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danna22081 Jul 5
It might be said:

I slowly, yet eventually
Peered through the keyhole of a three-dimensional world.
How I saw all three? I’m not quite sure,
But all contained elements more distinct from the other,
So distinct, I don’t remember them all.

The keyhole, nothing more
Than a piece of rusted, brittle metal
Coiled, and carved… intricated into the miniscule
Dents which hold the answer to these curves
Contained within my nerves… ready to be twisted.

This room… these dimensions,
I can no longer class them under one area.
They were consumed by emotions, by values,
Purposefully, and tortuously designated,
But I just can’t… remember.

I can’t remember them, but these dimensions were meant for me.
They must have been, because I hold the key
To unlock the hole requiring the simplest
Twist of a persistent wrist,
But where is this hole I so consistently yearn for?
How nice is it for some people to symbolically express their thoughts through their writing? And many readers often interpret them differently.
The letter I never sent,
I write my valentine on your beating heart,
And send a perennial prayer,
That you could know without knowing.

Petals on your doorstep,
But no signature,
Pink Rosehip on your bedsheets,
Spying through your window blinds,
At someone unreal .

A label that travels as my desperations move it,
How I value the sick,
The unnatural,
The corpse and the consent.

The tenacious nature of a train,
With a hundred destinations,
None finite,
Moving and passing every station,
Leaving like it never stopped,

The will to pull me off it,
The weight of every expectation,
The ommitance after the deprication,
And the incommodious silence after the exposè.

I lust for that iced libation,
The roseate water of ivy and redemption,
A clay to fit inside my insatiable skin hunger,
A welcomed error of continuity in my own beliefs.

The rain of rapture will flood the streets to the chorus of weeping,
The composition of the crestfallen,
And my perennial prayer,
For an ardent antiphon.

-Unabaitingly, The Romantically Inept
L B Feb 2017
Snow plows beeping
Reverse whine and scrape
Swirling blizzard of waking—Strange
in this place where
boredom banks both snow and cold
Are my eyes running?
After all
there's a stiff wind, and it’s 18 below....

Pictures and phone calls make up my family
Stray cats eat suet I leave for the birds
who make names for themselves in sunlit bushes
Love these more than...

my hearse of a job

where that ice cream vat—slipped
smashed
my sodden dish-doin’

fingers    against     sink

Pain mounts its insurrection!
Ambushed!
from every direction
Fainting in steam
Squeezing my eyes    
till the blood shuts my brain-failing
Down my wrist
all over
the front of this rubber apron....

Someone hates me somewhere

Someone found me more tenacious
than a road-**** skunk!

I eat    I drink    I work    I sleep
between these vicious icicles  


-18F = -28 C
"I'm lovin' it!"
Only one of the sorrows of Portland, Maine, winter 1997-- to whom it may concern.
Mark Edwards Jr Apr 2013
I wield this mighty shield
So strong and yet so proud
To silence halt and yield
This evil angry sound

Righteous, narrow, straight
This path I strive to walk
Shifting the mighty weight
For each and every block

Tenacious is this anger
My stance begins to fall
My shield becomes a danger
I heed the Spartan's call

My stance has shifted slightly
The anger has been unleashed
The shield that once was mighty
Shall make my loved ones weep

Though I regret this greatly
They may never know
For all they say so plainly is,
"What you reap is what you sow"

*04/09/2009

Edit: 10/01/2018
mira Apr 2017
peril is not what i fear, i fear your death at such a scintilla of contentment
how can i love you for such distorted exaltation, if it is love at all
she has sunned only her heart, a weathered inamorata of gangrenous pallor
timid and stark naked in the swirling moonlight, blood viscous and ripe to drink, she speaks at last:
i cannot be your lover.
in retrospect, the affair was a whim; lithe but so bitter
love is not divine will, but tenacious valor
as i have learned
as anything

have i disrupted your cadence?
Umbrage ultraism infrangible extemporaneous incognito edition
Penumbral platitude platonic proxy photics rendition
Interface fenestration imbroglio pandemonium inducement sedition
Wretched infelicitous extant trajectory sordid intuition
Scandalous scavenger squalid anomalous punitive condition
Panacea chiaroscuro parallax emanate imminent perdition

