"somersault" poems - Hello Poetry

"somersault" poems

Sprawl of the nazarene toothslayer, Nucleotide bombast explosion; ***** of the eftsoon soothsayer, Pyramid galaxies implosion: Breathing quintuplicating matrix Somersault to ceaseless meiosis, Goldbeating phlanx initiatrix: Amphimixis apotheosis. Lifen gyrovagues aerolitic: And fixate Atlas telescopic!

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May 17, 2014

May 17, 2014 at 10:55 AM UTC

Noli Me Praehendo

Sprawl of the nazarene toothslayer, Nucleotide bombast explosion; ***** of the eftsoon soothsayer, Pyramid galaxies implosion: Breathing quintuplicating matrix Somersault to ceaseless meiosis, Goldbeating phlanx initiatrix: Amphimixis apotheosis. Lifen gyrovagues aerolitic: And fixate Atlas telescopic!

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There's a city glowing in my ears, biting blur of the nightlife. Figure I've been here for a while. My supplies were piled high, now they're in short supply and I'm high. The walls of my apartment are red. I wait until the streetlights flick on before I flip into a somersault, I wait until the streetlights flick on before I call you out tonight. The walls of my apartment are red. Dead presidents, don't answer for me, I paint the walls red. Dead presidents couldn't have seen it coming, I paint the walls red. Dead precedents, don't correct me. Could have been a fool, could have been a rule you didn't know, so when your friends are wrong sing a song that won't offend anyone. You kept me waiting for hours, you were shining. In a dress like blood and flowers, you were shining. You better sell it hard tonight. The walls of my apartment are red.

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Mar 16, 2011

Mar 16, 2011 at 8:55 AM UTC

shashank-virkud-1

There's a city glowing in my ears, biting blur of the nightlife. Figure I've been here for a while. My supplies were piled high, now they're in short supply and I'm high. The walls of my apartment are red. I wait until the streetlights flick on before I flip into a somersault, I wait until the streetlights flick on before I call you out tonight. The walls of my apartment are red. Dead presidents, don't answer for me, I paint the walls red. Dead presidents couldn't have seen it coming, I paint the walls red. Dead precedents, don't correct me. Could have been a fool, could have been a rule you didn't know, so when your friends are wrong sing a song that won't offend anyone. You kept me waiting for hours, you were shining. In a dress like blood and flowers, you were shining. You better sell it hard tonight. The walls of my apartment are red.

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The non-planet, poor Pluto, Circling far out and forgotten, I cast my thoughts around you, Knowing you are like many here, Too insignificant to be noticed, And yet, still worthwhile, for sure. I caress the cold of Neptune, Her super speed winds whip by, She has no thought for me, too busy, As is her sister, Uranus, circling, Unaware that I, or others, even exist, Yet, we are made of the same stuff, Stardust, so exotic, so varied; so us. My thoughts come leaping back, Arcing around the rings of Saturn, Slipping between sparkling icy dust, Navigating the dark reaching fingers, Stretching impassively from their host, Guiding my eye to the little moons, Knowing that life might thrive there. I somersault away to King Jupiter, He used to wander, he battled hard, Casting out the rogue gas giant, Clearing the way for the rocky worlds, Giving life to us all, before drifting back, Cajoled by Saturn, his anger still rages, The red spot storm churning, his moons, Observing, as Jupiter takes on all comers. And we, the rocky four, so grateful, As Jupiter snaffles the debris, holds it, Or hurls it away, so we live, we learn, Our inner sisters too hot, brother Mars, Too cold, for now, but one day, yes, As we begin to bake, Mars awaits, To welcome us for a million years, or so, A blink of an eye, universally speaking, But home has hope, hope offers life, Unlike our unwanted distant cousin, The non-planet, poor Pluto. ©Paul M Chafer 2015

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Apr 5, 2015

Apr 5, 2015 at 8:58 AM UTC

No hope for Pluto

The non-planet, poor Pluto, Circling far out and forgotten, I cast my thoughts around you, Knowing you are like many here, Too insignificant to be noticed, And yet, still worthwhile, for sure. I caress the cold of Neptune, Her super speed winds whip by, She has no thought for me, too busy, As is her sister, Uranus, circling, Unaware that I, or others, even exist, Yet, we are made of the same stuff, Stardust, so exotic, so varied; so us. My thoughts come leaping back, Arcing around the rings of Saturn, Slipping between sparkling icy dust, Navigating the dark reaching fingers, Stretching impassively from their host, Guiding my eye to the little moons, Knowing that life might thrive there. I somersault away to King Jupiter, He used to wander, he battled hard, Casting out the rogue gas giant, Clearing the way for the rocky worlds, Giving life to us all, before drifting back, Cajoled by Saturn, his anger still rages, The red spot storm churning, his moons, Observing, as Jupiter takes on all comers. And we, the rocky four, so grateful, As Jupiter snaffles the debris, holds it, Or hurls it away, so we live, we learn, Our inner sisters too hot, brother Mars, Too cold, for now, but one day, yes, As we begin to bake, Mars awaits, To welcome us for a million years, or so, A blink of an eye, universally speaking, But home has hope, hope offers life, Unlike our unwanted distant cousin, The non-planet, poor Pluto. ©Paul M Chafer 2015

