"silverly" poems
How can Belfast be so cold?
a breeze in a summer front
the unpredictable British weather
Of intermittent warmth and dull
drizzles of a torrential fizzle
The titanic stands erected
stilled by the western winds
In stiles as robust as steel
as shadowy silverly specks
reflect on the unused puddles
Southwards to the coastal shores
where green shimmers magnify
and blue waters justly testifies
of the beauty of the north-eastern waters
flowing from one glen to another
Aug 16, 2018
Aug 16, 2018 at 5:10 AM UTC
An angel on earth was found and blessed by a wonderful lover forever,
But this angel fell and she fell far, so far her lover could not retrieve her.
She loves him still and always will; even with her heart stretched by so many who love her so completely. Her heart has plenty of room to enfold more to love and care about.
But she lost her midnight blue, her silver cherubs running too fast,
spread too thinly. She sits on nearby riverbanks late at night watching the waters flow; crying for those she loves the most, those she believes she can help no longer. She cannot help herself enough to give way to some of the great ***** passions she believes cannot be met by him and he loves her from the bottom of his heart. The angel is so loved by so many, but cannot accept help; will not accept help, because she has fallen into a dark hole that has stolen her wings. She kicks and screams like a beautiful stallion all alone trying to get out of the waters of the dark hole. She is all alone and it is late at night, midnight blue with many silverly stars above.
The midnight blue starry skies watch and silver cherubs remind her of their love and needs. She wonders why she lusted so much, and he is glad she did. Did he tell her so? Forgive such a sin an angel feels. In love all is fair. Save her, let her know. Show her in oh so many ways!
Dec 15, 2014
Dec 15, 2014 at 11:39 AM UTC
slips from nothing hugely poem of
light creating light by leggy moon
over whole earth palely tousled in
maimed and drizzled in silver curving
a point is risen amongst (man) and time
earth away sprawl echoes of finite
sleep.but though it moon over(in
a little naked comely heap of pert
and blazing tinder calmly foisted
between sabled ******* of aching
stupid darkness)burns how and fiercely
eloquent
o moon though small and nothing hugely
poem shall i (man) a poem slip by mortal
wiggling fumbles; and O moon!quiet sleeping
curves away silverly(into pimpled quavering
neatness)i muscle leanly dispute the soil
and up to you gallop sloppy gallons of kiss
(for you are most pleasant.UR round and fit
nearly in my lips (who shall pluck you from
between ******* and fill me burning
)Lust
Oct 2, 2012
Oct 2, 2012 at 3:09 AM UTC
christ was gangling,PARTICULARLY,of crucifix
drooping silverly reposed upon woodish portals
heavy oaken clasp swung adroitly to harbor
the rough shale and silk. the littlest chaplain
was swearing in there
hewassaying"shit"
Feb 5, 2011
Feb 5, 2011 at 10:41 PM UTC
The universal path is a windy link
in reflections it bounces in dryness
the wood wounded with unknown
phases tainted with fists that hints
The bareness of the desert lays untold
roasted and unbroken in resistive dunes
torn and un-tuned in the rusty mirage
bareness reformed by the scorning sun
See those hungry eyes digging in hilled sands
the lost hope lusting for a love swayed to last
memories of the crux, the faded in between
the withering leaves burnt to grimy coal
The tidal waves erupts as pure bliss builds
such loneliness buried in ocean depths
kneeling at the mercies of the greenery
pending rejuvenation to harmonious trance
On the edge of the bridge toes tiptoeing
the cord unfurling in, over and within
waters paints in hues of silverly blue
a sacrifice to reign in the depths of the shore
Jan 25, 2016
Jan 25, 2016 at 12:25 PM UTC
Walking into the midnight
through mist feeling
softness of
tangible tickling of silverly shining
lunatic glow of rain drops
that tarnished my soul
rinsed imagination
as i moved towards the womb of night
like an invisible spark
glowing tenaciously in the midst of darkness.
Winds mooed
thunders rumbled...clapping applause
ravishing silence
as the divine being within trembled
spurted out in an instant
as my body flinched with lust
and it burst out laughing...thinking of its grave
on the gallows of nature
Jul 11, 2010
Jul 11, 2010 at 3:30 AM UTC
SleEp)?
you,'re are an pale sweeping pliant loosely club
bashing softness
upon my cobbled unsplendid
ink
and smashing
viscously the poppies
stubborn lungs
dusted
imperfectly
arrogance
a you lovely supple fire
the opened closeness
of cotton treasure
fluttering
existential
motes
and the you
smell like razors cluttering
silverly
the knelling
harbor
of
my
soft hardness
and
you are a majesty .wholly
unalone
Oct 19, 2010
Oct 19, 2010 at 10:02 AM UTC
Sunlight dripping like dew in the evening's sunset new as the rays sliver down silverly over every cloud.
My gaze caught the sky as it often does, a flashback surprise, a mandala echoing all of the things I love.
Mar 11, 2013
Mar 11, 2013 at 6:14 PM UTC
i am hauling the ruins of war
the haggard ones passing by
fat wrinkles under the chin
they never were, but will be
the haggard ones will be
without having existed, on paper
leaden faces shining silverly
they don't know about existence
from the bazaars of being, they
steal the fruit of red dreams
sometimes they come to us,
walking around in cities, strayed
multiple faces, unrecognizable
a teint, hidden under cornmeal
they are hauling the ruins of war
heads hanging down to the ground
Jul 28, 2021
Jul 28, 2021 at 10:22 AM UTC
which have felt.
the night sleepily in white dressing gown
up
and grinning
with the **** sliver of its moon a bit
wide luminous and softly( .
a dream that teeters
briefly with infinite stupid self
I) the ridiculous me
that with five fingers says some wan curling;
there is a fan blowing, i can just hear it vaguely
stooping
its rapid cheeks somewhere; silverly.
And) can anyone describe
why laying is pleasant when dying is to lay forever?
(i think
and i don't
and it's so cold outside winter the trees are creaking but inside it's so warm i pull the covers over my head and begin some divine fantasy of girls. . .
Unfeeling girls
Feb 8, 2014
Feb 8, 2014 at 7:06 AM UTC