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"sundrenched" poems
The metal makeshift flowerpot sat in the middle of the sundrenched floor, and she breathed deeply. She was hot to the touch, but nobody did, and her metal shoulders were loose, and she smiled (as a flowerpot could). Linda came in one morning, stepped to block the window, arms full of magnetic reeds. The metal makeshift flowerpot sighed. Oh. For afternoons that piled, she sat in heavy dark, Immobile from the magnet arms and blind from her favorite time of day. Linda thought she looked so pretty, and the room was as she had imagined. The metal makeshift flowerpot was glad to help the house’s market value, but she couldn’t hold the magnets any longer So she held her breath instead And Linda never knew the difference.
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Mar 31, 2013
Mar 31, 2013 at 9:54 PM UTC
The Metal Makeshift Flowerpot
I hurriedly pull my street dusted , golden brown Toyota into the middle of a gas station war zone. The kind that turns neighbors into enemies, fighting to gain the only valuable piece of real estate around – the gas tanks. The drivers collectively sport the exact same exhausted and frustrated grimaces. A rusty and dated “ Exon Mobile” sign stands tall and strong against the sundrenched sky. The day is coming to a close, and the sun seems hurried to set as if it is exhausted from the day’s labors and expectations that it must rise again tomorrow, just like the gas station’s patrons. This station, to most, is just another stop. Another errand that puts itself between you and the warmth of home. This station, is just another stop. Another errand at the end of an endless day. But to me, this place is full of promise. This is the one place on earth that gives us life. It gives us the chance to see the world and to explore uncharted grounds. This place brings us closer to adventure and myseries, to happiness, to heartbreak, to feeling. This is the fuel and the energy that is waiting to help you make it to the hospital at 4 am to see the birth of a child. This old and worn pitstop let’s us fall in love with the world, with what we can see, with eachother. But there is this silver truck with tires too big and a man two sizes to small in the passenger seat. There is a prominent dent in the left side door that has remained unchanged, unhelped, in weeks. As this silver, dented piece of metal sits in the way between me and my pajamas, I have the chance to stop. Not to stop because I’ve finally got to where I’ve been trying to go. Not to stop to pay the McDonald’s cashier in shameful regret of another broken new year’s promise. But to really stop. For an unexpectedly and disappointingly long time. To stop with no expectations. To be forced to just stop. And to wait. And to look around.
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Jan 18, 2014
Jan 18, 2014 at 2:48 AM UTC
Gas Station Destination Writing
I hurriedly pull my street dusted , golden brown Toyota into the middle of a gas station war zone. The kind that turns neighbors into enemies, fighting to gain the only valuable piece of real estate around – the gas tanks. The drivers collectively sport the exact same exhausted and frustrated grimaces. A rusty and dated “ Exon Mobile” sign stands tall and strong against the sundrenched sky. The day is coming to a close, and the sun seems hurried to set as if it is exhausted from the day’s labors and expectations that it must rise again tomorrow, just like the gas station’s patrons. This station, to most, is just another stop. Another errand that puts itself between you and the warmth of home. This station, is just another stop. Another errand at the end of an endless day. But to me, this place is full of promise. This is the one place on earth that gives us life. It gives us the chance to see the world and to explore uncharted grounds. This place brings us closer to adventure and myseries, to happiness, to heartbreak, to feeling. This is the fuel and the energy that is waiting to help you make it to the hospital at 4 am to see the birth of a child. This old and worn pitstop let’s us fall in love with the world, with what we can see, with eachother. But there is this silver truck with tires too big and a man two sizes to small in the passenger seat. There is a prominent dent in the left side door that has remained unchanged, unhelped, in weeks. As this silver, dented piece of metal sits in the way between me and my pajamas, I have the chance to stop. Not to stop because I’ve finally got to where I’ve been trying to go. Not to stop to pay the McDonald’s cashier in shameful regret of another broken new year’s promise. But to really stop. For an unexpectedly and disappointingly long time. To stop with no expectations. To be forced to just stop. And to wait. And to look around.
