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ryn Sep 2014
Creature of myth, you have to be real
I know you're there, I know you exist
Can't see nor touch but indeed I feel
That should suffice to say the least

No one I know has seen this mythical creature
I stand by my beliefs... I simply just do...
This being unknown to aged texts or ancient scriptures
Allow me to document, I'll keep it true

"A magnificent neck that tapers into a head
Much like a halo, wearing a luminescent crown
Azurite for eyes like many have said
A golden mane majestically cascading down

Almond shaped face, with cheeks slightly scaled
In the centre were dimple-like nostrils
From it's mouth, a voice; demure and frail
Speaks in verses from a time frozen still

Within the cage right under its chest
I know that calmly there lay beating
A huge, magnanimous heart does rest
Embedded deep within a physique so beguiling

Its spine is perfect, as if forged by a divine mould
Limbs are long, but with gait so light
Non terrestrial wings that into nothing they fold
Stretched around is smoothened skin milky white"


That is all I have got to offer so far
Matched the words to my mind's bewitching visage
No one has seen it; thus ensured that they cannot mar
In my head will forever be etched the image

Creature of myth... Please be real
Know that I am blinded, I just want to see
Not for the others, you don't reveal
I do believe... I just need to convince me...
kiryuen Aug 2015
this is not the path I wanted to go
this is not how I wanted us to grow
I’ve been down this path once before to know
this is the feeling of tumbling down a rabbit hole
what have I done
or rather, what have I let happen
I said I wanted us to stay pure please
please don’t push me down the rabbit hole I said
you don’t know how hard it was for me
to find my way out the first time
and you don’t know I haven’t been home since
haven’t smoothened out creases in this rumpled white dress
haven’t found how removing these stains work
and yet, here I am, again
you know, mud stains on this white lace seem fitting
you took my hand and led me down the aisle
an aisle I knew I’d walked before
I recognised the rotting leaves
the trees that seemed to wail “you should leave”
I knew soon we would arrive at the rabbit hole
I never pushed you away, only said please
white rabbit,
I should’ve known you were the white rabbit
entranced by pocket watches only counting hours
ticking off seconds and watching time closely
this is the hour you will take me by the hand
this is the minute I fall for you
this is the split second before I say “I do”
white dress, you chose this for me, white rabbit
just to see at the altar how I would look in white but sullied
“I still can’t believe how you look next to me,
just like a ******* bedroom scene”
we used to be so decent
mud stains, creases, the only things sincere about me right now
white rabbit, you knew the exact moment I would fall
down the rabbit hole
again
The Dedpoet Nov 2015
She is the last of her
Frailty, that shadow
Of girl interrupted,

The whole of her burned
Like a great scar on a heart
She once knew.

The anamolous woman
In another world,
A woman used and left behind,

Though one cannot recognise
Her face, through her
Demeanor she tells of another life.

And she declared war
With a ravenous intention
On building great walls,
Insurmountable

And with no doors
She leaves but a window
For him to find
And glimpse what she guards.

He will fall for her
And break like water against
The rock,
The jagged rock never smoothened

And the walls will shake
At the oscillating moment,
She will see a silhouette of frail
And timid creature,

She will sedate the emotion
And the walls will grow taller,
The embodiment of independence
In a story lost to the pain,

She will walk the earth
In a stir of echoes past,
The walls shimmering dark glow,
And the woman scorned does roam.
wounded Sep 2013
the air swelters
as i remain static
and my chest
has become the shoreline
where the sea of your breast
heaves in and out
in a vicious tide
your impulsive moans
are the roar of waves
as they crash against me
but your rage lulls
into a sensual surf
the fluid undulations
let us fully appreciate
the carnal curves
of protruding skin
the untouched stones
smoothened on my strand
and the floor of your ocean
yet you pacify even further
before your waters still
and rest calmly
in steady breaths
on my elated sands
Manu M Jun 2015
“Julio is sweet
Julio is smart
Julio is a sweetheart”
Julio is Julia’s love
Julio and Julia both are Portuguese
Former for namesake, latter at heart

Julio’s America born
Writer he is but no ordinary
Languages French, Portuguese, German, Spanish
All flow through his soul
Virtuoso is the word they use to describe his artistry
And it was for one of his poems that he won Julia’s heart

Poem was 'Meu Coração'
Recited it was in Lisbon, Portugal
Near a beautiful eye catching lagoon
On a sunny busy day; Julia vividly remembered

