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Ilion gray Jul 2018
If the endless invoked me
”come”
I would leave these days
Without me
the solidarity of hidden deserts
Under unfounded skies
Will still be resting;
If I remain
Amidst the swaying morning
by earth
Inside your space
my hands
Dark as shadows cast
From holes burned
through walls
behind heaven
Eons dripping
billions all at once
Trying to keep every drop of you
In my hands
But you are a quasar
Even breaking atoms
collapsing everything
And lowering yourself
back to earth
Tonight
inches equal aeons
Here in this place
Where no one ever goes
I watch the universe
crush
In my palm
I witness
the strength of megallactic clouds
I am alive
Because I
snatched only the essence of the galaxies
bleeding
your skin is perfect
You having been born of tears
Of the endless face of God
Racing back
Down through
Darkness' unnamed
And unnumbered
Rushing down
Leaving every empty space
Stained with the fingers of your
Flames while you
escape heaven
I will reinforce
Every constellation
Else the ether
could never hold you
for a moment
Your skin was placed
superbly over
bones
and flesh
Veins endless
And all the tender entrails
in its time
Sat suspended
Remember my love Forget
all other things
But this
When your Hours finish
It wont be day
nor December
There won't be rain
And stars will not descend
From the space from which you came
you woke up in childhood
You have learned to dream in mirage of minutes
Be Silent in the shaken shadows
Of hours
just once you were called by the finite
But do not be afraid
My love
Because the caverns of my heart
were forged in the thickest charms
In darkness
Reclusive
In the unchanged
Spaces of gods thought
I'll tell you now
Spill everything
from your fury down
inside me
Because my emptiness can not be filled
when there was a real light
in the days of the day
I sat with the wicked
In kingdoms where light can not pass
In repentance

I will save a calm battle
Until every atomie of my skin has perished
I will rage against the black angels
In the clouds Behind your eyes
Until the ice
Until innocence
When they lay you in the empty space
soon you will be the bones
and the flesh unexcited
The unexpected veins of the earthstar
Your scent goes away from the moon
Your breath on my skin is gravity only you could be born once
as a single kind of dust
drifting with Silence
violently Bubbling
and Spinning-Recklessly
Endlessly
forever
M Eastman Aug 2015
Cup your palms around
that candle dear lazy
Spells to cast to the wombs
keep our ghosts outside
peering into tent *****
yellowing irises and
stamens strangely swaying
but nonsense
Butte no
out there
they stalk you dear lazy
Lazhar Bouazzi Dec 2017
Make this want wither,
O Rain!

Dig a brook hither
In my vein,

And plant on either side
Of my pain -

Swaying thousands
Of bluebells.
LazharBouazzi (December 15, 2017)
Maia Vasconez May 2018
1.He’d say anything to get me out of my shell.
2. His pupils are hard, black marbles and I want to flick him off of me.
3. He is always shuffling through women like they are a deck of cards.
4. It’s just how the dice rolls.
5. I was afraid of falling, of my arms snapping like wishbones.
6. He waits until I’m swaying like a door hinge.
7. My eyes are wide like 8 ***** and he hits me with that same click, roll, thunk of a pool ball table.
8. You are cursing me. When you yell, you are cursing me.
9. “Come out, come out, wherever you are…”
10. I hope the bruises on your legs turn into birds. I hope you get out of here.
This is for anyone whose ever been hurt by a man
ryn Nov 2014
The gentle reaches of the late afternoon sun
I'd bathe in this light abundant reverie
Swaying breeze... Caressing the web we've spun
In the warmth of this amber coloured spree...

Shades of gold, stretch beyond observable measure
My vision could only take me so far
Shining through between the green and azure
As if the window of heaven left slightly ajar.

Swathed in the glow... Laying on a bed of green
Eyes closed... Under the blue that spanned forever
Feast for my senses thus honed keen
Relishing the lingering touches of her radiating amber.

