"rosed" poems
She was born of a forest
And rests her heart
Shallow in pooled dreams
Dripping further than her tears
Falling to soft earth.
She eats rosed lilies
And pickled cattails
All while
Her footsteps leave no absence known
As her lithe nymph body melts into foliage.
And her arms permanently reach
Into the void of
All unknowable things.
Grasping at gossamer threads,
Like thoughts that can't be spun together.
Jul 15, 2018
Jul 15, 2018 at 1:07 PM UTC
melancholy blanketed the whites
scarred voices muffled by
a ****** mind.
an avalanche stuck in my soul
severer than a bee at a forked road
how confused!
red-cheeked petals and afternoon birds glare
in confusions at the footsteps :
unbalance, shaded, muted!
the green umbrella's warm, so scorchingly cold!
all embittered, by solemn beams of the soulless sun.
their eyes widen,
for they had never seen such lone,
for such lone, rare, is forbid to the sons of nature,
never belong to happy child's arms,
that dreams in a mother's charm.
grieving droughts in the air and grass,
no dews, why!,
yawned the madden, soporific rabbit
Ah, so wild.
the windless noontime cross, my quivers stopped, mild.
lashes waxed, blacken like a coal,
mind stuck in a haze, or maybe a threatening maze.
stiffness of the air injected to my nostrils
into my white tongue they will soak, like perfumes to a clothe.
Selene will gaze angrily at this and say,
why no, it shouldn't be in there!
the midnight orchids waver and frown.
soon the frothing dreams peter,
but the bolded letters in a white board stay,
my chair stays.
creaks of an abominable burden became a din.
The smudges of grey-white dust I smelt
hover gaily in the air of pompous breath.
spellbound by the stagnant languor,
mazy, in hallucinations of the heat and homesick.
I sought the fount of hypocrisy and vile,
my hiding nonchalances rosen
(towards a flock of friends)
and loathes to an abominable sun frozen
(I wished it to die!)
Tilted to the windows,
I saw nothing, but fatal secrets of a heart rosed
like window dust to a nose.
Jan 2, 2014
Jan 2, 2014 at 3:45 AM UTC
She walked down the aisle,
In a beautiful white gown just like her smile,
Her hair in a bun
with a crown just like Eve,
Her lips without a smudge,
Her cheeks rosed pink
And her eyes in tears.
She made her vows with the one in her eyes,
But her throbbing heart
Knew she lied.
Since childhood, the angel thought
This day was the best.
Only to realize,
It wasn't the day,
But the man she would spend her rest.
The princess did not have her prince charming riding the white horse,
But he sat on the wooden bench like a silenda,
Reliving the moments of their star crossed saga.
Who knew there was an obscure string,
That would never let them apart,
The flowers,
The mass,
The rings,
Thy charm,
Was all just a show,
When the heart wasn't ready to vow.....
Apr 24, 2021
Apr 24, 2021 at 3:20 PM UTC
DEAR PENPAL PEOPLE, this is the reason I write;>
dark rainbow rays mirrored on a ferris wheel
a getaway car in an edged escape to night steal
neon lights shimmering to hit the blind
whisper the whistles for an old memory on kind
like music blasting from ages of dreamt youth
sirens delight a heaven to the soothe
instrumental of the better sometimes wilder
violins haven hearts of lost on minder
crowds beat in one
rockstar of a blast concert as if none
sweat painted down the back
shivering sensations never seem to black
a run for life from the poison killing attach
even when the loneliest matters or not without a match
heard before my days known in my mercury
just uranused with a flaw abroad the mild century
is it for a regret?
to keep this mere on an impossible met
yellow on the head
better hidden not said?
a smoking pulse on a midnight walk to anger
hair torn feet split on a single dancer
hell of a heartbreak on rhymes
driving on blades on knives
upon screams liberate a burning love rosed
rare nostalgia again miracled an incredulous indie overdosed
------ravenfeels
Jun 5, 2021
Jun 5, 2021 at 4:47 PM UTC
Resting redly in an ocean of shadows
is Scarborough Fair.
With sweet and cardinal scent of the roses clinging to the air.
A woman of cherries, potential untapped.
With a harsh fate upon her as well as a pact.
A child born to parents star-crossed.
A love that was denied and a high cost.
I see her there
Fair-skinned, dark-haired.
Lips of rosed sin
And slinks the world prepared.
And with this woman walks the four,
Weapons of mass destruction that
the Devil would **** for.