Equilibrist revision exertion suborn temerity imbues
Indulgent zealous discrepancy apparentness cogitation accrues
Heuristic noumenal psychokinesis extrapolation incursion construes
Aura auspicious primitive prism processional reviews
Obstinate tenacious preeminent edificatory omnipotence eschews
Equivocal gumption ratification constitutional manumission ensues  
  
Delusory apparition extravagance peccavi verity tempestuous
Obtrusive obtusely overt indemnities sagaciously obliquitous
Ephemeral anxiety antonym existential exigency alacritous
Fortuitous emendation phantasm ontological ontogeny acuitous
Indemnify veracious infernal infidel impunities iniquitous
Meritorious fulham presumptive extrication expiation indigenous
Amalgamated anathema android sails.  (it's a wind up toy)  For though I would be the first to concede my gambits of alluvium aloof impunity sails, still immunity is Epicurean absurdity.
multi sumus Apr 29
Harboured dire requirement of esculent succulence
-(analogous sustenance)

Tenacious ruminations of volatile animality
eduction consumption-(thus)

Infesting festering the faculties
Sequestering yetactually vetting contractually

Provisory nectarous odalisque

A basilisk id est voluptuous
Juhlhaus Feb 16
With tenacious tread I seek the dawn
Like urban trees drink deep
Of lake water and clear skies, I plant my feet
Only to stumble through
The arid wasteland of my wound.

I walk off the pain
Though each step draws the flames higher
Each breath becomes an act of will
My own heel my pyre.

I set my eye, with rigid strides
Press toward the gold horizon line.
Maybe a fool: I am my own fuel
As forward motion consumes, I'm vaporized
And my sparks skyward fly.

Ashes
To ashes, dust
To dust.

Each searing step I take alone
Then in the coals see marks
Of other feet, upward look and meet
Eyes ember bright, fearless
Fingers tracing filaments against the night.

Fire walkers give off the light
By which we find a way
A note or rhyme, a guiding flame
As forward motion consumes, refines
And our sparks skyward fly.

Ashes
To ashes, dust
To dust
To gold.
Pain is lonely but can connect you with others who have been through it too, and beautiful things may result.
Exuberant ecstatic rapture
    Sardonic denigrating quip
    Joisting up an oaken rafter
    The cabin of a sailing ship

    Lucid eloquent recumbence
    Surreal retrospective grace
    Endless ocean’s myriad turbulence
    Infinity would set it’s pace

    Imbue spontaneous induction
    Exude efficient transience
    Exhort the mystic symbiotic construction
    For the course of our intransigence

    Litigant ludicrous licentiousness
    Coquettish audacious impunity
    Lecherous libidos atrocious impertinence
    Would pound id’s shore horrendously

    Derisive subjugated nuance
    Extol intrinsic unity
    Nebulous wisps of shaded quiescence
    With breeze and sky make harmony

    Predilect effluent effusion
    Tenacious taubla tapestry
    Alleviate the torrential confusion
    Acquire efficient for flights symmetry
Eléa Dec 2018
faced against me,
i tend to make mirrors to assuage
the distinction --
glass is slippery,
and light shines bright

just too bright to
bridge the difference, the water
underneath
the bridge that spans worlds, it hops
mermaids, who hiss and writhe and flay
their (tenacious) tails in / half hope
half misery,


that one day they'll meet that land
on the other side, glittring because

the splashes we create spin tear drops into
kaleidescopes, and my god, my darling,
the colours they create - - a rainbow
dashed across a sunny stormy sky


only not to realise
if ever we were to meet it
each side of the bridge
is forever, the same
peaceloveempathy Jun 2018
it begins slow
one drop
felt by only few below
then it continues, tenacious in its ways
setting out to restore
however
people complain of the bore
put your trust in me please
as the wind gently blows
rustling leaves on the trees
there is nascent
enduring through the night
remember
there is no darkness
only light
Michael Briefs Mar 2018
Sometimes,
it is art that reminds us of ecstatic love.
Indeed, sometimes art is found
in each other, and in ourselves:
in the way we laugh, how we heal,
how we create joy and
prove our tenacious courage.
Sometimes, it is we who transmit
the beauty into the world.
Be the beauty you seek -
Make art of your inner light --
And you will find love's embrace.
Lunar Apr 2017
Seven years. It has been seven years since that day.