She's finally dipping, taking all of her light...
She'll sink behind the horizon, descending gracefully
I'd still remember all through my night
That amber...
                   *Amber is the colour of her energy.
Inspired by 311's Amber
Martin Heath Sep 2018
Lonesome Pine -

T'day I knelt by your Lonesome Pine
Stroking spent needles from your face
Lying lifeless scattered alas
Revealing your green eyes still shine

Limbs 'bove shadow Heaven's staircase
Swaying softly 'mongst sunlit rays
Reflecting off weathered worn steps
If only one lasting embrace

My knees felt weak upon that grass
Straining to shed a final tear
Glancing above below I stared
Sands sifting thru an hourglass

T'day I knelt by your lonesome shrine
Stroking the grey moss from your hair
Tonight tears fall thru trembling hands
Alongside our lone Lonesome Pine
K Paige Oct 2014
I drank because it was a little less toxic
Than the sensation of drowning
Swaying to the music I could forget
The waves pulling me under for a moment

I searched for comfort
Among cold, hallow people
Bones had never shown love
And that didn't change

I was left to my pernicious thoughts
Little girls shouldn't be morbid
But women aren't made of love
Though it is a common misconception
Jordan Rowan Jan 2016
The night sounds of fallen angels
Building stairways back to home
And the radio plays softly
Like a crooner left alone
As the night falls into the velvet shades
And beats down the bedroom door
Of all the visions that come to me
It's of one I'm hoping for

The postman closes up the station
And the buses get cleaned with rain
The asylum rests and barely breathes
As the countryside goes insane
Prophets speak of peace
On the dim hue of TV screens
Of all the moments that seem real
I still wait to watch my dreams

Imposed upon the westward wall
Are the silhouettes of weeping oaks
Swaying in the wind that talks
But they only tell me jokes
Swept beneath the silver stars
Sleeping on blanket clouds
Of all the space above me
I feel as if I can't get out

Headlights and passing trains
Sound like time passing by
Gone are the hearts inside
Like the years beyond my eyes
Sounds from the suburb city
Blow like sirens in my mind
Of all the thoughts within me
Only one freezes time
I thought                                         you'd left us, long ago
desolate on a swing
                       rocking stale, dry grass and still air
                      
                      crossing
never quite                  the hurdle

                                                               ­                                                    lost

unaware
sweating youth in this humidity

I thought we'd never make it past the
rusty red and brown of weathered fences

                            like
              felt                        moun
   They                                  
                                                     tains

                                                               ­   Made of dirt
                                                                ­                       (guilt)
and an endless turmoiling scent, still fresh



I thought you'd forlorned us                  
h     e     a     v    y       r  a  i  n   and warm bodies
standing next to oxidized hoops
                                                          one adjacent to the other
The haze of the heat hard, but not impossible
to withstand                swaying like the gust of wind, swaying  
                                            the blazing sun and my open palms swaying




Why was it here                                         that it felt like you left us
                                                              ­                                              stumped,  
unaware,­
consuming  with no  
                                              idea of the Greater



2.


                                                W­ H A T was it about inner cities
And skin that would tan
Or resist the sun
   that made you  mutter murky words  


judgement
                   that made me hike a

                                  K
                       A
            E
P
that for so long made feel like a (lost) traveler
unable to come find my way   D O W N.

Still on a mountain top
Never quite crossing the hurdle.
That’s how you wanted me
A
     B
          A
                N
                     D  O N E D.
These summer times are what I crave;
Under an open ceiling, a place we can rave.
Those clear skies gave way to stars,
Around a campfire we take back what's ours.
We're out of the way, you'll never find us,
Reclaiming our hearts and souls
in the abandonment that surrounds us.
Just another generation to discover the profoundness.

Wake 'n bake's good to awake
but we don't sleep for dawn's sake.
Soft words linger in the swaying leaves,
Reminiscent of Medina's calm breeze.

This otherworldly stage set a silent scene
as fresh air whispers incantations to my being:
Azure haze of summer vibrancy.

**Some daze inspiration takes me.
Comforted by Aer's eloquence.
Kurt Carman Jun 2016
Memaw & Pepaw ..Mason Dixon Saturday night,
Just sippin' muscadine wine by the Tennessee moonlight
Rockin' chairs...Zenith Black and White
Roy, Buck, Minnie Pearl a Hee Haw delight.

Crickets a chirpin' and a Frogs a croakin'
Toe tapin' rhythm's got em all in motion.
Corn fields swaying like a metronome
Watching those two dance to cotton eye Joe!

