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Shofi Ahmed Dec 2018
My narrow cave is zero colour
a thousand winds that blow over
only blow away kohls yet to see an eye.

The sunrise beams out in the morning's hush
as do the sun basks in the swift uplifting rush.
Ah, only to miss out again like yesterday,
there was a cave it tried to highlight.

Then lost me in the dark finds a Moon
heavily tilted yet over a shady turf.
Every star eying upon it knows that
tomorrow again this will host the sunrise!
Shofi Ahmed May 2017
Art, a smile like the one
on the face of Mona Lisa.
Curved like the waxing moon
above the sea.
Light a flame before a face
yet to be seen.
What will it prevail,
will it show once for all
a slow tilt on the smiling lips
—a curve softly locks on
a rose from the sun,
or a shadow beneath the moon?
This is a poem from my book Zero and One available on Amazon.
Kateasz Oct 2018
In the blackness that surrounds us
There is nothing but the soft tapping of leftover rain
Rain that blurs the concept of an outside world
And trickles down my spine
Before settling in the pit of my stomach
Soft and dispersed yellow light
Brightens us enough for me to see your profile
There is a dance of our eyeline
When I look at you
You look away
You look at me
I look away
I cup the most vulnerable parts of myself
In my hands like a baby bird
Here. Take a look.
And peer up to meet your eyes through a half curtain of hair  
But you don't push me away
Until beams of light ******* our bubble
And reality seeps back in
I wonder how long we would've been there
If it didn't
But it did
So I stand up
And my legs protest beneath me
I pray you can't see the earthquake you caused
I am intoxicated by your presence
And the world begins to tilt
Pyrrha Jul 2018
I find it strange that when I look into your eyes I'm not met with an endless starry sky
The world around me doesn't freeze or turn monochrome around everyone but you
I don't see an endless sea or visions of a setting sun, no matter my determination
So how do I know it is love if it isn't as the words I've heard all my life describe?

Yet my heart still drops when you walk into the room, even when your focus is a place far off
People say it's like a flutter but this is far too heavy to use such a light word to describe such a feeling
It's painful, but I know it isn't something ominous or bad because it feels right
How do I know it is love if none if my words describe it right as they should?

I get it every time our eyes meet or you tilt your head and smile with your head in the clouds
I get it when you laugh to yourself or say something hardly above a whisper
When you focus so hard you ***** up and let out that silly sigh of aggravation and I feel such deep affection
Yet is it alright for me to say what I feel is love when I can't even tell myself what love is?

I don't think your eyes need starry skies or my stomach needs a million butterflies
Your smile doesn't need to illuminate the room and my thoughts for you don't need an anchor
Your love shouldn't have an expectation and my words don't need to have a proper diction

Perhaps I'll see it in your heart or feel it in your touch one day if you feel the same
Regardless what the world has sold me with their modern day poetry
I promise you that no matter how hopeless I become I will find out for myself
What it means to love you wholly even if I have to find out from loving at a distance
I don't understand why I write so many poems about love when I am not even in love. It is so frustrating to have words without a muse and a muse without words.
King Panda Jun 2017
I could not accept you—star
incarnate, carved and swollen
in the trunk of a fustic—

*****-yellowed and preened—risen
and alive I strap my
saddle to your back. My heels
dig to the dark side of

a price yet to be paid—an eye
of a coursing, being scrubbed
into the spots of grain—heat
eaten by earth. Star set.
Star rise.
Star be

livid and leaven


whispers the cowboy
sitting in a lawn chair on the
front porch—his hat falling
off from crowning, bald-headed

tilt. space and all its wonders.
The flowers tilt and twist their heads
to gaze upon the Sun -
but shy,
she hides behind the occasional cloud.
Wade Redfearn Jul 2018
It isn't like that.
It isn't a left turn too early,
a lark awake at night,
thick brown light in an open field;
unpredictable: a bad or counter-miracle.
It is only wanton.

You know how it is
Suddenly, something trapped between your toes:
the world has a strangled voice, it is
unroofed. You want the comfort of normal walls,
normal light, normal noise; in your hand
is a hot brand you'd halfway use
to smith it back together
and halfway swallow.
I had different plans for this vacation
than destruction.

