"skyline" poems
My beloved, tonight it is more than perfect, the zephyr winds sing so
sweetly your name and the crystal stars shine like your earrings.
As the White Mountains glint gracefully, and the wind speaks
over our fingers, upon our balcony, let’s dance, my beloved.
Now over the thousand streams and star crystals in the air,
You can see our prayers fill up the milky rivers in the sky.
Below the lights of Christmas, before the blue rivers of stars,
let’s dance like the shadows and the circles of the moonlight.
Now dreams rise over like the wind and shine so easily
But time falls quickly, and worries fall away so slowly.
So let the rage of your fears dance around and under your legs.
For the world is falling asleep, calling for the colors of their dreams.
So let the tresses of your hair fall freely,
And the wind of your perfume
Soak up the flames of your heart.
Spinning like the starlight, tasting every feeling,
Let the steel blue sky and its stars fall all around you.
Dance wildly, my beloved, let's dance like the songbird who sings,
let’s dance forever, until we wash into the skyline of our dreams.
Dec 16, 2016
Dec 16, 2016 at 3:57 PM UTC
Gentlemen of Courage and Ladies of Excellence,
Toast to stolen prayers with rarer player’s hands;
Soft in defiant laughter,
when drinking their wine from the bowels of brines
Sing along the Ballads of Heritage with Melodies of Exception;
Boast, not a breathe,
though sullen heirs ghost to fairer wearer’s air(s) of land—
A settlement of Rapture and Resurrection, arid, amid dirt and sand
and King and thy Kingdom sprout flowering tomb, and rosebud temple reach to the sky during the showers of spring
Devours the crescent Moon
in big pink petals of bloom;
A garden so fertile
it could look pretty in wartime—
with Gardeners of Courage and Laborers of Excellence;
(Lapse, not into digressions of Being and Essence
but hands in the soil and planting the actions of kingdom come,
patient building of Spring Reign sure
as the flame, the architect of rising Sun is
(Daughters and Sons of kingdom came,
the soldier in a land been conquered and named; abandoned
for the greenness of hope.
)May it never come, Be All The Same; (
be gentle, though whispering wind)
Seeds of Nextyear and the spores of Awhile,
carried by the Wasps and the Clouds
To the Gentlemen of Excellence and Ladies of Courage,
illuminated, eyes from the flora of stars faraway forest floor of foreign
fears,
as the hungry Owls of Time prepare a final feast—
Consume the years between Here and Now;
Watching from blank perch, among
the Trees of Afterall; a place beyond expectance.
Sing the branches of experience, to wake
in Siren’s cipher; inelegant forms
of waking,
ugly sleep on rocks of seabed; once was aboard a marooned skyline—
Those Who Are Will Be
again, again a serf in a wave of Time’s refraction. Neverending neverbeginning;
Those Gentlemen of Courage and Ladies of Excellence,
on the Day That Is, arrays of seers sayers doers displayers
optimists and pessimists, toast to them
and their rarer player’s hands,
Boast they, not a breathe, though sullen heirs ghost
to fairer wearer’s air and land;
Laugh and howl and dine, they drink their wine
from disemboweled gourds
of their own divine—
Warped, in jowls of hungry fix,
no feast they fear, for they prey to the Owls of Time.
Apr 30, 2018
Apr 30, 2018 at 5:28 PM UTC
have you ever paid attention to the sky?
i sure have
every car ride
every walk outside
everytime im sad
i look to the clouds above.
the clouds have feelings
they, just like us, get sad
angry,
and frustrated at times
but they are kind to us down below
they reward us with their beauty
they are similar to us with one more thing
they too, like most of us, have a best friend
i bet they share secrets
and stories
right as they're going to bed behind the city skyline
together they make the perfect team to bring smiles all around
when the colors of the sun
and the grace of the clouds
bleed together
it puts our hearts at ease
next time,
just look up.
