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Liz Nye Aug 2010
Faces, limbs,
Glitter, sweat
Concealment
Debris
Gutter-trapped
Occasional treasures
Shining brightly, briefly
Glimpses of original packaging
places untouched by the dulling bleach of light and time
Fresh-looking facades that harbor disease-
the soft, dank giving way of decay
Slight moments of concord,
communion,
    connection.
Debris that longs to be fairy-taled,
that believes in the magic of changelings
One clean, pure shoe
on the steps of this stage.
Tomorrow –Cinderella.
Nat Lipstadt Jun 2014
~Introduction~

I written here of late, under many guises and persona in order to let my work find its own unsolicited audience.
 This however, I must post as myself, for it is for my crew and longtime friends here.  
Even more so, I  must dedicate it to our Sally, who would not accept my repeated, intentionally, muddied "well" as an answer acceptable to any of her questions,  Thus, she inspired, and matriarched this prayer poem into existence.  As for the execution, the executioner takes me alone, as it should be, well and proper

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Well

wonderful multipurposed word
accumulates nuances like eyelashes,
dropping daily, but all there come the new dew's diurnal arrival

ask yourself
what rises,
what wells up
comes first foremost fired up,
when, parsed, passu from you lips
this faceted word wonderful nugget,
called, know to you as

....Well....

but before I bring you on
this compassed pointed
journey to dig deep a well mutual,
compulsed to present the ending,
of this voyage,
something never rightly done
but something
that charms, delights me insanely
and so,
that with a little mark,
not even a full fledged letter,
joins us too, well and proper,
my fellow poets,
I give you,
I leave you,
I join you
as

we'll
together:

thoroughly, soundly, carefully
so much more than mere sufficiently,
better than plain good and satisfactory,
yet, not well enough for the task in my hands solely
mark this word duly, fittingly

for in possession of intimate knowledge
of you and yours, and you, of mine,
so well we know, well we write
this new poem,
a cooperative dig,
trust and friendship lie in the near surface water table,
beneath our picnic blanket where verses are fed
grape and cherries, lip to lip,
enhancing each other's wellness on a summer Sun~day

momentarily, I am of less-than-well health or peaceable mind,
but that impropriety,
shelved for now, a lesser matter,
for I must behave like one of Bo's sheep,
good little boy, all my taled words well behaved,
for in the good company of my fellow crew and mates,
all that is shared here and now,
must be pleasing and good, even as
my welling tears are daring to be
clouded joyous side effects interrupting
our prosed companionship!

by the bay,
by the quiet crescendo of gentling waves,
I write, here where I write so well, so freely,
in my chair by the dock that awaits your first flesh coming,
this bay wide, deep, but no so wide that I cannot see the
old, prosperous, whale-oil receiving harbors on the other side

this bay to the Atlantic is borne,
so worry not, water for all aplenty,
and the words that float on top,
yours, if not more than mine,
awaiting your fetching, taking,
for have I not have more than my share drunk?

on the beach,
amuse bouche made,
bored, dug and gored in white sand,
littered with well-worn pebbles,
many little hidey holes,
within each,
a new poem captained and captioned,
a treasure hunt,
well beyond their prior good well hunting

but to a tour de force we enterprise,
fetch a shovel, *****,
and many little red, and yellow pails,
to the garden, to the park, to the strip of weeds
tween the concreted pebbled sidewalks, and dig

dig well and industriously, a few inches, a few feet,
for I am bringing all that fulsome bay water to you
magically from underneath,
only need to hear you scratching above,
to know thy location,
and inceptioning your well, with crystal fluid plenished,
thus, you need not wait to join me till you
reality can

this well,
is as an addition,
a well sensed joining,
our beings improved by us intercoursing,
for as well as could be
is a
could not be better than
from
water shared and poems
sourced and spilled thereof,
noel hymns born
fresh well water amniotic fluid

Lord!

listen well,
I command thee,
(for you and I, are well intimated)
I commend this motley collection of
wordsmiths to thy care, find them well
keep them that way

in every possible way,  
insure their inspiration wells to never be dry,
their modest frames well cared for,
leave them lives of good nature,
free of rancor

if shelter needed,
my ship's wells safe, secured, and many,
give them to me for care and repair

if they satisfactory, express,
leave them
well enough alone

These words have gushed,
torents poured from places deep and rarely seen,
so my prayer is not an everyday wishful thinking thing,
heed it well,
for I cannot be
everywhere simultaneous yet

encounter me now,
prima facie, finger to finger pointing,
know the ink in the well my pen drinks,
miraculously never ends
and so many things I need,
have promised,
poems that, well,
I write to you as needed,
with caution discarded,
demanding this exceedingly
and you cannot well refuse

