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"smoothly" poems
Sit back and relax Feel the waves wash over your back In the melting sun Looking at the clouds reflecting all the pinks and blues Over the blooming hill, echoing white noise of chirps and crickets Listen to the trickling of the slow water over the smooth rocks Feel a warm wind brush your face With your eyes closed Enjoying the radiating warmth And the soothing crackling of a log fire Or sit and admire the shimmering spray Of a waterfall smoothly crashing into the water of a sky kissed lake Sunlight dancing through the vapor Rainbows jumping through every droplet Listen to the pitter patter of the rain, against a tin roof Inside a warm cabin Drifting to sleep Soon to wake to the song bird's chorus And the blissful sun Bask in it And relax
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Jul 8, 2018
Jul 8, 2018 at 8:03 PM UTC
Sit back
What's it take These days To write a poem That makes the world go mad That brings the crowds to their feet That spreads like wildfire Through a dry winter forest Is it those excessively long words? The ostentatiously loquacious Platitudinous ramblings Of an insecure mind aspiring To authentic intellect? Is it perhaps...      the "creativity"                of      varied      spacing   or...    could it be..... the lack                               of capitalization                the loathsome little letters                screaming out                          hey, look at us!          ... or maybe it's                the punctuation marks,      littered, haphazardly           through the text                     (whether used correctly)                or, theyre not?!      despite worrds mispeled           and a grammar might is broken    can these gimmicks increase interest         though miswritten or misspoken? Is the trick alliteration Whose bite brightly bids us To center on the snappy sounds? Although all along      unvoiced underneath Ideas idle in the isles    (or perhaps the aisles) Of the mind To meld and craft and bind Our thorough thoughts And worthy words Into lines Which Heard by herds Raise the                   Praise for which we                   Privately, desperately                   Pray Maybe it's a magical mix Of splendid in-your-head rhythm Marvelous meter that perfectly clicks Flowing smoothly without schism Well-spaced stanzas Well-used time Well-crafted phrases Well-thought-out rhymes Well, maybe not...      those gems are often ignored      cast-aside, unread, even abhorred Why? Because the modern world doesn't need your rules your restrictions your regulations your misguided boundaries your oppression your antiquated ideas    of "the right way"    to write    to speak    to act    to live    to (fill in the blank) No, what the modern world needs is Negation! Contradiction! Resistance! Revolt! And poetry whose words Say the same thing Repeat the same meaning Echo the same lyrics Rephrase the same thoughts But in an ever-so-slightly Different Varied Altered Adjusted Changed up way Line After line Of synonyms           over                and                     over                          and                          over                          again ----- What's it take These days To not give in To narcissism's spiral? But more importantly: What's it take To make my poem go viral?
0
Aug 12, 2018
Aug 12, 2018 at 12:17 AM UTC
Viral
What's it take These days To write a poem That makes the world go mad That brings the crowds to their feet That spreads like wildfire Through a dry winter forest Is it those excessively long words? The ostentatiously loquacious Platitudinous ramblings Of an insecure mind aspiring To authentic intellect? Is it perhaps...      the "creativity"                of      varied      spacing   or...    could it be..... the lack                               of capitalization                the loathsome little letters                screaming out                          hey, look at us!          ... or maybe it's                the punctuation marks,      littered, haphazardly           through the text                     (whether used correctly)                or, theyre not?!      despite worrds mispeled           and a grammar might is broken    can these gimmicks increase interest         though miswritten or misspoken? Is the trick alliteration Whose bite brightly bids us To center on the snappy sounds? Although all along      unvoiced underneath Ideas idle in the isles    (or perhaps the aisles) Of the mind To meld and craft and bind Our thorough thoughts And worthy words Into lines Which Heard by herds Raise the                   Praise for which we                   Privately, desperately                   Pray Maybe it's a magical mix Of splendid in-your-head rhythm Marvelous meter that perfectly clicks Flowing smoothly without schism Well-spaced stanzas Well-used time Well-crafted phrases Well-thought-out rhymes Well, maybe not...      those gems are often ignored      cast-aside, unread, even abhorred Why? Because the modern world doesn't need your rules your restrictions your regulations your misguided boundaries your oppression your antiquated ideas    of "the right way"    to write    to speak    to act    to live    to (fill in the blank) No, what the modern world needs is Negation! Contradiction! Resistance! Revolt! And poetry whose words Say the same thing Repeat the same meaning Echo the same lyrics Rephrase the same thoughts But in an ever-so-slightly Different Varied Altered Adjusted Changed up way Line After line Of synonyms           over                and                     over                          and                          over                          again ----- What's it take These days To not give in To narcissism's spiral? But more importantly: What's it take To make my poem go viral?