Aug 10, 2018
Aug 10, 2018 at 8:45 AM UTC
We wear this city on our feet
Planting our roots with each step
Our shadows
cast shapes of ancient oak trees stretching out over old squares at daybreak
We grow here
with the spirit of buildings past,
present and rising like a staircase to heaven in the distance,
the plumes of white smoke from their rooftops as burnt offerings for incense,
spires for steeples,
the bundled masses of people moving beneath as the calloused soles
of our feet pounding the pavement,
Our congregation
seated in reverant silence on the R-Line hissing to a stop
Their hushed prayers filing out from within to bring the reclaimed sidewalks of Fayetville Street back to life to join this pilgramage
They march
downtown toward Capitol
holding signs for disarmament
They bar-hop through Glenwood toasting to deliverance
They move in a blur of faces that become us,
Rush at all hours through our veins
Cross our hearts and keep us breathing,
Moving
wearing the city on our minds
like the greyest pieces of their winter sky and the way it caps the peaks of Mount PNC, BB&T and Wells Fargo like hoodies over our heads
We assume monk-like appearances
in robes color-coded by season- from blue collar sweaters to cold hard sweat
We'll wear their city until we're worn out and wet,
We'll wear their dreams at night
like streetlamps flickering on beneath wired telephone poles carrying conversations about each one as far south as Florida, fears unspoken, made visible
on iron park benches too cold to sit on at this hour
We'll keep walking
and wear this city like backpacks over our shoulders
under the watch of their heavens,
the skyline
a glowing testament
of every step taken
toward someplace higher.
Apr 9, 2018
Apr 9, 2018 at 7:27 PM UTC
Planes streak across the wide October sky–
The sun is setting–
Contrails stream behind them,
glowing scars of the evening.
The highest ones, they exhale the day’s gold,
pure and sharp
like fields of August wheat,
dusty and late-summer charred.
Redder and lower ones hug the skyline,
No cloud to catch them,
Fall like meteorites,
the slow burn of a dwarf star
Memories never print so vividly,
slow burn sees fast death,
Reds, golds and what's between,
A brain is all catch-and-release
So afterwards what should be left of this?
Not but an umbra,
Impressionist beauty,
A mere relief of its source?
Beauty’s slow fade is not the tragedy,
–rather the reverse–
That we fade to beauty,
To never hold it in full.
Oct 21, 2018
Oct 21, 2018 at 5:09 PM UTC
It's a Tuesday afternoon, I'm at work, I look up from my task and gaize out the window at the skyline of the city. I take a breath and a thought crosses my mind. I take out my phone and send you a simple message. It's Tuesday afternoon you're at school or work, it's a warm afternoon and you yearn for the sun on your body. You feel the phone vibrate in your back pocket, you don't bother looking, you know. You find a private place and begin taking your clothes off. You begin to ********** gently touching yourself. Your **** begins to throb and your body gently quivers and then begins to quake. As you *** you take a picture and send it to me. As the picture sends you see for the first time the text I sent to you.
For me
That is 24/7 TPE
Aug 6, 2016
Aug 6, 2016 at 11:36 AM UTC
A haze of smoke
Blurs the picture
Lipstick stains the
Cigarette that flickers
Red painted nails
Tap the frozen rails
Champagne bottle,
Dating back to Versailles
Blacked out eyes, matching skin
Bruise alike
**** it with a shot of gin
Little white flowers
Shot with a polaroid
Symbolize my paranoia
Pastel colors litter my eyes
Watching the rain fall
As time flies by
Twinkling Lights of the city skyline
Closed eyes, sip of wine
Hot coffee, big sweaters
Take a sip, enjoy the weather
Old book
Faded maps
And worn out ball caps
Gold jewelry flashed about
Parties thrown in nthe underground
Now I begin, haven't you heard?
Aesthetic is in, what a beautiful word.
Sep 7, 2015
Sep 7, 2015 at 2:15 PM UTC
Gathered in a dark night,
Because there lies fantasy of the final judge, my beloved servant,
The skyline set before a calm sunset is a clear memory, stained.
Like flowers, we rise and fall through life's misery.
Dream on- I love you, my dear servant, cling on to my wings,
For a world we see is true, what we manifest, is simply true devilry,
What I'll build you is a castle of crystal starlight.
