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Michael Briefs Nov 2017
This floral world
surrounds
her blackened wings.
Thorns hover, blood-stained,
above ashen lips...
they taste the sting.
The flight of myriad starlights
shows the way
for the final plunge
to the lonely tomb.
The creature is revealed...
it has arrived.
She has found us.
She has come home.
wordvango Oct 2014
Painters hands always so messy oiled up
reek of turpentine smoke moonshine
Alizarin crimson streaks lamp black roots
their faces gesso'd to unreality they fan
brushes broken
canvases filled to their brim
much as poets
who reek of  one day's and starlights
mountain peaks they haven't seen
Martini's black in white spaces, coats waiting to attack,
tie up.
With dried up pens, filled notebook paper.
Irish Aug 2014
One look at you and
I saw the smile on your face
reflect the starlights.
or would it make sense  more if it's
One look at you and
I saw the starlights reflect
the smile on your face
?
Daisy Fields Nov 2014
let’s explore the universe of love
.
like galactic butterflies
,
we soar, we link
,
we dance, we sync
.
lost in cosmic euphoria,

induced by the warming glow of starlights
,
& the undeniable feeling of being home
.
we marvel in the light
,
like sunbathing crystals
,
casting rainbows threw space
.
our beauty is endless & moving
.

we are so divine
,
& now we are free.

free to love, to dream,
to create, & to play.

we breathe in prana
 & we feel peace.
we bask in the essence of love & oneness
.
we let it fuel us 
& fill us up
.
look at us
, we are so high now
,
we are the sky now.
there is no going back
,
but we never would
,
cause the truth has never felt so good.

we were made for this
.
we were made for bliss
.
we are the fruits of this universal tree,
i was always you
 & you always were me
.
now we are infinite.

now we are home
.
now we are alive.

oh tender heart
,
oh fragile mind
,
your soul is free 
& so is mine
Srirachasauce Jul 2016
Here’s a space to dream.

Of sleepless nights staring at starlights,
Only dropping twinkles can enter this bubble,
Of you and I.

You and I

Will meet where crossroads are paused
When cars stop and red lights glow
Beyond the smog of the city. I

will never forget, how eye
to eye, we were traumatised
by the beauty of painful love.

Or maybe, maybe, it was just my
imagination, the way lies
seem like truths
so easily disguised.
Shivam S Aug 2017
I miss her tonight
but then I realize
that we share the same sky.
I miss how her eyes
glittered that night we met
as the stars do,
And oh the way
She looked at me
I remember my heart
fleeting, sinking, beating
under her lovely starlights.

I don't sleep at nights
and wonder if I am
awake in her dreams
of us wandering across
our moonlit sky
and how our silhouettes
against the moon
for once eclipses
the majesty of the space
and it's infinite starlights.

I miss her every night
looking at our sky
dreaming of my starlight.
For ***
Seán Mac Falls Jun 2015
( Sonnet )*

My love beamed back to heavens overrun,
In a field where we stood so held in light,
As radiance teemed, our crown of sun
And never again was any day so bright.

Never were flowers too alive, so moving,
As we, they blanketed the fields of youth,
A memory set in starlights of blooming,
Our innocence eternal, O such beauty!

But bliss became loss caged in that one day
And light was shed from a gift to a sorrow,
Luster of dream, once held, now so faraway,
Only memories of image, dim light to borrow,

How spark of bliss fades in young sun, so soon
Lovers overrun, once held, in fields of bloom.
Emma Dec 2016
The silver dew seeps through my shoes
No one
Not by the goalposts
Not by the gravel footprints

Hears my music
Bold streetlights lit across the night
The twinkling starlights
Like leaves in the river
Grey charcoal clouds
That swallow the tops of tall trees

Aligned silently by the roadside
I'm only true in the empty stillness
Where my own sound floats softly
Like echoing birds in snow
Whisper forever your warm , endearing sweet musical question in my longing ear . Sing to me on confused , windswept blue and ivory mornings with improvisational ballads of great candor , disguised in starlights language . Ballads of clarity , brilliance and great emotion ..
Copyright January 8 , 2016 by Randolph L Wilson * All Rights Reserved
K Balachandran Oct 2019
Distraught, with alien invaded heart
I partied with the night in my thoughts.
Dark, distant and silent as perceived, yet
She was candid,  sweetness personified.
Let me taste swigs of wine from her cup
Sung me a lullaby of  ethereal starlights
Dreams plucked  from nights, she gifted
Weeded out nightmares deeply embeded.
On a dream boat chosen,I set sailed alone
To an emerald island at the middle of
the  ocean,
And made up my mind never to sail back.
Adamant I was not to be out of that dream
Beloved,  ******,  night conjured up for me
With the twist of  her psychedelic finger.
winter child Jan 2019
there will always be starlights in you that others couldn’t capture,
no matter how much i scream to their face to see how bright they gleam.
as i started to realize that they just don’t mean to spark for them—
that was when i found why my heart was the only one that burn.
—thank you for choosing me, you’ve been such a pleasure to me as you will always be.
Marshall Gass Apr 2014
Bullion stacked against a window sill
piled high enough to watch the street parade
from behind bullet  proof glass panels
wives and children safely ensconced
in upper rooms closer
to the helipad on standby.

