have died
That my heart may have ceased to beat
While I was too busy being afraid.
Silk blocks my ability to see
Soft pads circle my ears shutting me into silence
Music begins to flow coursing through my body
Jumping as hands grasp slender ankles
Fur circles one then the other
Turned around and around so disoriented
A hard bump knocks at the back of my knees
Buckling and graze the chilled feeling they land upon
Gasps escape parted lips
Melodic music seems to beat forcefully with each movement
Chills flow through naked flesh

A voice reverbs in my ears
"Are you nervous ****?"
"Y-y-eees" trembles out thinking it had to have sounded like some little girl instead of the mature woman kneeling here
Morose tones begin to play
Calloused palms greet soft ones
Pulling quick and efficient succulent flesh lays across
a thick padded cushion

The drums beat frantically, I realize it is my heart beat
No music playing last the time, my breathing comes through rushed paniced
Inhaling deeply filling lungs then blowing out forcefully
Soothing frazzled nerves, repeating the breath
Hands separate, one wrapped in something unsure what
then the other, they are pulled straight out
Allowing ample globes of blush coated tips to reveal to any that watch

Crying out at the forceful pulling,  rearranging of limbs
Thoughts run rampant scrambling calm with slight fear and confusion
Body jerks as the apparatus moves beneath my spread flesh
I feel my belly tight as muscles **** and pull tight and repeats
Crying out as booming dark music explodes in my mind
The movement jerking beneath again
Unable to fathom how I look I feel a breeze slither over pale half moons
Finger run along the inside of the restraint as something pulls it further away from the other, then repeated
Chill air hits my heated moist ***** sending goosebumps all over

My body fully supported arms up with back arched exposing glorious flesh
Legs parted wide as waist is supported by the bench
"Who do you belong to"? He asks.
" No Ones"
A slice of fire then a second close by erupts pain across the backside
Teeth sink deep into my lower lip as the same words come through the headset
Senses impaired heighten every syllable
Still ******* air from the first blows as four reign down upon my  
arched back, tasting blood as teeth cut through plump skin

Thick fingers grasp the hairs upon nether lips yanking
Digits knead the skin of my *** soothing the first marks
Feeling the tug on hairs again, squirming as the moisture flows the cavern, body begins to move
Yet again "Who do you belong to?"
"Myself" I say proudly
Again heat, white hot, kisses thee skin
One, two, three, four, five
Labored breathing panics me
Fingers grtip and knead the marks, it is not pleasurable but it hurts not either

Thin pieces dance across my body
I figured out it had to be as flogger
He was an expert, especially with this contraption leaving everything but my stomach bottom of thighs urtterly exposed to the wicked implement
The tongues begin touching all over as I strain to hear and see
Nothing but blackness and morrocan drums playing tribal beats
Lightly stroking, followed by searing bolts of lightening touch silk flesh,
Breathing raggedly, gasping for air, pressure building in the pit of my stomach

As the flogger hits every piece of exposed white
Fingers massage puffy lips that swell to protect the golden pearl
Not hearing him he chuckles knowing he has me
Thump goes the flogger, chains clank as I squirm
Pressing towards his hand wanting to be touched that special way
Pleading escapes, I cringe knowing I have made that mistake
Something slides into my throbbing center, stretching my walls
I know I am soaked as I feel pinches against flogged streaked skin
"Please" I cry
Again he asks "Who do you belong to?"
I form the y sound suddenly changing to once again "Myself"

The implement is left inside my love tunnel
Vaginal walls gripping and releasing
My breath catches hard in my throat as something cool
bites hardened peak,
Breath let's out with a loud moan as the other peak is trapped in the vice grip
Hair is cinched tight pulling the upper body up more
The clamps bite harder
He turned my head towards his as lips touch I feel an excruciating heat soar through my succulent peaks
Tears flow across cheeks gliding down until we both taster the salt

His teeth sink into my lip as the hand twists the chasing, the other the chain to the clips torturing my *******
My velvet reaches out to run across the teeth
He releases the bite as our tongues clash like symbols
***** throbs as it struggles to not drop the object
Pressure still building, traitor body plays to his tune
Rejecting nothing
Balking not at all
Wanting, needing, yearning for this
Our tongues dance as he pulls and releases that murderous pleasure wreaking havoc over the numbing rosebuds
Fiery locks are released
Fingers remove the implement deeply embedded in my sweet honey
Digits slide deeply into my well
Pushing against them yearning for deeper

I feel the pumping in and out
Each ****** grows harder and goes deeper
My hair being used as an anchor
Burning the scalp as it pulls
He must be able to hear the music as each move is punctuated with the caressing noise
The headphones are removed relief flows over as I can hear