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2
It's been three years since I was madly infatuated with you with your hair (curly, long, dark) your freckles (sprinkled across your face) your nose (straight-bridged, strong) your eyes (dark, warm) your lips (smiling, laughing) your voice (like a river, like molasses) summer camp isn't the best time to fall for a girl for me (and god, the secret had to stay that way) but after three years you're the only person from that summer I still have on facebook so it's been three years since I was madly infatuated with you (but if you wanted I would be still)
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Oct 18, 2014
Oct 18, 2014 at 1:03 PM UTC
sundrenched
I. I want to walk out into the ocean’s gentle swells, and feel God’s palm cupped around me. II. I want to step, over the smooth, fluted stones, and the whorled shells of bright abalone, to sink down onto sundrenched sea-ground and close my eyes to see my blood-red sun-lit lids flicker and flash, as shuddering net-designs dance, threaded and lacy; as they curl, tangling across me. I want to slide my fingers through the slithering white sand-- the grains carved into ivory ripples by the currents’ deft hands. III. oh, I want to lie and close my eyes and feel the soft lurch of each wave jerking overhead, its strong tug like a kite, watch the shining fish scything past above, and let each dancing point of light reflected from their scales scar my pale face. IV. Oh, there is a howling, starving dog that circles on the shore, alone. he’s keened his frantic misery to the deadpan moon for so so long that no one listens anymore-- they gave it up long ago and just sprawl, licking the dunes; they lie and swear the grit quenches their aching thirst until they choke on their sand-covered tongues and die. V. You see, I want to see the moon rise, quivering through deep-water blackness; listen to the dolphins’ ghostly shrieks and clacks, and the whales’ deep, grieved noises. I want to forget the sound of human voices. I long to close my eyes, sink, and never rise. VI. bright, irregular globes flutter from my mouth quick, coruscating orbs of prayer, they shudder and dart upwards VII. saltwater, salt tears, ask Him if He hears you gasping.
0
Apr 25, 2013
Apr 25, 2013 at 10:42 PM UTC
a 7-part Requiem for the Sea
I. I want to walk out into the ocean’s gentle swells, and feel God’s palm cupped around me. II. I want to step, over the smooth, fluted stones, and the whorled shells of bright abalone, to sink down onto sundrenched sea-ground and close my eyes to see my blood-red sun-lit lids flicker and flash, as shuddering net-designs dance, threaded and lacy; as they curl, tangling across me. I want to slide my fingers through the slithering white sand-- the grains carved into ivory ripples by the currents’ deft hands. III. oh, I want to lie and close my eyes and feel the soft lurch of each wave jerking overhead, its strong tug like a kite, watch the shining fish scything past above, and let each dancing point of light reflected from their scales scar my pale face. IV. Oh, there is a howling, starving dog that circles on the shore, alone. he’s keened his frantic misery to the deadpan moon for so so long that no one listens anymore-- they gave it up long ago and just sprawl, licking the dunes; they lie and swear the grit quenches their aching thirst until they choke on their sand-covered tongues and die. V. You see, I want to see the moon rise, quivering through deep-water blackness; listen to the dolphins’ ghostly shrieks and clacks, and the whales’ deep, grieved noises. I want to forget the sound of human voices. I long to close my eyes, sink, and never rise. VI. bright, irregular globes flutter from my mouth quick, coruscating orbs of prayer, they shudder and dart upwards VII. saltwater, salt tears, ask Him if He hears you gasping.
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76
*Sapphire Eyes Of An Astral Mermaid, Perpetual Eternities & Her Sundrenched Serenades, Myriad Odysseys & Spellbound Fairytales, Veiled In Elysian Elegance Of Her Harmonious Tales, ****** Landscapes & Electric Fire, Stellar Cloudscapes Of Her Ecstatic Desires, Spatial Matrix Of An Emerald Queen, An Ethereal Butterfly Perpetually Serene, Colored Screenshots & Blue Moon Foundations, Wrecking Overdose Of Her Summer Seductions, Synthetic Transformations Of Her Sun Caged Maze, Interstellar Canvas Painted In Her Galactic Sage, Searchlights Trapped In Her Floral Vortex, Eternal Burns Streaming Spectral *** Supernova Charades & Her Uncharted Palisades, Dewdrops Verses Drenched In Her Toxic Shades, Restrained Insanity & Crystal Heartbeats Stained Perspectives Of Her Intimate Deceits, Phantasmal Radiance To Her Billion Dreams, Enigmatic Raves Blossoming Into Epiphanic Realms. - 05:47 AM -*
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Apr 10, 2017
Apr 10, 2017 at 8:32 PM UTC
Princesse Du Soleil
~ Ensorcelled in effervescent lingerings sifting through moonlit seams Soft flavored drippings of ecstasy melting slowly within the fever dancing across my skin as your fingers trace the outline of my deepest secrets, mysteries lodged in seductive breaths *Your love my ****** addictive enchantment* Stimulated senses heightened Sundrenched moans, silver lined adrift on satin sighs Floating delirious within hallucinogenic eyes, seducing my mind in eternal desires Trance infused emotions cling to each nuance of mesmeric longings Swirling smoke ringlets penetrate whispering decolletage, culminating in lustful motives atop gilded sheets drenched of our rapture, etched in euphoria Two silhouettes saturated in this dream called passion
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Aug 6, 2014
Aug 6, 2014 at 7:02 PM UTC
In this dream called passion
Dimlight breaks our time in two &I; slip on the stillness of morning like a new, clean dress. Soundhues cover the chaos of my mind in almostsilence. Can you hear our nostalgia brightening? Your voice, from forever ago, echoes&dances; on the wings of sundrenched birds. They greet the sky as an old friend: soundhue hellos harmonize. &I; am awake, finally.