He watched the streets burn
Moloch madness known
ego blown and ballooned
on taming the nightskys own fireworks
with the stars in attendance.
with God as his butler.

The man on the street did not think so.
The bills mounted high
and his power was cut for the presidents party.

with a loaf of bread to feed six children
he lost his soul to the furnace in his brain
molotov cocktail in hand
he marched down the alleyway
to the highway of the presidential palace
to set fire to his anger
on the parapets of broken promises
to lay waste to the promised kingdom
to break bread with his brethren
until his message was written
on the politicians plate of plenty.

The helicopter rose
straight into the molotov smash
and the fireball consumed the palace.
The rising ashes replaced the starlights
in the sky and the gold bullion melted back into the earth.

Author Notes
The Revolution has just finished in one place. It will start again in some other.
© Marshall Gass. All rights reserved.
Immortal.
Oh, yes, he is immortal.
Immortal in his youthfulness indeed!
He shall age and grow but never change;
he shall wane and wither just in pain!
Just like a stubborn day rainfall-
ah! which remains a thick stifling veil
to our young sky, and its starlights-
like a loyal fence and its old window;
sitting and hoping that endings shall never show
Yes, he shall but still look the same tomorrow.

Ah! In his silliness and bold playfulness,
he sometimes makes fun of his own madness,
with a conscience that somehow be rapid
and cheerful smiles so genuine and sweet.
Like a miracle in one dull puppet show
He canst list five jokes in a row!
But a certain poison is in his blood;
and unreachable thoughts forever colour his heart.
His youthful lips are full of secret tales;
and his white skin can at times be pale.
His stories are songs we've never sung
and his breaths are simply words to my poetic lungs.
With daring steps that this earth never fails
into the moors every morning he sails.
Once I found him behind the walls
among the long corridor of my halls.
With lightness he sounded plain but sure
Yet the cold outside made him obscure;
his purity was like a shadow of lightning
so calm but innocent and bewitching.
But as soon as gales wafted through the grass
He would once again; flock away into its mass.
Glee, glee, was what then astonished my poetry;
with tears and feelings that might have lit-
o, immortal man, I have only words to play with!

And ah! How once I startled him by my lover's name;
which he enquired more without any shame.
But envious was my heart's flame-
and delight was sadly never there to tame.
I ran, and ran away-without staring back at him,
no matter how absurd it'ght hath seemed!
With turmoils that were inside of me-
I clouded his picture once more,
stiffened by cries, but hated by my own delight-
scarred by lies, and loathed by very fright-
but now and then he would spring back into my steps,
demanding me to give what had been said away,
but I sped and hurried 'till he no more tapped,
and was turned aback and into his own day.
O, immortal man, please just forgive-o forgive me,
for I shalt have no more courage to face thee.

And lust, and love are but my forbidden triumph
Which he can only be see within my poems.
With his hands that shall stay awake forever-
and never age behind eternal rains and thunder;
to every single day he shall wake gladly in wonder.
Gazing through his very own unnatural universe
with holy regrets but intense admiration
But sadly his life might never be my verse;
neither his charms ever be my wifely laudation.
The fate of his might just not be my course;
and as how my being; is not his envied incarnation.

But blessings be with him, whoever's precious treasure
and be pains his heart shalt never endure.
O, immortal man, our paths are one, but never meet;
and forever are just enemies like coldness is to heat.
Again whenst I am to die I shalt remember thee;
for being more awesome than even the lake
and more delightful than any words canst take.
Ah! And thy silliness is one that makes thee so special
and even lighter than letters that hide behind the wall.
How thou would be one of my firsts to call!
Just like how thou art always immortal;
as thy portrait is eternally young and genial;
from which my pondering eyes shall never stir;
as whispers my human heart forever longs to hear.
Star Gazer Nov 2016
Some things remained close because they were never meant to be open,
not all is starlights, high tides and bright nights in each moment
but it is not to say that they won't appear or have appeared before you
the exit sign is still lit, your smile is cracking but the glue is before you,
I know I have said it many times before, how I urged you to stay strong,
to listen to a song, to meet people and get along but I was wrong...
sometimes staying strong isn't enough to keep you smiling or happy
and something is always lacking, so please listen to me;
you will make it, because bending and not breaking is your style,
and teddy, that smile, will arise before you as the way it has before
so you can choose the exit door or just hold on a little longer.
stand a little stronger, build yourself firmer, because you won't break,
there's a space filled with opportunities, chances, so without haste,
what is your sign? Is it a Leo, Capricorn or cancer? What's the answer?
It doesn't really matter, because signs don't define you, they define route
and the news that you aren't happy with the you, the you that you are,
is like lighting a burning star on fire just to wish of it from afar.
Take your signs, the exit one is still lit but so is the building
because you are not crumbling, not while I am here, friend.