Ready the flames of misery, slice through fate and shape the world,
My devil's angel, lean on to me, be by my side,
Ah, take hold of me and fly with me, through this spring dream,
Ah, believe our dream and don't let go; and I tie our fates,
Ah, the answer sought by this world's end is but a mystical square,
Ah, cascade through this thrilling, lingering, sweet darkness,
I will fill it with falling stars; like the snowfall to make it brighter,
Forgotten by heaven and hell, a kingdom forms in pandemonium,
Voving affection, does not only lead us to light, but will save all,
Take my hand, for the love of light is for all to bear.
~ Umi
May 4, 2018
May 4, 2018 at 6:00 PM UTC
#*The Arabian Sea
A sprightly sight to behold
The cascading Sunbeams veil the sea in a platinum shimmer
The gusty wind blows
Sparkling diamonds roll up on the ocean waves
The golden Sun unravels the beauty of the bejewelled Sea
The picturesque Mumbai Skyline
Gloriously, rises up in the evening Sky
The mellowed Sun ,beauteous as an orange Rose
Leisurely dips down at the horizon
The Sky cools down to Prussian blue
The stars glimmer across the sky in the dim lights
It's showtime
Bedazzled
I quietly sit and watch the magical scenes unfold*#
Apr 17, 2018
Apr 17, 2018 at 4:16 PM UTC
The sun rises up
on the endless red skyline
with a song of hope.
Mar 30, 2015
Mar 30, 2015 at 3:29 PM UTC
The nakedness of winter lies heavy upon
the tolling Sunday quietude
Shed leaves perish into yesterday
and the dream of another
dawning someday wanes
The sun ― lay low
the drudging ashen skyline
Barerd emerald moss scaffolds
draw much more distantness
to the pallid shadowed horizon
The evergreens step forth,
roots grasping sacred heart,
soil and rock
In the swelling aloneness
you can feel the grain
of the heartwood
rooted in your soul
There are no hard feelings
but there's an enduring ache,
like a tree with a rotting limb
languishing within
its blackened bark sacrifice
It's not just the grinding time
that slips away begrudgingly;
more of the same takes a toll
as if another unrung belfry hour
in an empty bell tower
without a song rang out in vain,
peeling reflections
of reluctant hours c r a w l by
in the insensible apathy
A so called holiday passes ―
its footprint bears down
hard and deep
as if a paling winter rose
grieves its own passing
A dry wishbone unbroken
lay bare the poignant
truth it holds;
it takes two to make
this wish come true
.
Nov 26, 2017
Nov 26, 2017 at 12:33 PM UTC
The Sun leaves auburn shadows,
There's purple clouds in sight,
The evening fades down the skyline,
We lose the golden light.
Purple paints down the horizon,
The sun, not putting up a fight,
The evening's gone and this day is done,
And now it's time for night.
Apr 14, 2015
Apr 14, 2015 at 2:34 PM UTC
A picturesque sky hidden
behind apartments and trees.
Remind me of home,
the proverbial one I was born in
and seen twice.
Blue skies
as if painted onto a canvas
with puffy cotton ***** for clouds.
Cut up by the bland browns and reds
covering the buildings separated by soft hues
of greens and browns.
Ironically making
a skyline.
Sep 21, 2014
Sep 21, 2014 at 1:50 PM UTC
crime, staring competitions, tears.
these small things that lead us further
into the fog, closer to the moths,
attached at the hip, nothing new.
nothing blue, always red.
your guitar rips through the
navy skyline, alerting the stars of war,
violet mornings creeping over the
trees as sleep envelops your eyes.
i've dreamed of something like
this, but i got more than i asked for.
i'd never go back.
i'd never go back to that place where you
don't exist, the dark, the damp, the treacherous.
becoming a threat, was the purple leaves and blinding snow.
but the next morning was lined with amnesia, we both forgave;
but we'll never forget.