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Do not fall inlove with a writer they see and feel everything. particles that somersault in the morning ray telling them to embrace the day They can smell the haunting aroma of a coffee whispers 'go grab your pen and write' they look into a person's eyes and could witness how a sea crash into someone's soul Do not fall inlove with a writer they appreciate and value everything you do they could see the entire universe from your smile only the ocean could tell their hopes and fears. They easily fall and break too hard. Don't fall inlove with a writer they'll make you their muse from good times to bad times, you will be the lyrics of their song.

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Feb 18, 2016

Feb 18, 2016 at 5:27 PM UTC

Do Not Fall Inlove With A Writer

Do not fall inlove with a writer they see and feel everything. particles that somersault in the morning ray telling them to embrace the day They can smell the haunting aroma of a coffee whispers 'go grab your pen and write' they look into a person's eyes and could witness how a sea crash into someone's soul Do not fall inlove with a writer they appreciate and value everything you do they could see the entire universe from your smile only the ocean could tell their hopes and fears. They easily fall and break too hard. Don't fall inlove with a writer they'll make you their muse from good times to bad times, you will be the lyrics of their song.

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"You are old, Father william," the young man said, "And your hair has become very white; And yet you incessantly stand on your head-- Do you think, at your age, it is right? "In my youth," Father William replied to his son, "I feared it might injure the brain; But now that I'm perfectly sure I have none, Why, I do it again and again." "You are old," said the youth, "as I mentioned before, And you have grown must uncommonly fat; Yet you turned back a somersault in at the door-- Pray, what is the reason of that?" "In my youth," said the sage, as he shook his gray locks, "I kep all my limbs very supple By the use of this ointment--one shilling a box-- Allow me to sell you a couple." "You are old," said the youth, "and your jaws are too weak For anything tougher than suet; Yet you finished the goose, with the bones and the beak-- Pray, how did you manage to do it?" "In my youth," said his father, "I took to the law, And argued each case with my wife; And the muscular strength, which it gave to my jaw, Has lasted the rest of my life." "You are old," said the youth, "one would hardly suppose That your eyes was as steady as ever; Yet you balanced an eel on the end of your nose-- What made you so awfully clever?" "I have answered three questions, and that is enough," Said his father; "don't give yourself airs! Do you think I can listen all day to such stuff? Be off, or I'll kick you downstairs!"

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You Are Old, Father William

"You are old, Father william," the young man said, "And your hair has become very white; And yet you incessantly stand on your head-- Do you think, at your age, it is right? "In my youth," Father William replied to his son, "I feared it might injure the brain; But now that I'm perfectly sure I have none, Why, I do it again and again." "You are old," said the youth, "as I mentioned before, And you have grown must uncommonly fat; Yet you turned back a somersault in at the door-- Pray, what is the reason of that?" "In my youth," said the sage, as he shook his gray locks, "I kep all my limbs very supple By the use of this ointment--one shilling a box-- Allow me to sell you a couple." "You are old," said the youth, "and your jaws are too weak For anything tougher than suet; Yet you finished the goose, with the bones and the beak-- Pray, how did you manage to do it?" "In my youth," said his father, "I took to the law, And argued each case with my wife; And the muscular strength, which it gave to my jaw, Has lasted the rest of my life." "You are old," said the youth, "one would hardly suppose That your eyes was as steady as ever; Yet you balanced an eel on the end of your nose-- What made you so awfully clever?" "I have answered three questions, and that is enough," Said his father; "don't give yourself airs! Do you think I can listen all day to such stuff? Be off, or I'll kick you downstairs!"

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My dear one is mine as mirrors are lonely, As the poor and sad are real to the good king, And the high green hill sits always by the sea. Up jumped the Black Man behind the elder tree, Turned a somersault and ran away waving; My Dear One is mine as mirrors are lonely. The Witch gave a squawk; her venomous body Melted into light as water leaves a spring, And the high green hill sits always by the sea. At his crossroads, too, the Ancient prayed for me, Down his wasted cheeks tears of joy were running: My dear one is mine as mirrors are lonely. He kissed me awake, and no one was sorry; The sun shone on sails, eyes, pebbles, anything, And the high green hill sits always by the sea. So to remember our changing garden, we Are linked as children in a circle dancing: My dear one is mine as mirrors are lonely, And the high, green hill sits always by the sea.

