"topaz" poems
I do not love you as if you were salt-rose, or topaz,
or the arrow of carnations the fire shoots off.
I love you as certain dark things are to be loved,
in secret, between the shadow and the soul.
I love you as the plant that never blooms
but carries in itself the light of hidden flowers;
thanks to your love a certain solid fragrance,
risen from the earth, lives darkly in my body.
I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where.
I love you straightforwardly, without complexities or pride;
so I love you because I know no other way
than this: where I does not exist, nor you,
so close that your hand on my chest is my hand,
so close that your eyes close as I fall asleep.
827.2k
I don't love you as if you were the salt-rose, topaz
or arrow of carnations that propagate fire:
I love you as certain dark things are loved,
secretly, between the shadow and the soul.
I love you as the plant that doesn't bloom and carries
hidden within itself the light of those flowers,
and thanks to your love, darkly in my body
lives the dense fragrance that rises from the earth.
I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where,
I love you simply, without problems or pride:
I love you in this way because I don't know any other way of loving
but this, in which there is no I or you,
so intimate that your hand upon my chest is my hand,
so intimate that when I fall asleep it is your eyes that close.
49k
Day-colored wine,
night-colored wine,
wine with purple feet
or wine with topaz blood,
wine,
starry child
of earth,
wine, smooth
as a golden sword,
soft
as lascivious velvet,
wine, spiral-seashelled
and full of wonder,
amorous,
marine;
never has one goblet contained you,
one song, one man,
you are choral, gregarious,
at the least, you must be shared.
At times
you feed on mortal
memories;
your wave carries us
from tomb to tomb,
stonecutter of icy sepulchers,
and we weep
transitory tears;
your
glorious
spring dress
is different,
blood rises through the shoots,
wind incites the day,
nothing is left
of your immutable soul.
Wine
stirs the spring, happiness
bursts through the earth like a plant,
walls crumble,
and rocky cliffs,
chasms close,
as song is born.
A jug of wine, and thou beside me
in the wilderness,
sang the ancient poet.
Let the wine pitcher
add to the kiss of love its own.
My darling, suddenly
the line of your hip
becomes the brimming curve
of the wine goblet,
your breast is the grape cluster,
your ******* are the grapes,
the gleam of spirits lights your hair,
and your navel is a chaste seal
stamped on the vessel of your belly,
your love an inexhaustible
cascade of wine,
light that illuminates my senses,
the earthly splendor of life.
But you are more than love,
the fiery kiss,
the heat of fire,
more than the wine of life;
you are
the community of man,
translucency,
chorus of discipline,
abundance of flowers.
I like on the table,
when we're speaking,
the light of a bottle
of intelligent wine.
Drink it,
and remember in every
drop of gold,
in every topaz glass,
in every purple ladle,
that autumn labored
to fill the vessel with wine;
and in the ritual of his office,
let the simple man remember
to think of the soil and of his duty,
to propagate the canticle of the wine.
27.2k
The burning flowers underline the sunset and
Dash before the fire (k)night catches them.
Ripe berries cheaply
tremble
but hopefully their vitality won't burst the pulp pulsating
beneath.
Crumbling flowers
crumb the floor
And Prisms of catching silver refract rose quartz and petal
and crimson
dust.
Bejewelled in Scarlet,
the air,
as the (k)night approaches, grows colder,
Unsure of whether he will bring
solace or strife.
In his chariot
he flies faster than the bees which buzzed around the fruit flutes
in the morning and among the trumpeting bluebells.
Stars fleck the (k)night
like freckles
and the milky ways resins stain his spouting steams lovely.
The (k)nights kind onyx reaches his crescendo and the floating moon danced drowsily through the cloud's spiralled tendrils
Which diminish as dawn
approaches
so their Tentilcles
droop to crinkled tissue paper sheathed in pink.
And so the (k)night
rides on into
The frivolous sunrise.
The lowing, glossy calves
in sage beside the ***** fields
cast a beloved ambience
As though
we are safe
in the knowledge
that the sky will remain
forever
topaz and the leaves
forever emerald.
Apr 17, 2014
Apr 17, 2014 at 4:05 AM UTC
*Angel torches
filter sunlight
across a vast
horizon
of sea foam
petticoats.
Where
topaz touches
glittering
cyan
&
spirals
downwards
through the
deepest dark
blues - no body
can exist within
jewelled sapidity.
