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K Balachandran Jul 2018
Rain’s seige  continues,
Hegemony of waters;
Swirling army’s rush!
Sarah Dec 2018
I crave a dance
Not a hug,
Not a kiss or a delicate touch
But a dance
A red dress and a gentleman to take my hand
On a shinning dancefloor
On a trip outside the dimensions of this world
Where flying needs no wings
Where music feels like the gentle wind
I'd swirl and swirl
With my red dress flowing like the petals of a rose
Carried by the swift breeze
Till it come back
To you
I never danced with a man, ever
ryn Oct 2014

will
you take
me into your
space...•cradle
me upon       the
sultry limbs      of
your        nebulous
grace•the expansive
arms of the universe,
where            peaceful
slumber awaits•your
poetry    laden comets,
bore      abundant love,
all towed     in freights•
gingerly drinking in the depth
of your face•seemingly blindfolded,
i'll tread each dark  crater•my head in
a swirl        of your  majestic         trace•
where        I would stumble         upon
V              a love ever so...             V
/     |    |   || \
(                              )
(   INTERSTELLAR   )
(                                    )
Seema Jul 2018
Like spools of thread, pilled in the midst
Darkness draws attention to the danger
Up few miles, is that place
Where the sign reads, welcome stranger
Curiosity jumps on each step
As the enchanting forest gets deeper
The sun rays sparkle the early dews
And awakens the sleeping keeper
Birds chattering, singing melodiously
Giant rocks, stand as guards of century
Silent kills the morning songs
At the dark weaved, heavy grown entry
Myth say, it may be a portal to another world
But reports and researchers find it their own way
What's there to be afraid of
Besides an approaching thunder day
A torch in hand, walking cautiously
Humming sound follows through, alerting my ears
Tripping, few times on dead branches
Triggers my lost unwanted fears
It's almost past mid day, but not a single string of light
The passage seems like a hell deep
Strange scribbles on near stones, alert
"Do not fall asleep"
Hours of walking on turns and paths
Tiredness and hunger grasped in well
Don't fall asleep rings in my ears
I was not alone, I could easily tell
Within this labyrinth, mysteries lie of all kinds
An evil crackling laugh, shakes my fears
Looking in the direction of the sound
There is an "it" and it hears
Run out now, my gut feelings kick in
Hoping for sun rays, but thunder beats the sky
Peculiar heavy steps seems to follow
I wish, I could just fly
One exit, echoes another entry
A swirl labyrinth has woken today
Running in circles, lost my routes
I can't find my right way
A small spark of light in a corner
Disguised as the suns ray
Traps my vision to walk forward
Like a poised lucidest prey
What happened next, I do not know
But not alone now, as more walk my way
Finding their own possible routes
We have become abundantly stray...



©sim
Spilling imagination. Fiction.
Pale skin that's
so beautiful in comparison to the sunset.
Her eyes,
the perfect concoction of blue and green, stare away.

Deep in thought,
tears on her cheeks, a smile pasted on her face.
Although her scenery
is lovely, the thoughts she has are not.

Dark demons
swirl in her mind and pick her brain.
They travel through
her veins, and pull her apart at the seams.

On the inside,
she's going crazy; she is undeniably insane.
On the outside,
she is smiling just like you; she's unwillingly happy.
Are you out there my Friend.? ? Somewhere The Wind is blowing..? Where your footprints are gone as soon as left. No one to know. No one Knowing.?
       Are you in the Wind? ? A voice, distant, lost in the swirl of snow and Autumn leaves.? Your way Home...unknown.
       The next step taken, but down what path.? Will it lead through this wood, or wander Forever this Dismal forest of Bramble and Thorn? No shelter in sight. No sheltering insight.
Crows with eyes bright. Plucking at your at your sleeves and dress. Catching your skin, bleeding you like a priest with a fleem. Leaving you wounded and hurt., weary and wary.
       If you stand still but a moment., cease your struggling, stumbling and listen. you'll hear my voice.
On the Wind
Calling you Home.
Safe within the walls and warmth of my arms.
For Brittany. Your looking for what you already found.
Hirondelle Sep 2018
To see thee...
to daunt winter into a spring scented swirl,
to chance upon a leaf from a bud unfurl,
THUS dim Apollo’s smile with a gold gilded curl.

To talk with thee...
to loose time’s sores down a brook’s babbling game,
to purl and trill down a hushed grove’s shame,
THUS ripple in diamond sparks across time’s frame.

To remember thee...
to leap up the cascades in an upstream race,
to reach the heights hiding halcyon lakes,
THUS gaze at you in your gleaming grace.