Sep 6, 2017
Sep 6, 2017 at 2:29 AM UTC
*When I look out and see the Boston skyline
I whisper like you're still here next to me
I whisper like you can here me
I whisper like you never left
I whisper like I'll be okay
I whisper like it won't bring a tear
And sometimes you whisper back.*
Apr 29, 2015
Apr 29, 2015 at 10:58 AM UTC
IN the night, when the sea-winds take the city in their arms,
And cool the loud streets that kept their dust noon and afternoon;
In the night, when the sea-birds call to the lights of the city,
The lights that cut on the skyline their name of a city;
In the night, when the trains and wagons start from a long way off
For the city where the people ask bread and want letters;
In the night the city lives too-the day is not all.
In the night there are dancers dancing and singers singing,
And the sailors and soldiers look for numbers on doors.
In the night the sea-winds take the city in their arms.
6.3k
.
Each morning I rise unto hours,
Wheeling in sun, with wee wild flowers.
An hearty wish, on hills by the sea
Each day I skip about live stones,
In winds I run, deep dancing my bones.
I am made of each, cairn on hillocky
Each sweep of air a breathy kiss,
On skyline by the sea, one mighty bliss.
Dancing my bones, in winds I run
Each hour a new turning of page,
Each heap on hill, of these I am made.
Wild wee flowers, wheeling in the sun
May 20, 2016
May 20, 2016 at 12:52 AM UTC
As my soles strike the concrete
My soul soars across the skyline
And I catch myself considering
The constant conflict of life,
I'm confounded
By the concept of beauty
By which we're surrounded
Then I see a skyscraper
And my mind goes ballistic
With a sudden epiphany
Each window holds a story
Of a person or a family
Facing challenges like me
And the whole of humanity
I stand there
Staggered
As I consider the potential
The knowledge
The beliefs
And I begin to entertain
The ludicrous notion
That maybe
Just maybe
The world isn't broken
If all of those windows
Set aside all adversity
We could face any problem
With the highest degree of certainty
Dec 3, 2013
Dec 3, 2013 at 5:03 PM UTC
The gold that flows, through our elaborate veins,
The crop that is known, by many names,
The gift that alleviates, our daytime pains,
The commodity that plays, one too many games.
Our world is nothing, but a bottomless mine,
Simply waiting, for the wrath and plunder of humankind,
Oh labourers please, wait your spot in line,
For it was not you that made, this incredible find.
You’re a fool to think, the system needs a redesign,
For your fate and this chain, are forever intertwined.
Stay in your corner, as they wine and dine,
For it is you not them, contained by this chain’s bind.
Posing as a gift, that elevates their daily grind,
The brown gold is no longer, part of your bloodline,
It was their chains after all, that made this incredible find,
For it now flows away, from the Plateau’s skyline.
You continue to hope, for these chains to be redefined,
But to imagine you even exist to them, is asinine,
Yet you believe a consumer movement, would be so inclined,
For you forget that chains were made, to always confine.
Jul 27, 2019
Jul 27, 2019 at 3:55 AM UTC
I stood there.
Staring.
A snow-capped peak stared back.
I became exceedingly captivated.
Captivated by the thought that he and I existed;
Existed now.
Existed here.
Existed together.
I became a shell.
A shell filled with explosive joy.
And I could no longer become underwhelmed.
Nor could I become whelmed.
I lived.
I will never believe in myself more,
Never trust in Creation more,
Never be enveloped in the stillness more
Than I did in that moment.
Glimpsing that skyline.
Staring down a mountain.
May 6, 2014
May 6, 2014 at 5:26 PM UTC
I see the skyline of the city at sunset. Smoke from my cigarettes rises, Dancing around us.
We sit in silence,
Watching the sky darken.
I look at you,
Take in every strong line of your face.
I notice in the fading light,
Just how stunning your carmel skin looks intertwined in my milky white hand.
I inhale in the darkness,
Letting it envelope me.
Fireworks start to erupt in the distance. I exhale,
watching as they glow in sympathy. Stardust and sprinkling colors surround.
I smile,
It's so magical with our mountain view. You kissed me tonight,
as I thought you should.
Perhaps it was the whisky,
That made us so bold.
