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September Roses May 2018
We are tied together by our stories, our history
Tales woven through our ancestry, when our parents talk of their younger days,
When their life was ahead of them,
the future was anything and everything,
they speak of their old friends with ache in their soul,
Of times when their hearts were filled with fire and passion,
running through fields growing memories  planted by the world around them
When they could sprint the wind in their hair,
adventure ahead,
hope in their heart.
They speak of the days behind with woe
Because essentially just their ideas of the future as a young mind, were more enticing than reality.
As dreams failed and hope faded
As their minds wear
and their treasured stories that made them who they are fog over
As threads begin to wear
As tales they once yelled to the world with pride fray at the ends
Your whole world slipping away as the thread unwinds
But they get the joy of passing down the tapestry to their pride and joy,
to the life they made,
Every moment we live with ease of no appreciation for every experience every laugh
Moments we take for granted
Moments we will pine for when they run out
Moments the elderly urge us with fire to cherish
Moments we'll wish we listened about
There is a vast tapestry of memories behind you and infinite thread panning out in front of you, connecting to other tapestries,
visiting at friends,
at enemies,
joining with soul-mates future.
Some cut away,
some ripped from the tapestries too soon before they could weave their own.
A loose thread cannot be fixed once more are made,
and the patterns will never be what you want them to be, savour each stitch
Take time on every thread
You don't want to be sitting there 50 years old thinking about the life you wasted
About the memories faded,
About how every slipping memory's never like the moment you made it.
Don't be sitting 90 filled with regret
Filled with hatred for every opportunity you left
Screaming into the void about how much you hate what your life become.
because they say time flys when your having fun truth is time only flies when you're young.
Lyn-Purcell Aug 2018
╰⊰✿´ℒ♡ⓥℯ '✿⊱╮
Slim, flavoured meringue cookies
Smooth top, chewy mid
Petite, but perfectly round
Filled with buttercream
Ribbon-soft in mouth
Take two bites
Yum!
╰⊰✿⊱╮
Third Epulaeryu for the day on Macarons!
Love these! They're a guilty pleasure! ^-^
Lyn ***
Nigdaw Sep 18
There is calm

early september pushes summer's
burning sun aside
light changes
air cools, like chilled water
on skin, drink it in

autumn beckons
winter threatens

there is a sadness in your heart
as the world changes
an eternal cycle of hellos
and goodbyes
punctuated with days
that you stick into that memory
scrapbook, which may or may not fade

but now there is this stillness
nothing is happening
before all Hell lets loose
I can be happy
savour a moment
a moment of truth.
ryn Jan 2015
Wondering,
if the universe flinched,
when God took you away.*
- dakota


Will I grace your thoughts when the moment comes?
Will your universe come to a complete standstill?
Will you choke back your tears...
Or by the buckets would they fill?

This pain in my heart
What is it?
I know now it's love
I know now I was bit...

I clutch my chest and begin to think...
Of the splintered shard I had failed to extract
I feel subdued and ultimately shattered
By the crushing bitter ripples of a broken pact

I'm hurting much
But strangely so...
I'm beginning to savour it
More than you know...
Line taken off dakota's 10w - "These words are not mine to keep" for Frank's "Let's Do A Line!" challenge.

Her quote caught my eye and heart the moment I read it and thought, "Wow... That's a great quote!"

It made me think and reflect on my place in the universe. Wondered if whatever I felt would send out ripples into the universe around me.

Thank you dakota for this inspiring this write...
Paul Butters Nov 2014
A drop of Aussie poetry (guess from where):

The liquid amber is a nice drop.
I especially like the sherbert on top.
It caresses my taste buds with flavour
And I enjoy its savour.

An Australian man’s home is his Castlemaine XXXX
Full of Foster Children
Drinking nectar.
From New South Wales, Australia - 37C Plus.
Patience to be Written makes your Hallmark great
There is a Reason why your Pinnacle Shines
For Eight Years my Trek to Romance, debate
Lands on this Heart-Store where She would be mine
You, the Good Luthor, a Genious at that
Wrote the Novel which many Hearts consign
No need for Feathers, Leather, Pen or Hat
This Shop is your Notebook; Your Magnum Design
A fitting Homage to Love's Best Element
Where Hopeful Couples brew their Best Story
Succeed, then many leave your Doors, content
Ready to return for one more Glory.
That Arrow still stings like your Love's First Bite
This Hope I savour to Grow Up in-spite.
#maxbrenner
Jamie King Aug 2017
Waltzing under red moonlights
as thorns tear tongues. We laugh
with black roses reposed in the mouth.

Severed Bonds serve savour songs, as Love leaves longing letters in ponds
of heavy healing hearts.