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107
Ah.. shes here...I shuffle around the stalls... watching..out of the corners of my eyes.... she knows ....Intimacy...a hand on flank..careful.. .you'll break me....with your gentle hands.. ..My hard mouth....your soft lips.. ..unruly, unruled....old horse...a kiss. .. Confused, ...stallion in name only. ... You whisper... My ears ***** ... forward..the hunt! ....your scent on.. ..My bridle...I smell u still... .. Calm...Comfort...Welcome... .Gentled, not too gently....a strong hand. . It grows trust …..truth...a Stallion! Once more. Panting...pawing...'Be easy'..nervous eyes roll. .a hand on the neck...a caress..'Gently '...you whisper, .... hot breath against ear … I snuffle and toss my head …. still a bit frightened…..her power! ..Will you ride.? ! ..firm thighs and buttocks.. ..Toes point... Heels dig...all Give and Take…. . Instruction to...from...the muscled beast. ..straddled. Awkward… too long without…. ..A Rider … the matching... Gait with hip... Walk-on.. Trot, pounding...Heels clip. ..faster, just a bit..Then smoothly they fit her to him. ...a canter.....this long stretch....rocking like one creature ….each a part of the other...breathing evenly… ...caught ….. Breath comes quick...bodies warm. . Exertion...strength..trust.. Leaning forward.. knees grip..pulling...toes curl..in.. ..hot breath..whisper in an ear… Now! ...hands grip mane... As they clench … bit between the teeth...She.. ...gives him his head... Finding his rhythm …. home in sight...a last burst…… Rider/Stallion sweat soaked … blood pounding..There... againthe scent of her...Sweet Hay rising. ..she whispers… yes oh yes… I knew… you had it in you.. In me...oh gods….YES! ! . . No! not the pasture yet for you.. She chuckles.. .bodies tangled in sheets ….. Her mane of dark hair.. Scent of her fills him … glad to be..Alive? Yes..head…. Heat… heart...bursting…Not now… But soon. . A gift.. This youth.. Who see's value in an old war horse. ..ridden.. but no more to war and blood.. .gentled, both he and she… sleep…bridled passion. ..her...a scent of sweet hay… .him...an old spice..and gunpowder? ..mmm. by Alexander K Hamilton
0
Jan 20, 2017
Jan 20, 2017 at 12:01 AM UTC
Oh, Sweet Hay And Whispers
Ah.. shes here...I shuffle around the stalls... watching..out of the corners of my eyes.... she knows ....Intimacy...a hand on flank..careful.. .you'll break me....with your gentle hands.. ..My hard mouth....your soft lips.. ..unruly, unruled....old horse...a kiss. .. Confused, ...stallion in name only. ... You whisper... My ears ***** ... forward..the hunt! ....your scent on.. ..My bridle...I smell u still... .. Calm...Comfort...Welcome... .Gentled, not too gently....a strong hand. . It grows trust …..truth...a Stallion! Once more. Panting...pawing...'Be easy'..nervous eyes roll. .a hand on the neck...a caress..'Gently '...you whisper, .... hot breath against ear … I snuffle and toss my head …. still a bit frightened…..her power! ..Will you ride.? ! ..firm thighs and buttocks.. ..Toes point... Heels dig...all Give and Take…. . Instruction to...from...the muscled beast. ..straddled. Awkward… too long without…. ..A Rider … the matching... Gait with hip... Walk-on.. Trot, pounding...Heels clip. ..faster, just a bit..Then smoothly they fit her to him. ...a canter.....this long stretch....rocking like one creature ….each a part of the other...breathing evenly… ...caught ….. Breath comes quick...bodies warm. . Exertion...strength..trust.. Leaning forward.. knees grip..pulling...toes curl..in.. ..hot breath..whisper in an ear… Now! ...hands grip mane... As they clench … bit between the teeth...She.. ...gives him his head... Finding his rhythm …. home in sight...a last burst…… Rider/Stallion sweat soaked … blood pounding..There... againthe scent of her...Sweet Hay rising. ..she whispers… yes oh yes… I knew… you had it in you.. In me...oh gods….YES! ! . . No! not the pasture yet for you.. She chuckles.. .bodies tangled in sheets ….. Her mane of dark hair.. Scent of her fills him … glad to be..Alive? Yes..head…. Heat… heart...bursting…Not now… But soon. . A gift.. This youth.. Who see's value in an old war horse. ..ridden.. but no more to war and blood.. .gentled, both he and she… sleep…bridled passion. ..her...a scent of sweet hay… .him...an old spice..and gunpowder? ..mmm. by Alexander K Hamilton
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47
Route 84 would not lend me the light of a star last night Radio blazing at 75 mph nonsense noise to chew gum by Crackling political commentary Static of distance and thick clouds Invisible mountains blocking Memories seeping through the cracks coating the music in a film I rub my eyes watch myself punch alert buttons But it’s the angels’ jukebox tonight Roll down the window Watch the heat escape Summer again I am building a castle of ancient stones pulverized by relentless tides Dragged across maps by mastodons and mammoth glaciers The scouring hiss the ocean sighs Time has lulled these smoothly rolling them in the softest hands of sand and gels of life’s comings and goings tenderly tumbling in the millionth moonrise— Time deposits them here wet and glistening For the girl with the plaid two-piece to gather Shoulders sun-burnt barely say one week only, one week of the fifty two “It’s the time of the season…” and daddies on the beach are watching…. She has chosen yet another stone And the castle continues— in oblivion to all but her legend…      The queen will be safe here      from the rabble      The disgraced Tristan will surely seek her      Among these lofty cliffs      Between the raging circuit of the tide      Here winds forbid the vengeful mob      Here lovers learn      the debt of love’s bad timing      “Drink ye all of it!”      --the potion that assigns our sorrow….      She will not sleep—      while I chew this gum--  GUM? Roll down the window! Angels escape with the heat Waking me with the brush of their wings As that eighteen-wheeler hugs my flank And leans on the horn Lights flashing Rude rumbling under right tires Tantrum of snow In the draft of mass and velocity …and the angels? They’ve chosen another good one! They must’ve liked the 80’s Their wings slapping the windshield madly   Their hands steady the wheel
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Sep 13, 2016
Sep 13, 2016 at 1:20 PM UTC
Angel's Jukebox
Route 84 would not lend me the light of a star last night Radio blazing at 75 mph nonsense noise to chew gum by Crackling political commentary Static of distance and thick clouds Invisible mountains blocking Memories seeping through the cracks coating the music in a film I rub my eyes watch myself punch alert buttons But it’s the angels’ jukebox tonight Roll down the window Watch the heat escape Summer again I am building a castle of ancient stones pulverized by relentless tides Dragged across maps by mastodons and mammoth glaciers The scouring hiss the ocean sighs Time has lulled these smoothly rolling them in the softest hands of sand and gels of life’s comings and goings tenderly tumbling in the millionth moonrise— Time deposits them here wet and glistening For the girl with the plaid two-piece to gather Shoulders sun-burnt barely say one week only, one week of the fifty two “It’s the time of the season…” and daddies on the beach are watching…. She has chosen yet another stone And the castle continues— in oblivion to all but her legend…      The queen will be safe here      from the rabble      The disgraced Tristan will surely seek her      Among these lofty cliffs      Between the raging circuit of the tide      Here winds forbid the vengeful mob      Here lovers learn      the debt of love’s bad timing      “Drink ye all of it!”      --the potion that assigns our sorrow….      She will not sleep—      while I chew this gum--  GUM? Roll down the window! Angels escape with the heat Waking me with the brush of their wings As that eighteen-wheeler hugs my flank And leans on the horn Lights flashing Rude rumbling under right tires Tantrum of snow In the draft of mass and velocity …and the angels? They’ve chosen another good one! They must’ve liked the 80’s Their wings slapping the windshield madly   Their hands steady the wheel
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63
Shadow man, an unusual human being without a name. You called me one night out of the blue and asked me to run away with you. I was baffled, but as night turned into day we both jumped in your boat and sailed away. You told me about the lonesome life you live and how you've sailed these seas for many years and was in search of a hand to hold. You told me that I was the most beautiful flower there was. Your world was without a sky and you told me I am the calm of the storm, and that I should stick around for awhile. You showed me all the constellations and all at once I was lost in space. I closed my eyes and smelled the sea salt and felt the ship shake smoothly over these waves. I laid here with you. We landed on many civilized city's ports and explored for more. We'd have lunch in the woods, see movies, and explore the inside of museums. Breathe it in because there will come an end. You told me I wasn't the first you ran away with. There have been others but in the end they always broke your heart. You cried to me on the nights memories found their way back into your mind and knew that one day I'll be the one causing tears when my time ends. If I leave don't worry, don't weep dry your eyes so you can see light and notice that I'll be in the stars. I'll be trapped in time. Just sail on and find the edge of the ocean and become friends with the moon, and stars above, before the curtain falls.