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3k

My dear one is mine as mirrors are lonely, As the poor and sad are real to the good king, And the high green hill sits always by the sea. Up jumped the Black Man behind the elder tree, Turned a somersault and ran away waving; My Dear One is mine as mirrors are lonely. The Witch gave a squawk; her venomous body Melted into light as water leaves a spring, And the high green hill sits always by the sea. At his crossroads, too, the Ancient prayed for me, Down his wasted cheeks tears of joy were running: My dear one is mine as mirrors are lonely. He kissed me awake, and no one was sorry; The sun shone on sails, eyes, pebbles, anything, And the high green hill sits always by the sea. So to remember our changing garden, we Are linked as children in a circle dancing: My dear one is mine as mirrors are lonely, And the high, green hill sits always by the sea.

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**Long brown dream her legs akimbo apex flushed dark arms bowed at hip ******* accusing Breathless, the ******* seesaw tight curls crown angry beauty teeth blaze hot golden eyes spit hate spinning slowly left proudly curved bending exposed face framed a toppled heart lips lick entice three rising paces the suite bar long fingers reach the glass held waist high pivoting back all swift motion a somersault roll landing grinning ******* bouncing a silent scream lashes out blinding red wine** *All loves promises tumbling bouncing emotion an ****** spite* **leaving me naked rivoletto sashed red seeing blurred ghostly negatives of forever young screaming bouncing ******* I say “Goodbye true love” to the tall glass on the bar my coat and open door to the clothe strewn bedroom** *Clothed party act a pint spinning somersault quaffed down brim full*

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May 14, 2010

May 14, 2010 at 5:11 AM UTC

**Long brown dream her legs akimbo apex flushed dark arms bowed at hip ******* accusing Breathless, the ******* seesaw tight curls crown angry beauty teeth blaze hot golden eyes spit hate spinning slowly left proudly curved bending exposed face framed a toppled heart lips lick entice three rising paces the suite bar long fingers reach the glass held waist high pivoting back all swift motion a somersault roll landing grinning ******* bouncing a silent scream lashes out blinding red wine** *All loves promises tumbling bouncing emotion an ****** spite* **leaving me naked rivoletto sashed red seeing blurred ghostly negatives of forever young screaming bouncing ******* I say “Goodbye true love” to the tall glass on the bar my coat and open door to the clothe strewn bedroom** *Clothed party act a pint spinning somersault quaffed down brim full*

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Rancor, Swashbuckling with a sawtooth grin and sacrilegious shouts, selcouth with an unsound mind, the commonness of uniqueness, the commonness of opinionated onions cutting their teeth on life and crying, again, and ready to saw off the limbs of the opposition out of revenge! Rancor, relax, you're not a Twitter matador, I wish you were because I’d love to watch the show. We cuddle with exotic nylon fibers and squeal about our weight and status and how someone insulted us and how terrible it is to be alive while sipping on easily accessibly high fructose corn syrup! Life has never been this sweet, but I guess we’re getting sick of honey. I complain about the complaints, I am the anti-complaining complaint club president. I am a writer, an iPhone thumb tapper. Hear me These mental gymnastics will somersault and summerset you right, child, Don’t listen to Rancor, That man’ll grab your gaze and stir your attention into a cocktail while winking at you from behind the bar he’ll leave your brain a little woozy from a life that used to be sweet until you left it out in the sun a few years too long, I wonder if some of the dead watch us from the corners of our bedroom or the trees along the freeway, waiting for greatness to unfurl. I’ll bet they do and I’ll bet you’re a glitch, I’ll bet a little piece of another galaxy hit you in the head and made your finger twitch. How many hot car hours have been spent in a parking lot, the skin dries, the phone dies, the spirit once lifted towards the outlines of the mountain peak now seeks memes, transcendent in their own right.