To miss thee...
to set sail into the late song of a nightingale,
to brave sirens’ snare veiling all thunder and gale,
THUS seek the honeyed sky from night’s fingers so pale.

To live without thee...
to seal my last sigh in thy morning name,
to hide it fast within my night doomed frame,
THUS prank the dark when I die in morning flare.

To die...
to learn the art of the autumnal flame
                                and
                       ­ red           glory
          battle                                 gold
that                                                        game
to draw her tresses over my tired frame,
THUS defy sombre end’s pall donned claim.

THUS TO UNFURL BACK AGAIN!
IN THAT GOLD GILDED CURL I’LL REMAIN!

©️Hirondelle (30/09/2018)
If one is reconciled with the vagaries of life; they can understand their life is a strand in a great web and learn to respect this reality, they may also think that each strand is inseparable from its mother, always changing form and structure. All the strands in this web are interactive and any ripple created by one will travel across the whole frame of the web causing due change.

As much as the flesh and the spirit, there is the third component of our existence: the cosmic reality of the gestures we make both while we live and after we are gone. And true beauty might as well be hidden in these ‘cosmic ripples’. The concept of ‘existence in cosmic ripples’ is well worth being given the thought. Like what Descartes said: “I think, therefore I am,” we can also say: “We ripple across time, therefore we are gods.” Huh? :) Of course in the sense that we generate rippling sentiments that reach others, multiply and become part of the whole recycling energy.

With our words and deeds, we sow the seeds of akin behavioral patterns in others across the universe, thus transcend the confines of the flesh. Maybe, that’s why writing good poetry was considered a divine art in some mythologies, such as Nordic and Greek. Likewise, the pall of the night can claim only the body in this poem while the rippling cosmic existence of the web of life rises over darkness in the fiery glory of victory. Also in the poem, the speaker, being a strand in this cosmic web, possesses godly properties; even a tad smile they wear may outshine that of the god of sun, prophecy, poetry and music. The Moirae, the Fates or the Grim Sisters of Three, could cut thread of even gods, yet there have been no shears that can clip ripples. They cut the thread of the flesh, yet the ripple the flesh might have created is already on its way across this cosmic reality. It ripples out to your friends, family members, neighbours or even to your pets. These recipients of the ripples, being cosmic, are no longer exactly what they used to be before the ripple transferred something from you to them.

Gestures are more beautiful than gods and they are contagious, rippling across the thread-woven web of life. And the Norns... they weave, measure and cut thread when all the time the web of life stays a whole, gathering information and colours to be even more beautiful. Maybe, the Grim Sisters, ironic with their name, serve for the change to the more beautiful by ceaselessly cutting off thread and weaving in others. Maybe, that’s why there should be glory in death like that of the autumnal leaves... It’s not grim but beautiful.
r 4d
Sometimes
at night
late, when I slide
off towards dreams
it seems
my thoughts
they often swirl
around a pearl
at heaven’s gate.
Dark Fjord Nov 2016
old or new,
where's your's -the blanket to love
to care for me,
the sad swirl,
shhh is a lightning's way-
and it made me smile a little.
stars
Susanna Jul 2018
I guess this is what a real life existential crisis feels like.
What I know now I did not know before.
Small bits of thought swirl through my head,
A tornado of broken glass.
And now that the wind has settled,
I struggle to fit the pieces together
In a way that would resemble a window
Through which I might view myself.
ouch
Aj Jan 2018
you are words.

you are crashing syllables that drip off of wilting rose petals and each letter is a star. you make up constellations while foreign galaxies drip from your lips. nebulae dance across your angel-shedded skin and particles of the sun hide under the freckles resting on your shoulders.

you are life.

the wonders of the cosmos that swirl in the pit of your lean and golden tummy, finding solace in the way you breathe in and exhale the energy of the universe that you created in the beating passage of my worn-out soul.

you are the universe's child.