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Nov 28, 2013
Nov 28, 2013 at 9:05 PM UTC
Shadow Man
Love tastes like beauty, devotion and affection, rolled into a wafer together. Love is the beauty of the vain, lone rose of the wild, fading on the skin of your arms like a lotion. Love is the devotion of watery jasmine and apples, running smoothly down the back of your throat. Love is the affection of thick, chocolatey hazelnuts, dying so they can remain for everafter on the tip of your tongue. the sweet, smoky taste of Love rubs in your limbs and your veins until it is one with your blood and is the only thing you feel. You devour Love, but it consumes you.
0
Jul 22, 2014
Jul 22, 2014 at 1:18 PM UTC
What does Love taste like?
I saw you from across the gym and the second my eyes laid on you I knew I was never going to be the same. Is it possible to fall in love with a stranger, because I think I just did. Your posture resembled the self-confidence that filled your ***** Your hair a blonde hue that I have never been attracted to before. How could it be, you already have a piece of me. I couldn’t take my eyes off of you, you see. For you were already starting to seep into me. Maybe it was the idea that I can feel love like this, for someone I don’t even know. Or maybe it is that I looked into your blue eyes from across the room and felt like I knew you. My emotions were wired, and my thoughts gambled. I had to remind myself  how to walk and remember that staring in awe isn’t generally socially acceptable. I can’t believe I just fell in love with a stranger. You tossed the basketball with such grace, it sliding off your fingers so effortless. Your shoulders broad and your stamina grounded. The way you slid across the floor so smoothly chasing after the ball that went perfectly into the net. When the smile grew on your face as your friend shot the ball, my soul felt warm as I looked into the happiness of yours. Your teeth, strategically placed by God’s fingers. Resembling how perfect we will all soon be. I can’t believe this is me. Falling in love with a stranger, what else is new. The second I saw you I knew My confidence was back and I began to come to life again. So maybe you were an angel sent from God. Teaching me that I still do have hope. Showing me that my heart is still in enough pieces to love. What ever the case and outcome of this, I feel happy. I feel at peace that maybe, just maybe, someday I will lay eyes on someone and know they will embrace me for the rest of eternity.
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Nov 7, 2012
Nov 7, 2012 at 3:09 AM UTC
I fell in love with a stranger
I saw you from across the gym and the second my eyes laid on you I knew I was never going to be the same. Is it possible to fall in love with a stranger, because I think I just did. Your posture resembled the self-confidence that filled your ***** Your hair a blonde hue that I have never been attracted to before. How could it be, you already have a piece of me. I couldn’t take my eyes off of you, you see. For you were already starting to seep into me. Maybe it was the idea that I can feel love like this, for someone I don’t even know. Or maybe it is that I looked into your blue eyes from across the room and felt like I knew you. My emotions were wired, and my thoughts gambled. I had to remind myself  how to walk and remember that staring in awe isn’t generally socially acceptable. I can’t believe I just fell in love with a stranger. You tossed the basketball with such grace, it sliding off your fingers so effortless. Your shoulders broad and your stamina grounded. The way you slid across the floor so smoothly chasing after the ball that went perfectly into the net. When the smile grew on your face as your friend shot the ball, my soul felt warm as I looked into the happiness of yours. Your teeth, strategically placed by God’s fingers. Resembling how perfect we will all soon be. I can’t believe this is me. Falling in love with a stranger, what else is new. The second I saw you I knew My confidence was back and I began to come to life again. So maybe you were an angel sent from God. Teaching me that I still do have hope. Showing me that my heart is still in enough pieces to love. What ever the case and outcome of this, I feel happy. I feel at peace that maybe, just maybe, someday I will lay eyes on someone and know they will embrace me for the rest of eternity.
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25
She controls her laughter, lets it slip from the edge of her mouth, the corners of her lips lift ever so slightly, then, she makes a sound, seamlessly, her fingers graze my thighs, smoothly, her eyes meet mine, and in her eyes, I see my reflection— aflame, abashed, and fiery, She is the answer I’ve scoured the world for, and yet, she, herself, remains a mystery, Ah, I see, She controls her laughter as easily as she controls me.
