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L B Jul 2018
For my cousin, Chris Goldrick

Lacing my skates
after walking two miles
in girl-strictured delight
Mom's stories of Sonja Henie--
No, not ever

Lacing my skates
with  snow-ball pompoms
felt skirt
and nylon tights
Cute little hat with matching scarf
My thighs and fingers
already freezing
icy burn
from miles on foot

to get there
the lake where--

I must get out
I must get OUT!

Knowing what
to expect from my body
the quick-twitch of muscle
Could always sense
specific--
gravity of water    
at 22 degrees

Desiring to feel
the motion between ice and steel
Read speed's vibrations through my body
The brain registers relation
to weather's effect
Tell of velocity
possibility of fall
Feel the slash of the blades beneath me
Throw my weight sideways, sudden
to hear that furious hiss
An object in motion tending, dire
to stay in motion

Threatening to stay there
always
in its heights-- of speed
away--

from the crowds of skaters
swirling distant in the lights

Seeking instead
the farthest reaches of Porter Lake
speed and speed and more
to overcome
inertia
of what it is to become
undone

at the outer edges, of humanity
A force  
centrifugal unto myself

Avoiding

Pregnant and slow
with years and babes....

The best
must be broken and tamed
of what it takes to stay free

catching the edges with every stride
catching my toe in the quick
180
spray of frost
to the sudden still

Listen to the frigid chill

and the heave of my breath
tumbling into evidence

Gliding
Once

Forever--

on, into darkness
of woods on frozen water

The wildness of it all

So infatuated with flight
so full of grace

I forgot Sonja

The moon rose
from her seat in the treetops
and applauded
Wrote this immediately from a dream a couple months ago.  With all the heat and humidity, it sounded good to go today.

This dream was an actual relived memory of being 12 years old and skating at Porter Lake in Forest Park of Springfield, Massachusetts.  22 degrees F is minus 5.5 C --Just a reference
King Panda Jan 2016
I walk through campus wearing
black leggings and those faded, leather
boots. I’m even wearing an
infinity scarf I bought full price at
Anthropologie and a pair of tiger-striped
cat eye sunglasses. ****, I look good.

On top of it, I’m smoking a Parliament
menthol, my red-lined lips whipping
smoke into the dead air, creating
a grey cloud that some would call cancerous and
others, ****.

But no one notices me, and, candidly, I
am okay with that because I notice me, and
I am a big red dance button that demands to
be pushed. So, I push myself and
groove down the brown brick road all the way
to classroom 114 in the science building.
Deb Jones Dec 2018
A little Asian man
Stood at the counter

He rung up my purchase as my then lover put a male scarf on the countertop

My lover said
Hey babe, Mind buying this for me?

I said sure. Just as the Asian man raised his eyes to meet mine.

His face was expressionless
But his dark inscrutable eyes, which normally I would find difficult to read without an expression to pair....

But I read his eyes as if he were writing words in the air.

Why are you buying that for him?
I thought “It’s only twenty five dollars”

Why does price matter? He asked
“I have the money.
It’s not an issue.”

When was the last time he bought something for you?
“Well, today he bought me orange juice.”

But didn’t you give him the money for it?
“Yes, but...”

But what?

I looked at my lover and instead of telling him the truth I told him I didn’t have the money for it.

Immediately moving my eyes to meet the Asian mans.

I think my lover was embarrassed because I said this in front of the man.

Instead of agreeing he argued. Does it take 2 to argue? Not in this instance.

I paid for my purchase and knowing my lover had money in his wallet I asked him if he still wanted the scarf.

He knew I also had money in my wallet.
So as he understood the question
To mean I was now prepared to buy the scarf for him

He enthusiastically replied yes.

The Asian man’s eyes never left my face.

I told, the man I knew was never going to warm my bed again, that no, I really didn’t want to spend the money.

His face turned red. I could hear the redness in his voice.
“What a ****** thing to do”

The Asian man’s eyes finally left my face and looked at the man I was with.

And he finally spoke.
“May you live in interesting times”

I was slightly disappointed that he had not wished such a blessing to me.

It was only after thinking about it for awhile that day that I realized he actually cursed him.

For me I realized uninteresting meant happiness and peace
Nobody Sep 2017
First he demanded I force him on the bed.
He said don’t dare relent till he’s fully spent.
So I start by removing all of his clothes,
kiss and bite him all over, so very slow.

Then he makes me bind both his hands tight,
orders a satin scarf to blind his eyes.
Next I gently bite his neck on both sides,
stirred on even more by his ****** cries.

My tongue wants to lick him just where he likes,
he trembles and shakes as I lick him up right.
He’s hard and tasty, I tease him till I’m sore;
**** and stop, he can’t take it, and begs for more.  

My mouth is so warm, he’s slippery wet.
I take it, and smother my throat in the mess;
and after he’s been pushed so close to the edge,
he rapidly pounds my mouth till the end.
Rob Rutledge Mar 2018
We are worn like winter coats
Held close while wild winds rage.
The scarf that suffocates the throat
The cloak that provokes the rain.
While the weather waits and wonders
Whether it will weep or thunder,
What we wear seems outnumbered,
Cotton caught out in the rain.