Today was the day they stole each others' hearts
That is what led to this decision
Of trying a poem for her beloved
But the catch was she was trying to write in English
Her English was even worse than their old Spanish janitor

But she was not one to shy off from challenges
So she tried one more time-
“Julio is sweet
Julio is smart
Julio is a sweetheart
Julio makes me smile
Julio makes me laugh
Julio makes me blush
Julio makes me warm
Julio is my love
Julio is my heart
Julio is my heart”
The poem to her seemed terribly plain but effective
And no matter how hard she tried
It felt as if the words were stapled in her brain

And then she jumped like a kangaroo
As the doorbell rang
Put on her slippers and hurried towards the door
Opened it and leaned forward to kiss him gently
She always knew when Julio was at the door

He was her Julio, her desire, her dream
Smiling at her, his eyes home to the bluest sea
They kissed again and this time more slowly
Letting the magic settle in the air more properly

Julia went to the kitchen and brewed some coffee
While Julio went to shower and as he removed his shirt
He saw a paper on the bed, bent he to hold it in his hand
And the lines on his face smoothened and turned into a nostalgic smile

Julia was busy making espresso Julio’s favorite
When Julio entered , the somehow, roulette shaped kitchen
With a paper in his hand on which stretched Julia’s curvy handwriting
“Oh! Wrote that poem for you I titled it ‘My Heart’
Not very flamboyant, simple like you
Hope you’d appreciate my hard work”
Said she, as if the words were sewn in her heart
Then all of a sudden both erupted into laughter
Laughter filled with a sweet secret each beheld
Lucky enough I was to have known their little secret
Years ago, similar words had crusaded Julia's heart
Near a beautiful eye catching lagoon;
On a sunny busy day in Lisbon, Portugal.

~Manu M.
Dig deep and you'll understand the poem better
Amitav Radiance Jul 2014
The jagged edges of rocks
Get smoothened by flowing water
Yet, the broken mental edges
Cannot be soothed by the flowing emotions
Holding on to life, hanging from a precipice
Not aware of the surrounding, but mental agony
Blurry eyes and senses, leaves you forlorn
Donning a black cloak, coalescing with darkness
Oblivion beckons with enthusiasm
To make you a part of the lonely journey
Travelling with a heavy load of denials
Yet, the rebuttal, becomes the only truth
YoungSymba Oct 2015
I get fleeting glimpse of the skies whenever I glance at her eyes
I see the stars entwine,twinkling,dancing to the rhythm of your heart.
breathing new air into my lungs
Which certainly rejuvenates me back to life.
Cover my scars with words that spell out "you'll be fine" synonymously as a tattoo would promising me eternal shine.

I could've been sceptical and believe my eyes have seen a mirage due to the paths in the past whereby a candle went out in the long run and introduced me to the dark.

Comforted me with a smile that ignited your aura.
Smoothened my tongue with that honey that sourced of your thoughts that are floral.
Her.A.Beautiful.Dream
Nishu Mathur Oct 2023
Once I caught a teardrop, I put it to good use,
I sealed it in a bottle and sent it to my Muse,
She wrote a little song, heart broken and forlorn,
And from one tiny tear, my first verse was born.

Once I caught a frown, I put it to good use,
I crumpled it like paper and sent it to my muse.
She smoothened all the furrows, gave it back to me,
And from my petty anger, she gently set me free.

Once I caught a smile, I put it to good use,
I gave it little wings and sent it to my muse . .
With a twinkle in her eyes, I could hear her say,
With laughter in your heart, may you find your way.


Once I caught a thought, I put it to good use,
On my white winged horse, I flew right up to my Muse,
With a knowing smile, she held my eager hand,
She gave me a prayer, wisdom to understand.

And when, in gratitude, I thanked my feathered Muse,
She gave me a quill and said, ‘Put it to good use’.
Life’s nothing but a rough road
When you care to only see the hateful thorns,
Digging the grave for all joy and peace.
*****, you caress not the beauties the rose adorns,
The smoothened grass, the birds that sing on trees!

Life’s nothing but a weary voyage
When you care to only struggle in sorrow,
Sailing on your tears that seem to forever flow.
Fool, you fail to admire the streaming stars that follow,
The wandering wind, the ocean that with mysteries glow!

Life’s nothing but a blank black sky
When you care to only lose and mourn,
Being devoid of all stars, beauty and bliss.
Idiot, you care not to greet any ecstatic dawn,
The clouds that float, the rays the waves kiss!