Take a minute off your mind and don't mind the minute details,
they're like emails, trash boxed and binned, forever stuck in junk.
I know it's not about fun, it's heart and soul, tears and sweat
each moment could be a laughter packed with imminent regret
but you better not forget that I am your friend and I have hope
that you know what is the better road to take, the path to make,
the sea escapes my eyes like a wave clasping onto the shores
and before you, I see a strong piece of solid gold amidst the waves
never changing shades, always floating on as the sun overcasts a light,
and it reminds me that maybe that is enough to see in humanity
the flicker of light, a spectre of sight, a tiny bit of 'I'm probably not right-
but I don't really care', and to be fair, that's all is required.
Take the path that you wish to tread because what is walking a thousand miles for someone worth, when you're walking alone?
[To my friend: the teddy bear] - Don't give up on yourself
Yenson Sep 2018
Listen to the slivering  paths of the Autumn breeze
The coming velvety skies drenched in ink reflecting silver stars
Wave goodbyes to the elusive flawed brown stone with pensive eyes
A heart will gasp years ahead for callousness past shown now in tears
Remember those golden sunsets for now woeful days are never azure
Watery eyes and wrinkled mask lament a time you could have shared
A King's ransom at your feet twined with an  honest heart assured

Hear the whisperings of the mockingbirds and muted cold choruses
Rainbow starlights betrays pots of gold hidden never to be found
Maidens dance retro and the harpist pluck for painters with brushes
By sunkissed shores blends of contrasts joyous in customary ponds
Smiles pure from honeyed caves same when as waxed spears plunges
Save me a place in the delights of Troy and tell Helen to send a sound
Bring me home to peace and love, rescue me from lions in golden cages




Copyright@LaurenceA.19thSept2018Allrightsreserved.
Pauline Celerio Aug 2018
The night grows
The wind blows
Unseen stars
from windows
Tamed heights
Untrained eyes
see hope in
city lights.
But my soul longs
for starlights
with you
by my side.
When I look at the city lights from my window, I wish you were here  by my side.
Seán Mac Falls Apr 2017
( Sonnet )*

My love beamed back to heavens overrun,
In a field where we stood so held in light,
As radiance teemed, our crown of sun
And never again was any day so bright.

Never were flowers too alive, so moving,
As we, they blanketed the fields of youth,
A memory set in starlights of blooming,
Our innocence eternal, O such beauty!

But bliss became loss caged in that one day
And light was shed from a gift to a sorrow,
Luster of dream, once held, now so faraway,
Only memories of image, dim light to borrow,

How spark of bliss fades in young sun, so soon
Lovers overrun, once held, in fields of bloom.
wordvango Aug 2018
Arms flesh spirals rocketing
   Climbing bursting over through cloudsspace dust particles
   Explosive birth
Coronas starlights fast
     Grasped in the black
Clasped together
        In the sparkling
Universe
            Oneness symmetric
A glimpse
             Oh my love,
Heaven.
To the mourning star of sorrow ,
inside the curtains drawn inside ,
a herse pulls up to weeping the young mans life now in a casket lay ,
With cobwebs to cover his head ,
for now he is dead .

Once bright lights  of stardom with Limosens await ,
starlights fame ,
a spotlight that one day grew dim .For now  death and Christ await ..,
For to much liquor and money ,
to many ladies and ***** ,
and the gypsy he sang captivated my love of solitude .

A ghost book from my grans book case ,
tales of 20,000 leagues under the sea ,
the skull ,
It’s pages I turned what fantasy in this old book I learned .
and so to the gypsy with grinding tale of whips and shacks ,
and a poor boys love for that gypsy girl .

Even now unto this day they play this song it won’t go away ,
In Shepherd’s Bush s music halls to two thousand expecting hordes ,
that song lives ever on .

So what is love only that it must be perused ,
or our lives become catacombs,
and our hearts encased in tombs . .
Our 20,000. Leagues we fall ,
deeper and deeper where there is no love at all ,
just a skull on a shelf to watch it all .
Then save your love for pettles and flowers for above all these things
Gods love towers ,
Wrapped up in Mary’s arms ,
Lies Gods gift of love to man ,
a spralling baby who’s arms stretched out in love ,
this infant child covered in blood it cries .
Like every other in Linon cloth lay ,
that stars and Kings adore .
Immortal.
Oh, yes, he is immortal.
Immortal in his youthfulness indeed!
He shalt age and grow but never change;
he shalt wane and wither just in pain!
Just like a stubborn day rainfall-
ah! which remains a thick stifling veil
to our young sky, and its starlights-
like a loyal fence and its old window;
sitting and hoping that endings shalt never show
Yes, he shalt but still look the same tomorrow.