and the stars that accumulate under your skin will explode. i'll inhale the stardust and debris, letting the particles of life that you emit pollute my bloodstream.
constellations dedicated to a lover who lost his way.
What is the Secret of your Great Tan Skin?
This be bashful on a Blind Afternoon
With you on Sail, and Tongues burning within
High on a Jetty, the Girls see you soon
Frankly, you the Millennium's Next Best Ken,
Picking Barbie after Barbie on Hors
The other Males sour; Then prune once again
Thinking them robbed from the Best Picks before
See, how your Rome enamourates the World
And letting this pour like an Endless Fall
Splashing on Flesh, to Cologne turning swirl
Eau et de la Belle, who boasts you and all.
Seeing this Promo, this Six-Pack so thin
Still did not respond to your Great Tan Skin.
#tomdaleytv #tomdaley1994
Michael Briefs Jul 2017
From white canvass,
a blank ledger of potent
expectation,
awaiting form and function:
the seminal swirl of
her brush signals,
simple hue,
subtle structure.
From flesh stroke
sanguine blush of
satin seams
and outstretched limbs,
the artist invokes
shade and light.
Spring greens, rampant peaks,
reaching aloft into
gossamer mists; calm swells,
verdant bosoms,
inviting fields of
luxuriant temptation.
From an eternal cool,
the (all too) temporary warmth
of her embrace
lies just beyond:
enticing, luring, coaxing
into heady desire.
From whence,
the dream
unfolds...
See a photo that inspired this poem: https://www.facebook.com/photo.php?fbid=10209365905400609&set=a.10208174166607884.1073741828.1113041505&type=3&theater
Lizzy Apr 2014
I've written about the wind
More than countless times.
I've always been so envious
Of it's freedom.
But now more than ever
The jealousy burns me

The air
How it moves and turns
It's free
And it can touch you.
It gets to brush those lips I miss,
And swirl around in your lungs.

It's ubiquitous limbs
Brush up against your arms
And weave between those fingers
it can hold your hands like I used to
it can do everything I can't.

but what I'm most covetous of
how it can watch you
and rest it's head against you
how it can twist in between the cracks in your smile.

the wind is my enemy
she is the temptress that mocks me
she laughs while I cry
because she lives in your lips
and you have no idea
The wind is a ****
Enchanted by spring’s
rustling whispers
     ... whistles swirl
in the pungent springtime breeze;
steeped with a bedazzling
        cadence
   heart dancing
to a hummingbird’s
         whirs

   waves of breath,
of little wings waft,
whooshing throughout
twining honeysuckle lattice
       a
tiny manger
beset of hidden gold
precious speckled eggs, 
silver lining of smallest hopes
   fruits of fruition
   continuum beheld prize,
concealed in interwoven rootlets;
   
potently perfumed flowers
       while away
the waning dark hours;
swollen full flower moon
           waxing yellow,..
         heavenly fragrance
sweetly-scented suckled nectar
  
the one with eyes of a child,
   wonder ― hidden inside,  
   marvel in the light of grateful eyes
imbibing an unholdable moment's
    spellbinding elixir 
    ... poetry alive

air  so poignantly perfumed
       with blossom
        moonstruck
by spring’s frolicking cadency
a reverent moment's
edifying intoxication

       a sobering beauty that just is...



someone ... May 2017
Osiria Melody Feb 14
Jubilant child, gently prancing to the candy store
A lollipop, chocolate bar, or a fruit paid in full
Locked door, crying river tears that make my sad
eyes swirl red, like peppermints
Mommy and daddy don’t love each other anymore

Notorious teen, aggressively committing thievery
A pack of cigarettes, alcohol, or pills paid in full
Locked door, smiling sunny teeth that make my
cheeks radiate, hurt
Popping pills like death candy
Mommy and daddy just got divorced

Apathetic adult, hating to have my own family
Bottles of colored juices, packs of funny looking
lollipop sticks, or death candy sprawled across the
table
(Alcohol, cigarettes and drugs are my friends,
how pathetic)
Haphazard mess, failing health over death candy,
coughing smoky clouds, dragon voice sadness
Mommy and daddy are dead

Harder to breathe when you’re trying to speak
through grains of sand
Found a dull romance, much more emotionless
than my parents’ relationship
Your promises of climbing mountains and
swimming oceans

Nothing more than promises, false and broken
A living dream of what it all means, withering
dignity
At least, death candy never commits infidelity, an
insatiable lover
Takes me to my grave, burying me in all
these substances



Melody
2/14/19
I drew my inspiration from admiring the sweetness of a candy store.
Jordan Rowan Jan 2016
When the morning doesn't breathe
In the cold winter air
How does it feel to need somebody there?
You could probably hear them if it wasn't for the frost
But their words are frozen, desperately lost

How does it feel right now
To be awake in the dark?
How does it feel to be lost in your heart?
Take a look inside, I hope you find what really burns
Like the sound of a name, more than just a word

How do those dreams feel
When the wake you up?
They're like a movie reel that shakes you up
If everything at once starts to swirl and collide
Then what's important will live when what's pointless has died
Jesse stillwater Apr 2018
The woman in the window
  Looks out beyond the glass
Beyond the reach of her whispers
  Befogged upon windowpanes glance