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Nov 1, 2012
Nov 1, 2012 at 8:51 AM UTC
Aubade of You&I
O’er windswept conclusions a’ mist in the air In fragrance that comes to my heart ever share Of sundrenched magnolia beneath empty shade To steal every ounce of your caring my way I touch to the heavens a wing and a prayer Belief in the joy that is felt everywhere When the oceans fall further than all eyes can see This love will eternally find you from me When clouds of confetti, the song of the dove The sweetest rendition of musical love Does float on the breezes of everyday flow A’ twisting and turning until it can show Those mountains of glory that stand in the way Exceeding the plan that we set forth this day Can not comprehend what my pure love will do No matter the hurdle, I send it to you Since dawn hath approached in a place before time So simple the earth as our life does unwind Nor flowers of blossom still yet find the ground A desolate nature lies lost in its sound Lone rivers of feelings that one can not see O’er rain cast endeavors drop life from the sea Till all that is new shines a star up above The light of its journey shall bring you my love From deserts of sand to a sandy white shore The pain shall be nothing each day I endure I crawl through the thicket, my hands and my knees If only a moment your sweet life to please Not depths of the valleys found in them so deep Nor locked away caverns of which I do creep Shall keep me from finding the pathway to you To bring you a love that is ever so true
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Jun 6, 2014
Jun 6, 2014 at 8:42 AM UTC
I crawl through the thicket
this was how i liked her best: pallid roots spread some soft wet in their twain drawing an oral sepulcher to dine on hertenderleaves (i bent my lips in grinning countenance at that infliction i did visit upon a lovely sundrenched tree)
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May 3, 2010
May 3, 2010 at 12:40 PM UTC
this was how
1 held  against   the mouth   sentenced cleaved to silence, what is around me  is all this is: wire. quartet of birds. aqueduct  as arrest and close range tap of rain on face  rippling in the eye foreclosed and reasoned is  this image's return -- what is it like to live  far away from home and not hear me say  regret as study of attitude? News carried  bombardment of inner cities. We were hesitant  to leave place and borrowed skin instead,     if not borrowed then grasped for, what is the answer? if coordinates lie, what are                    we trying to discover. 2 held  against  the  temple    not a barrel of a gun, but similarly, a chamber if not   a mouth breathing in sulfur. the day has spun   out of, and in between clipped reminders of     the calendar:    today's broken notes on the tablatures are  the daily. Do groceries. Pick the freshest fruit,    take the sour out of the scale. Gut the fish  and not word it so over the kitchen counter, I will  watch behind a clutter of earthenware and furniture. Might topple the glass      once and catch your attention. I do not deny your   effect     on   my  soul. 3   today's forecast of rain   is body staying in.   the children are seized by terror as scattered displays    of  lightning   paint their faces        petrified with a lack of hue -- listen to the  intermittent, coarse static of the television      when it happens, your face ripe for arrest.   there   is   nothing to do in  a home      holding  its  breath  when  you walk,    do not   leave just yet. the water   is  rising.       it tells   you   to   stay  in. triple your  presence   across the  dining,  rain as if out of the  shower       barely  drying   yourself,   leave  water     i will    not   drink,  only    test  swimmingly        a  dream  out   of   sleep and   so real        a   twitch of  fish    out   of   ocean. 4   outside  you are  no longer  than  the   transit   of   birds   seeking   canopies. Wind   disrupts   the steady  arm  of   cables. Slosh of water      from an   oncoming  vehicle  as if  beside  the    sea crashing into   me   are   waves,    What need   is   there  when  your   mouth houses       water, your   ******* warmth?  Contrast as    habit   of  alternatives. In verbatim, this is how it     sounded from you, "We  are   very   young.           Remember me   this   way."   Now i  wish  voices   could  be bodies. The next irreconcilable   face   as    hearth.               Fingers   as   assuage,   distance  as  dearth,       grasp   if  not  borrow,  translatable  to    signal,  my  body   heeding,   fraught by taciturnity through the   caught  wind       through the  furniture, once your body being groped for like any other sundrenched day.