We'll,

my mates and me
by the  bay
write together,
that
I eager await well,
that newly hallelujah day

~~~~~~
Well

—adverb

in a good or satisfactory manner: Business is going well.
thoroughly, carefully, or soundly: to shake well before using; listen well.
in a moral or proper manner: to behave well.
commendably, meritoriously, or excellently: a difficult task well done.
with propriety, justice, or reason: I could not well refuse.
adequately or sufficiently: Think well before you act.
to a considerable extent or degree (often used in combination): a sum well over the amount agreed upon; a well-developed theme.
with great or intimate knowledge: to know a person well.
certainly; without doubt: I anger easily, as you well know.
with good nature; without rancor: He took the joke well.
—adjective

in good health; sound in body and mind: Are you well? He is not a well man.
satisfactory, pleasing, or good: All is well with us.
proper, fitting, or gratifying: It is well that you didn't go.
in a satisfactory position; well-off: I am very well as I am.
—interjection

(used to express surprise, reproof, etc.): Well! There's no need to shout.
(used to introduce a sentence, resume a conversation, etc.): Well, who would have thought he could do it?
—noun

well-being; good fortune; success: to wish well to someone.
—Idioms

as well,
in addition; also; too: She insisted on directing the play and on producing it as well.
equally: The town grew as well because of its location as because of its superb climate.
as well as, as much or as truly as; equally as: Joan is witty as well as intelligent.
leave well enough alone, avoid changing something that is satisfactory.
well2
—noun

a hole drilled or bored into the earth to obtain water, petroleum, natural gas, brine, or sulfur.
a spring or natural source of water.
an apparent reservoir or a source of human feelings, emotions, energy, etc.: He was a well of gentleness and courtesy.
a container, receptacle, or reservoir for a liquid: the well of ink in a fountain pen.
any sunken or deep, enclosed space, as a shaft for air or light, stairs, or an elevator, extending vertically through the floors of a building.
Nautical.
a part of a weather deck between two superstructures, extending from one side of a vessel to the other.
a compartment or enclosure around a ship's pumps to make them easily accessible and protect them from being damaged by the cargo.
a hollow compartment, recessed area, or depression for holding a specific item or items, as fish in the bottom of a boat or the retracted wheels of an airplane in flight.
any shaft dug or bored into the earth, as for storage space or a mine.
—verb (used without object)

to rise, spring, or gush, as water, from the earth or some other source (often followed by up, out, or forth ): Tears welled up in my eyes.
—verb (used with object)

to send welling up or forth: a fountain welling its pure water.
—adjective

like, of, resembling, from, or used in connection with a well.
bulletcookie Oct 2016
How it drags those old stones
this saddened exhalation
carved by mystery's familiar hand
throwing down ta represent
burning bushes, city, civilization
best and worst of ish
taled to young-lings and old **** alike
these glass towers of Batsi hype
all them homies Hallelujah-jah
that cancer eating up their bones

When the spirit grooves y'all
and its nature moves wrawl
take that animal for a stroll
down fifth avenue, crawl
black and blue for someone
let them know your lovelies
build a story told with heart
forget stark fable's Telly parts
live to breath in honest crest
counting coup eat up the rest

-cec
brandon nagley Jun 2015
Quiet nights
Whispered days
Outlandish sights
Peculiar maze
Tazed in by sun and the moon
Spooky goblins
Ghoulish freaks
Roam and prowl
The steadied caves
Kooky beings
All misbehave
Tranced by idols
Turned from God!!!!
Blaspheme love
Tis they do
Seeketh romance by phones
Back away like shrews
Kills one souls
Plots none muse
Muse is gone
The suns went down
Harrowing he feels
Writing scribes
Sick of all the same
Tis wants to die
Suicide not by choice
Lifts his head in all rejoice
Because he knows what he seeketh is right around the bin
No more fairy taled wim
Whimsical laughs
No more grins
None more waiting
On a dream
None more screams
Nor false delight
None more worries of bedtime fright
None more fights
Now all is right
Lost his mind
Gaveth his soul
Plundered down to stage six of hell
Wherein chaperones giveth ringing bells
Steps to God
God to appeal
Forgiveth one in time surreal
No more distasteful needing and wanting words
The I love thou's shalt no more heard
He's lost his touch
He's lost his cure
Giveth up all
Forgotten the world
Paintings he shalt go on in
Be like the greats of archaic sin
Handstroke brushes to pull him in
He's done
Oh my
He's done!!!
Lexi Oct 2017
I have friends
I have family
I have everything i need
But yet i do not feel forfilled
I feel alone and isolated
Though i talk to people everyday
I feel like a captured animal
Waiting to be slaughtered
But i am as free as a bird
Flying the streets
I know i am loved
But not my the one person that seems to hold my happiness and life in his hands
His memory and my taled lies eco inside my mind
Ring havick within my life
Strangling me of any form of  
'normality'
i wish i could have let it go. i wish i still could.
i can only wish.
Seema Nov 2019
Like the torn pages of some book, my heart leaps in to look, dabs of watermark, screams with ache, shattering in the corner with a broken quil, scarttering ink
The spurts of red ooz, down the thin lining, skating through the white sheets
I think of, what my fears tend to paint, a terrible sin, taled by a dark saint
Robed in pale, clear as a glass trans, bears the spurts with that of an ink mark
Glows with the hit of ray, ignites the jealous spark of the impossibilities
S..sshhh!
It's breath, hovers my shoulder with a sticky wetness odor
Clenching and sniffing as if ripping my veins out of order
A slight touch of my hand spooked ****** ambience in a blink
Of that of some air brush smearing spurts of ***** ink...


©sim
Spilling imagination.
Kei Darling Jul 2020
I opened a flower shop

And I would take sad boys and girls inside

and they would tell me their woes

And I would give them a flower to soak their tears away

There was a girl

And she looked so broken

So I took her inside and she taled

And I offered her a rose

But she shunned my rose.

She didn’t want it

Said she didn’t deserve it

And I offered it time and time again

she refused

But she looked so terrified I would make her leave

So she stayed

But each time I held out a rose,

Its thorns would pierce my fingers.

And then her family came

And they begged her to take the flower

But she wouldn’t.

My skin started to stain read from the petals and blood

Her family weeped

Yet she still refused

She just kept talking,

Rolling in her own misery

She didn’t see all that around her

But I think she could

She ignored how she was hurting how her family was hurting how I was hurting howshewashurtinghowherfamilywashurtinghowIwashurtinghowshewashurt­inghowherfamilywashurtinghowIwashurting

I thought I could fix the broken girl

One day I ran out of roses
heh this is old and kinda really *****.

— The End —