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May 12, 2022

May 12, 2022 at 1:54 AM UTC

Rancor, Swashbuckling with a sawtooth grin and sacrilegious shouts, selcouth with an unsound mind, the commonness of uniqueness, the commonness of opinionated onions cutting their teeth on life and crying, again, and ready to saw off the limbs of the opposition out of revenge! Rancor, relax, you're not a Twitter matador, I wish you were because I’d love to watch the show. We cuddle with exotic nylon fibers and squeal about our weight and status and how someone insulted us and how terrible it is to be alive while sipping on easily accessibly high fructose corn syrup! Life has never been this sweet, but I guess we’re getting sick of honey. I complain about the complaints, I am the anti-complaining complaint club president. I am a writer, an iPhone thumb tapper. Hear me These mental gymnastics will somersault and summerset you right, child, Don’t listen to Rancor, That man’ll grab your gaze and stir your attention into a cocktail while winking at you from behind the bar he’ll leave your brain a little woozy from a life that used to be sweet until you left it out in the sun a few years too long, I wonder if some of the dead watch us from the corners of our bedroom or the trees along the freeway, waiting for greatness to unfurl. I’ll bet they do and I’ll bet you’re a glitch, I’ll bet a little piece of another galaxy hit you in the head and made your finger twitch. How many hot car hours have been spent in a parking lot, the skin dries, the phone dies, the spirit once lifted towards the outlines of the mountain peak now seeks memes, transcendent in their own right.

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BULL FIGHTING (WITH A CLASSICAL TOUCH) * By Raj Nandy* (I) The Minoan Civilization of ancient Greece, Was well centered in the Aegean island of Crete; And around 1600 BC this civilization had peaked! Seeing their frescoes, and paintings on potteries and vase, Scholars concluded that ‘bull-jumping’ was perfected as a gallant art! Those jumpers grabbed the bull’s horns, - And receiving momentum from its violent head-jerk, Vaulted over its back in a somersault, To land on both feet to break their fall! I was spell bound by Minoans courage and agility, Their acrobatic feats performed with such dexterity! Those bulls were not killed and no blood was shed, Some acrobats might have been injured instead! What a shame for our bull fighters of date! (II) Today bull fighting has become a popular sport, Where the bull gets slaughtered amidst loud applaud! I recall those Roman amphitheaters that remained jam-packed, When the Gladiators performed their fatal acts! But even those Gladiators had a chance to survive, Our cornered bull has no place to hide! Friends, to see blood is an age old thrill, But none would like to see their own blood spilled! (III) Our Matador today is like a popular Rock Star, While the bull becomes a martyr in the pit by far! The bull’s mighty horns are sharp and strong, Can lift up a man like a rag doll! But when the Picador lances the bull’s **** The bull never gets a fair deal and jumps! Next the Matador waves his ‘muleta’- a red cape, The bull makes a final charge but cannot escape! I wonder if the bull sees red!? The Matador then amidst much pomp and applaud, Spikes the neck severing the bull’s spinal cord! He is greeted by flowers and cheers of ‘Ole’! ‘Ole’! Let us learn from those Ancient Minoans, - That's all I have got to say! - by Raj Nandy

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Oct 12, 2014

Oct 12, 2014 at 9:28 AM UTC

BULL FIGHTING !

BULL FIGHTING (WITH A CLASSICAL TOUCH) * By Raj Nandy* (I) The Minoan Civilization of ancient Greece, Was well centered in the Aegean island of Crete; And around 1600 BC this civilization had peaked! Seeing their frescoes, and paintings on potteries and vase, Scholars concluded that ‘bull-jumping’ was perfected as a gallant art! Those jumpers grabbed the bull’s horns, - And receiving momentum from its violent head-jerk, Vaulted over its back in a somersault, To land on both feet to break their fall! I was spell bound by Minoans courage and agility, Their acrobatic feats performed with such dexterity! Those bulls were not killed and no blood was shed, Some acrobats might have been injured instead! What a shame for our bull fighters of date! (II) Today bull fighting has become a popular sport, Where the bull gets slaughtered amidst loud applaud! I recall those Roman amphitheaters that remained jam-packed, When the Gladiators performed their fatal acts! But even those Gladiators had a chance to survive, Our cornered bull has no place to hide! Friends, to see blood is an age old thrill, But none would like to see their own blood spilled! (III) Our Matador today is like a popular Rock Star, While the bull becomes a martyr in the pit by far! The bull’s mighty horns are sharp and strong, Can lift up a man like a rag doll! But when the Picador lances the bull’s **** The bull never gets a fair deal and jumps! Next the Matador waves his ‘muleta’- a red cape, The bull makes a final charge but cannot escape! I wonder if the bull sees red!? The Matador then amidst much pomp and applaud, Spikes the neck severing the bull’s spinal cord! He is greeted by flowers and cheers of ‘Ole’! ‘Ole’! Let us learn from those Ancient Minoans, - That's all I have got to say! - by Raj Nandy

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We draw hearts to say I am in love with you when love disappoints, we say I am heartsick when we fall deeply, we say My heart did a slow somersault when we know that the heart is a drum, a pendulum, a clock. On good days, it is a sundial but it is always just a timekeeper, the tick tick tick of minutes and seasons, but never forevers.