I had plans. You had plans. The earth
planned its axial tilt; the weather planned
its burning; we put aside too little water.
A few plants were familiar -
pinon pine I remembered from the placard
that explained its yen for standing alone.
One lonesuch tree that made a little niche
and defied anything. Now dead, too.
How we thought we could fare better, I cannot say.

Ten feet up by one hundred feet over:
one liter water per mile climbed:
fatigue, fatigue.
The quiet supremacy of all these rules for living like
transit/occultation
refraction/darkness
exertion
hunger
and the peristalsis pulling down
huge loads of sunlight
into the ***** gully
like bread and meat.

If blood I am, then what kind of blood?
Unsettled and unsettling. The circulatory system
has an apt name: sometimes I can feel yesterday's blood
in the same neurons, saying the same thing.
I have no choice but to repeat it.
Time sheds its significance.
I have no continuity:
I have rhythms.

Erosion: isn't that what made these furrows?
I beg it to unmake me
flat like a seabed and many fathoms green
where the sun will never reach me.

In the penumbra of your anger
I do not fear dying,
only dying unacquitted:
heights are all the same.
They would all break me and none would.
The grasshoppers and gecko hatchlings
all die in their way, rubbed against the hot dry dust.
Parched, I gnash my chipped stone teeth
and tongue of chaparral - I am making
a song that says
die with me
but smile at me.

Then I see it through flashes of temper,
frame by frame, like a fingertip behind a pinwheel:
a dream of something abstract that is also true.
Dreams of freedom alongside dreams of dying.
Adilson Smith Apr 2018
I once saw a ruffian young
A would be brute
At home, no doubt,
In the grubby grecian clubs
So unworthy of their legacy.

The tilt of chin, and cocksure slant of eye
Told of a life most lived
In unimpressed contempt.
But then he met his girl, and,

The crafted affect cracked like plaster;
No more the aping swagger
Nor the bumptious over pluck
Instead,

An unhid grin.
And an unhid soul.
And the rapid intuition
Peculiar to lovers.
#love
The streets are clear, we're hydrophobic
Hoods propped by hats and socks pulled high;
The rain brings peace to the agoraphobic
Puddles form moats and clouds fill the sky.

Splash, droplets hit the window,
chauffeured by the gail outside.
Squint your eyes and flash back
boats tilt starboard, with the tide.

The captain shouts to the decks, paranoid
'Clear the decks and brace for impact'
Without turbulence we are disenfranchised
Boredom becomes us when we're boring.

Shake it off and stare at the dot to dot
the residual carving of water as it slides
Another droplet falls beside it, parallel
it aligns, growling thunder overhead.

Without stirring we are robotic workforces
Without awaking we are left inside
The constructs created for us, by corporate-
conglomerate elitist-psychopaths.

Two drops of water on the window
simmer red with burning anger.
Crash lightening sears the sky
Rage becomes you, girders melt.

The starry night undercurrent, flings
us backwards, never up, as democracies
which seek to serve sink into a sea of
stocks and shares, the wall street journal

sits atop the captains lobby, economies
were meant to tumble as the working classes
fumble for bread, men in suits gaggle
and toast to the millions they left for dead.

Resistance is futile, when eighty-five
of the richest suit owners sit on currency
that was meant for the three point five
billion who aren’t driven by gluttony.
wordvango Jul 2018
the  bitter wilt on droopy petals  when yesterday
her tilt was to the sun strong as stems
could rise her sweet beauty to the skies
holding lips and arms and blossoms open
long enough for the breeze to romance
the nearest bee into a trance
is like the circle or a dance
of life that glances knowingly back
with wry amusement a sly smile glance
saying told you so  so many times
you should have known by now,
old friend of mine,
time is really nothing
but your
foe.
I'm In Team Leo Sep 2017
It is she you greet in mornings bright
Lest to you hard luck has laid favor
She who brings forth a view of new light
And lets you carry an up tilt lip
Another riddle in the form a poem! Theme: emotions.
King Panda Jan 2018
you stand
and offer