The coat now hangs forgotten,
Left to rot with wet socks,
Winter frocks and all things sodden.
The ghosts of colder days
Locked up and tucked away,
Moth eaten and decayed.
Waiting for the weather,
Wondering if whether
We will ever be worn again.
King Panda Jan 2017
I wish I could find
Another
Word
One plucked from a
Chicken or
Snagged to a line
But all I have is
Drift
You
Laughing
Like a drunken
Gondolier
This momentous
Rise of horns
And the little
Spittles of foam
That froth at
Our legs
The sea
Creates you
A scarf
And you turn
To look at me
Your eyes
Drifting
Through the notes
Around me
Sweet
Music
Who are you
If not mine
To keep
patty m May 2014
Two Moons
through an onion skin,
gulls ride out approaching storm;
I embrace the corner of my bedroom.
A brief inward look tumbles from the bed,
my heart rises.
                Ice and sun, reversible stars, the driving pistons

behind this bleeding vision

My thoughts a scarf tail whipping wind
descend into darkness

I search for landmarks in unfamiliar territory
clinging to the floor until a cold draft finds me.

Voiceless, hunched, in the corner,
I'm shaken by seismic tremors.
'
Dark as a crow, I wait in despair for something to enter,
a pattern of deeply etched lines, stars that won't burn out,
a shadowy presence of something fearful.

Flames ***** like small bones,
springs fly from clockwork mechanisms,
all the disparate forces spin in ghostly dance.

Eerie symmetry conspires to do me in,

Hope and Reason stretch out  their hands

                                                  too late.

Darkness swallows me.
L B Aug 2018
Bent
Near to breaking
by her burden
of fruit, swollen with seed
In that thrashing by wind
Bearing down on the sun
in her labor—
of  Need
to bear
the pain
to bring
her yield
to his hands—
her harvest
of warm juicy softness


Gone—
the upright
reach of untouchable spring
When stems, stern and smooth
wore a lace-beaded bodice of bloom
of coral chiffon
First leaves
a scarf
with a fringe of lime green
wrapping her gifted and lean
to the buzzing

She was lighter than dew
to the amateur insects
smeared with her

Her only accessory--
a robin
They had left
as evidence
they had ravaged
its song


Now broken and leaking
more damage endured  
Ripe fruit in rough hands
He leans against limbs
by his weight sternly pressed  
so suffused in the fragrance
of peach intoxicants
which he will have--
with ever-deeper shove
of his seed
He is lost to his ****
He is forcing his need
to sink his steak
into another year's beauty

asserting his claim over and over again
of that lost and ancient bounty
Many edits 8-16-18.
Bor ehgit Aug 2018
We were holding hands as the snow started falling. Your face was red, as if you had been crying. As it covered the trees, the scenery changed. The heat from your body met mine in brief stages. I was falling in love in the silence, you were perfect, wrapped tight in your scarf. I knew you became lost in your thoughts, mapping every feeling out. I never felt closer to heaven, as my limbs slipped away from brain and I wished we had forever, to be stuck in that beautiful day.
esridersi Aug 2018
Beauty wears a short, black dress of olive silk skin.

    She lies poised on the couch, drained of her special sleep.

    Yet still, light pours His fingers down her figure, sleek and thin.

    The face of her dress smiles behind the glasses guarding her deep brown eyes.

    Beauty chose the slender sweet slits for her lips.
    They match the dips her hips outline on her gown.

    Her legs sit dainty off the side, but her flushed-red scarf wraps her cheeks,
And hides quietly in the back.

    She sleeps soundly dressed true black, with her small eyes cracked.
Stu Harley Apr 7
sky
wears
her
beautiful
blue scarf
and
pink ash rose dress
appeared
through
my
fresh eyes
To
Witness
venn Jul 2015
Having depression is like being caught out in a blizzard.

At first, the cold seems like nothing.

You're all bundled up in a fluffy coat,
Scarf wrapped around your face,
Hands slipped into gloves and tucked under your arms

But then the snow begins to fall,
And the temperature drops,
And it's like the chill is stripping you down, layer by layer,
Even though all your layers are still there

It gets colder, and you start to feel the effects of the chill,
The fierce winter seeping into your bones,
Making it seem as though you only walked outside
In a pair of shorts and a tee shirt

Your body begins to numb as the cold starts,
The weakest parts of you losing their feeling first

Your nose
Your ears
Your cheeks and your face and your fingers
All becoming completely numb,
As if they aren't there anymore

And then your legs stiffen up,
And you have trouble walking,
Even though you try so hard to keep moving,
Because you know if you stop, you're doomed

But you lose your ability to function,
The cold causing almost complete ****** paralysis,
And no matter how hard you try,
It's impossible to keep moving

You fall to the ground,
Curling into a ball in the snow,
Trying to keep yourself warm

But the cold is too much.