0
Feb 22, 2019
Feb 22, 2019 at 11:54 AM UTC
she is, to me
If life goes smoothly and wonderfully ,then Then I have to be happy ,but Not at all ... We all love our works and our jobs ,but Nothing goes perfect Simply because there are some people who Go fishing in the muddy water ... Nothing remains great anytime Simply because there are some who look for troubles At work anytime,anywhere,and everywhere ... There is that ugly harassment that arises only from Those who look for troubles for any reasons ... Life goes badly with that ugly harassment Simply because things will go bad ... If the employers or if the managers keep silent ,then Everyone and everything will turn up-side-down ... It's very important to be one team rather than To corner oneself into those troubles With that ugly harassment ... There are a lot of employees who suffer Without finding any solution ... That ugly harassment never brings people ,but It cracks all people's relationships For all reasons whatsoever ... There is a pretty formula that links employees To all employers to fix any problem anytime Before it's over ... _______________________________________________________________
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Jan 31, 2015
Jan 31, 2015 at 9:40 AM UTC
Harassment at work
The teacher wrote a question on the board large enough to see but, still hard to follow, in black expo: If each color had a taste, what would sad taste like? And the girl with crosses up and down her arm mentioned once, 'blue tasted like flat soda pop, cold and a bit too sweet' The boy with the hair running smoothly over his eyes pronounced sixty four ways to say 'azure' and each time, he tasted the iron of the hammer that his father had split his collarbones apart and I cried for each story, because the color 'blue'  always tasted like brandy, heartbreak and broken nails
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Mar 22, 2013
Mar 22, 2013 at 1:15 AM UTC
If You Could Taste The Color Blue
By rgpage The cool evening breeze filled with a scent of approaching rain. Caught by playful window shears as it passes through an open pane, to reach their   length and breadth toward the waiting bed. He was a lover of music and his woman, a passionate man with a sensitive heart. She was in love with the melodic way   his gentle fingers moved with sensual touch over her soft silk like skin of art. He started gently around her ears softly prying them open with the quiet richness of her melodies. Each note of his gentle kisses leading her to a sensual abyss, easing her down from the edge, controlling her descent, to her goal. Down the swirling dark and light blends of the music rendered from her soul. She was his instrument on which he placed his soft loving fingers, moving them effortlessly, caressing her most sensual delicate keys…Each body part smoothly rubbed added richness to her sensual sound driven by lust and loving trust.   Her ******* he fondled, licking and kissing, squeezing and rubbing. Silently giving thanks, to her creator for such an amazing instrument. Both of her hands with long slender fingers tangled in the long dark locks of his hair as she eases her maestro’s head up tighter against her soft beautiful mounds. The loving melody continues with his touch now joined with the sound of raindrops splashing into uncovered metal buckets and cans. The drops carried on the breeze through the playful dancing shears came through the other end as nothing more than refreshing cooling mist. Her body was his loving piano, and as with the 88 keys of his magnificent Baldwin, the sensual areas of her equally magnificent body, when properly stroked,  filled not  only the bedroom but the whole house with the most glorious ****** notes known to man.   After a while the symphonic ****** builds as he masterfully impales her with his instrument of love coming into constant contact with the one special key of keys. Its special sound as his strokes came harder and faster brought the whole master piece to a beautiful melodic end as the two lovers bath in the rain’s gentle mist…
0
Aug 6, 2013
Aug 6, 2013 at 12:40 PM UTC
the pianist
By rgpage The cool evening breeze filled with a scent of approaching rain. Caught by playful window shears as it passes through an open pane, to reach their   length and breadth toward the waiting bed. He was a lover of music and his woman, a passionate man with a sensitive heart. She was in love with the melodic way   his gentle fingers moved with sensual touch over her soft silk like skin of art. He started gently around her ears softly prying them open with the quiet richness of her melodies. Each note of his gentle kisses leading her to a sensual abyss, easing her down from the edge, controlling her descent, to her goal. Down the swirling dark and light blends of the music rendered from her soul. She was his instrument on which he placed his soft loving fingers, moving them effortlessly, caressing her most sensual delicate keys…Each body part smoothly rubbed added richness to her sensual sound driven by lust and loving trust.   Her ******* he fondled, licking and kissing, squeezing and rubbing. Silently giving thanks, to her creator for such an amazing instrument. Both of her hands with long slender fingers tangled in the long dark locks of his hair as she eases her maestro’s head up tighter against her soft beautiful mounds. The loving melody continues with his touch now joined with the sound of raindrops splashing into uncovered metal buckets and cans. The drops carried on the breeze through the playful dancing shears came through the other end as nothing more than refreshing cooling mist. Her body was his loving piano, and as with the 88 keys of his magnificent Baldwin, the sensual areas of her equally magnificent body, when properly stroked,  filled not  only the bedroom but the whole house with the most glorious ****** notes known to man.   After a while the symphonic ****** builds as he masterfully impales her with his instrument of love coming into constant contact with the one special key of keys. Its special sound as his strokes came harder and faster brought the whole master piece to a beautiful melodic end as the two lovers bath in the rain’s gentle mist…
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32
Sometimes people come into your life and you know right away that they were meant to be there. to serve some sort of purpose, teach you a lesson, or to help you figure out who you are or who you want to become. You may never know who these people may be but.. when you lock eyes with them, you know that at that very moment they will affect your life in some profound way. And sometimes things happen to you that may seem horrible, painful, and unfair at first.. but in reflection you find that without overcoming those obstacles, you would have never realized your potential, strength, willpower, or heart. Everything happens for a reason. Nothing happens by chance or by means of good luck. Illness, injury, love, lost moments of true greatness, and sheer stupidity all occur to test the limits of your soul. Without the small tests, whatever they may be, life would be like a smoothly paved, straight flat road to nowhere.  It would be safe and comfortable, but dull and utterly pointless.
0
Mar 16, 2014
Mar 16, 2014 at 10:54 AM UTC
Everything happens for a reason.
1 The other day I saw a picture of you. Shirt buttoned up to your throat, Pants cutting off the blood circulation in your pelvis, Shoes shining brighter than the north star, And a smile being pulled across your cheeks Like an archer pulling a bow string. I smiled back at my computer screen. 2 I’ve listened to this album at least 30 times. I own three versions of it. UK deluxe, US deluxe, Target Deluxe. Everything about you is deluxe. Your eyes, your voice, your breath As it passes through the microphone and into my ears. 3 I believe in fate But not so much in destiny. I don’t scream at my reflection anymore And I’m described as independent. For the most part. I’m a pretty trustworthy person And I promise I’m not that desperate. 4 The music ripples through my veins As I whip my curls at the mirror. The hairbrush pressed against my mouth And I repeat the lyrics that roll past your lips so smoothly. 5 I can almost feel your arms Wrap around my waist before I go to sleep. I had a dream You and I were together And you were happy And I was happy And everyone was happy. But I know if my dream became reality No one would be happy. Jealousy would taint the spit on other girls’ tongues And the distance between New Jersey and Australia is too much. Even for me. 5 I can almost feel your arms Wrap around my waist before I got to sleep. 5 I can almost feel you. 5 We have the same eye color. 6 We have the same hair color. 7 I am just an insecure girl. You are taking over the world. You are stepping in the soil of every state. And you won’t look at me Longer for three seconds in the New York City heat. 8 I never thought I would be one of those girls. One of those girls Who latch onto a boy’s identity, Not knowing his soul But knowing his spirit. I’ve seen you three times. You don’t even realize. I try too hard and I’m convinced you notice this. 9 You are nine months older than me. In your eyes I am just a baby. My cocoon of pictures of you is the womb I am being baked in. You won’t follow me back on twitter. 10 You are just my celebrity crush But you have such an impact on me. Go back home. Let me rest. Go back to bed. I’ll have that dream again And I won’t speak of it And no one has to know of this Pathetic excuse for love I carry in me like a dead fetus. 10 You are just my celebrity crush. It was never supposed to go this far. 10 You are just my celebrity crush. 10 You can never love me The same way I love you.