the sun
not yet risen

silver-tongued
you tilt words

into winter

you whittle
the wind

trick the sky
into death

pound my
love into stone

I scrape
my knee

and cry our
love open

to wound
and bleed

a dog attempts to
lick and heal


how could life
be this way?
OV Dec 2018
I met this strange woman
She's not my type at all
From a different world
Than the one I grew up in
And everytime she speaks
It makes me kinda tilt my head
She is like a new style of art
And I want to figure it all out
I don't know what it is about her
I just know I like her
For no particular reason
But maybe that's a good thing
In an age where appearance
Can shut all doors
look further into people than just their face and body. you might really enjoy their company if you give it a chance.
Esther Dec 2017
there are always two sides to the same story
two voices singing the same song
maybe i was never enough
maybe i was, more than enough
sometimes i wonder if you wonder the same things

have you ever had the thought of running back
to put a semi-colon instead of
a full stop to our infinite possibilities?
do you sometimes fantasize us two
lying on paper-thin ice
in Alaska
and having no fears
because i'm holding your hand?
under the green, blue, pink, purple, yellow, red
aurora borealis
and millions of stars?
have our heads tilt toward each other
at 4:09 am
in our fluffy snow jackets and boots
and lean in for a forbidden kiss
just
one
kiss
then go back and gaze at the Milky Way
with more thoughts in our minds than there are stars reflecting in our eyes
imagine a place that is ours
it's where a wise man confused reality for dreams
it's in the middle of nowhere
in our deepest fantasies
it's where we hold on to each other
and everyone else simply doesn't exist...

at 4:09 am
i wonder
if sometimes
you wonder about me too.
Sadly, fantasies aren't real. For Jason.
bulletcookie Nov 2018
standing straight at pond's edge, cattails—
brown corn dogs on ***** blonde stalks
several with cream colored bursting guts
hang below sky waiting on sail
there, a red-wing black bird clings
as Cirque du Soleil actor's acrobatic feat
trilling its own musical accompaniment

other cattails tilt triangle shapes
reflected side, angle, side complexion
over water's bottomless mirror
colored autumn, by shore's tree leaves,
mallard ducks, and brooding clouds
while black headed chickadees splash out
ripples of Impressionist pigments weave

-cec
Daisy Marrow Nov 2014
I can't forget it.
I promise that I have done everything to try.
But these memories continue to cloud my mind.
The air has never
been this cold.
All my youth has disappeared
and grown old.
All the flowers I planted have died,
and the birds sound the same,
and the stars have lost all their shine.

I can't help it if I don't know how to reach out for help.
I have always preferred the pleasure of isolation,
But this silence is torturous,
And now this crowded room I created is nothing but empty space.
All this past hope is disintegrating.
I use to hold my dreams close to my heart,
But now it's drowned out by all the tears I always held back.

I know I'm only an innocent.
But my body is a gun and
my body is a resting place for all medicines.
So let me tilt my head back until I lose count.
Now I fall asleep
Now all the candles are blown out.
Now I'm at peace.
Now I'm fine.
Now the only thing I suffer from is my mother's cries.

I'll wrap up my bones
And put them in His hands.
Don't worry, mom, I know the sound of my first heartbeat,
will always be engraved in you.
I know you heard angels sing my name.
They take me to a place where I am safe.
A place that is infinite.
A place in God's name.
I wrote this after finding out a former classmate from middle school of mine commited suicide.

Please enjoy life, seek help if you need it, and always seize the day because you never know what's going to happen.
Carefully careless
Said that look in her eyes.
A trail of faces, watching,
The tilt of her thighs.
She swung her arms carelessly
Movement from side to side,
Committing to careful acts
Which she could decide
Portrayed her as careless enough.

Though there were times
Late in the day,
When she would disperse
All of her charms away.
Becoming unaware of herself,
The image soon frayed.
If reasonable, she would let be.
But instead she did sway,
Carefully careless
© 2018 Columbusphere All rights reserved
Iska Sep 2018
You think that you are ****.
But my darling,
how could you  possibly know?
You can’t see what I see,
still,
how could these opinions possibly grow?
you knock the breath right out of me.
with the way the sunlight hits your eyes
And I think my heart just flutters inside.
The way you tilt your head as you laugh
and when i'm with you,
I can never tell if only seconds or infinities have past
The way your ears turn pink when embarrassed
The way you spin in that pretty pink dress
The way you hold me in your arms
And smile
As you call me your love.

And I

Can’t help

But melt
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