Farther  than  the  bounds
  Her own breathe imbues
Out of reach her long fingered touch
  Tracing her murmurs on looking glass dew
Grasping for the shadowed artifacts
  Only time does nonchalantly drift past

Perched alone upon a cloud of silence
  Her thoughts eddy in soundless swirl
Spinning like dizzying shadows
  Swallowed by a thirst for light

The other side of window beckons
  Only she knows she’s looking out through a sigh;
Seeing no one familiar looking back ―  
  For what hidden jewels within abide

She dreams of dancing leafless by daylight
  Twirling beneath the whispering willows sway
Just a step away from being free
  Just a step away from feeling alive

With first step beyond imprisoning hesitation
  Crossing over the threshold of a dream
Through a liberating portal outside the glass
  Just on the other side of the windowsill ...


                  Jesse e Stillwater
13th  April  2018
L B Nov 2016
Susan
with her china-white skin
relaxed
down to lace bra and *******—

“Have you ever heard this?” she asks

… sets the album, drops the needle
in the groove
We wait till bass fills in the room
sending time and silence empty-handed
down a hallway

Susan lights a joint
settles on the bed
ample legs begging apart
She ***** in deeply
impounding clouds  
Head thrown back
Thick glossy hair—
loses gravity
Eyes half-closed, shadow-heavy
clear and blue like piano
The walls are muted trumpet
stutter-hush of cymbal and the snare
Crackling over scratches

We are barely there

Susan exhales
a swirl of fog to a frail moon
Only her sultry voice still holds me tethered

“Have you ever heard anything— like this?”

Miles flows 
around me
Smoking
On the floor of Susan’s room
lying clothed and drunk
Soaked
with chords and wonder

I never hear him coming

Miles takes his time
Clearly, Susan was not the ****** here.  The year was 1969; Lowell State College dormitory in Massachusetts.  I was 19, a music major and on my way to becoming "radical revolutionary" and a poet. The album, I think, was Kinda Blue with Miles Davis and John Coltrane et al

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zqNTltOGh5c
Rochelle R Apr 2016
Silence

Digging
The search for words
Leaves me empty and blister-handed
Despair and thought swirl in a voiceless dance
Between my ears and
Any will I've had to speak
Disappears where my breath meets my lips
Guttural instinct has me know
There are things that need to be said
Words to be exchanged
Explanations waiting
Perched
Perilously on the edge
Of solving all
And no going back
And yet

Silence. And everything is dead.
chichee Jan 31
You said you needed an extra pair of hands
                                    so I took mine off and
gave them to you.
The sun set in my glass,            darling-
                                   can't you hear that?
         coo-ee, coo-ee
                    oh the cockatoos
are jabbering philosophy again.
                                                          ­Sweet-talker,
I want to push my fingers into your mouth,
                                  swirl it in all the      honey in there.
                                                          ­    My hands on the clock
pointing at quarter past five,
                         birds swing up into the air like
                    the half-beat of a pendulum
                                                        ­      lungs filling up with water-
we're all romantic fools here.
                     Sometimes I think of time         as fluid
tick tock tick tock
                my glass dripping into
                                           yours.
                                                          ­We're all running dry,
quickly, before the night ends-
                                 ask me to         dive off
the edge of the world                
                                           ­        with you.
Took me ages to title this. Not as sad as what I usually go for.
Cray-Z...

You know that you are, *******, crazy?

Think up a new grand goal to meet,
then drop the blotter, -to compete.

Are you movin' on up?
to the top, to a deluxe compartment in your mi-ind?

Lenny?

Saul admired David...

"Admired,"

him.

dissolved him in, David.

You know that you are, *******, crazy?

Look at the hands, -they swirl in, ceiling paint...
Thinking like this the world is NO constraint.

Fuzzy
Futzy
Fickle
Fiber

Pick a pickle Whitley Streiber.

Gargle,
Gasp, rinse and repeat.

Then Devil for the Heaven's seat,
and find a tiny child to eat,
for tasty things water mouth with treat,
nothing stained by water's meet or tendered strangely as complete.

Crazy...

Carpet fibers tickle my neck.

I am a house.

Household item.

Bleach feels funny on the fingers,
they still won't change color back?

Think up a new grand goal to meet,
then drop the blotter, -to compete.
Then Devil for the Heaven's seat,
and find a tiny child to eat,
for tasty things water mouth with treat,
nothing stained by water's meet or tendered strangely incomplete.