0
Aug 28, 2014
Aug 28, 2014 at 1:59 AM UTC
Celebrity Crush
1 The other day I saw a picture of you. Shirt buttoned up to your throat, Pants cutting off the blood circulation in your pelvis, Shoes shining brighter than the north star, And a smile being pulled across your cheeks Like an archer pulling a bow string. I smiled back at my computer screen. 2 I’ve listened to this album at least 30 times. I own three versions of it. UK deluxe, US deluxe, Target Deluxe. Everything about you is deluxe. Your eyes, your voice, your breath As it passes through the microphone and into my ears. 3 I believe in fate But not so much in destiny. I don’t scream at my reflection anymore And I’m described as independent. For the most part. I’m a pretty trustworthy person And I promise I’m not that desperate. 4 The music ripples through my veins As I whip my curls at the mirror. The hairbrush pressed against my mouth And I repeat the lyrics that roll past your lips so smoothly. 5 I can almost feel your arms Wrap around my waist before I go to sleep. I had a dream You and I were together And you were happy And I was happy And everyone was happy. But I know if my dream became reality No one would be happy. Jealousy would taint the spit on other girls’ tongues And the distance between New Jersey and Australia is too much. Even for me. 5 I can almost feel your arms Wrap around my waist before I got to sleep. 5 I can almost feel you. 5 We have the same eye color. 6 We have the same hair color. 7 I am just an insecure girl. You are taking over the world. You are stepping in the soil of every state. And you won’t look at me Longer for three seconds in the New York City heat. 8 I never thought I would be one of those girls. One of those girls Who latch onto a boy’s identity, Not knowing his soul But knowing his spirit. I’ve seen you three times. You don’t even realize. I try too hard and I’m convinced you notice this. 9 You are nine months older than me. In your eyes I am just a baby. My cocoon of pictures of you is the womb I am being baked in. You won’t follow me back on twitter. 10 You are just my celebrity crush But you have such an impact on me. Go back home. Let me rest. Go back to bed. I’ll have that dream again And I won’t speak of it And no one has to know of this Pathetic excuse for love I carry in me like a dead fetus. 10 You are just my celebrity crush. It was never supposed to go this far. 10 You are just my celebrity crush. 10 You can never love me The same way I love you.
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90
critical thinking as you call it; that which I seem to lack. need to improve upon. and I agree in ways. you said, it is observing the situation, the pieces, I have at hand, and deducing the best possible way in my knowledge to make them fit together. sounds quite simple - common sense. simple, if my mind ran as smoothly as your own. a trait of yours I admire greatly. a trait of others I am envious of. but critical thinking is different when my mode of thinking is not the same I do not see my surroundings; my life, my reality, as cogs and gears that progress this existence. I admire the way you, and others pick up on the little small hidden artifacts that allow yourself to discover the best possible way to proceed. if I were to say, you noticed the overlooked and finer details, I would say I notice- no- I experience awareness of it's entirety. how it feels to me and how I feel about it. if our individual thought processes were placed in an ever changing river, whose currents vary and are unpredictable? yours would be picking up the driftwood the sticks, and objects in grasp. and as the current carries it, it would be constructing a raft to stay afloat: safe and in the most comfortable way, so it could eventually construct something suitable and sturdy to rest upon, and relax with content, while enjoying the splashes and warm sunlight from a safe spot. instead of deducing the situation as yours did, my thought process would drift along the same river, letting the current take it under - if that is where it felt like going. finding logs and debris to hang on to when the current became too much and it needed a break. yours may be high and dry, but mine has felt the pebbles along the bottom of this river - the depth and pressure almost frightening, but the experience in itself always beautiful. mine floats upon it's back, like an otter, enjoying the sunlight as yours does, experiencing this journey through the rivers path. and maybe, if the current gets rough, if mine is struggling, it will find the hand of yours lifting it up to keep it safe until the rocky waters have passed. I experience as I feel, which may not be the best approach all of the time. but with this, I am able to feel what I believe is the best choice, based on my experience of the whole. you make me feel and want to try new ways of thinking, new ways that may help. you are always pushing pushing me to do more to be more; which is just one of the many reasons why I love you.
0
Apr 6, 2016
Apr 6, 2016 at 3:49 AM UTC
CRITICAL THINKING
critical thinking as you call it; that which I seem to lack. need to improve upon. and I agree in ways. you said, it is observing the situation, the pieces, I have at hand, and deducing the best possible way in my knowledge to make them fit together. sounds quite simple - common sense. simple, if my mind ran as smoothly as your own. a trait of yours I admire greatly. a trait of others I am envious of. but critical thinking is different when my mode of thinking is not the same I do not see my surroundings; my life, my reality, as cogs and gears that progress this existence. I admire the way you, and others pick up on the little small hidden artifacts that allow yourself to discover the best possible way to proceed. if I were to say, you noticed the overlooked and finer details, I would say I notice- no- I experience awareness of it's entirety. how it feels to me and how I feel about it. if our individual thought processes were placed in an ever changing river, whose currents vary and are unpredictable? yours would be picking up the driftwood the sticks, and objects in grasp. and as the current carries it, it would be constructing a raft to stay afloat: safe and in the most comfortable way, so it could eventually construct something suitable and sturdy to rest upon, and relax with content, while enjoying the splashes and warm sunlight from a safe spot. instead of deducing the situation as yours did, my thought process would drift along the same river, letting the current take it under - if that is where it felt like going. finding logs and debris to hang on to when the current became too much and it needed a break. yours may be high and dry, but mine has felt the pebbles along the bottom of this river - the depth and pressure almost frightening, but the experience in itself always beautiful. mine floats upon it's back, like an otter, enjoying the sunlight as yours does, experiencing this journey through the rivers path. and maybe, if the current gets rough, if mine is struggling, it will find the hand of yours lifting it up to keep it safe until the rocky waters have passed. I experience as I feel, which may not be the best approach all of the time. but with this, I am able to feel what I believe is the best choice, based on my experience of the whole. you make me feel and want to try new ways of thinking, new ways that may help. you are always pushing pushing me to do more to be more; which is just one of the many reasons why I love you.