We waltz still, not as statues but  temperative trumpeters tailing tundras with tabinet tufts.
Terry O'Leary Dec 2016
My chamber teems with tensions, taut, that logic can’t withstand,
fragmenting mental masonry with memories unplanned,
as bitter tears from hazel eyes reduce the stone to sand.

Dim shadows cast by candles flit across the haunted room,
beleaguer apparitions, pale, that stalk me through the gloom,
usurping purloined purple forms forgotten ghosts assume.

The tick-tock clock of time rewinds within the mirrored hall
and pendula suspended, pause, while creatures creep and crawl
on images of effigies, through memories that maul.

The madness of the midnight mass! Perchance it interferes
with spiders spinning spiral threads which bridge the chandeliers
when weaving minds' discarded coils to silken souvenirs.

Reflections graced the vacant gaze of idols as they fled!
Their futile, feigned, far-flung farewells now hammer in my head,
marooned like frozen silhouettes in footprints of the dead.

My lovers smile through marbled masks before they turn their backs
(like furnace flames deserting ash or phantoms fleeing cracks)
with faded, painted, wrinkled faces nightmares carve in wax.

Sometimes a gust disturbs the dust and secrets reappear,
which dance in silver slippers through the dusk of yesteryear -
it's not the screams that drown my dreams, but whispers which I fear.

The hangman posts a letter home, his message indiscreet
about the vestal ****** in the café (where we meet
to savour tea and crumpets) down a one-way dead-end street.

The rapping and the tapping at my tattered, time-worn door
repeat reports of migrant myths, of tales of nevermore,
strung far across a sullen sea, most shipwrecked near the shore.

Forget-me-nots, enwrapped in rain the while a wan wind blows,
recall the faintly fickle fates this drifter undergoes –
alone, unknown with tracks interred in teardrop undertows.

My feet, no longer tied or tethered, traipse within a squall
pursuing profiles long forsaken, buried in the sprawl
of spectres spread amongst the dead, some tattooed to the wall.

At times, the belfry towers toll of anarchy and gin,
of smoke and mirrors, rolling dice and other things akin,
impaled on forks down byway roads, and things that might-have-been.

The skies outside, beyond the night with shutters shut and drawn,
begin to glow on shattered shapes escaping ’fore the dawn
as clouds undone beneath the sun release this captive pawn.
Un-Scrupulous Malaise, must you too bleed
Then savour the Sauce which makes your Thoughts sink?
I could bill you for Libel; Or if need
To saddle the Horse called Radar-Stone-Pink
Her Name makes no sense; And purposely so
More than the Watch to her Father she gave
My Thought's own Mystery comes with a blow
That such single comfort would make me brave
Give to Mind Mind's Self; If it does exist
As one Mahatma told me through and through
Placate this Red Farm; Be strong to resist
Your stubborn Barn from which the Wind it blew.
Life would be feathery if you just dance
To this Musical but Simple Romance.
KiraLili Oct 2016
Let wine breathe
And meat rest
Take the long way
The backroad
Walk don't run
Make love
Play the whole album
Read novels
Eat to dine
Skip small talk for deep
Take nature in
Find pleasure
Focus
Watch sunsets
After you climb a mountain
Show up early and leave late
Chop kindling
Bake from scratch
Pick fruit
Leave your watch on the beach
Wander
Learn to say no
Embrace quality
Nap
Always savour
#slowmovement
Baby, I'm yours,
from the very start...
That's when
you first captured my heart...
I smile each time
you walk through the door...
I feel your love all around me
and through my very core...
I feel the fire
and see the light...
This with you-
feels oh so right...
I want to savour each kiss,
from the sweet to the ****...
I miss you so-
whenever we're apart...
I even allowed you to take my hand
and lead me onto the dance floor...
Having you hold me close-
and then all I want is more...
Kiss me passionately
and hold me tight...
Baby, I'm yours,
each and every night...

2008


COPYRIGHT; Sabrina Denise Healey,
~Angelmom~
KiraLili Sep 2016
To taste you slowly
Savour every single inch
With the one you love
With her
ryn Feb 2015
.
    It's here again...
   Heavy downpour...
   I inhaled the rain,
    cloying with petrichor.

      Standing at my window,
     looking out...
    Street lamps struggled aglow.
   People with brollies walking about.

   My eyes reached out to the heavens,
    tracing these glassy beads
      as they'd free fall...
        Falling by the sheets,
       the pattering hastens,
      periodically punctuated
     by the thunder's call.

     Mind is drifting and floating,
       intently listening to a
          million love wishes...
             Liquid beauty...melding, sketching...
           In light entrapped splashes.

         Raindrops descend and come,
         into my still life tonight...
          Won't you will me numb,
             with your chilly bite...