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Jan 20, 2011

Jan 20, 2011 at 5:52 PM UTC

We draw hearts to say I am in love with you when love disappoints, we say I am heartsick when we fall deeply, we say My heart did a slow somersault when we know that the heart is a drum, a pendulum, a clock. On good days, it is a sundial but it is always just a timekeeper, the tick tick tick of minutes and seasons, but never forevers.

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Initial day at uni. Took a little stumble. As down the road I rumbled. World of study. Well thought out. Off my bike I tumbled. Over the handlebars. In front of the cars. A not amusing somersault. It really wasn’t funny. My humerus, got broke Not at all amusing, Certainly no joke. Not a funny bone to break. University was no ball. Off to uni. Arm in cast. In front of the others. What a giggle. Trainee nurse in pyjamas. Battle of the one armed fly. Impossibly undone! By ladylivvi1 © 2014 ladylivvi1 (All rights reserved)

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Jan 13, 2014

Jan 13, 2014 at 4:08 PM UTC

Initial day at uni. Took a little stumble. As down the road I rumbled. World of study. Well thought out. Off my bike I tumbled. Over the handlebars. In front of the cars. A not amusing somersault. It really wasn’t funny. My humerus, got broke Not at all amusing, Certainly no joke. Not a funny bone to break. University was no ball. Off to uni. Arm in cast. In front of the others. What a giggle. Trainee nurse in pyjamas. Battle of the one armed fly. Impossibly undone! By ladylivvi1 © 2014 ladylivvi1 (All rights reserved)

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Yes I remember that night in midwinter, the one that we burned on the hill, and the moon and the stars and the somersault sparks and wanting it all to stay still, and yes I remember the warmth of the embers and daring the future with hope at the very same time your fingers touched mine as softly as if they were smoke.

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Dec 5, 2014

Dec 5, 2014 at 2:22 PM UTC

Yes I remember that night in midwinter, the one that we burned on the hill, and the moon and the stars and the somersault sparks and wanting it all to stay still, and yes I remember the warmth of the embers and daring the future with hope at the very same time your fingers touched mine as softly as if they were smoke.

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You can twist My heartstrings In a somersault display Spiral through my being Fill me with your rays You can flood my soul Hold me in your beam I am but a shooting star In your gravity .....

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Dec 1, 2017

Dec 1, 2017 at 6:42 AM UTC

You can twist My heartstrings In a somersault display Spiral through my being Fill me with your rays You can flood my soul Hold me in your beam I am but a shooting star In your gravity .....

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Do not fall inlove with a writer they see and feel everything. particles that somersault in the morning ray telling them to embrace the day They can smell the haunting aroma of a coffee whispers 'go grab your pen and write' they look into a person's eyes and could witness how a sea crash into someone's soul Do not fall inlove with a writer they appreciate and value everything you do they could see the entire universe from your smile only the ocean could tell their hopes and fears. They easily fall and break too hard. Don't fall inlove with a writer they'll make you their muse from good times to bad times, you will be the lyrics of their song.

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Mar 26, 2017

Mar 26, 2017 at 10:17 AM UTC

excerpts-of-stories

Do not fall inlove with a writer they see and feel everything. particles that somersault in the morning ray telling them to embrace the day They can smell the haunting aroma of a coffee whispers 'go grab your pen and write' they look into a person's eyes and could witness how a sea crash into someone's soul Do not fall inlove with a writer they appreciate and value everything you do they could see the entire universe from your smile only the ocean could tell their hopes and fears. They easily fall and break too hard. Don't fall inlove with a writer they'll make you their muse from good times to bad times, you will be the lyrics of their song.

Continue reading...

with a lilt and a tilt Ha, I shall go the while roving over bush and meadows with a hop and a jump like a kangaroo I’ll be away the while avoiding the roads with a zzzzz and bzzzzz like a busy bee I’ll fly the while over flowers and gardens and the free open space with a bounce and a quiet look I’ll crawl and hide in quiet burrows the while like introduced rabbits chased by farmers and with a swing and a flip a light somersault in the air I’ll be back before you can say: “dolphins and whales” with a lilt and a tilt Ha, I shall go the while roving over bush and meadows

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Oct 12, 2010

Oct 12, 2010 at 2:41 PM UTC

with a lilt and a tilt

with a lilt and a tilt Ha, I shall go the while roving over bush and meadows with a hop and a jump like a kangaroo I’ll be away the while avoiding the roads with a zzzzz and bzzzzz like a busy bee I’ll fly the while over flowers and gardens and the free open space with a bounce and a quiet look I’ll crawl and hide in quiet burrows the while like introduced rabbits chased by farmers and with a swing and a flip a light somersault in the air I’ll be back before you can say: “dolphins and whales” with a lilt and a tilt Ha, I shall go the while roving over bush and meadows