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166
i often, longingly, of your striving pinkest lips do eat by my own lips curling with them into a neat pile of tremendous *** i often, strivingly, long to eat, of your chests pale basin, the apt fruit of your ******* i, longing, and strive with the savage electric lash of thy fragrant throat i dance and marvel at your feeling my chest hands i drink of them and i'm etherised smoothly at their hot rumple of my skin and i you just can't barely for thou art the dripping rill of Cupid's apt ***** thou art, between darkness and light, abruptly hung with my flesh (from which is sated thy lustful flowers perfectly glistening petals 'neath me and groaning)
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Feb 20, 2012
Feb 20, 2012 at 6:11 PM UTC
i often, longingly, of your striving pinkest
I want to kiss you Slowly tenderly All over your lips I want to kiss you Gently gingerly Down to your hips I want to kiss you Smoothly softly Up to the tip I want to kiss you Kiss you kiss you Kiss kiss kiss you
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Jan 15, 2016
Jan 15, 2016 at 12:32 AM UTC
The Kiss
Never will I be covered in tattoos My legs and toes shall forever stay bruised. I’ll never paint or carry a tune Forever and ever, I’ll wear a tutu. I won’t dye my hair pink or blue My piercings will stay as the simple two Nails cut short and hair in a bun In ballet, this must be done. Pink tights by the mound Bobby pins all around Leotards on the floor Pointe shoes by the door. Toes taped so tightly Smiling big and brightly Red lipstick adding to her beauty The dancer moves so smoothly. Turned out from my hips No words coming from my lips I dance sweetly to the sound Ooh ballet, to you, I am bound. Full of grace, never haste Filling perfectly my costume of lace Ever so sweet, my dancing feet Step after step, I repeat and repeat. Obtaining perfection is my key It’s what I strive for, it’s all that defines me Pushing harder and harder to reach my goal It’s what I live for, ballet is my soul. My toes may bleed And my knees, grow weak But I’ll never stop dancing… Not until I reach my peak. Pirouette, Pirouette Dancer’s silhouette Practicing at dusk Dedication is a must. Stretching my limbs Choreographing on a whim Alway aiming to be stronger To hold my arabesque longer. When I do finally reach that triple pirouette and all is done and all is set I put myself back into class Aiming for a fourth, to be better than the last. This is the life of a dancer en point Risking the health of her feet, legs and joints Just for that one perfect moment on stage Where the ballerina stands tall and all are amazed.
0
Feb 19, 2014
Feb 19, 2014 at 3:49 AM UTC
Ballerina
Never will I be covered in tattoos My legs and toes shall forever stay bruised. I’ll never paint or carry a tune Forever and ever, I’ll wear a tutu. I won’t dye my hair pink or blue My piercings will stay as the simple two Nails cut short and hair in a bun In ballet, this must be done. Pink tights by the mound Bobby pins all around Leotards on the floor Pointe shoes by the door. Toes taped so tightly Smiling big and brightly Red lipstick adding to her beauty The dancer moves so smoothly. Turned out from my hips No words coming from my lips I dance sweetly to the sound Ooh ballet, to you, I am bound. Full of grace, never haste Filling perfectly my costume of lace Ever so sweet, my dancing feet Step after step, I repeat and repeat. Obtaining perfection is my key It’s what I strive for, it’s all that defines me Pushing harder and harder to reach my goal It’s what I live for, ballet is my soul. My toes may bleed And my knees, grow weak But I’ll never stop dancing… Not until I reach my peak. Pirouette, Pirouette Dancer’s silhouette Practicing at dusk Dedication is a must. Stretching my limbs Choreographing on a whim Alway aiming to be stronger To hold my arabesque longer. When I do finally reach that triple pirouette and all is done and all is set I put myself back into class Aiming for a fourth, to be better than the last. This is the life of a dancer en point Risking the health of her feet, legs and joints Just for that one perfect moment on stage Where the ballerina stands tall and all are amazed.
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48
At Ellis Lake, an overcast Sunday afternoon. A lake divided into two, oddly shaped bowls in the middle of the city, surrounded by a constant stream of birds, wind, and traffic. A spotless white swan cleaning herself on a grassy knoll, ferretting out whatever filth lurked deep within her feathers, then smoothly sweeping her sideways bent head across her back, as if to remember the long forgotten affectionate touch of an absent lover. A gaggle of four grey geese combing the lawn for food, waddling in unison side-by-side. A line of five mallards barreling down the hill into the water. A multilateral crescent of black and white pigeons receiving harsh dictation from a trio of angry snow geese strutting before them. A red-faced duck slowly approaching in the quiet expectation of food, then the arrogant acceptance of the lack thereof.