Life’s nothing but nothing
When you care to only cry and cry and rot,
Bearing all pessimism and shunning all peace.
Fire your spirits with every smiling thought;
Feel free to flame on in all ecstasies!

Feel free for optimism's the true life!
Pessimist!
To go forth in life, go forth with life!
chiseled out of rock
the sculpted woman was an instant hit!

her large unblinking eyes held a mystical hint
her full lips stirred an untrodden passion
her stone-carved ******* were forbiddingly alluring
her smoothened rock skin was strangely inviting!

they gaped awestruck the rocky woman
full blossomed radiant in all her curvature
a beauty divinely distant beyond the periphery of touch!

they fell in love with each part of her

for sometime

and when her wholeness eluded

immersed her!
Yanamari Sep 2023
Molten
Running
Hardening
Goldens
Welding
Strengthening
Heat emitting
Steaming whistling
Sinking repetitively
Emerging each time
Lacking that youthful glow
Replaced by the reflection
Of my toil given to me
Losing the heat of the moments
Leaving it all behind
It could only last so long
And here I am
Smoothened by the love only I could
Give me
Inspiration: Welding gold and the heat of youth - (Pers Ref: KTLMA)

Read a past diary entry from several years back - laughed if I'm being honest, the passion of adolescence is lost on me.

This poem I wrote mostly to vocalise the changes I see in myself compared to the past, otherwise the style of this poem isn't something I'd see myself publishing anymore.
1996

When news of his would-be death arrived,
his body sterile in white cloth,
serene his was, his finest stupor – clinging on to a drip
  of life, his tongue a strawberry his mother recounted,

forcing him into, his senses dulled,
  it was 1996: else there was understanding,
  there was a hand in a hand that is a latticed rose
  of beauty – or unbeauty, the high prayer of it,

they sat in front of the room facing a mute wall
  for days weeping or laughing. The rustling of the
  daily paper broke silence not news – his dearth was sure.

no more almost was when he went sharply
in a field of grass, his shredded amusement
received by an unfolding – it was his years sideswiping
  him later on, his indices of age revealing an undulant postscript

to which there were imaginary sky-portfolios and
  a particular representation of a smoothened end of a smoking gun
  he held now, years after, years later on

a portion of it his mouth pressed on a lover’s,
and a footnote hidden
    deep within his pelvis:     come back here when laden
Anand Isaac Mar 2013
The hands that cared for the sick and the blind
   were pierced on a cross
The hip that bent down every time it saw a beggar
   was punctured with a spear
The eyes that wept each time He saw someone in pain
    was bloodshot with pain and suffering on the cross
The legs that raced to help someone when they were in agony,
    was now nailed on the cross and made immobile
The voice that smoothened a fevered brow
    was now a voice crying out in desperation to His father from the cross
The head that was always thinking about sinners like me
    was now bearing a crown of thorns
The power that turned water into wine for all
     was now pleading for water, but was given a bitter gall
The heart that gave love without discrimination
     stopped to beat to save you and me from eternal condemnation!
Joseph C Ogbonna Sep 2023
I always did fantasize about our diverse earth;
Its freezing stones in the fridges of the Arctic and Antarctic landscapes.
The idyllic playgrounds on the quiet sands of the Mediterranean Sea banks,
The amazing sun baked plains of the smoothened Sahara brown,
The tropical Haven of humid air, where the golden sun awakes in a fair and bright morning, and sets at even with its magnificent crimson smile.
What a cozy feeling can its temperate climes bring; with its sheer abundance of Clement weather.
A paradise indeed of ambient mildness.
I long for the warm gardens of Eden’s residues, with their ebullient and lush tropical green.
How pleasant it would be to cascade down the many waterfalls in an imaginary and wonderland fashion.
To go atop the zenith of each mountainous heaven from which pinnacle point you have the panoramic view of your own vanquished plains.
I once disappeared into the wind, in a midsummer night’s dream to see my global fantasies come true.
And like a boisterous eagle,
I glided high to the heavens for this global and utterly delightful bird’s eye view.
A poem about an adventure around the earth's landscape.
Xaela San Dec 2018
My mind's drifting further
back to the memories we had
when I was yours
and you are mine
the time we said " I love you"
under the midnight sky
the time we were under those
shady tree and secretly kissed