He whispers "Who do you belong to?"  He asks again
I feel his fingers pull out causing a sense of loss
Something presses sat my entrance pushing lightly
Trying to glide over the honey
Lifting on tip toes pushing back
Feeling the thick mushroom push into their tight entrance
Gasping for air as he growls loudly trying to fight plundering
Needing my answer first
The tip teasing me without mercy
Pulls and releases my hair

I feel something strange being smeared in my thick juice
The warm presses against my clenched puckered hole
Crying out as he teases both orifices
My body strains tight like a bow drawn for firing
"Please oh please **** me, take me"  
I feel both openings being pushed against more
Knowing he won't do much more unless I give in
He pushes the egg deep into my tight ***
Cries of pleasure float over the music still playing in the room
His hard length still teasing the slippery tunnel
Leaning over pressing my body hard against the contraption
Growling out "Who do you belong to?"
You! You! You!
His **** rams home plundering my overly taut well
Buried to the hilt my cries louder than the night

He begins to move in Ernest
Taking and consuming His
My body being played like a well oiled machine
Slamming into me, our bodies slapping
Skin to skin
Pressure building faster as I was already close to exploding
He knows I am close
Salt from the sweat drips into my mouth
His hand yanks the egg from my *** starting the spasms
Rippling over his rock hard length
His growl rumbles within vibrating upon my back

Pace grows faster, frenzied
I feel juices dripping down my thigh
My love tunnel overflowing with essence
Crying in frustration I scream harder
The machine moves as he pumps in and out
Loud moans flow out as the movement let's him go deeper

The music is crescendoing cannons errupt
As he plunders the chain is suddenly ****** based
A reaction like dominmos begins
Hips buck against his as sdpasms caress his ****
Floods of honey burst free coating his implement
Flowing down my thighs as the explosion rocks through my body
Riding every ****** as his teeth sink into my neck
The shooting **** hits my wall spewing until empty
Laying against my body, his sweat mixing with mine

Both breathless and satiated for a spell
Blindfold and restraints removed
Lifting me up as my legs give out like they were jello
Cradling my head to his chest
He lays me upon silk
Eyes close as lethargy begins to settle
Soothing ointment is rubbed into red stripes
"Sleep Mine". He whispered
" Yes Master" she says sleepily

A smile crosses his rugged features
Finally he had pushed past that wall
She is Mine he thinks
I won't let her forget, took way to long for her to admit
Next time perhaps he would try a cane
Moving her on through
The joys of pleasure and pain
Property of Jennifer Humphrey copyrighted.  Please do not use without giving credit to the author.  I can prove it is my work so please write your own don't steal mine.   JH
Robin Carretti Jul 2018
It's now or never what awaits
Gin is forever like her collagen of skin
the wanting how her prayers got answered
The (Him) the (I-phone) not my (Apple)
My blessings I got my miracle how fate
sipped me in with my best friend
                        (Gin)
The sip loving him  gin is her oxygen
All cravings from the countries
Native American, Latin American
Afro American, and The North American
The Hotel going to all the meetings
At the Sheraton
my lip to his sunset
Makes a world of her savings

Meets to my original
Tastebuds petals
and sprinkles like bling
Watering my rosebuds
So many brands but
Modern twist
Portugal Spanish
olives trees could sing

Cat nine lives versus her
Gin of love doves pleas

Scratch me lucky seven
But  conventional
Love-seat sectional
Him- I- Gin lets be

((Gin Rational))

Like the pixel living
more with a sweet taste
Stirring and purring Cat
I-Gin him the mighty morsel
Playing black-Jack
She had the best cards
Gin* I * pack
The game is pouring
the poker lip scouring

The origin of Dracula Bram Stoker
Her wavy hair red-hot tasseled
Like waves of (Gin) rippled
She mingled like" I- Gin"
But she was more mortal
Are we on air 2 win
The News over dripping
Hot Gin story him side-slip
National sip velvet whole lip
The warmth going down
The gin was magical potent
All exotic types she dressed
in stripes
Not the American Flag

The European sip of the Gin
Meeting her man
Weaving through the warmth
Juniper Glamped Gin camper
He's so defined in his character
Gin all him her floret trim glass

The process takes time
Gin- Boss Italian glass
Florence blown
Newfangled  or seductively
Flagged in bangled worn

Entirely subjective
The Europeans Industry
Origin of the whole dynasty
Juniper berries
Like a Junior virginity-Gin
Or him___?
Far from New York City
His flight first class (Gin)
and only him
Butterflies look divine on
her breast
Like the Gin and Science test
Her cherries in her Gin Drink
His theories in his Manly winks

The gin so medicinal
How it ward off malaria
She drinks to her delicately
tone body All God-lit
Her swiftly steps fit
Shes all heart like the ballerina
She is the Grace of the gin drink
The new look on her face
The purest wings fly the best
Our time of the Origin