Ah! His eyes but a way down to my soul;
which I find lone but beguiling!
Pangs of endurance and blighting pain-
all vanish soon as I catch the sight of 'im again!
Oh! And with an indolent smile so comely;
he shalt answer up all my queries vividly!
Brilliance and height but with his tones;
but of a wit firm as an obedient stone-
he washes me of all my doubts,
fears, and worries of my small thoughts.
Amidst the decaying weary roses,
and those pallid old-time posters
he is but my friend, so jolly and bright like me.
He shalt stand there with shy feelings
next to the bustling stairs in the mornings.
And out doth I venture on errands-
so late that I need nearly run!
Greeting me there he smiles again-
and all day shalt his picture remain!
O, how I adore his cherry-like lips-
full of secrets, brave rays, and twists!

He is my immortal sun and star-
the flow that fills, and rises my heart.
He is my undying day and night-
to my thunder, he's brown starlight!

Ah! He is corrupting me again with love-
but in his eyes doth I find clarity!
Clarity, my dear, a bright tenderness and promise
that no other lover can surmise.
Oh, my whole sweetness-canst thou hear me
scream and pray for thee?
Ah, how that bunch of wordless gazes
brimming with startling eyelashes-
when thou peered into my moonless sun;
thrilled through me and proved us one.

And ah! My young sailor, be but my dawn to me-
when nights are lies and dusks are unfree.
Shield me on gray mountaintops-
hold my hand as I stroll amongst the shops.
Heap on me some flowers!
How betwixt those icy morning showers-
shalt thou retreat to my bower.
With a ring of blissful laughter-
and the joy of a new prudent lover;
shalt we entwine just together
and celebrate our glad encounter!
Meanwhile with conscience thy entreat-
that the vow of union I repeat-
and bringst thy heart which hast made me blind-
and knit thy pure love into mine.
Abellakai Jul 2015
Pineapple dreams
And symbolic dragon fruits.
Get rid of your buttered plum
And search on through the wreckage.
I ******* hate you.
Wait, just kidding.
Foxing footprints
And coffee flavored rat bones.
Stop the trash flow.
I'm sick of ripping my heart apart
Like wet paper towels.
Pressed me like dead florae.
Against the wall and into the drain.
I am blended into ****** strings
Of sadness and wonder.
Leaked acid frying through my brain
Just let me live.
Pulled my organs into ice cream traps
And celestially conquered the
Wizard realm starlights.
I am tired, very torn.
It's time for me to rest.
Seán Mac Falls Feb 2016
( Sonnet )*

My love beamed back to heavens overrun,
In a field where we stood so held in light,
As radiance teemed, our crown of sun
And never again was any day so bright.

Never were flowers too alive, so moving,
As we, they blanketed the fields of youth,
A memory set in starlights of blooming,
Our innocence eternal, O such beauty!

But bliss became loss caged in that one day
And light was shed from a gift to a sorrow,
Luster of dream, once held, now so faraway,
Only memories of image, dim light to borrow,

How spark of bliss fades in young sun, so soon
Lovers overrun, once held, in fields of bloom.
At living nights! Today I saw again my Helsinki;
What a dazzling sight, bathed in its citadels of light,
At which time, didst I spend more grateful hours
That may have come and sought me after dawn.
I was dreaming fast by then, lulled by yon sleepy
rain striding down outside, with a softened cheer;
A mild one, more like kind water’s affluent soul,
Had the skies no more repelled its sight, with beer
And the remnants of their rebuked past sins,
Which once kept feeding on mere tyrannous thoughts
That the sun too emitted; but how didst such coldness
Let itself be corrupted, maintained by the amiss main
And savage terrain of the sun, and be sorely divided
once more across its terrible sphere, and wonder:
How couldst no cold remain, whilst ‘tis England;
And thus no evil couldst be new wherein,
nor regarded as trembling nor filthy anew—
In the hours that hath faded, by their uneven minutes;
And there is no honour left to revolt against its wit,
While all transforms into an unripened fatal mistake,
And there is no joy left to witness its new form,
And the remnant of love gone in its disposition,
When, one by one, the most propitious beam awakes
Offering one of its most precarious gleams,
But so shakes me by the impatience of the heat;
The poet has so to run to escape its crunching wit,
Forgetting the poem, forsaking what’s been writ;
And what is left but a sorrow from the merciful night,
The poetry too lost its favourable Knight.

Where is but the Helsinki I hath loved, about me?
The Helsinki that hath been in love with me;
And shyly flirted with me, stealing my love for days.
All my past that hath come to a halt, and with its shadow apace
I hath not one right to reclaim my solid thoughts;
I want to be the radiant snow again, mild at all paces
Haunted by ev’ry cold breath so divine, and taste
The hieroglyphics of my sad visions so succinctly;
And the philology of our violent youth so fervently.
For such sunless hauntings too are painfully severe,
And such nightmares that existed shan’t be spare,
And those shan’t I suffer myself by the pores of such dreams;
And with a radiant finger shalt I send back which see me—
The eyes of our promising heaven have now awakened,
I can see their unpierced veins through thy hands, o Helsinki!
Why is it that salubrious remembrance of such sullen hours
to give me the unwanted comfort, and unwritten silence,
I might not be worthy of thine alone, ah, but who shalt shine
During my windblown summers here, whenst the short-lived heat
Hath but been too much, and ringing through a tampered light;
I hath lost the list of odes that thou canst cast on my soul.
What an everlasting shame, to lay here alone without thee;
But who is a scattered leaf like me to complain, but to hide,
I hath lost all my steadiness to the Northern Light.