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Fluffy kitten love smitten fighting over milk Itching finger on them linger cuddly glossy silk Ocean blue eyes love undisguised seven heaven’s glow Oh God be broad see they do not quickly enough grow. On the cushion mischief mission ripping pillow part Though it demand can’t raise hand cruel is not heart Indulgent look mildly rebuke faked in anger’s voice Watching them mad in game is heavenly rejoice. One on other sister brother dizzying somersault If the vase is broken surely not for their fault Sing lullaby show the TV sleep is far away Make the pretense all nonsense but a playful day. Again a boy lovingly toy tender tiny paw They’re too smart never do hurt haven’t grown a claw Frolic funny keep time runny feel the silence deep Comes when night robs the delight weary bodies sleep.

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Feb 20, 2014

Feb 20, 2014 at 7:11 AM UTC

pradip-chattopadhyay

Fluffy kitten love smitten fighting over milk Itching finger on them linger cuddly glossy silk Ocean blue eyes love undisguised seven heaven’s glow Oh God be broad see they do not quickly enough grow. On the cushion mischief mission ripping pillow part Though it demand can’t raise hand cruel is not heart Indulgent look mildly rebuke faked in anger’s voice Watching them mad in game is heavenly rejoice. One on other sister brother dizzying somersault If the vase is broken surely not for their fault Sing lullaby show the TV sleep is far away Make the pretense all nonsense but a playful day. Again a boy lovingly toy tender tiny paw They’re too smart never do hurt haven’t grown a claw Frolic funny keep time runny feel the silence deep Comes when night robs the delight weary bodies sleep.

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* MY head wants me to live My heart wants me to LOVE Such are the inner conflict of TIME Ultimately I let go - such is your POWER of LOVE And I let myself float in YOUR inner-SOUL I am a feather in your breeze Flying, soaring, twisting, twirling Within your inner COSMIC womb I let go and let myself tumble I am a child - YOUR child of LOVE Somersault, tumble, get up & smile I let go and let myself wander I am a wanderer, in your wanderlust I am lost in your - deep ocean & forest... I let go and let myself dissolve I am drowned, dissolved in YOUR being Soaked, drenched, disappeared within YOU I let go and let YOUR LOVE evoke My insatiable desires of LOVE There is a thunder-storm within me YOU have successfully ignited With your illuminating eyes of LOVE-soul Your LOVE catches the edges of my eyes And drops down like dew on your flower petals What else I need in life than YOU? Only if YOU are with me I will be completely fine WE WILL BE "COMPLETE" What else I want in life? YOU- your existence besides me That is what I was born to seek - ! YOU always share only little bit of YOU With your cryptic notes To keep me engaged in a guessing game YOU enjoy my plight in your LOVE-longing pain YOUR naughtiness is going to **** me one day Do not let our time of LOVE run out I am trying my best I am spinning the whole galaxy With the power of your LOVE Yesterday night, you came, And did not let go of me Everyday YOU leave your whispers And scent around me But when I open my eyes - you are gone LOVE without YOU is no life to live at all How will the rainbow breathe LOVE colors Without our eternal LOVE? How will the flowers adorn LOVE colors Without our TRUE PURE LOVE? How will anyone live without colors? Oh...has anyone seen DEAD colors? Life without LOVE is just like Seeing dead colors around us The colors we see everyday Without LOVE in our heart Those colors do not carry The ONE SOUL we share with OUR LOVE colors *