And now here they were in the alfresco of that overrated café, with the man sitting across the lady: he was sipping his black coffee and she, her jasmine tea. The scenario almost seemed impossible in the past, but for someone with her tenacious personality, something ‘impossible’ just meant ‘a little later’ than ‘never at all.’ This moment played by fate was comparable to the persistent rainstorm that forced them to stay together a little longer in the coffee shop than planned.

“I’ve been thinking,” he sighed into his coffee mug, “About leaving this place and heading to the States. Study more on film and acting from the professionals themselves. Get into showbiz of the global standard. Be a real director. What do you think?”

She straightened her posture and settled her cup down on the table, nodding in acquiescence at his idea of endeavors that appeared promising for his future.

“Well… Why not? I say go for it. I support you in that decision.”
He diverted his eyes to hers, trying to read the gaze behind those wide eyes. Though wide and nonchalant they may seem to be, only a few can notice and genuinely understand what swims in those dark depths. Their staring game ended as her voice surfaced once again through the sound of rainfall.

“I support you. If you’re ever wondering why, it’s because I had to make a decision just like that—seven years ago.”

This time it was his eyes that widened, and he placed his mug alongside hers.

“What kind of decision was it? You definitely weren’t aiming to be an actor like me, considering you’re a licensed interior designer, not to mention writer, right now,” he chuckled, leaning back onto his chair.

A soft smile of nostalgia emerged on her lips as she remembered what she wrote on the night of the sixteenth, a day before the significant seventeenth.

April 16, 2017; 11:15 P.M. — I’m satisfied of this unrequited love. I’m happy this is all one-sided. I’m glad everything is ending before it can even truly begin. It would be easier for me to leave him who doesn’t even have the slightest knowledge of my existence, who doesn’t even know my sentiments, who doesn’t even miss me, yet alone think of me. It’s all good; perfect, even. A broken heart is better than two. At least there will be some times when I might let him and his strong hands put my weak heart back together and restore it to me. I’d rather have that than us both losing and scattering the pieces of our mutually shattered hearts. He must never be broken; I need to protect him from being so—I will take myself away from him. I’ve never been any happier to be in a love that’s unknown and unreturned. He will be happy, and I will be too. In the end, his happiness will always be mine.

“I had to leave the places and people I love, to be where I am and who I am today,” she exhaled. “It was tough, but thinking of those moments and people I held onto and appreciated… all of that kept me going.”

“Was it a happy one? I mean, did you find the happiness or ending you were looking for?”

“If I were to be dead honest, yes. More than happy, actually. I’m not just relieved, or satisfied; I’m overwhelmingly grateful. I earned the careers and lifestyle I aimed for. I managed to travel all over the world and see the places and people I’ve wanted to see. My soul roams free, finding home in the many corners of this earth. I’ve finally come home, and this time I know I’m not alone.”

The man was a grown man in a smart-casual attire, but he sure maintained the curious eyes of the child that he furtively kept in himself. Being under his scrutinizing eyes, she reminisced of the same intensity he gave back when they were still twenty-one and on the verge of growing up.

“But what about ‘him’ whom you left behind? Did you come to know him this time, maybe love him too, again?”

She picked up her teacup, providing a little wall between them both, and swallowed the remaining aromatic drops along with the thoughts she wanted to tell him ever since then.

I came to know him—you—but I don’t love him ‘again’. The feelings, which I harbored for you for all these years, never left me even when I left you back then. I know I was told to reach for the moon that I may land among the stars even if I failed to reach it. But I realized I had to reach beyond the moon—the sun, the Milky Way, the entire universe—because I wanted and needed to be worthy of my existence. I wanted and needed to prove myself to myself, to you and to everyone else.