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Jan 28, 2015
Jan 28, 2015 at 11:13 AM UTC
At Ellis Lake
* * - My silver Knight, shining with angelic splendour has sailed towards the outer regions of my Kingdom to lay waste to all my enemies. My heart in hands, my hands are clasped, brought alive with love, with light, with prayer. Please, come back to me. As I think of arrows piercing his breast, or swords, or warhammers or even axes I cannot, will not ever dance to the songs of war. A fire that claims souls, the earth that drinks blood, a sight that makes my stomach turn To see men fighting for a cause or no cause at all. For war rapes all of happiness and loved ones. Oh! Begone tortuous thoughts! Revolting facts! He will return. He will return! For my nation prays with fervour, but all have bleary-eyes, no more than me. He's gone to brave the dragon's dawn - of men branded, fuelled by the flames of war, riding into the fields on their snow kissed mounts, roaring and clashing under a broken sky; the kiss of steel, blades that dance between life and death and give any and many the kiss of Eternal Sleep. The harp of his silver tongue plays soft, gentle and true. Hand in hand, we walk through fields, of my dreams divine! The ambition, the care, the charm glowing in your eyes to be something more. To you, I was a muse to climb and soar though the heights, and you spoke so highly of my golden sapient quill. My heart, heavy, full of woe As sleep has not come smoothly to my face, my body, my heart, my soul. You promised me, 'I will return to you.'   'I will return to you,' how your voice hung so sweet in my ear, ripe with love, vibrant with hope, certain as the rising light Please do not fade away, I could not bear it! Please don't fade away! Bring unto me that gold and joyous hour! Fair the storms and roars; overcome the shores, slay and return to me from the dragon's dawn, unscathed and with a smile on your handsome face. - * *
0
Aug 16, 2018
Aug 16, 2018 at 5:17 PM UTC
Dragon's Dawn
* * - My silver Knight, shining with angelic splendour has sailed towards the outer regions of my Kingdom to lay waste to all my enemies. My heart in hands, my hands are clasped, brought alive with love, with light, with prayer. Please, come back to me. As I think of arrows piercing his breast, or swords, or warhammers or even axes I cannot, will not ever dance to the songs of war. A fire that claims souls, the earth that drinks blood, a sight that makes my stomach turn To see men fighting for a cause or no cause at all. For war rapes all of happiness and loved ones. Oh! Begone tortuous thoughts! Revolting facts! He will return. He will return! For my nation prays with fervour, but all have bleary-eyes, no more than me. He's gone to brave the dragon's dawn - of men branded, fuelled by the flames of war, riding into the fields on their snow kissed mounts, roaring and clashing under a broken sky; the kiss of steel, blades that dance between life and death and give any and many the kiss of Eternal Sleep. The harp of his silver tongue plays soft, gentle and true. Hand in hand, we walk through fields, of my dreams divine! The ambition, the care, the charm glowing in your eyes to be something more. To you, I was a muse to climb and soar though the heights, and you spoke so highly of my golden sapient quill. My heart, heavy, full of woe As sleep has not come smoothly to my face, my body, my heart, my soul. You promised me, 'I will return to you.'   'I will return to you,' how your voice hung so sweet in my ear, ripe with love, vibrant with hope, certain as the rising light Please do not fade away, I could not bear it! Please don't fade away! Bring unto me that gold and joyous hour! Fair the storms and roars; overcome the shores, slay and return to me from the dragon's dawn, unscathed and with a smile on your handsome face. - * *
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53
staring out at the rushing creek, standing on the edge, crushed leaves beneath my shoes. i toss my phone on the soil; i don’t need you right now, devil. instead i focus on the passing water, on the ongoing march of time thrusting us forward no matter how hard we try to make it stop for us. i sit down. birdsong fills my ears, joining the creek as it glides smoothly over its bed. leaves brush against each other as a spring breeze picks up, rustling their way into my mind. the gentle wind smells of flowers, of soil and of memories. i close my eyes, allowing myself to forget everything. -l.s.
0
Oct 11, 2018
Oct 11, 2018 at 11:14 AM UTC
the creek
We sat at the table, waiting for our number to be called. Their pepperoni pizza, was our most favorite one of all. Our number is announced, George is carrying the pizza back. When close, he decides to act, as though he trips in his tracks. In slow motion, that pizza, slid so smoothly out of the pan. George's eyes got big as saucers, he saw the folly of his plan. There I was in my new outfit, that cost half of my paycheck. With pizza, upside down on my lap and sauce splashed on my neck. Amazingly calm, George scooped the pizza up in his hands. Melted cheese, stretching and stringing, from my pants in gooey strands. He stood there patting and pressing the pizza back into shape. That poor pizza looked just like a badly, bulldozered landscape. It lay there sort of twisted, pepperoni all to one side. Crust pieces stinking out of it, like a saucy red mudslide. Then he sat down across from me, silently as if waiting. I must have looked like a blonde fish, sitting there, just gapping. Then a chuckle escaped my lips, as his eyes raised to meet mine. He looked just like a little boy, who just got caught in a crime. I'm surprised we didn't get kicked out for making such a fuss. 'Cause, next thing you know, the whole place is laughing along with us. We couldn't stop, there was no way we'd been able. Not while upsidedown-lap pizza, stared at us from the table
0
Oct 27, 2010
Oct 27, 2010 at 7:04 PM UTC
He Knew How To Impress
Oh God!, How She Can Be That Good For One Look, You Should Ask Time To Hold To Find Yourself Traveling Along, I Stood I Looked At Her So Long As Far As I Could How Mad I Was, And She Changed My Mood Just One Of The Kind, Stands On The Ladyhood Then Took Another Look, As Just As Fair As It Would To Fall In Such Amazing Chill, And Froze My Blood Something I Can't Deny But I Really Understood Such Perfection Is A Creation Of The Hands Of God A Beautiful Rose More Sweetly Than Our Rhyme: Words Won't Be Fair, They're Just That Lame Even The Words Got Jealous, What A Shame That Rose Is A Diffirent Level , Just A Sublime She Leaves Her Footprints On The Field Of Time As Great Goes The Heaven, She Does The Same The One Second Of Staring Goes On Overtime Goes Wild On The Clock, And Hard To Tame She's That Much Of Love And Fire aflame Such Green Blows Hope On The Eyes A Beauty Perfume Cuddle The Skies As Symmetry World, Keeps You Free To Keep You Around And Never Flee Hold It So Soft, If You Really Dare? In Such Open World, Hearts aspire Such Soft Skin, Is Not To Share She Threw Her Thorns If You Care Looking At Different Shooting Stars I Think The World Will Keep It Live Her Pollen Falling On The Town One Blink To Fall On It Now I Should Hold On My Beats Breaking Down Over My Knees In Our World Submit The Mind To Move Smoothly With The Wind She Said She Will Tear Us Apart To Change World And All The Fate Just Go Straight With The Light Through The Shadow And The Night Is That A Dream Or Something Clear It Feels Like Something Heavens Wear On Our Shallow Fulminatory Souls Swallow Us In Red Romantic Cords To Drop Some Tiny Drops On The Sea Something We Had To Pay As A Fee Another Drop From The Blood For Another Chance We Can't Hold To Breath The Lungs As We Could She Is That Pretty And That Good She Spread Her Joy And So Much Of Love WIth One Message Of Peace With A Dove Author : Aladdin Aures Hamdi Please click on + below and add the poem in your collections