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Oct 23, 2018

Oct 23, 2018 at 11:55 PM UTC

melan-of-innocent

* MY head wants me to live My heart wants me to LOVE Such are the inner conflict of TIME Ultimately I let go - such is your POWER of LOVE And I let myself float in YOUR inner-SOUL I am a feather in your breeze Flying, soaring, twisting, twirling Within your inner COSMIC womb I let go and let myself tumble I am a child - YOUR child of LOVE Somersault, tumble, get up & smile I let go and let myself wander I am a wanderer, in your wanderlust I am lost in your - deep ocean & forest... I let go and let myself dissolve I am drowned, dissolved in YOUR being Soaked, drenched, disappeared within YOU I let go and let YOUR LOVE evoke My insatiable desires of LOVE There is a thunder-storm within me YOU have successfully ignited With your illuminating eyes of LOVE-soul Your LOVE catches the edges of my eyes And drops down like dew on your flower petals What else I need in life than YOU? Only if YOU are with me I will be completely fine WE WILL BE "COMPLETE" What else I want in life? YOU- your existence besides me That is what I was born to seek - ! YOU always share only little bit of YOU With your cryptic notes To keep me engaged in a guessing game YOU enjoy my plight in your LOVE-longing pain YOUR naughtiness is going to **** me one day Do not let our time of LOVE run out I am trying my best I am spinning the whole galaxy With the power of your LOVE Yesterday night, you came, And did not let go of me Everyday YOU leave your whispers And scent around me But when I open my eyes - you are gone LOVE without YOU is no life to live at all How will the rainbow breathe LOVE colors Without our eternal LOVE? How will the flowers adorn LOVE colors Without our TRUE PURE LOVE? How will anyone live without colors? Oh...has anyone seen DEAD colors? Life without LOVE is just like Seeing dead colors around us The colors we see everyday Without LOVE in our heart Those colors do not carry The ONE SOUL we share with OUR LOVE colors *

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*I was born from a farthest star where beauty and shattered lights sprinkled all over the place i touched the glass of gold crystals, they are soft and silky that I can glide and say 'weee!' The strand of my hair goes to slow motion as I somersault into the air The giant moon illuminates from sight he yawns as I wave and gave a sweet smile I can hear the words 'Dream, Dream, Dream' echoes from his mind I close my eyes and feel the warmth of the stars embrace 'Dream, Dream, Dream' whispers from the billion celestial of the night I find happiness in an endless tranquil space.*

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Aug 15, 2015

Aug 15, 2015 at 12:42 AM UTC

Dream, Dream, Dream

*I was born from a farthest star where beauty and shattered lights sprinkled all over the place i touched the glass of gold crystals, they are soft and silky that I can glide and say 'weee!' The strand of my hair goes to slow motion as I somersault into the air The giant moon illuminates from sight he yawns as I wave and gave a sweet smile I can hear the words 'Dream, Dream, Dream' echoes from his mind I close my eyes and feel the warmth of the stars embrace 'Dream, Dream, Dream' whispers from the billion celestial of the night I find happiness in an endless tranquil space.*

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Overpowering urges self destruction numbness c ra cks and reseals deep trenches cut out in the shape of your name The feeling's queasy somersault through my twisted veins blind rage encapsulated by a sad blackened frame Bruises and scars fade but the coursing pain will forever remain a dark heavy trotting reign Horse hooves crater my heart collision beat of a marching bands feet my heart my heart is screaming in the dark the shadow slightly falls my heart my heart Inject your unknowing poison I feel the sting as it rips fire to my insides your hands leave chemical burns as you squeeze my lungs I fall to my knees weakness writhes in numb defeat pull the tide hold it in my hands sending it crashing to wash over you again That's when I first tasted the burn of this world the bitter taster of disappointment the stabbing of my heart the waterfalls of sorrow My eyes have died their light no longer lives I shrivel and crumble with a slow dull ache I do not scream out destroy my sand castles burn my bridges knock my buildings down dynamite love dynamite love I wander with a brain blown to bits I scavenge every scrap of m u t ilated so-called-love I am dynamite you are matches all that stood between us was a wick of string and time.

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Feb 17, 2014

Feb 17, 2014 at 1:05 AM UTC

Overpowering urges self destruction numbness c ra cks and reseals deep trenches cut out in the shape of your name The feeling's queasy somersault through my twisted veins blind rage encapsulated by a sad blackened frame Bruises and scars fade but the coursing pain will forever remain a dark heavy trotting reign Horse hooves crater my heart collision beat of a marching bands feet my heart my heart is screaming in the dark the shadow slightly falls my heart my heart Inject your unknowing poison I feel the sting as it rips fire to my insides your hands leave chemical burns as you squeeze my lungs I fall to my knees weakness writhes in numb defeat pull the tide hold it in my hands sending it crashing to wash over you again That's when I first tasted the burn of this world the bitter taster of disappointment the stabbing of my heart the waterfalls of sorrow My eyes have died their light no longer lives I shrivel and crumble with a slow dull ache I do not scream out destroy my sand castles burn my bridges knock my buildings down dynamite love dynamite love I wander with a brain blown to bits I scavenge every scrap of m u t ilated so-called-love I am dynamite you are matches all that stood between us was a wick of string and time.