*
Sep 12, 2013
Sep 12, 2013 at 4:04 PM UTC
From blossoms
released
by the moonlight,
from an
aroma of exasperated
love,
steeped in fragrance,
yellowness
drifted from the lemon tree,
and from its planetarium
lemons descended to the earth.
Tender yield!
The coasts,
the markets glowed
with light, with
unrefined gold;
we opened
two halves
of a miracle,
congealed acid
trickled
from the hemispheres
of a star,
the most intense liqueur
of nature,
unique, vivid,
concentrated,
born of the cool, fresh
lemon,
of its fragrant house,
its acid, secret symmetry.
Knives
sliced a small
cathedral
in the lemon,
the concealed apse, opened,
revealed acid stained glass,
drops
oozed topaz,
altars,
cool architecture.
So, when you hold
the hemisphere
of a cut lemon
above your plate,
you spill
a universe of gold,
a
yellow goblet
of miracles,
a fragrant ******
of the earth's breast,
a ray of light that was made fruit,
the minute fire of a planet.
6.8k
You don't need the smoky colored quartz dangling in your hair,
Or the liquid rubies painted onto your soft lips,
Or the powdered gold dusted onto your eyelids to hide the look of pain.
You don't need the silver buttons strung up your shirt to make your aura seem pure,
Or the perfect pearls around your throat to tease and allure,
Or the obsidian skirt hugging your thighs to add the finishing touch.
You don't need the diamond blade to make you bleed imperial topaz onto your marble floor,
Or the laxatives made of howlites to cut your figure thin,
Or the breast implants made of danburites to make you seem attractive.
You are worth more than the emeralds that people compare your eyes to.
You are worth more than the sapphires that make up the water in your body.
And you are worth more than the taaffeites that compose the air you breath.
You are a perfect angel without the expensive things.
Just sing sweet lullabies of the truth and be yourself,
To ensure you live in a beautiful reality.
Mar 5, 2015
Mar 5, 2015 at 9:31 AM UTC
Parallel tremors follow your heavy footsteps through the moss that carpets a maze of tired oak. Solemn warnings calcify soft thoughts and point you at the coal on the horizon. Its splinterglow peeks hot squints through the arboreal tangle. Topaz streams convene and braid themselves around your spine. The stones in the riverbed grow smoother and each becomes a grain of sand. You let the sand console your roots as you curl your toes and fall asleep.
Mar 15, 2013
Mar 15, 2013 at 6:58 PM UTC
Scorpio ♏️
~~~~~
Scorpio needs the healing of Aquamarine
Charolite, Turquoise, Malachite or Emerald
Obsidian Black , Golden Topaz and Boji Stone
Ruby, Lapis Lazuli,Green Tourmaline,Kunzite
Peridot , Rainbow Moonstone, Rhodochrosite.
I know of Variscite Hiddenite n Apache tears.
Or Herkimer Diamond ,Hiddenite , or Variscite
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Written by Philip
December 22nd 2018.
Dec 22, 2018
Dec 22, 2018 at 2:34 AM UTC
Lay rest your flashing glaze of wishes
Down received for a moment
Breathy bow lifts to hold
and waver across few measures
Sienna and topaz
Sienna and topaz
Singe and simmer
Shine and glimmer against
All the thoughts born and dead
What makes you eager to rise
If it is not sensing gone away stories
or nursing the aches that lunge through anywhere else but here
While you replay and delay all creation
the blossoming goes unseen
She, the maiden is reigning
Une palais à remplir
Une palais à remplir
where she is her own queen
Her oceans made of no time channel open mouths
flooding its spill
She waded into The archer
Downed in his own vessel he mistook himself the pilot of
He, marooned in the surrender of damp and fertile places
where in Death he is still recovering
Soldiering and sullen
Soldiering and sullen
He is choking, and can not stop to see or savor the blossoms rising from his own till
Jan 5, 2022
Jan 5, 2022 at 9:03 PM UTC
Right now, loving you feels
the way my toes do when stepping on pebbles
(the stones they put on your back in physical therapy)
or mining ore -
supposed to be cold, but extremely hot to touch.
A copper meadow
shimmy into a tree so you can look up my dress
and catch me like gold armor when I tumble, tumble.