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May 21, 2016
May 21, 2016 at 6:31 AM UTC
Grasp If Not Borrow
1 held  against   the mouth   sentenced cleaved to silence, what is around me  is all this is: wire. quartet of birds. aqueduct  as arrest and close range tap of rain on face  rippling in the eye foreclosed and reasoned is  this image's return -- what is it like to live  far away from home and not hear me say  regret as study of attitude? News carried  bombardment of inner cities. We were hesitant  to leave place and borrowed skin instead,     if not borrowed then grasped for, what is the answer? if coordinates lie, what are                    we trying to discover. 2 held  against  the  temple    not a barrel of a gun, but similarly, a chamber if not   a mouth breathing in sulfur. the day has spun   out of, and in between clipped reminders of     the calendar:    today's broken notes on the tablatures are  the daily. Do groceries. Pick the freshest fruit,    take the sour out of the scale. Gut the fish  and not word it so over the kitchen counter, I will  watch behind a clutter of earthenware and furniture. Might topple the glass      once and catch your attention. I do not deny your   effect     on   my  soul. 3   today's forecast of rain   is body staying in.   the children are seized by terror as scattered displays    of  lightning   paint their faces        petrified with a lack of hue -- listen to the  intermittent, coarse static of the television      when it happens, your face ripe for arrest.   there   is   nothing to do in  a home      holding  its  breath  when  you walk,    do not   leave just yet. the water   is  rising.       it tells   you   to   stay  in. triple your  presence   across the  dining,  rain as if out of the  shower       barely  drying   yourself,   leave  water     i will    not   drink,  only    test  swimmingly        a  dream  out   of   sleep and   so real        a   twitch of  fish    out   of   ocean. 4   outside  you are  no longer  than  the   transit   of   birds   seeking   canopies. Wind   disrupts   the steady  arm  of   cables. Slosh of water      from an   oncoming  vehicle  as if  beside  the    sea crashing into   me   are   waves,    What need   is   there  when  your   mouth houses       water, your   ******* warmth?  Contrast as    habit   of  alternatives. In verbatim, this is how it     sounded from you, "We  are   very   young.           Remember me   this   way."   Now i  wish  voices   could  be bodies. The next irreconcilable   face   as    hearth.               Fingers   as   assuage,   distance  as  dearth,       grasp   if  not  borrow,  translatable  to    signal,  my  body   heeding,   fraught by taciturnity through the   caught  wind       through the  furniture, once your body being groped for like any other sundrenched day.
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58
I awake from my dream of a sundrenched bay To find I have been swallowed by emerald black, Emerald white and streams of emerald grey. Those shadows share goose bumps with my back. I check my alarm, but the night’s just begun. The emerald ghosts will have to stay. Any night is better than a sleepless one For you’re tormented while you pray. Hours and hours, yet sleep there’s none As suffering’s brought out on a tray Please, soon, the suffering will be done – An insomniac needs a glimpse of day. And there it is a glimpse and some Hope that the Earth might be okay. God has had his sickening fun, And now I see that strand of hay, That thread of hope, that beam of sun. First a strand and now a ray. The night fought well, but the day has won And my room has become a sundrenched bay. That emerald has been replaced by white And the thoughtless torment now a pun. The day at last has replaced the night As I am moved by the morning sun.
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Jul 12, 2015
Jul 12, 2015 at 12:45 PM UTC
Pain in a Midnight Haze
what a sad slip of a boy who wears grey jumpers and hats sitting in the dark of his bedroom writing stories of the past a haze clouds his eyes for the future he cannot see grief-stricken and dissociated he does not realise all he could be the solitude comforts him as he's pumulled by history, the sundrenched kisses wearily typing imaging all of his tragical wishes
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Oct 9, 2017
Oct 9, 2017 at 10:23 AM UTC
A Writer
Sundrenched Pathfinder, scraping up pieces of the past beneath mossy stone Trail Bird whistling to the tune of the falling bombs. Tall proud tree peak flinches at the venomous bite of percussion Sundrenched Pathfinder, mountains burying us beneath ashes
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Apr 22, 2020
Apr 22, 2020 at 12:22 AM UTC
NPM, Day 21: Warbird