Women and Men start now to begin
Dressed up new technology generation
The Gin of romance mission
The next pour dripping
intense torrential rain
For the single- set such potential
The married couple drenching
drink wet was more primal

The Gin couple was immaculate
never late
They won the bet that's
Gin-like no other fate
This is about the Origin of Gin my style and how a drink can change lives or if your single talk more and starts to mingle if your married there might very well be Gin God have a party gin fire up your hot rod
JOJO C PINCA Nov 2017
"Gather ye rosebuds while ye may,
    Old Time is still a-flying;
    And this same flower that smiles today
    To-morrow will be dying. "

Robert Herrick


Ang buhay ng tao ay sadyang maiksi at walang tibay, katulad lang ito sa kastilyong buhangin na agad gumuguho sa hampas ng alon at ihip ng hangin. Kaya marapat lang na ito ay ating samantalahin habang may panahon pa, hindi dapat na masayang ang bawat sandali ‘pagkat hindi na ito muling magbabalik pa.

Bakit ka nagsusumiksik sa isang tabi at nagmumukmok? Walang saysay ang maging malungkot sapagkat sandali lang itong ating buhay. Tumindig ka at gawin mo kung ano ang nararapat, piliin mo ang maging maligaya at kapakipakinabang. Tuklasin mo ang pilosopiya at kahulugan ng iyong sariling buhay nang hindi umaasa sa iba.

Kumawala ka sa tanikala ng mga maling akala at walang kwentang panukala, ang mga patakaran ay mga paraan upang ang tao ay alipinin kaya hindi ito dapat na tanggapin. Maging hari ka at panginoon ng sarili **** buhay sa ganitong paraan ka lang magiging totoong hayahay.

Huwag **** lingunin ng paulit-ulit ang kahapon dahil kahit anong gawin mo hindi na ito muling magbabalik pa, walang time machine na maghahatid saiyo pabalik sa nakaraan.

Huwag mo rin masyadong tanawin ang malayong hinaharap pagkat baka nga hindi mo na makita ang bukas na iyong pinapangarap.

Ang “ngayon” ang tanging panahon na iyong hawak at wala ka nang ibang mapanghahawakan pa. Ipagdiwang mo ang bawat ngayon na parang ito na ang huling araw mo.

Huwag kang makinig sa mga sinasabi ng iba sa halip ang puso mo ang iyong sundin at umasa ka na hindi ka nito kailanman ililigaw, gamitin mo ito na ilaw **** gabay.

At huwag **** sayangin ang nalalabi **** panahon, umahon ka mula sa iyong pagkakabaon at magsimula ka.

Katulad sa mabango at magandang bulaklak na iyong nakikita ang buhay **** tunay ngang maikli ay malalanta at mawawalan rin ng sigla kaya’t bago ka pumanaw gawin **** makasaysayan ang iyong bawat ngayon.
Mic Mar 2016
Time crucifies sight
Soften your gaze
See the fully blossomed flower
In the slumbering rosebud
And love her as so
Steaming, pale pink, moments ago
these rosebuds were sleeping, dried, unfragrant.

Now, like a single paper flower that blossoms from within
its scrubbed clam shell, held together lightly, then opening slowly
in its requisite, tall, crystalline glass of water,
these tiny buds are softening, unfurling, reviving,
intoxicating me with this heady, womanly scent, and
moistening my face as I lean over this healing brew you sent for me.

Born of humans, linked to me by human blood and a shared, ancient selkie ancestry,
wise, beautiful, deep eyes, flowing dark hair, blessings pour forth from you
in all, and every moment, of your gentle, earnest, worshiping life.

Kinswoman to my open heart,
to our ceaseless inquiries into sacred mysteries,
your power to transform finds me
wherever I am.
Copyrighted by Elisa Maria Argiro 2017
Arun C Aug 2014
Carpe Diem
funny boy
did you wait
till it was too late
hurry hurry
worry worry
you took life
in big giant bites
and then had to stop
to break
only when you
defeated yourself
hurry hurry
worry worry
but even then
after breaking
you got up and overcame
your life and art were amazing and never the same
race hard then fall or stall
and then
once again
get up
and give it your all
you did it
again and again
be extraordinary
hurry hurry
worry worry
never the same
look how you overcame

Good Will Hunting
Dead Poets
Jumanji
Mork from Ork
Patch Adams
Awakenings with De Niro
Aladdin
Death to Smoochy
Insomnia
Peter Pan
Mrs Doubtfire
Good Morning Vietnam
Jakob the Liar

hurry hurry
worry worry
I have to stop
not because I am out of art
there are many more
but because my fingers
are tired of typing titles