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Spotlight on the windy mistress Her pirouettes stir petals Leaves rise and fall at every somersault Impressing the seven devils Each one malefic in a different sense Eloquent in a heavy mist They allude at their brethren sins Blight corrodes a suggestive audience Death’s caress plays maestro in the sound check When the carrion pick sinner from the jest of what’s left Our windy mistress will play tribute To the harlequin slaughter

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Dec 28, 2012

Dec 28, 2012 at 8:53 AM UTC

Spotlight on the windy mistress Her pirouettes stir petals Leaves rise and fall at every somersault Impressing the seven devils Each one malefic in a different sense Eloquent in a heavy mist They allude at their brethren sins Blight corrodes a suggestive audience Death’s caress plays maestro in the sound check When the carrion pick sinner from the jest of what’s left Our windy mistress will play tribute To the harlequin slaughter

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"where day is.... dreams of a summer sky." i. the sky floats up, gazing out with lips of steel, a shiny branch surrendering to summer’s sigh, her iris a cats eye, marble blue, her pupil a dark wand. ii. play with me, draw me out of the dark, let me sing to you a sea-song where the waves somersault and crash to the shore, where the wind, wild as wild, faints to breathe the wakening sky. iii. see how i write in passages, faint-waves of summer’s mists where the rain dips her pen in the grey-ink cloud. iv. searching for your ghosts, the deep whirling of the streamy sea with its wine-red roses like coloured glass dance as i gather whispers of strangeness and sun, blossoming, shrink-edged like an opalescent pool, all of it, you. v. days of watery rags and rubber tyres, red snake of summer’s ribs, the stones of the stormy sun, gathering the landscape where tonight the moon will rise for love you will loosen my hair and i will kiss your throat.

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Aug 12, 2017

Aug 12, 2017 at 1:55 PM UTC

beth-fwoah-dream

love poem (vignettes)....where day is....

"where day is.... dreams of a summer sky." i. the sky floats up, gazing out with lips of steel, a shiny branch surrendering to summer’s sigh, her iris a cats eye, marble blue, her pupil a dark wand. ii. play with me, draw me out of the dark, let me sing to you a sea-song where the waves somersault and crash to the shore, where the wind, wild as wild, faints to breathe the wakening sky. iii. see how i write in passages, faint-waves of summer’s mists where the rain dips her pen in the grey-ink cloud. iv. searching for your ghosts, the deep whirling of the streamy sea with its wine-red roses like coloured glass dance as i gather whispers of strangeness and sun, blossoming, shrink-edged like an opalescent pool, all of it, you. v. days of watery rags and rubber tyres, red snake of summer’s ribs, the stones of the stormy sun, gathering the landscape where tonight the moon will rise for love you will loosen my hair and i will kiss your throat.

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the soul of birds shall dip their wings in the holy light swoop bounce somersault from the sky trampoline

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Aug 1, 2015

Aug 1, 2015 at 6:56 PM UTC

From The Sky Trampoline

the soul of birds shall dip their wings in the holy light swoop bounce somersault from the sky trampoline

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The water is black late night of a new moon. I dive into it swim underwater away from the fire and drunken noise my heart beating hard at odds with the cold silence. I scream --- mostly bubbles and a mouthful of salt I gag and surface. "Open your eyes underwater!" you scream from the shore "There's phosphorescence!" I open them for the first time in salt water and see the algae lit a tunnel curved in my hands I do a somersault then float knees pressed to chest blowing light bubbles. I get back no towel, sand in my pants huddled by the fire I press you close, But your head is bent, away "I can't love you" you mumble to my chest squeezing harder.

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Nov 30, 2010

Nov 30, 2010 at 10:16 PM UTC

cielo-gebilaguin

DRUNK LOVE POEM by Jackson M. Dunckell

The water is black late night of a new moon. I dive into it swim underwater away from the fire and drunken noise my heart beating hard at odds with the cold silence. I scream --- mostly bubbles and a mouthful of salt I gag and surface. "Open your eyes underwater!" you scream from the shore "There's phosphorescence!" I open them for the first time in salt water and see the algae lit a tunnel curved in my hands I do a somersault then float knees pressed to chest blowing light bubbles. I get back no towel, sand in my pants huddled by the fire I press you close, But your head is bent, away "I can't love you" you mumble to my chest squeezing harder.

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I want to write a happy poem With smile from ear to ear the sort that makes your cheeks hurt Usually caused by some one dear. A poem that makes; The Butterflies fly and your tummy somersault Eutrophia making you high. Using words to melt hearts Instead of tearing them apart.

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Jan 15, 2015

Jan 15, 2015 at 4:22 PM UTC

I want to write a happy poem With smile from ear to ear the sort that makes your cheeks hurt Usually caused by some one dear. A poem that makes; The Butterflies fly and your tummy somersault Eutrophia making you high. Using words to melt hearts Instead of tearing them apart.

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