The sass of Parsley
The wisdom of Sage
The touch of Rosemary
The passage of Thyme
Nov 11, 2017
Nov 11, 2017 at 11:34 AM UTC
No your encouragement will not weasel itself
Into my hands which conjure any spell
I wish to carry my bloodied tattered feet
To every crossroad packing my heat
No your soft wishes of cursed glee
Makes me want to grab my gun and flee
Fun for the flower pots and the sun glaring hot
Makes me want to die like Elvis on the ***
No your lily rosed' cheeks which squeal naivety
Doesn't even make me want to donate a penny
The dirt beneath your eyes tells me you lie
I'm sitting back here eyeing that last piece of pie
No the Earth spins not in beauty but in horrific madness
Not even the almighty could have dared to plan this
Saggy eyed hobos drifting souls that noone dares to know
Will be the next thousand dollar opera you'll praise a fine show
No more of this celebratory talk as ***** maids smocks
Cannot be washed of blood as the midnight bell tock's
No more wishes of nature's fortitude she does not need us
My eyes my dear or eyeing south for a continental bus
Jul 20, 2011
Jul 20, 2011 at 8:37 PM UTC
Tracerene
Conclude the dream
Dew melt my eyes as a suken scene
Soft spoken words pour from your lips
With bones of greetings how often our slips
Gaze and grasp
Each night to pass
I follow you to heaven
Lift me to the ceilings of above
Paint me unto the walls of love
Grasp the two sides of the bodice
Reach to me closer, call me the goddess
Place unto the petals, leave me your alter
With breaths intertwined movements cease to falter
Eyes melt into one sight
Share with me our night
Loves together in a single moment
Kelidoscopes of rosed colors tint
Small traces to guide the hint
Nov 9, 2018
Nov 9, 2018 at 10:57 PM UTC
Sitting in the dark, alone
in this wooden shack no one's own
outside blows northern wind
I trapped myself in, I was blind
In this dark, dark night
my only hope is this candle light
I can sense her close
she's right there ; in the shadows
The walls are holed, my hearth frozed
in perfect silence she rosed
she sat by my side, warming me up
romantic date with the lady of the death
she is so beatifull, I want to join her
I blew my candle in a last breath
La lune haute, le vent de novembre glacial.
Au creux de mon abris sombre, une bougie
Elle m’est une protection triviale
Mais sans elle sur ma porte serait écrit ci-git
Lumière si douce en temps de noirceur
Ma bougie agonisant près de mon noir cœur
Mon âme tu l’avais réduite en haillon
Les murs de ce sombre abri sont ma prison
Mon cœur est givré par le souffle d’un titan
Je la sens. Là! Dans le noir elle m’attend
D’un geste de main ; je l’invite à ma table
Calme, elle me rejoint dans un silence d’or
Tête à tête aux chandelles avec la mort
Avant que par amour je souffle ma bougie
the second part is the same poem its just the original version which sound better in my opinion
Mar 29, 2017
Mar 29, 2017 at 7:32 PM UTC
They've always been here — the signs—
in your every smile, your sighs,
in the long, gentle touches,
on your cheeks rosed with blushes.
What a fool I've been, didn't see,
didn't save you from ruin, from me.
I have failed you. I'm at fault —
you're in anguish; you hurt.
Stay away! I'm unworthy
of your kindness and mercy.
There is something I'm scared of —
I'm too hollow to bear love.
They've always been here — the signs—
in the way the whole world shines.
Nov 3, 2021
Nov 3, 2021 at 12:05 PM UTC
I'd rush to see him, heart thumping in my chest
To Be the first to reach that door
Alone for seconds before...
His face, knowing
Carved brows and stature
Assuring light, of majesty
Out of breath even with at full rest
A rosed complexion
I could not Vex
How would I ever express
An adoration so esteemed
Of purest Nature
and deepest dream
Oct 11, 2010
Oct 11, 2010 at 10:05 AM UTC
Me
You find me, your eyes knockout-black.
I am heavy, swerving through the door.
You do not speak. You lift me by the slop
of my neck, drop me in front of the toilet.
You flip the lights, hook me to the bowl. Wait.
I can't feel the porcelain fangs.
The toilet taunts me, smiles
like it has been waiting.
I know you must be swirling red,
you raised me to not fall like this.
Your down-stare and strict chin bites
more than any hangover, rocks me like a ritual.
I see no up from here. I cannot face you. I know
I have failed. I have not yet earned the dark mark of man.
Him
Boy, you used to be rainbow-young,
rosed cheek, yellow life, too eager
to grow up. Baby, now you are whisking
in the husk of a bottle, slosh and off-tilt.
I am grateful you made your way
home. I was like this once. My father
turned a blind body to me. Left me
swollen and ripe for the bathroom.
I will be there for your initiation.
Silent as I hunch you off the toilet bowl,
watch you atone for your regrets.
The toilet beckons you. It wants to lick
you with the same crystallize bite
it gave me. This is how it's always been.
You have passed the test I've raised you to fail.
I know you will not face me, curl to the waist
of the toilet. This is the dark way to manhood.
Mar 5, 2014
Mar 5, 2014 at 10:33 PM UTC
I kiss your lips.
I bid you farewell.
Knowing in my heart.
I'll never see you any more.
I remember all the time we shared.
And the things together we went through.
While knowing in my heart.
I'm bidding you farewell.
All the friends we knew was there.
And tears rosed to some of their eyes.
And strong as I tried to pretend.
They even rised higher in mine.
I never bought into , a man isn't suppose to cry.
Cause here I am standing at the casket.
Bidding someone I love goodbye.
Sure, I'll see you again.
Someone in the future.
That's the way life seems to go.