Sunday mornings best at the Church of Christ,
Me, I'm Thinkin' bout Memaws country gravy, my fav-o-rite!
Fried Chicken, taters, eggs sunny side right,
These are the memories I like to recite.
I sure do miss you both. Hoeing okra and and mustered greens on Sunday afternoon. That **** rooster Ichabod having his way with those Rhode Island Red hens as Cecil and I laughed our ***** off. Making a sign for your hen house that read "Martins Chicken Hilton" and the day you died doing what you loved. I know your out there Cecil and Drewetta. I'll see you someday soon!
King Panda Jun 2016
the artistry in you
snapping bubbles
through your hair
resting feather
the coop
the hibernation
every bit of your work
a statement of
beast and sacrifice
sweet mother
holy sister
undying scientist
like windows
like soil
in which life grows
good earth
good prairie
miles and miles of you
swaying in the wind
inculcated within me
this immortal passion
to watch you sprout life
to watch you work
to watch you love
a blissful void
a simple kiss
a wonderful purple
this incomprehensible galaxy
makes sense
when I see your eyes
scanning billions of blades
of grass
when I witness the tortuous
beauty
of your smile
when I hear you
read your poetry
it’s the gift of nature
unprecedented
unexpected
un-censored
unlike anything I’ve ever
experienced
your love
Jessica
your love
is ineffable
I hear my heart
singing out loud-
thump-thump!
I feel my heart
swaying to the beat-
flip-flop!
My heart knows
the tune it hears-
thump-thump!
My heart knows
the movement to this dance-
flip-flop!
This lonely song
has gone on too long-
thump-thump!
Not taking a chance
to break and crumble-
flip-flop!
I wanna sing
to my love song-
thumpity-thump!
I wanna sway
to my love dance-
flipity-flop!

2007

COPYRIGHT; Sabrina Denise Healey,
~Angelmom~
Cress Rosario Jan 2017
You would find her underneath the oldest tree
Paints on her hands; dreams in her head
Stroking stories she never told
Painting a world of her own

You would find her lost in the deepest part of her heart
Swaying under the sun in an open field
As the sunlight showers down her face,
Her heart drifts her away and away.
Cné Jul 2017
I sit and read the HP site
and observe a teardrop's course
Engaged in deepest revelry
and when it dies, remorse.

I listen to the rustle of the rhymes
in swaying Poetrees...
And revel in the sweet caress
of every whispered breeze

The sweetness of a sentence
every stanza, works of art
The rhymes that touch my soul
and lo, the rhythm that beats from heart.

The lullabies so sweet and soft
that gentle me to sleep
The love tributes, as I nod off
while counting them as sheep.
I love reading all your words of art. Thank you, HP poets and poetess'
Stephen E Yocum Oct 2013
The Island Moorea,
backpacking Tahiti,
In the heat, the sun,
The rhythm of my footfalls
crunching loose gravel road,
The swish of pack swaying
in conert to my measured pace.

Breeze pushing branches of Palm,
Ocean waves breaching shoreline long.
Island vehicles passing, occupant's laughing,
a man laboring under large pack, alone walking,
Who could have been freely riding,
Unthinkable to Island Folk,
in hot tropical places.

Some humble homes past along the way.
Greetings exchanged with smiling faces there.
Not long afterward a new sound approaching,
crunching gravel, rolling up behind me.

A lovely young girl, perhaps twenty-one,
long brown ***** legs bike a peddling.
Hair jet black, long to her waist, wearing
a sarong, split up the side,
Shoulders bare and brown.
Dark eyes of wonder, sparkling of youth.
Her radiant smile adorning a splendid face.

We went for a time at my even pace,
looking and smiling each in our place.
"Hello there," I said, she giggled, beamed
even bigger. Perfect teeth displayed.

"Why you walk?" She asked in heavily
accented puzzlement.

"To get to where I'm going". I replied
This response producing a pleasant laugh
from the girl. In which I too joined in.

"You go One Chicken?" She asked
I stopped then and turned to her.
"Where is One Chicken?" I questioned
with a grin.

She raised her graceful arm,
one finger pointing up the road.
"One Chicken there," she informed.

It was a store/bar, sort of place,
In the very midst of nowhere.
Indeed, more than one chicken roamed,
Many chickens did and a pig or two,
mingling free and doing their thing.

We entered out of the bright daylight,
into the deepest of darks,
Like in a movie theater, when arriving late.
Eyes adjusting slowly to what lay ahead.