“I did. And I’m happy with how we are right now, even if it seems like we’re back to zero this time round.  Though I’m not sure how my feelings are for him now, if I seek him as a friend or as a potential love interest.”

He seemed doubtful of her response hence did he hesitantly express his last thoughts: “So you’re happy now because you left him previously. But what if he’s the one who leaves this time? Would you still be happy?”

The clouds were emptying now as the pouring rain concluded to a light shower; likewise the people they were surrounded with under the alfresco umbrellas. She knew that she was prepared to answer this question. For the past years, concerned individuals would ask her the very same thing, and for this was she thankful. She herself would recite the words to her reflection every day, much like a prayerful mantra.

He caught a faint twinkle in her eye, a proof of which her answer would be echoing with conviction and it made him realize that those particular words to be said would be one of those things that would remind him of her.

“It won’t matter if he learns how I feel then or now, and yet doesn’t feel the same way. If leaving me would direct him to his happiness, then so be it. Perhaps we aren’t meant to love each other in this lifetime, any other lifetime, or even in parallel worlds, but I still am and would be happy about it. What’s greater than this feeling of being able to love someone so much? Like I said: in the end, his happiness will always be mine.”
There's an angel called wjh I've let into my life, and I have to let him go now.
Elder D Anthony Oct 2018
Languid prickly pear.
Ashen, voracious sky lay waste.
bruise Earth.

Prickly languid pear.
Hold fast against the wilted branch.

Thank the tree for its regard;
the limb that decayed the least.
                              O' how my will hangs
                              as I do above the death
                              who brought us this rot
Pear, languid and prickly.
Tenacious pride claws and bites
at morbid despair and lonesome longing;
                                                        ­           neither victorious.

Ashen sky dust and burn the peel

Languid pear.
Pain felt from
the dying of the limb that had more than
you in the end

Resentment tucked between the anguish.
Who brought us this rot?
                              O' how this will fades
                              unable to deliver
                              the cut that will end
The branch snaps.

Languid.
World devoid;
the will of which persists.
Sean Carter Oct 2018
Our paths crossed with curiosity and wonder.

From a different world, so far apart.
Two shy hearts holding a previous pain.
Living with fear of being hurt again.

Feelings we kept silent and were never spoken.
Like a forbidden ground of footprints unknown.

Fear and timing shelled our emotions inside and imprisoned our feelings to ever be shown.

We met again after many moons circled.
Hearts of change with the ageing of time.

Is time the key to love... the revolution of us?

The eyes of this beautiful soul before me.
A world of hope and faith to feel again.

My prospective of life is filled with joy and peace with the comfort of your presence inside my heart and mind.

Even when stress is taking a higher ground and compromise cant seem to be found.

Every thought, every time, picks me up and lights a flame inside.

You alight my world with warmth and contentment.
And each day we're apart, magnifies the feelings I have for you so strong.

Surely I can't be a fool to follow my instincts for it to break my heart again.
My feelings inside are too real and tenacious to ignore.

So I need to know........

Is this love?
danna22081 Jun 5
It might be said:

I would love to speak to you,
To read your state of mind,
To understand your hue
Of shades which seem to shape,
Which seem to mould your own sense of self.

Speak to me!
Enlighten me... tell me...
Why you seem to have denoted
Your form of communication with me,
When everyone else seems to be understating this perpetuating perception.

For I consist of eyes
Which strenuously stretch to the very depths
Of people’s lives.
The very details,
Which undoubtedly entail the ****** within their narratives of life.

The emotionally-driven sector of my brain
Prohibits me from detaching my attention,
From the issue upon the boat which sails...
Within a stormy sea of tenacious tides...
And waves which withhold my bail, and enlightenment.
I have written this poem as a psychological response to a particular issue in which I am not very much involved, however engaging in, myself. Forgive me if the poem is too vague.
Twalib Mushi Jul 2018
You are a beautiful song
Beauty enough to turn me on
Forever you make me strong
With your flawless melodic tone.