             Wide-eyed enamour...
            Catching a stray droplet or two.
             Riding the tail of a zephyr,
              finding a place where
                no trouble could ensue.

            An errant gust blew
           to meet with me.
          The refreshing moist
         meets my parted lips...
        Inhaling deep in this reverie...
       Into a sea of tranquillity,
        my mind slowly dips...

      Sigh... If the droplets were kisses...
      I would savour each and every one.
      If the moist wind came and caresses
     I would meet it in a tight embrace
   till the break of sun.

  What a sight...
   Almost surreal it seems...
      As the light from the surrounding
         lamps dances playfully...
        Dispersing and exploding into a
     barrage of shattered beams.
    Before it gets subdued in the drops
   caught by the leaves on a nearby tree...

   The drops would trickle
     and fall before merging,
      forming stranded puddles
       unable to flow...
        Rippling... Splashing... Reflecting...
      An image...
     Borne out of a fantastic show.

    An image of beating hearts,
     overlapping one another...
       Speaking of consequential love
          and feelings so true
        Intertwined...
     in the promise of forever...
  Slowly retrieving itself into an...


  image of you...
ryn Jan 2015
How much do you have to hate life,
to not be scared of death?
- ThePoet


I'd be lying if I said I wasn't
Because I really am afraid
But life has only sharp things
Wonder if death is willing to trade...

Longing
...a splinter
Embedded in the recesses of my core
Nestled deep, this tiny thorn
The source of my disconcerting sore

Need
...a shard
That stabs itself deep
Extract it I will not
Think it's worth the keep

Miss
...a knife
With never a dull blade
Stabs itself right through
Pain that will never fade

Want
...a syringe
Injecting the good and bad
Side effects loom
Driving me quite mad

Love
...a stake
Rammed into my heart
It doubles me over
It rips me apart

Life*
...a spike
Impaling without fail
Siphoning my soul
Through the holes in my mail


These are the few sharp things that I own
The only things I've learnt to savour
I've nurtured them large; now fully grown
Always wondered what death has got to offer...
Line taken off ThePoet's "How?", for Frank Ruland's "I Love Doing Lines!" challenge.

This line left me speechless when I first read it. It boasts of so few words but bears so much weight. It's smart, thought provoking and amazingly deep.
I started toying with it and came up with a response.

I am a big fan of ThePoet. I find that her entries exhibit uncanny wisdom, well laid thoughts and they're incredibly captivating.
Here's to you, ThePoet...
Thank you for the inspiration!
.
s Oct 2017
I think it's been four hundred days
since that innocuous defining phase,
But that's if we were keeping count,
and if numbers meant a thing at all.

For isn't time just ornamental,
perhaps even incidental,
when the commodity is sentimental,
or like love, a hypothetical
fundamental ?

Same page?, I ask,
tying to gauge flipping thoughts;
As if I knew where
my book was marked.
But pages, I can dog-ear,
to hold onto a moment
that would otherwise disappear;

An excerpt that I can savour
many moons later,
when love turns to favour
and leaves
a bittersweet flavour.

It's today
I'm looking for,
among shuffling tenses
but the focal lenses
are blurring
And my words
are slurring
for I'm too close
to your near perfect nose,
to find a reason
for why we chose
this.

I'm afraid this poem has turned
into a rhythm & blue,
or maybe it's an untimely cue
to write that song about you and me -
One that's been due
for a month or three.

A nonsense rune
with an infectious tune;
in the four chord beat,
where the lyrics
unfailingly repeat.

A rhythmic monotony
of a romantic comedy -
a stanza about you,
and a chorus about me -
a few things kept true,
and some made up for story.