It's just this feeling.
I won't be seeing you come through the door anymore.
This is my last kiss.
Upon your lovely face.
But one thing I know.
Your memory will never fade.
As I bid you farewell.
Nov 18, 2012
Nov 18, 2012 at 7:50 AM UTC
nightlight kisses flicker
under covers, while
gun-like fingers wind
around gasping lungs.
tangled lies become
obscene truths, as our
rosary lashes pray for the
yearning boxes, we call hearts.
here, we align our bodies–
ears to mouth, secrets spoken.
‘are you alive, darling?’
red rosed-lips blooming against
the needy and hollowed ribs
soft confessions, quiet heartbeats.
‘if this is what it feels to be
alive, love–let your midnight
hips bury us both. and in the
morn, let the sun coax our hidden
love–sprouting like baby’s
breath from our rotting chests.’
Apr 24, 2016
Apr 24, 2016 at 12:20 AM UTC
Their summer reminds me,
Of the eternal one that was yours,
And hair dark like summer storms
That smelled of spring flowers,
Eyes like the streams
We would watch at midday,
The eyes that taught me,
To open mine and see day,
A smile that would play
On the corner of rosed lips,
Withholding the laughter
That built into fits,
Fingers that danced over skin,
Beaded with the drops,
You caused down my spine,
With every game that I "lost"
A collarbone I knew by heart,
As my lips blindly traced,
Every dip of your skin,
Felt how your heart raced,
You tasted like first rain,
As your tongue asked for entrance,
As gentle as lightening,
With our fingers finally laced,
My hands found home
At your hips,
And my mouth found life
At your lips,
Scars laced your arms,
Like vines filled with each flower,
And I knew every curve,
I knew everything you'd allow her,
The blush of your cheeks
That rose from your neck,
With every stolen glance,
And every stolen peck.
The thunder storms dried,
And spring flowers turned to dust,
Leaving nothing but chill,
Where there was once lust,
The rains turned to dry puddles,
Your collarbone to stone,
No longer beating,
Completely alone,
Beads of sweat turned to tears,
As your fingers lay still,
No heart beat resonated,
I didn't see you where ill,
The blush of your cheeks,
Became the red of your vines,
The roses where blooming,
As my flower died,
And so came on winter,
Frost fell over the ground,
Of Sleeping Beauty's own grave,
Death nor love, neither be proud...
May 29, 2014
May 29, 2014 at 3:01 PM UTC
She cried.
She must have.
She hurted.
She must have.
A mother's weep because of things people done.
All because they feared the power of her son.
Who was the begotten one?
Pure as the driven snow.
She once was.
Which centers around the birth of her son.
Who God selected to be the anointed?
A mother's weeped then.
And even in the end.
Proud enough to say in death.
Job well done.
A tear failed.
But that son rosed to be powerful then ever before.
Feb 14, 2013
Feb 14, 2013 at 5:59 PM UTC
The tears
Rolled
Down her cheeks
Touching
every bit of it
slowly
Reached her lips
And was about to
Fall
Down
Just then
She
Wiped away
the
Little
Drops
Of pain, burden and guilt
And rosed
Out as
A strong human
Believing
Tears cannot
Break her
All it can do is
Make her a
Strong human.
Aug 8, 2020
Aug 8, 2020 at 11:43 AM UTC
She set off
In the dawn
Grappling the whole day long
Encountering the ecstasy and melancholy
Of life
Intermittently
She rosed to a newborn
The period between dusk till dawn
Became a mystery for
Lifelong.
Jul 30, 2020
Jul 30, 2020 at 5:03 AM UTC
I see you only in my dreams
Smiling back at me
helding me tied within your arms
Whispering in my ear to move on
But i closed my eyes so tied
hoping to never wake up from this dream
But as the sun rosed up
My beautiful dream fades away with my love
I wish you never left along with the wind
I count every single star in the night
hoping to fing you amongt
The night breeze frozed my tears
But your love kept my heart warm
But the truth remains the same
I will never see you again
May 6, 2019
May 6, 2019 at 5:02 AM UTC
"should" be loving someone
"could" be loving myself
"might" have known you were the flame that burned my soul if I'd have listened beyond my rosed eye view
rose gold walls and light blue bedding
can I drown in my sorrows?
one cup of water is not enough
not for this lonely soul
sold my heart on a page and retained my body throughout yellow lines on a marked pavement
chalked the purest morning form of myself that I wish I could erase
"you'll get better"
better off dead
Feb 9, 2019
Feb 9, 2019 at 6:29 AM UTC
Who am I to speak with confidence;
When none I have to give in verbal nonsense?
Who am I to think;
When ignorance drowns me in a sink?
Who am I to see with rosed glasses;
When I am overcome with blindness?
Who am I to hear;
When I listen only to mine own fear?
Who am I to feel;
When I decimate our heartfelt seal?
Who am I to be;
If I act as what is portrayed of me?
Who am I to take a stance;
If I stand on nothing of balance?
Who am I, to be who I am?
Apr 25, 2018
Apr 25, 2018 at 9:27 PM UTC