You are my favorite song
I keep in my heart and singing
To this hard life as stone
We better live before we're gone.

You are my cradlesong
Soothing me as I lie down.

You are that metallic song
With fine drawing body of verses
I dare to keep you long
With those tenacious, beguiling chorus.

You are my song
I constantly reiterating
Only glancing at you
I don't need playlist on you.
Homunculus Jan 31
The temperature has been in the low single digits since the early morning hours. As I venture outside, everything is gray and lifeless. The brightest and most vibrant objects in this glum portrait of a day are the snowflakes. They dance; they flicker; they undulate, glistening midair in balletic flourishes, descending hesitantly to the ground, and then scattering back into the winds as they land. One of nature's cryptic metaphors? Perhaps, but who's to say? As my eyes take stock of the world around me, I find that I am surrounded on all sides by death and decay. Time has stripped the deciduous trees of their once vibrant autumn leaves, which have long since abandoned the branches to be raked up and wither into mulch. Juxtaposed against these, every block or so, are the evergreens, which seem at once to mock proudly their barren counterparts, and also to weep quietly in sullen isolation. The sod has become a hazy yellow which resembles straw, brittle in texture, and browning toward the roots. Within this morbid scenery, I understand that in only a few hours, I could just as easily succumb to the forces of nature which brought it about and become but another mere instance of it. A true illustration of the philosophical doctrine of sublimity. As soon as the sting of the cold makes contact with the skin, the brain kicks into survival mode. “I must escape this.” Nothing could possibly be more important. The leisure with which the homeward journey is usually pursued is completely abandoned. Only urgency remains:

        GET IN CAR
MAKE ROUNDS
STOP AT SIGN
“YOU'RE STOPPING, TOO?
        “TOO BAD; TOO SLOW;
        “TOO. *******. COLD.
        “I. GO. FIRST.

“HEATER'S NOT WORKING??!?!?!”
BANG ON DASHBOARD LIKE CHILD MID-TANTRUM
“HEATER IS WORKING?!?!?!?!”
HANDS IN FRONT OF WARM VENTS
“WINTER'S FORBIDDEN FRUIT!!!!!!!!”
“****, NOW IT'S COLD AGAIN?!?!?!
        “TURN. THE VENTS. OFF.”
“WHY EVEN HAVE A HEATER
        “IF IT ONLY WORKS FOR 30 SEC-”
WHY ARE YOU STOPPING?!?!?!
             THE ******* LIGHT IS
             GREEEEEENNNNNN!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

LOOK OVER LEFT SHOULDER
“NOPE, I'LL DIE:
“NOPE, I'LL DIE:
“NOPE, I'LL DIE:
“NOPE... WAIT, THERE'S MY IN!!!!!!
“FINALLY, A STRAIGHTAWAY!!!!!!”

“THE SNOW'S NOT STICKING,
I CAN GO FASTER THAN THIS. NO COP WOULD DARE PULL ME OVER IN THIS ****...

Well, maybe a sadomasochist on some “sir, please step out of the car” type ****, but I don't see one, anyhow.”

Okay, getting closer now. Can almost feel the loving protection of the stately brick walls, the roaring furnace, the tenacious water heater. Just another mile...
Up the hill- left turn- right turn- pull up- park. “Oh boy, here we go again”
*Rigorously examine pockets and center console to be sure nothing is accidentally left behind

Car door opens
“RUNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNN!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

­       I reach the door, shivering like a frightened Chihuahua, hands palsied with cold as I fumble desperately for my key and struggle in the darkness to find the lock. “Click” GOT IT!!!!!!! I turn the key and push the door, but experience resistance due to the towel placed underneath to prevent the draft from coming in. I heave with all my weight and the door budges as I violently stagger into my humble domicile. I make my way into my room to find my cats sleeping intently on my bed. One of them looks up at me like “What's your deal?” Oh, Dante, if only you knew.
I've been reading a lot of Pynchon lately. I like the sort of stream of consciousness prose he launches into sometimes, and decided to tinker with it in my daily writing practice.
Also...
I imported this from my word processor, and the HP algo ****** the entire original formatting up; so I hope you'll forgive some of the aesthetic deficiencies.
I froze time
Just to be with him.
Pausing chaos
Just to obtain freedom.
I can never have enough...