And as the hypothermia sets in,
Your brain tricks you into thinking you're actually warm,
And you ***** of the layers that were the only thing
Keeping you hanging on

And then it's over.
Nico Julleza Dec 2017
∙∙∙◦◦•◎•◦◦∙∙∙
Grasping her every arm,
In unowned mittens and scarf.
Tattered, the eyes red as Mars.
Though all she can do—
Is gaze to peoples jewel afar,
And wonder in optimum.
The best possible way to omit;
A lifelong scar of tantrum.

An infinite tribulation mimics.
Mediocrity sneaks to pry.
Uncanny euphoric figments,
Biding the year-end tide.
To lay undone ashes of shame.
She mourns a winterscry.
Putting off the endless dolor,
Till death ends that butterfly.
#Winterscry #Sorrow #Suffering #Alone #Broken

This poem was inspired to the novel Le Miserable the story of Fantine. How the society can be hopeless for you, mistreated, abandoned, broke.
But I pray this would only be a narrative of poetry to us and would never become one's Life story.
Have A Dream and Fulfill it. God bless you poets.

(NCJ)POETRYProductions. ©2017
Carmen Jane Mar 12
Luscious scent, her scarf carried,
That she left behind,
On purpose.

Away she took her gaze,
That lasted a second,
On purpose.

Pearly smile, she kindly flashed,
As biding goodbye,
On purpose.

The tab was picked up by her
For that homeless man,
On purpose.

Prayers she hummed in her daily runs,
For all menkind,
On purpose.

Verses she danced, in her mind,
While whispering rhymes,
By accident.

Softly she touched with her silky hands,
Yours, on the bus,
Also, by accident.
Sam Hawkins Dec 2015
Down from Arizona desert cold and absence of ice and snow
three white painted terracotta pots
by the Villa apartment on the tabled walkway—
Christina’s place.

Stacked, each alternately inverted one to the next
stabilize a snowperson body.
Can you picture it?

Black painted buttons all the way up?
Lips of dots, an orange twist of nose,
deep eyes void black.

Burgundy scarf tied around the neck,
positioned just so, it could be fit
to a Christmas Chihuahua.

By its playful form and surprising attitude,
may it well succeed at pleasing every passerby
and draw out, on each scroogy face, a smile.

It’s been doing just that for me, as I park
opposite each night, my headlights there shining.

Still, I have not and shall not peak inside
the alluring, open terracotta skull,
since I have imagined not wishes,
nor disappointments, nor elves and cookies,
but practical ash, randomly spiked with spent cigarettes.

Last night, as I walked out, with my night’s anticipations,
my grab-bag of happy tangles, Christina’s hanging silver chimes
issued soft whispering over terracotta, and I caught
a remembrance of Amazing Grace how sweet the sound.

Mojo my psychic dog turned me sharply then,
and he took me away–we two, going home
to the starry desert.
Saltnoon Nov 2018
Tossing & turning towards the dying light
Tears on the pillow
Desperate calls were made
Empty words were shared

I tied a scarf around my neck
Pull it harder and let it go
Stu Harley Oct 2018
mirror...mirror
in
the sky
wipe those
tears from
your
blue eyes
with
your
red scarf
hallelujah,
hallelujah,
amen
RK May 2016
I went to the market to buy some fruit
preferring to give them my business.
A couple of bits though not very much, thinking, well business is business.  
Two bananas here, one or two apples there, a few strawberries, avocado  a ripe juicy a pear. At different stalls as I went along  'twas truly a rich experience

'Tis a market for the local people! They shop in bulk at a much reduced cost, a saving for those who are not so well off , reminding myself,  money doesn't make one rich either. As I went along, I heard their song in a language that's now familiar.

I want to declare how amazing they were, for profit is not their reason. One man refused my cash and said in his broken english,  " for you" with a smile, as broad as a mile,
I couldn't believe it!
The lady in black, with a scarf on her head, a smile and a nod, I heard what she said, we are equal.

  With  a bow of my head I consented  to a most generous people.
I allowed them the pleasure by receiving their gifts, aware of the bliss that's in giving.  On the way out the door a trader I saw, selling such wonderful honey. I sampled them all and bought a jar of his best, knowing the love of his keeping.
Peace
It depends on the market also. There's big and small ones.  this one was huge. I adored the aboundance of natural food there.  all the locals as well.
n-khrennikov Sep 2018
Peacefully placed inside the window
where we return after the first day

Call your name with a chiffon scarf,
It has perfume on colored hair.
Drink the wine of love with rosy cheeks
Telling each other a few stories
Do you know I was watching you?

The sky tonight if there are
thousands of bright stars,
Without moonlight, without a dark night
Do you know you are a star in the night?

Together, the time looks stopped.
The horizon drawing on our hearts ...
Jun 26th, 2017
Jack L Martin Sep 2018
There's an ick in my crick,
that makes me feel sick,
my insides are taring in two!

I seek some relief,
complete disbelief,
this sickness contracted from you!

I put on my scarf,
am ready to ****,
my temperature rises above.

I'm ready to hurl,
my diamonds and pearls,
lost all of their their lustrous love.

It lays at my feet,
spread out on the street,
I told you that I wasn't faking.

My mind and my heart,
all splattered apart,
my soul lays there now for the taking!
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