Crazy you know that you are...

...is that wall supposed to be flashing?

!!!!GET OFF MY ROCKER!!!!
You cannot just dip a finger in the dark because darkness will not let you go. Are you sexually attracted to circumstance? Then I have something for you. Life is easily hardened....those that know, know me.
Jordan Rowan Aug 2015
Softer in the morning like the light of the sun
Don't worry about today until tomorrow's done
Light up your eyes and sleep on the run
Where we will be isn't for anyone,
but Us

Climb into my mind and make yourself at home
I'm not strong enough to ever be alone
Sing me that song so long ago I wrote
Poison me to sleep and swirl me like smoke,
and don't rush

I've got a bourbon headache in my weary eyes
Let's go to the city and dance across the sky
Drop another line with acid in our smiles
In dreams and in life, let's die awhile,
before we live

Tomorrow isn't here until I come alive
Send me the curses from yesterday's drive
Memories from a ***** whiskey dive
Is that my face in someone else's eyes?
Or is it his?
Yaser Nov 2017
On an odd and restless night
when the stars were all but gone
I lay my head in search of sleep
and sought to see the dawn
I closed my eyes
awaiting dreams
but far from me they fled
and faces born of fleeting thoughts
stirred strange within my head

Then I heard it sure enough
my name out of the dark
It found its way into my soul
and there it left its mark

My eyes flickered hastily
and I rushed out of the door
Oh! How I wished to hear that voice -
to hear that voice once more!

A breath of wind did bid my leave
from my chamber nigh
A breath of wind that called my name
with a silent sigh

I walked beneath an empty sea
hidden to my eyes
For not a light hung in that sky
Not a light hung in that sky

I stood there then with open ear
'pon firm and lifeless ground
I stood there, still to hear it clear
That endless swirl of sound

Oh how it howled
and stirred about
that strange and eerie hour!
I knew it then that I'd stood before
an eve of rouse'd power

She sung to me
She sung to me
her silent lullaby
and with each verse
she birthed anew
the stars within the sky...
L B Sep 2016
Burgundy, the color of a dress I’ve never worn
to an occasion that never occurred

Velvet lined
coffin
Where lies the violin
There lies its song

The heart of fiddle strings
that bare of arms
That heart that sings, speaks, no, yells
to the hands that can’t respond!
to a mind that can’t remember
I was drowning in some future
not a violinist’s

“Alive with Pleasure”
read the billboard slogan for cigarettes
behind the happy couple
running out into their future

Forcing the hand of marriage
Waving goodbye to my life
from a rooftop in Scranton
as the wind hauled my laundry three city blocks
dumping my unders on Saint Luke’s sills
sailing my sheets up Wyoming Avenue

I lay on the tar and pebble roof
watching pigeons swirl
listening to traffic pass on the street below
The moment you know you’ve made the mistake
you can’t return from....

Wherever my towels have blown?
I wish them well....
Love cannot grow where none was planted.  I tried.
Drifting back to the ocean
like it never even happened
unraveled dreams washed clean
crystalline renaissance bestowed    
by wind mountain spring waters
rising from the heart
of mother earth

A remnant light glows deeply
of one love's untamed wonders
an unfastened feather glides abandoned
rushing waters floating
alighting pilgrim blissfully sails on
stranded without wings
a fallen wild feather free as bird
wanting a place to be let free

Sun in the summer air
wind in buoyant feathered hair
softly dancing upon
wild river restless ripples
to feel the love of holding on
adrift asunder whence it touched on
destiny's far-reaching
journey yonder
holding onto flowing rivers
rolling towards the sea

The incoming tidal waters blossom
surge to greet wind river's gentle saunter
converging slackening passage
salt on feral feathered fragments
arousing currents babbling swirl
imbibed by the impassioned sea

Wild rivers' born intentions
a different kind of drifting passage
to kiss the distant horizon
where the sown sunlight settles
submerged in shoreless ocean waters
    to be free all at sea at last


someone you used to know  2017
Grace Apr 2017
A red sea of bright leaves swirl around my feet
whipping my hair to and fro across my face,
I shiver in the cold but can hardy take note of it.
In the eye of the storm,
in the midst of a hurricane,
All is quiet
Tom Spencer Dec 2018
clouds race by
like kites with broken strings

trees sway
naked branches rattle

cold wind
stings my ears

you ask why I love
the winter

sycamore leaves tumble
and swirl through the garden

brittle sails
crackling air



Tom Spencer © 2018
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