When he kissed me
It all stood still.
His breath
On my lips
And my heart in my throat.

I crave him
So intensely.
But this time
he would not
Accept resistance.
His patience gone
From waiting
And his hunger growing more.

My pants slipped
And
His mouth
found me.
So sweet and wet.
I lost all control.
Toes curl.
I gasp in disbelief.

I found bliss.
His skill exceeding
All expectations.
He does this so well...
My fingers
Tangle in his hair
As fireworks burst.

Time ticks away
As we lose ourselves
In eachother.
It ending with
Me on top
enjoying the view.
This lover is
Unlike any
I've ever had before...
His tenacious hands
Grasping me whole.
K Wolff Nov 2018
I heard it once, spoken, in a hushed tone-
Was I awake to hear these words?
Was i in company or was i alone,
To listen to these words in that hushed tone?

"Do not go silently into the night"

Those words ate into an innocuous soul -
From the time I was young, to the time i was old
Those words lingered with a tenacious hold

I misspent time and felt so much pain
Life felt less the blessing and more a bane
I trudged endless lonely roads
And witnessed relations form and corrode

I existed to exist - obligated to survive
No star of any story, no one to thrive
I was the one who was seen yet unseen
Just another cog functioning in a machine

My words were heard but never heard
My future as futile as my spoken word
Silence fell upon healthy ears
Silence - the one thing we all fear
Enas Sep 22
27th. August. 2014

Once, a promise..

Stronger, kinder and wiser..

A silent seeker..

Today, a creed..

Tenacious, gracious and sagest..

A singing sophist..
danna22081 Feb 11
It might be said:

Far, far, far away,
I walked with ridiculous speed,
Leaving no dutiful explanation,
I walked on, astray.
Past what were once rich, azure skies,
And placid, withering tides
I disappeared.
And nobody knows why.

Across the world exist expanses of life,
As there exist expanses of death.
Peering far up to the sky,
I certainly knew this wasn’t a lie,
For I pounded my bony fist into the dense, impenetrable layers of Earth
Awaiting a prodigious parcel
To emerge from its transpiring birth.

So I walked on,
Worried no longer,
Because I was gone, vanished, removed…
Removed from this vastly-dismissive place
Of desolate, darkened skies,
High, tenacious tides
I once called home.

When do I arrive,
Or better so,
When do I stop?
I am a coin of two sides,
And I can never choose one to hide.
I will Appreciate,
Elucidate parts of myself
Like a book which belongs to a shelf
Of life, and growth.
I stop.
She said: "I was no longer able to adapt amongst what I considered my people. So I simply decided to walk away."
Diane K Pak Nov 2018
Be still and be at peace, My Love..
Stayed Speechless, Stayed being Tenacious, and Stay the Consistency of truly who you are and above..

As, I walked into this room you’ve given it pixie dusts as if you were leaving with a gentle touch..

When your  gone and we needed to know better looking back and say she’d carries along with her scars and fought enough to get where she belongs and now we genuinely know that she isn’t as far.
speechless girl
Myra Jul 5
Why is tenacity so rare to find?
like a blood diamond in volcanic ash,
Fire needs to fuel that raging need to
Just. Hold. On.

What happened to tenacity
And the love that embodied it?
Love for one's friendship, relationship, or purpose?
The tenacity of loving endlessly and effortlessly with no strings attached?
The tenacity of holding on to weakness because weakness in and out of love
Is. Strength?

Perhaps my most favorite people are the most tenacious
I proudly show off my friends and family with tenacious hearts like the most luminescent jewels
The acquaintances that throw decades of friendships away in the name of love, power.... Image.
Their love is only embers, floating on winds that go elsewhere.
I do not intend on keeping them

Find your tenacity like a roaring lion
Find the jewels of tenacity in the ash of your hearts and
Wear them.

they never dull
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