I don't know why it is,
That I couldn't help but kiss you back. Even though I knew,
It wouldn't last longer then fireworks and a cigarette.
Jul 5, 2014
Jul 5, 2014 at 2:58 AM UTC
Where do you see yourself in a year?
Still living here -
A tactile skyline atop pillars of smoke
Heavy with guilt
And the craftsmanship of a generation of men
To whom Earth is a rock, immortal
Untouched by the bouts of the smog which ascend
To hold up their forges?
Where that which is green must also be man-made
And an old plant-pot
On an old window-sill
Is the closest to what was here before? Is it a facsimile?
Where your throat hurts,
Chemicals an ersatz flowing stream
Of purest water -
And why is rainfall the freshest you can drink?
You haven’t always been here.
Where were you before? Was it green
Or blue, or any other colour
Besides this abiding grey? Perhaps
There were rainbows and colours
And sunlight, unfiltered by smog
Or dust. Warm, purposeful.
Her fragility charmed you.
Because our Earth is not immortal. A wanderer
In space, motherly, who are we to defile her?
A species of smoke and tar turning her soft hues sour
Colours unknown to nature
Like a drop of arsenic in a stream flowing through rocks?
Do you see yourself living
In a fortress, tumultuous to its steel bones
Each day burrowing deeper into her body,
Claiming her for its own, and ruining her at the same time?
So you think about your opportunity.
This life which fills her air, pulsing and vibrant,
To restore the purity we are missing -
Because Human and Nature are as one,
Invention is necessary but we are losing our time,
Virescent leaves brushing in the wind,
Our friends are loving, laughing, living
And we realise now that we are able to do so much better.
Or does none of that matter, somehow?
We make money to spend on plastic.
We are born, we work, we breathe, we die,
But we are still yet to run out of time
So where do you see yourself in a year?
Nov 8, 2018
Nov 8, 2018 at 4:46 AM UTC
You came to my life
And taught me a lot of things.
You inspired me
Beyond what could have been.
You were the storm
That changed my calm skyline.
You were the sun
That lit up my dark world.
You were the fire
That burned my worries away.
You were the catalyst
That propelled me forward.
You gave me everything I needed
To grow, to prosper, to be better
Than I used to be.
You gave me so much meaning to my life
But I can't give anything to you in return.
And I'm so, so sorry
That there's nothing I can give
To be able to return what you've given me,
To be able to mark your heart,
To make you remember me,
Like how I will always remember you, 'till my hair turns grey.
Jan 1, 2017
Jan 1, 2017 at 4:41 AM UTC
As the skyline alters its guise
From the lively azure
To an idle whitish hue
Which ended into
A mournful shade of gray
Like the shade in films of retros.
A frightening sound,
A roar from an angry beast echoed
After every glowing zigzagged lines
Which I thought he drew.
Louder it went
Like drum rolls
Of an ill-staged concerto,
But uglier it turned into.
Haunted, I cupped my hands on both ears
Crept under the covers
And wished it all away.
Jul 7, 2014
Jul 7, 2014 at 9:06 AM UTC
A blood red sunset drips over
the black asphalt city skyline
somewhere in a lost part of America
where the dream has
long been dead and buried
and hate and fear rule
the rural streets that are protected
by peace keepers
that practice ******
more often than upholding the law
It has been declared open season
on any crow the color
of a starless night sky
and the dove has become
a symbol of
to protect and serve
their own kind
birds of a feather
that cover for one another
justice is blinded
by the snow covered truth
and the color of corruption
is coincidentally the same
as the color of money
the poor have little choice
but to trade their bones
and their hopes
to the corporations
of the new land
of the free
to be owned by
and controlled by
a minimum wage
that only guarantees
to keep the poor
poor enough
to work another day
and another day
and another day
until there bones are
nothing but powder
and their beds
are nothing but coffins
for the barely living
and life somewhere
in a lost part of America
at the end of everyday
the sky turns red
and the color of blood
runs through the streets
as the doves go along
with their business
of the murdering of crows
Sep 23, 2018
Sep 23, 2018 at 10:27 PM UTC