Peter Pan
you stayed young
fought the dark
and won many triumphs
again and again
hurry hurry
worry worry
you ran an amazing race
and a pace for two lifetimes
in the end the dark caught you
but you left behind
a mark of amazing art

"gather ye rosebuds while ye may"                                     - Robert Herrick
Carpe Diem
Rest funny man
Please watch
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=veYR3ZC9wMQ
Dennis Willis Jun 2019
Applecross rosebuds
whatever they are
  rein in my morning

100 great poems
play in the background
"no one to drive the car"

back from the
hospital
missions on scraps

of paper
clothes to be cleaned
and please bring

more time
a warm response
to my nervous text

a lump of sun
in fog
like breakfast

  a day propped up
on white elbows
  steams awake

Carry me up
  with you
Carry me up
Alaric Moras Aug 2017
Say you don't love me, woman
But your eyes speak brighter than
Any green ******* light in any God ****** book

Quote them authors I've never read
Tell me about heartbreak and letting things go gracefully
But though you may think that we're over
I can promise that we've only just begun
- Aries

I have lived
And I have grown
In this garden
And nothing,
Not even the clinking of your anklets
Long after you have gone
Will convince me to leave
Even if this means that my tears
Are what water the jasmine bush
That you so smelt of
Everytime we made love
After the first rain showers
- Taurus

The butterflies have come early this year, I know,
And though you are humming my favourite song
In my grandmother's kitchen this dawn,
I know that it will be someone else doing so when next they swarm
- Gemini

Each day is drenched in memory
From my head to my toes, I still feel your kisses
Drowning the rat tat tat of rains
Against my window

Bombay hides you in it
And I,
Despite all my shallow pride
Cannot seek you out
Because while every breath you breathe
Is stolen from against my chest,
I know that your stone heart will seethe inside me forever
- Cancer

In anguish I shatter the mirror
That once held so much Promise
Because no matter what time of day it is
I can only see your sunset eyes
Reflected in mine
After an afternoon
Of red wine
- Leo

I folded my heart
And put it in your sleeve
And you left it there
Even as I stared at you across the hallway kissing her

Thirty years later
She hands me your first child
And asks me to be Godfather

I smile through heartbreak and remark
On just how much her lips resemble yours
The very rosebuds that kissed me that one night
At 3 am during that sleepover
When I became a man
- Virgo

They buried me
In rolls of fabric
Giggling at my tears
Thinking they were bride's fears
Not knowng that
Even after all this time I hear
Your terrible poetry ringing between
Every toll of my wedding bells.
- Libra

You have said many loud things
As I politely hum our song
While burning your best shirt

I am the witch, the crone, the scorpion hidden
Underneath your sheets, you say,
But through five long years of excellent ***
It was only today you bothered to say
That mummy dearest thought
My skin too dark for a wedding gown

Do not doubt karma, my love
Know that four years from now
As you hold my children (Each the colour of a midnight sky),
It could have been you
And not your brother
That they call 'father.'

- Scorpio


You tired of the chase when you finally knew
That I was running not from you
But into the arms of
A universe I was hell bent on making
With or without
Your stolen kisses on the back of my neck.
- Sagittarius

You held me as I
Splintered against the cruel night
Bones shattering like crystal shards
That slip into the earth's ears.
I'm sorry because
I was never in love with anything but
Your steady hands
That held my sorrows
For this little while
- Capricorn

You were nothing more
And nothing less
Than my favourite idea
But you were not meant to be trapped between
The pages of my bookish heart
And no matter how many times my lips studied
The almonds of your thin fingernails
You were never meant
For me
My bed
This quiet, scholar's nest

So when the universe called
You stood up, packed up your bags, left them behind
And floated on to your next vice.
- Aquarius

Lost in the ever widening oceans of your silence, I succumb and take a deep draught of you.
At last the teapot does not rattle when I serve us evening tea. 
- Pisces
Joe Cole May 2015
Last year I wrote a poem called rose buds, I also set a series of challenges out of which we got six dailies
Well let's try for another daily*

I liken our young teenage writers here to rosebuds
Then visualize those rosebuds in full bloom

Well there it is, it's springtime so its simple, write a poem about a rosebud
Savio Fonseca Dec 2022
Her Rosebuds began to bloom,
in the middle of the Night.
As both My Hands went surfing,
after it had turned Twilight.
My Head rested, between Her Hills
and it took Shelter, on Her Lap.
My Ten fingers began tracing,
the vital points of Her Map.
She then carved on My Heart,
each Alphabet of Her Name.
Creating a new Beginning,
for both Our bodies to Shame.
My Hands, began their warm-ups
and stopped, at Her Garden Patch,
Giving My Passions a spurt
and thereby lighting My Match.

— The End —