To the blue concave by yon awesome nullified cavern;
And the lifted nectar tree behind the cedar grove,
And the rippling summer river with its yellow brook
That hath been lovely to me and my wintry shine;
And the gate with such illustrious paints that illumine
Every wandering sight, righteous in whose last morals,
How happy I am, to be amidst such wondrous sighs!
How shalt I but stand about and entertain my feet,
The itchy feet that shan’t stand to the euphoria about me,
But feelest the slightest thought of thine with hesitation,
But in dreams, upset again to behold thee gone.
What a consoled hysteria I hath but made, o Helsinki!
A little further, my love, didst I tell my love silently,
Although all remains a whisper in t’is hesitant chest,
That shan’t be resistant again once it meets its fate;
A sweet fate that shan’t one steer nor disapprove,
For such a fate is neither sick nor faulty, at once,
For at such a view all shalt be put at ease, or in delight,
The moon cheers at their apparition forms and starlights.
And for my love shalt I wait at seven tonight,
An hour that is close to my Helsinki’s sweet entrance,
For hath England halted and my frightened love ceased,
And sweetened what was not sweet for my love and me,
And as bitter to my hope and hungered cleavage once.
I am, as ever, faltering in my speed like an innocent child;
I am to play from bough to bough, that I can comfort
And jump from leap to leap, as I wish to bring back alive
The thousand weeds and summer squirrels that used to
cry bitterly. They cried a lot in the open space, at night;
Oft’ didst I hear their florid steps across the unseen clearing
And voices weep through the wronged greenery, wailing.
I wouldst be good to them as I hath been good in dreams,
To make ‘em all precious darlings, and set back forth, o sweet
Waking into the night of moonlight and the Northern Lights
To comfort the scratch, and all that injures within me
And to bring justice to those who wronged in thee,
That all can sleep again amidst the high strolling distance;
I wouldst behold my love again, and beneath the confined air,
To live and love on yon gifted ege, laden with art and care.
On a ground so deep, and tunnel so rich with ice and ease,
Hath I been in too much haste, to resemble the mortal rose,
Hath I been ungrateful to my robbed love, and prose;
Hath I loved my youth in such a dizzy way, in a daze;
Hath I deserted such myths, and failed my task to praise.

They all bid me fly away and leave, but fly to thee;
Those sons of dark innocence, unvirgin bones to every sigh.
What is love to them, but a silvery, captivating moan?
What is love but two robes unchained, all too ******,
What is love but a hastened sight, a hurried moon,
What is love but not wedded, nor one to grown—
What is love but unchaste, too frenetic to love,
Not a painful comfort, nor a happy sacrifice,
Not a bough so pendulous and fair, nor a fall so weird,
Not a bizarre ecstasy; yet an ecstasy that quenches,
Not a bard, nor any of the throes in his fine poems,
Not even a wing of love itself, that often cries in bareness,
Not a humble show that fulfills, in its drop of moral rain;
Not a reminiscence of dust, nor a soap of remembrance.
Love, being a dire sight to ‘all, those cross creatures,
Love in there never held me by my hand, nor my ill chest,
All the love there—a pale pain, a bland mast of mess,
And all greasy misery is not pain, but a beheld love,
A love to see, a love that grows not in flooded snow.
All the love there—a blank sight, a tasteless life,
A love that feels not the feeble, but stainless souls!
A love that is too mean that none canst hear me,
And who guesses but such a meadow cannot see me,
Nor catch my sight by the ballade of innocuous thoughts.
O, Helsinki, I hath but such vast words in my throat,
O, Helsinki, hail us poets with the fall of ****** snow!
May us be weird, and boast to the condemned world,
May us be heat, may us bring whom a liar curse!

Every fantasy of the night stills beneath me;
Crushed within the glossy bark of yon midnight heat,
Closed by the laughter of a dominant brutal heart,
Chained by its own sinful soul, that cannot love.
And never by the night turns into uncounted falls;
Nor grows into a more promising canto in my sonnet,
For who is heat but an untold chaos, even to a baby’s ears,
There is no shelter but wanted by the gone England,
Nor a further fate to come, to be run across its river.
All English gold hath but revolted its noble thoughts,
And most of the time, ‘tis only daggers and swords
That make, and foragingly confuse its infused time;
I hath outnumbered the shrieking sins within me,
And too my art, attaching itself to me by the faltering light,
But now the most seen, the most bewitching and heartfelt.
While I hold thee to my heart, and feel there the lightest thought
That thou art the sole gathering of joys one sought
Propelling the night to stop its frozen tears, and listen;
That there is a song in such fair air, there is heaven.
And who shalt sink into the stars on the grass, but me;
Who shalt hear with my seas with love, but my poetry,
Who seals me better but my nauseous books, and lose
Who in its villainous imagination but hears me, my prose.