A few Island Beers later,
I had acquired several new friends,
The girl my invitation to the party of
already happy people a little drunk on beer.
The Music was mostly of French persuasion,
With a bit of Bob Dylan thrown in.
The Beatles also had a tune or two.
The Liverpool beat resounding down Tahiti way.

Before the light did fail, I shouldered my pack
and walked some distance from Chickens and Pigs.
Found the beach, hung my Hammock for the night.
Built a small fire and opened a can of Spam delight.

She appeared again about ten,
looking beautiful in the new moonlight.
Newly washed hair, still damp and
smelling fresh of Lilacs,
Or some such aromatic scent.
We did not speak, no words were needed,

Made love on the sand, 'till the retreat of the
tide and sand ***** did come out, in their
eerie numbers, to eat what was at hand.
I suppose even us if we let them.

We retired then both to my hammock,
A pretty neat trick if you can swing it.
And we did.

She was so childlike and yet,
very much a woman grown.
There was no pretense shown,
no false inhibitions rendered.
These were not limitations of her culture.
people that respond to their emotional impulses.
An open and free spirited people living
passionately within each minute.

It all felt more akin to a dream than real,
All around me there was beauty,
Loving and being loved without hurry,
Free of guilt or even a single expectation.
Living in that wondrous moment,
of uncomplicated human splendor.
Like some Garden of Eden surrender.
A real life Gauguin painting.

In the morning, we swam in the sea,
frolicked like kids having a day at the beach.
Made love in the sand, I dozed in the sun.
Upon awaking she was gone.

I waited an hour or two, packed up my camp,
shouldered my load and returned to the road.
A few minutes later, again I heard the now
familiar crunch of rubber tires,
rolling road surface and there she was,
a straw basket in her Bike's basket,  
A huge smile on her unforgettable,
beautiful face.

We sat in a grove of trees,
among birds singing, in sight of the sea,
Upon a Palm log and ate fresh bread and
fruit. Drank strong black coffee (French Roast
I presume,) nibbling some marvelous cheese.
We tried to talk, but she understood little of
what I tried to say, my French was nearly
nonexistent, only adding to confusions sake .

She leaned her head on my shoulder,
the way lovers do and tenderly held
my hand within her two,
As if not wanting to let go,
Those gestures said all there was to say,
And we savored each silent moment.

We parted there, she on blue, rusty bike
and me on "shanks mare",
Off in two different directions,
Each out into the depths of our own lives,
Gone just like that. . . And yet,
Indelible, never to be forgotten or replaced.
Once in a great while those days and that
young maiden of Moorea do yet visit me,
in dreams as real as can be. She never grows
old, nor does the beauty we shared for that
one brief moment in time immortal.

Someplace among the Islands of Tahiti
there is a woman in her late fifties, most
likely a Mother, even by now a Grandmother.
I hope she recalls as fondly the American blond
man with the big Orange Backpack, that in 1972
she met upon the road, near "One Chicken" and
loved freely and completely for two days and a
night, as that man does so fondly remember her.
I'm no poet, you all are poets. I'm just an old guy
with memories and little stories to tell.
It's rather long for a poem, but some memories
are longer than others.
Thanks for letting me share.
Cné Dec 2017
Endearing is the moon tonight
and through its silver glow,
She whispers secrets of the things
that only she could know.

Of lover's trysts on summer nights
of kisses ‘neath her smile,
Of secret murmurs begging "friends"
to stay a little while.

Of sweet caresses cherished
in the fog of memories,
Of moonlit walks in arbors sweet
'neath swaying groves of trees,

Of shadows cast by clasping hands
of hearts that feel desire,
and unrequited love
               that feels like death
                              from friendly fire.

Of promises in passion made,
with no chance to fulfill,
Of loneliness, of happiness,
of parting's bitter pill,

She whispers of the romance,
of the love that's hot and cold,
Like love that loses passion
but sustains us getting old.

She passes in the evening sky
and frolics with the stars,
And leaves this mortal on the porch
to mend life’s wounded scars.

Yet, never does she realize,
the secrets that she'd shared,
Are common knowledge
                         here on earth,
where love has all ensnared.
Writing poetry ‘neath the ever glowing cold full moon tonight, from the rambling thoughts swirling in my head.
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