Our story
it was like the stories told by those
television romance
we watched before
it was so magical it made me blind
blinded by our blossoming love

Back then I was a blind maiden
smoothened with your touch
is all it takes for me
to melt in your arms
yet, I was a fool to believe
that forever was for us

Our story
it was a foul play of fate
we were not destined together
and it broke our hearts to pieces.
John Marcus May 2014
Her eyes shine bright

Standing out in the crowd

She stands out beautifully against the docks

Walking so swiftly

Across the rocks

The  rocks are jagged

Smoothened by her touch

If you think you can catch her

Your out of luck

I tried to catch her eyes

While she looked my way

I saw her walked towards me

I started to sway

She ran into my arms

I held her real tight

She looked up to me

I could tell she didn't want a fight

I held her close to me

I held her through the night

We watched the stars light up

I felt happy and calm

She did too

We finally kissed

In front of the moon

We took our time

I felt her swoon

I looked into her eyes

They stood out a lot

She stood out greatly

Against the whole lot
Jayne E Aug 2019
softly spoken
he and me
gentle
kind
always our
vibrations aligned
in smooth
rythym
we
syncopate
to each others
peaks
and
f
  a
     l
       l
         s
a binding occurs
smoothened
signalling
on rippled water
from pebbles dropped
moonlight dances
on repeat
repeat
shimmery light
in perfect oscillation
undulating
with varifocal
denotation

* * * *

nebulae burst
high above
as if
to celebrate
this love
a coupling made
binary
orbiting stars
he is to me
my magnetar