I shalt come back to my sanguine night in the cold,
To retreat and release back the dim saluted forms,
That oft’ fade and show themselves again in one’s poems.
Who says ‘tis not found there—a dazzling melody;
That such a beauteous parody is not from Paradise,
That a blushed cheek is ever proud and wise,
That fresh air is unseen, and honour cannot be felt;
Here, but not with the English nor American melody,
Nor couldst I be tempted by the tunes aloof in their air,
Who else than I think they are not a fair society,
Who else than I think they own not their riches,
Who else than I think a colour as which shan’t burn.
Who else there is not a tune in an idle poem;
Who else shan’t tune in, as though poems were not poetry.
Who else than turns to love me, by the slumber
o’ such lyrics, who shall be with me forever;
I want to bury myself in such charms, o mine,
To show the sun the honest hours of every love,
Though love itself canst become faulty at times!
Ah, Helsinki, all is abashed and yet not too bashful;
All that was bashful hath grown beastly, outside of us,
And so what is preaching now but a fatal lyrical sight,
And what is speech but a forgotten poem alight,
Who is Anonymous, who are they to teach them right;
Who is loneliness, who shall perish and faint with fright,
Who shall disappear, and such despair entertains the sea,

Who am I, but a doubted truth on my solitary voyage;
Who are the dusks aglow, but an obsolete sight and dish,
Who are the young scarlet tides to fade, before the buds,
Who are the dusky little lilacs to resemble the rose.
Who are the pure white tints that ice showed me,
But the hidden pinks the evils want not to see,
And the inherited northern youth, who shalt be with me.
Who shalt I be, but a silent poet to thee, o Helsinki,
Who am I to have, but such reminiscent little words of me.
To have and have not visions, the one found in my rhymes;
To writ and writ not again, as speech may haunt me,
To hear and hear not words, as thoughts come to follow,
But to read and writ again, as dreams decipher my verse.
To discharge all epics unreal, whilst they are sublime,
To emit all that remains, all visible and verbal emotions,
May I be absorbed in all my wonderings, and my dismay;
To be with the Northern Light, and the vanished world of days.
Setenance Aug 2014
synchronicities
are the starlights
to show the way
i once knew why
i came here
don't know
if i'll stay

the moon
is pouring
down
fills me up

eyes are open
looking for
answers
in the
empty

not sure
what to
extract
what to
reflect
back

i'm only seeing
pieces
of
the waves
dancing
to a time
far beyond
the
capacities
of
my design

the moonlight
is
beautiful
but it's ****
to write by

can't read
a word

there
now

it isn't
so
abstract
archwolf-angel Jun 2016
Starlights shining
In the generously calming night sky
Sitting as an individual
Thoughts around another

Memories flowing
In an abundantly happy mind
Reminiscing as an individual
Pictures having another

A rhythm still thumping
In a romantically filled heart
Loving as an individual
Feelings consisting another

Another individual
Remains
In the mirror of this soul
Reminding this individual

That we are not actually alone...
Angela Mary Pope Feb 2014
There are times that pass us

Where the looks in the eyes if our counterparts don't seem to reflect the ocean of haphazard fishes that float to the surface of our own.

We all have this life, this temporary state of being before stumbling upon the key which unlocks our next current,
jet stream,
whirlpool,
flood.

I think of you-
not often,
more than often enough.
I know you witnessed my recalibration
cause tough love is rough
but we grow from it
and stuff

You were so beautiful
with those scars painted on your eyes
And I was so beautiful
pumping veins made by starlights of ancient skies

I was lost in my lovely time
ajit peter Aug 2015
A journey to the past
 
My spirit felt restless in pain
In drowning fear,tis heart's dream be slain
Souls of Love in tis world found few
My joy melt like early morn due
laid in bed my eyes search for sleep
memories of hatred and hurt made me weep
pains of past refused to let go
A feeling lost, to the end a journey slow
My heart longed to reach the past
Holding hard the joy to last
Times in my dreams i cry for thee
Only to be waken by darkness around me
I cried for the past to let me go
I seeketh the answers in starlights distant glow
many a thoughts and mayhem in tis mind
Tis a curse to my loved ones I bind
Lost are they from tis life
Fate a thief of joy in disguise
Tis heart tormented like a stormy night
I take my steps a journey in past to find some light
 
Words of my friend bought peace to my heart
to seek the answer a journey to start
my bag with cloth and food. a whistle to start 
A beast on rails steaming hot,my time machine to the past
Seated by the window.Fading concrete to fields green
the breeze on my face a journey begin to my dream
My thoughts travell back to the days of my childhood
with my father walking through the wood
his voice of wisdom close with nature
Ever to linger in my dreams of the future
through the rice field the silver brook
pictured in my heart a printed book
the sound of men and women with fruits to sell
wake me up from the memories spell
My time machine a familiar sound metal on wheel
the window my theater to the world like a movie reel
times i fell back to my memories past
Till I saw the familiar station in memories to last
I pick my bag and my heart with joy to beat
Will I find my memory among the familiar aroma of sweet meat