0
Oct 9, 2018
Oct 9, 2018 at 5:58 PM UTC
The Rose From Heaven
Oh God!, How She Can Be That Good For One Look, You Should Ask Time To Hold To Find Yourself Traveling Along, I Stood I Looked At Her So Long As Far As I Could How Mad I Was, And She Changed My Mood Just One Of The Kind, Stands On The Ladyhood Then Took Another Look, As Just As Fair As It Would To Fall In Such Amazing Chill, And Froze My Blood Something I Can't Deny But I Really Understood Such Perfection Is A Creation Of The Hands Of God A Beautiful Rose More Sweetly Than Our Rhyme: Words Won't Be Fair, They're Just That Lame Even The Words Got Jealous, What A Shame That Rose Is A Diffirent Level , Just A Sublime She Leaves Her Footprints On The Field Of Time As Great Goes The Heaven, She Does The Same The One Second Of Staring Goes On Overtime Goes Wild On The Clock, And Hard To Tame She's That Much Of Love And Fire aflame Such Green Blows Hope On The Eyes A Beauty Perfume Cuddle The Skies As Symmetry World, Keeps You Free To Keep You Around And Never Flee Hold It So Soft, If You Really Dare? In Such Open World, Hearts aspire Such Soft Skin, Is Not To Share She Threw Her Thorns If You Care Looking At Different Shooting Stars I Think The World Will Keep It Live Her Pollen Falling On The Town One Blink To Fall On It Now I Should Hold On My Beats Breaking Down Over My Knees In Our World Submit The Mind To Move Smoothly With The Wind She Said She Will Tear Us Apart To Change World And All The Fate Just Go Straight With The Light Through The Shadow And The Night Is That A Dream Or Something Clear It Feels Like Something Heavens Wear On Our Shallow Fulminatory Souls Swallow Us In Red Romantic Cords To Drop Some Tiny Drops On The Sea Something We Had To Pay As A Fee Another Drop From The Blood For Another Chance We Can't Hold To Breath The Lungs As We Could She Is That Pretty And That Good She Spread Her Joy And So Much Of Love WIth One Message Of Peace With A Dove Author : Aladdin Aures Hamdi Please click on + below and add the poem in your collections
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53
Dear fifteen year old self, I know you have never met me. And you never will, for I took over... Grew from your essence. But I just wanted to let you know a few things. See that face of yours? The one you cry in front of in the mirror? You're beautiful. You're changing from a cute awkward little kid into a strong wonderful, inspiringly beautiful woman. Trust nature. Wipe your tears, and believe that it's okay. You're 15. Relax. You're pretty. Those big brown eyes will get you anything you wish for. Trust me. I know. Next, see that boy? The cute one who knows how to talk a little bit too smoothly... Who's a little bit too cheeky.... There's no point in me telling you to stay away because we both know that doesn't work. We are the same person after all... Just be careful...... And whatever you do, DO NOT sleep with him. You're too young. You're gonna have your first kiss, and he's gonna make you feel like you're flying and falling and being caught all at the one time.... But you're not. You're going to kiss people 1000 times better than that, you'll realise it was sloppy and kind of a waste of eight months. But the heartbreak. When he leaves you for your best friend.. When you're left without anyone beside you. That will honestly almost **** you. But you'll be okay. The fact that you feel this way makes you become the strong beautiful woman you are today. You can get through it, all of it, even the **** that's not about the guy. The **** that is going on inside your head, inside your home.... You'll survive. And you'll write. One last thing, I'm sure I'm missing a few things, maybe I'll realise them when I'm a little bit older...... But that musical talent you've got, it's there.... It's in your ears... And possibly your voice. That's a grey area at the moment. You're going to find your way. And musicians should come with warning signs..... danger sheer drop ahead like at the end of the road in a cartoon where the path turns into a cliff....... Because you'll fall, when you're around my age. And they are very good pretenders. Be careful sweetheart. It's never too late. You're growing up so beautifully. Be proud. And try not to be too sad........ Love, 18 year old you...
0
Dec 28, 2014
Dec 28, 2014 at 7:28 PM UTC
Dear 15 year old self...
Dear fifteen year old self, I know you have never met me. And you never will, for I took over... Grew from your essence. But I just wanted to let you know a few things. See that face of yours? The one you cry in front of in the mirror? You're beautiful. You're changing from a cute awkward little kid into a strong wonderful, inspiringly beautiful woman. Trust nature. Wipe your tears, and believe that it's okay. You're 15. Relax. You're pretty. Those big brown eyes will get you anything you wish for. Trust me. I know. Next, see that boy? The cute one who knows how to talk a little bit too smoothly... Who's a little bit too cheeky.... There's no point in me telling you to stay away because we both know that doesn't work. We are the same person after all... Just be careful...... And whatever you do, DO NOT sleep with him. You're too young. You're gonna have your first kiss, and he's gonna make you feel like you're flying and falling and being caught all at the one time.... But you're not. You're going to kiss people 1000 times better than that, you'll realise it was sloppy and kind of a waste of eight months. But the heartbreak. When he leaves you for your best friend.. When you're left without anyone beside you. That will honestly almost **** you. But you'll be okay. The fact that you feel this way makes you become the strong beautiful woman you are today. You can get through it, all of it, even the **** that's not about the guy. The **** that is going on inside your head, inside your home.... You'll survive. And you'll write. One last thing, I'm sure I'm missing a few things, maybe I'll realise them when I'm a little bit older...... But that musical talent you've got, it's there.... It's in your ears... And possibly your voice. That's a grey area at the moment. You're going to find your way. And musicians should come with warning signs..... danger sheer drop ahead like at the end of the road in a cartoon where the path turns into a cliff....... Because you'll fall, when you're around my age. And they are very good pretenders. Be careful sweetheart. It's never too late. You're growing up so beautifully. Be proud. And try not to be too sad........ Love, 18 year old you...
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