~~
~~~~~

as for fresh pastures
lush new beginnings
blade upon blade
from fertile seed
lays a soft green
pathway
to true loves garden
where hearts are freed
past well trod paddocks
across faraway seas
where love lays waiting
on her gentle knees

* * * *

©J.C. tiger-baby 11/08/2019 4.44am
Qynn Jun 2017
Have you found perfection?
Is it in her impossibly blue eyes
Or in the honeyed streaks of strawberry blonde hair?
Maybe it's in emerald eyes and raven hair.

But always, always, fat-free and smoothened skin.
Photoshop staples, silicone
pinned in place with stitches.
Perfect. Pink. Hairless. Flawless.
**** and *** to die for.

I make myself sick wondering
How much you enjoy playing make-believe
With the doll-like women on your screen.
Zywa Mar 2021
I survived
and write it down
to forget it

I don't have to remember
what I can read over, but I have to
look for the words

that hide, anxious words
as if my pen is the knife
under the highway past our house

put out of nowhere on my throat
The evening had already fallen
Nervously he cried for money

a beginner, his plan
could be smoothened with calmness
my fear sabotaged

by my husband: 'We don't have money
what use are tea and caramel fudges?'
'Í have money! In my bag'

'Give, give!' My husband
quietly takes my purse
and opens it upside down

The coins fall
The boy bends down
Hand in hand we run
Early 1994

Collection "Life line"
Soft blows the Heaven's whispering wind Saying nothing yet still something's heard -Like notes of a once -elusive Spring
Warbled by Winter's solitary bird.

And sudden my mind in gay abandon
Trolls the paths of a distant day
When twice five years -not a moment more
Innocent upon these shoulders lay.

There was, then, a summer's place
Daintily nestled upon a hill
Where many an hour of pensive thought
I'd spent in silence warm and still.

And nights hazy mists remember
Dwelt on street lights dim and low
With old men safely picking steps
Along gently sloping roads below .

Silent tiptoed the nightly rain
On sloping roofs and tender eaves
Entranced I'd see the pine trees sway
Sigh to their moist rustling leaves

I was fashioned ,to me unknown
By Grandfather -stern and tall
Whose tales of ghosts and djins that walked
Would hold my nightly hours in thrall..

In a verandah bare of face
That gazed upon a leafy vale
Of bards and poets and heroes brave
He told me many a moving tale.

Shadows danced on mountain paths
That wandered lost into the glade
Where nestling pines defying the sun
Cast a softly scented shade.

We knew along those winding trails
Many spots , most quaint and small
Where from the bustling crowds we'd flee
That thronged the town's central Mall.

The summer days were mostly warm
But sudden the thunder darkly rolled
Shivering along those neon lit streets
Stood silent doorways wet and cold.

And when the summer skies were spent
And lightning's flash no longer flared
Like mushrooms from the forest floor
The windows popped and people stared.

Prudence sought a moment's stay
But with that evening's siren call
None waited for the roads to dry
It brought the crowds onto the Mall.

Many spirits of past generations
Daily meandered thru' the town
And people dressed in Sunday best
Traversed that road up and down.

They came to see and to be seen
Boys and girls- the young and old
The warmth from seeking eyes dispelled
The damp and sometimes chilling cold.

When the shops had shuttered down
The dark bade 'night to man and beast
The music played in private rooms
Of friends gather'd to dance and feast.

Lightheaded from the evening spent
Before the first light of the morn
We'd sing to all those silenced streets
And await the breaking of the dawn.

Dreams oft born of that haze
Left many cheeks a blushing red
Hands were held, some glances shared
Some words were heard without being said.

Oft the highpoint of those months
Came when Auckland's fete was laid
With rosy cheeks in neat discipline
Stood girls in brown and yellow plaid.

Many a smoothened cheek that day
Was with fragrant cologne splashed
Many a heart that day was captured
Many a hope that day was dashed.

Many an hour was later spent
Designing chances again to meet
Many a tongue learned by rote
Words a chosen one to greet.

Another place no less famous
Lay some distance from the Mall
Whose quiet greys with hints of red
Adorned the girls of Tarahall.

Just glimpsed faces ,names unknown
Drove the boys to patient wait
Roads that somehow chanced to pass
By Auckland's or Loretto's gate.

Many a summer there was spent
Away from cares of school and books
Many a moment cherished still-
Stolen touches in secluded nooks.

I grew to manhood in that town
Of carefree summers bright and free
It's many summers since last I went
Its people and its sights to see.

The ghosts I left still roam the hills
Some wizened -others grey but well
They search another lad of ten
Their spells to cast -their tales to tell
Jimi Johnson Feb 2020
1

Trees long and tall, stars
Glimming over lonesome hut
I won't find you there


#2

First brown leaves inside
Sun still burning hot outside
Feel ground with bare feet


#3

Bees still not in deep
Slumber - buzzing, talking to
Keep silent man from


#4

Steep forest road and
Smooth, flat, golden mountain top
Like a shaved monk's head


#5

Mountain pass, swaying
Through yellow grass, people are
Nice. Is this the place


#6

Green waterfall carves
Stone blades, underneath wise man
Drinks beer without worry


#7

Travelers lost track
Came upon graveyard - dead end
River waters mourning


#8

Squirrel slowly starts
To gather supplies for cold
No clock or calendar


#9

Stone pebbles smoothened
River that goes anywhere
In a constant flow


#10

First leaves fell into
The stream; restless water wash
Them gently, pristine



#11

Moss on waterfall’s
Edge, solid rock on bottom
No desire to change


#12


River draws crazy
Patterns on silky smooth bed
Like glittering gold

#13

Pine cones falling with
Dull thump; CHUCK; out of the trees
And into the night

#14


Sea of green mountains
Clouds swim sluggishly, hiding
Silent love of the peaks

#15


Solitude of the
Mountains, higher you climb more
Silent it becomes



#16

Green grasshopper keeps
Company to dried, yellow
Grass of mountain steep


#17

Red hands freezing cold
Sister sun obscured by clouds
Changes are coming


#18

Old man's face shorn of
Wool, race is almost run; Man
Do not weep, do you


#19

Soul alone, harsh rain
Jack Kerouac my dear friend
You would understand


#20

It's dull cold inside
Lamp's light vaguely warm, tries to
Spot leaves on the ground



#21

Scrambled eggs, coffee
Layers of pristine bedsheets
Washed in mourning dew


#22

Night walk to bathroom
Leaves shiver in autumn's cold
Spider's offspring died


#23

Beetle sits on grass
Like crouched Buddha; don't worry
I won't step on you


#24

Silent rain touches
Leaves on the porch, I am safe
My Friend moth is too


#25

Annoying fly won't
Break the music of gentle
Rain; in paradise
#26

Fox stopped on the path
Looked with radiant cool eyes
Brief stop on his road


#27

Two Buddhas sit and
Contemplate existence of
Glimming spirit, rain


#28

The room bursts with steam
Pretty Ramen waitress, I
Fell in love with you


#29

Passing your station
I always look for a pair
Of your brown eyes; nothing


#30

To return to this
City; desolation, filth
Dreams of silent peaks
Mountain doldrums is a collection of 30
Haiku poems written during solitude in green mountains.

— The End —