The night in the inn my sleep lost in journeys pain
With the hope of day break my past to gain
The sun in the morn yet to shine its ray
I start to the bus stop  a familiar way
decades past since i laid my foot here
yet the ways to my field so fimiliar
I walk towards the gate changed to a different name
Yet the house and trees stood the same
I wait for times few searching to find a soul of past
with none in sight I turned my back time changes fast
A voice I heard , A dream or a memories trick yet loud and clear
An old and graying man in my memories vague yet walking near
with the name my father calls his old eyes searching my face
Cry not my child ,I knew not tears hath covered my eyes
The old gardener decades eight remembers me his old eyes bright
His stride as of young familiar clothes washed to white
He held my arm strong and sure led me through the garden with memories ever
The old house stood its ground faded paint memories a burning fever
We sat down in an old familiar place the old man spoke of days old
My dreams etched in this house my heart with joy untold

His tales carried on of my father and family his love to the land
Tales of fishing in the brook and pains of honey bee sting,a painted picture by a magic wand
Time stood still the young had moved to city with lights bright
Yet with time their hearts dimmed and the ways of old faded out of sight
The old bike gleamed in the sun In tis I learnt my first lesson to cycle
we ride it through the trees green to the brook on the edge of fields circle
With my legs in water My I felt as child the days past yet never lost
The old man with stories fresh changing masters and rising cost
The sun burned hot in the noon yet through the filed a breeze so cool
The sweet fragrance of lemon my spirits soar tis to leave I am a fool
Lunch in plantain leaf spicy dish with meat the old man a better cook
Served with love with a proud words tis the son of his lord a child of the brook
An hour of cycle ride to the mountain mother with her silver tress
A water fall painted with rainbow on the rock drizzling droplets sprayed my dress
Hours I stood under it watch full eyes of the old man to him iam just a child
We walked and talked among the natures path the mountains call me to beauty wild
The day end with the sun sinking low we ride back with a breeze to follow
We sat to watch the fireflies glow tis must be eden my happiness flow
The days tiredness ebbing with the local brew tis in earth a heavens part
In his words I felt his love, TIs garden after death his spirit his heart

I start to return to the inn in the fire light tear drops shine
He held my hand with a promise to ask to return back in my days fine
My heart wants to utter words million yet in silence I stared
Yet I took his hand with a promise to keep an oath sacred
To the spirit of my father Ill come there again 
A love of an old gardener in his memory my heart remain
I walk back to the inn my spirit with joy boundless
To my friend I spoke yet my words scarce with smiles countless
I slept with a lightened heart with dreams without pain
Tis old gardner his love for the land a memory of a child to gain
The new begin my heart longed to see the old man one more time 
yet the call of the world and promises in tis heart chime
Time to pack my bag to board the machine to present The green flag wave and a whistle sound
My heart refuse to leave my dreams found
The life of the old man strong decades eight
A heart of gold who won the time passing fight
My promise to return to the garden of my childhood 
My vision to share it with the unfortunate of tis world
My spirits in peace my eyes watching the window of nature
My heart hopes for my dreams of the future
I hate the dreadful sight of the moonlight,
and wish that it could soon fade away into sunlight.
'Tis all but too coherent-far too lovely and too bright;
such a flaw indeed, to my mood and my womanly night.

Unlike the whole silence of the morn;
Whenst no'ne shall speak but the comely red thorn.
Whose soul is far too genuine-and one too like thee,
Clumsy but witty as thou strolled startlingly by me.

Ah, thee, whom I once loved, and now still do,
Whose love I cannot resist, neither can subdue;
But to whose charm I know I must desist,
For neither shall I be thy snow; nor ever, thy mist.

Ah, as not even abruptly in thy mind,
I snare thy conscience nor make thee blind.
Forever and ever to her thou choose to be bound,
Even when this world remains loud, but emits no sound.

And to her, her feeble soul thou art committed,
Into whose fingers art thy varied souls submitted.
And thy palms, both palms entwined whilst walking hand in hand,
Making herself proud, of claiming such a heart-of a perfect man.

But not to me, I-who thou detained too perfectly,
and turned to when all proved to thee, too beastly.
I, who shall forever be a distant friend,
I, who hath no right to thee, nor thy sweaty bare hands.

And not to me; I, who love thee all the greater,
I whose love for thee is but much sincerer, and cleverer.
I, whose passion for thee is too genuine, and tenderer;
Ah, but which to thy senses, might never even matter.

I, who love thee like I love the summer;
I, whom to thee a mere sanguine poet and a cold writer.
Ah, thee, but do thou know not-that my poems are alive?
They speak of my feelings, they speak of my noble life.

I, who love thee as deeply as I love my poetry;
I, who secretly wish thou could only be with me.
I, who shall love thee still-in my maidenhood and later wifery,
But whom to thee sadly nobody; and clearly no more-
Than a bewitching fellow, and on Sundays, a thoughtful young lady.