Something about
wine pink shirts
and warm maroon shawls,
with just a few words
about unsaved phone calls.
A yellow lamp here,
an airport kiss there.
a night spent in fear,
of doubting you'll be there.
A white wall washed
in cinematic glory;
Two kittens tossed in
to make trouble & ***.
And then a pre chorus
about card tricks and foreplay
and the time in the bus,
we talked about a good day.
A few bits borrowed
from the last rhyme I wrote
and that could be followed
by one even before;
For what could I say
that I haven't already proclaimed
in ten odd poems,
gushing with love, unashamed
Ask the Channel to his Promised Heart's Best
And Glad you shared his Spirit with your Song
Closer, then keep your Cherries fresh with Zest
So both can Savour each Flavours for long
How Fair you took his Living Supplement
Where these Vitamins need your Fresh Support
But Remind him; Of Minerals and Nourishment
Are what is Needed for his Best Report
Then the Grandfather whose Wise Hands will tell,
Strike the Gong to when their Wrapped Hands hold fast
But knowing his Flute which charms your Bell,
His Pickfold Numbers win your Lots at last.
Tally him Softly; And he makes you Proud
To harvest Best Fruits whilst singing out loud.
#livwrightyay #benjdaley
KiraLili Jan 2016
Slowly tracing you
With the tip of hardened tongue
Your skin I savour
Waking together on a Sunday slow morning
For someone who travels, and enriched at that
Placing Terra's Waistline at your own feet
Should you learn the Language by Notes avast
And Shout to your Hosts whenever you meet
I would expect your Lexicon wide-read
And Allowance savour their Expressions
Then, at Home, to your Record's Writ be dead
Sprinkling only your Time-Favoured Seasons
With all those Doors your Blessings have opened
At least with Trine Sentiment you should Thank
Each and every Dress; Their own Design meant
Not just those Laces where you should be frank.
Commonly, they shout and sing with Respect
Then by Flap-Jack's Turn, your Acknowledgment.
#tomdaleytv #tomdaley1994
Perhaps by then, should you find us Insane
Which you consider Loony in your Bin
For you, Shy Heart, Compassion do you Feign
And Ignore these Squares they have Worked so since
Mindfully, Tears do their Hands become
And strained the Sweat asking for your Favour
At least, bend your Fast-Numbered Face for once
And see on your own you Missed to Savour
Now Common, yet Elegant in their Theme
Reminding you what really does Matter
Faces! Faces! And Messages post-seam
Holidays bid Cheer; Wee bit of Flatter.
Their Spirits engraved; At their Time's Expense
To sort your Clouds out; And make full of Sense.
#tomdaleytv #tomdaley1994
Marya123 Mar 2017
I'm a humble piece of bread
Searching for your toasty arms.
When I find you, as I wait
Keep me safe, happy and warm.
Don't burn me to a thin crisp
Don't neglect me to be cold
Savour the balance of the two
As I love you till we're old.
I'll return the favour all day
As you transform to a slice
And I become your oven
In our own quaint paradise.
Ashish Gaur Aug 2018
I close my eyes
To look into your eyes.
I take a deep breath
To savour your fragrance.

I dip my conscience
In the figment of your imagination.
I loose my senses
In the sparkles of your smile.

My heartbeat slows down
To the sound of your presence.
My world spins around
To be a part of your essence.

My soul resonates
With a gentle touch of your palm.
My spirit resuscitates
With a glimpse of your thought.

Tonight I swim
In the sea of your memories.
Tonight I surrender
In the world of your dreams.

Tonight I relive those moments
With you in my mind.
Tonight I let go of all doubts
With you by my side.
ryn Oct 2014
She comes to me every night...
When all is asleep with stars lit yonder.
Comes to me with subtle might
Peeking fiendishly from darkness's cover

Await such time she'd choose to show
Await the chance to finally take.
Ready to pounce like a well tensioned bow
Arrow-like talons, ever honed to stake.

Awake or asleep, she would come without fail.
Creep is her gait; this shadow clad figure.
Always a ***** in my impervious mail.
Claiming her wants with ferocious fervour.

Deemed to be strong, easier to succumb.
Don't fight...don't struggle... Don't call for aid...
Just wait and will yourself numb
She'd come regardless of prayers that's said.

She was here with me last night
In bed, I stared at a being that's faceless...
And my heart wrenched tight.
Gripping and feeding me senseless...

Soon as she came, she left but not before
Siphoning the good and replacing with dread...
Stole was what she did; left me wanting more...
Once deed is done, into the dark she fled.

I know her all too well,
Nocturnal guest that I unknowingly invite
Her intentions to incite, not quell
Send me spiralling through emotional blight.

Day will recede, making room for dark
She'll come; swift and without sound.
She'll arrive majestic; inflicting her mark
I'll wait for her, ready and unbound.

Looking forward to her return
This silent foe whom I find familiar.
With every touch I cringe and burn
Oh secret friend whom I'm beginning to savour...

She is synonymous with various names
Each would bear the likeness of semblance
Let fly her cloak of not dissimilar aims
Endearingly I call her...,

Despondence...
KiraLili Jan 2016
I worked in Europe as a young man.
25 years ago and 20 years old.
I know the names of all I saw now
Then I merely walked by stone places and hills
Wine was everywhere , all the same to me then
Now I can sip them and tell them apart and discern
I went out and was fed at many places but did not dine
I ate and drank and loved too quickly without tasting
Only with youthful and un recollected  abandonment
Age now and learning has tempered my haste
I will go back one day to those cobbled streets
Gone will be the brash hooligan the unknowing youth
I will know where to go because I know what I missed
Return with a keener eye and developed pallet
Only time can teach one that kind of appreciation
And I will return to savour now knowing one day
Return to savour....
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