Ah, my soul is but crossed by this uncivil noise,
Noise in the night, noise that possesses even no voice;
Noise that hath no desirous wishes, and gravely no bliss;
Noise that is born not, out of a deep, passionate secret kiss.

Silence, oh thee; all-too-unmighty voice!
For thou only trouble the mind,
with an unconsciousness that make me blind;
within a joy my soul cannot retrieve, much less rejoice.

Angry, angry am I-with all these burdens of jealousy,
Ah, besotted I am, with those galleries of envy,
And their echoing portraits and songs of undefined melody-
Full of sorrow; and bloodied fits-of uneventful tragedy.

Hungry, hungry then is my soul-for love,
Which hath never come, nor ever seemed enough.
I am deterred, unlike those free giggling starlights above;
From joying in affection, from rubbing myself against love.

So gross, gross is how my blood-looks like;
Bereft of its breath, unloved by its might.
And its impure conscience that now only troubles the light;
Provoking my innocence, torturing my fair sight.

I hate the dreadful sight of the moonlight,
and wish that it soon fade away into sunlight.
I better hope that morn come daintily earlier;
whenst spring comes back into view and so turns everything, lovelier.

And t'is hope, hope for thee shall spring again;
As I shall pray before yon vase of sweet lavender
Which stays still-and loyally to the windowsill, unbent;
Even when it shrieks gallantly, and makes all not by any, tender.

For morn shall refine those current tides of summer,
so that the lake shall blow again-and grow stronger;
And as it does, my love for thee shall return, and be better,
For t'is time it shall bloom; like words that I write, and thou decipher.

And all this noise shall fall into poetry;
Which every day grows statelier and comelier.
For as we kiss, only thy eyes that shall speak onto me;
That our love is true, and shall remain so, forever.
JR Potts Jul 2015
The desert gradually turned to a grassy thicket
tamarack branches turn towards the fleeting dusk
above, ancient starlights fade in cimmerian skies
their ghostly glow choked by the sullen silhouettes
of churning charcoal clouds against the abyss.
The world feels as though she is being devoured
by nothing and emptiness.

Again the tortured-self awakes inside of Apricus
wrestling with its bindings merely out of gall.
It elicits ache in the belly of its captor,
the kind that only heartbreak makes inside us all
and once the tantrum cease,
it laugh a little before it speak

The darkness comes, not for you and I alone
but in the end all life is its sacrifice,
why struggle any longer to change the minds of sheep?
Has the battle not hardened our flesh, sharpened our teeth,
has it not made us hungry for what lesser men eat?


A thunderhead above him began to coil
tightening its hold around the moon,
each rotation siphoned the lunar light
till the well traveled soil of the trail
turn to a thin brush, then into a heavy wood.

Ask not if you shall stray from your path
rather ask if you will have the constitution
to find your way back in the black
of a stormy night.
Part 2
Live each day as if it's a dream
share a laugh,love and a smile
shine a light through your soul
like a Starlights gleam
touch a heart to show you care
in times when one needs a friend
reach out and touch another hand
to pick them up when they fall
and let them know it's not the end
always walk that extra mile
to let them know you are there
show peace to one and all
and together strong we will stand
walk forever in beauty wherever you go
and through Creator let a new day begin
Spiritwind ©2014
Amber S Nov 2013
cure yourself by finding another boy, one who wants to hold
your fingers as you lose yourself in flaxen
starlights.
cure yourself by singing until your throat chafes
like sandpaper.
cure yourself by telling yourself that you are the moon,
and the moon is you, and she is laughing with you,
shining for you, waiting for you to glimmer.
cure yourself by finding the right people, the ones who
grasp you with splintered paws and souls
searching for whatever tastes like bubblegum.
darling, you won’t be cured right away,
take it day by day, hour by hour, minute by minute,
don’t forget to watch the sun
rise, to smell the coffee with shaky fingers.
cure yourself by watching the cream dance with the
shadows.
bruises are only
temporary.
rm Nov 2018
on that night
with winter
winds,
hums,
and miserable
breeze,
there he sat,
his eyes
wandering
from right to left
up and down
all around
corners to corners
branching
a thought
to another
a note
to a song
a word
to a poem.

him with his
glances,
stands
and built,
under that
moonlit sky
with starlights,
air filled with
warmth and
frost,
i witness his
cries,
heard his tears,
felt his fears.

i became
an overthinker
from worrying
about the other.
KathleenAMaloney Aug 2016
Choice
Wedding Ring
Upon Finger of Hope
Sweet Spring of Life
Again And Again
Returning

Daughter of Smiling Adoration
Harp Strings Majesty
Sweet Holy Song

Written Upon a Hammers Blow
An Artists Brush
A Mind of Bits and Pieces ever Floating

Creation
Your Soul
My Wife

A Bit Young .. I Thought
..But Not Really
Perfect
For Your Innocent Beauty
Is Commitment to Life
Protection Loves Circle

Shrouded Starlights Glory
Turned Outward
Loyal  Guard

Shine Beauty
None Shall Have Your
Sparkling Eyes

This Smile
For Your Heart
Is True

— The End —