One defense, two defense, three defense, four
worms with spines as soft as hair
try to spindle cobwebs where we skip and hopscotch
skeletons dunk our heads in some sea
but pickaxes
make air pockets, iron is a pillow for us to sleep.
The lights cease when you leave
no longer nearby is the helmet that exudes site -
I think I could mine meteorite from your soul, there’s
only demonite in my own.
Let’s build a house with it
then wait for the bad men to leave, it is night again
perhaps they shall be burned by my evil.
Shrouded in wood, tucked into a golden chest
the walls are a deep purple
amethyst, aubergine, build our ceiling some citrine -
bunnies swallow the window frame
and I cry because somehow it is my fault,
I try to jump but I fall. And you open the door, you let
in some monsters, how I hate you for a moment.
But no bad man can get you
even ones who have skin sunken like a dead spider
pull out an archery kit
seventy-seven arrows, I put them all in hearts
leaving one special hook for you Cupid gave to me.
We make a great team
demonite meteorite silver copper topaz gold-tipped
and sterling the vultures listen in jealously
knowing this is what love can feel like right now.
May 16, 2013
May 16, 2013 at 12:17 AM UTC
223
I Came to buy a smile—today—
But just a single smile—
The smallest one upon your face
Will suit me just as well—
The one that no one else would miss
It shone so very small—
I’m pleading at the “counter”—sir—
Could you afford to sell—
I’ve Diamonds—on my fingers—
You know what Diamonds are?
I’ve Rubies—live the Evening Blood—
And Topaz—like the star!
’Twould be “a Bargain” for a Jew!
Say—may I have it—Sir?
4.3k
304
The Day came slow—till Five o’clock—
Then sprang before the Hills
Like Hindered Rubies—or the Light
A Sudden Musket—spills—
The Purple could not keep the East—
The Sunrise shook abroad
Like Breadths of Topaz—packed a Night—
The Lady just unrolled—
The Happy Winds—their Timbrels took—
The Birds—in docile Rows
Arranged themselves around their Prince
The Wind—is Prince of Those—
The Orchard sparkled like a Jew—
How mighty ’twas—to be
A Guest in this stupendous place—
The Parlor—of the Day—
4k
Sagittarius ♐️
~~~~~~~~~~
Sagittarius is so joyous and very fun loving
Amethyst,Turquoise,Lapis Lazuli n Blue Topaz
Grace her body with healing properties now.
I recommend Azurite stone, Blue lace Agate
Tourmaline pink, Malachite, n Yellow Sapphire
Topaz of white and beautiful Ruby Stones
A Zircon Crystal and Snowflake Obsidian
Rich Merlinite, Labralite ,Dioptase n Charolite
In these healing crystals wear them with faith
Understanding the powers the Universe grants
Sacred is the space that you take upon Earth.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Written by Philip.
December 23rd 2018.
Dec 22, 2018
Dec 22, 2018 at 7:52 PM UTC
Topaz dreams and fire flowers
Find their way into
Shadows and streams
In the space between
Our hearts and minds
Seams of alchemy
Blowing stars into birds
To touch our courageous
Sunlit beams
Dripping
Kissing
We
Keep
Running from our light
Praying that we’ll stay
Painting colors oh so bright
In the emotions we display
Flying
We are a painting in one another
A brush stroke full of hope
A paradox of intimately curious
Wings that have found a way to cope
Building a birdhouse home
On the backs of each other
Bones and sacred stones
A paradox of intimately curious
Wild tornadoes
Embracing
We walk in dark we walk in day
With footsteps often clumsy
And telepathy is not as easy as
Psychics will convey
Your hair is made of flowers
Or at least it seems that way
Our hearts are painted gold close to
The way the yellow birds that play
Around us when we stand
Glowing in our space
Exclusively
Beneath the tree
We made
Where Amen’s tears
The sun god
Rain
Around our love
Rushing in rushing out
Breathing in breathing out
Hold me close push me away
Both of us praying the other
One will stay
Kneeling
Pray
We are a painting in one another
A brush stroke full of hope
A paradox of intimately curious
Wings that have found a way to cope
Building a birdhouse home
On the backs of each other
Bones and sacred stones
A paradox of intimately curious
Wild tornadoes
This is our butterfly parade
© tHE tERRY tREE
Nov 22, 2014
Nov 22, 2014 at 6:44 AM UTC
And then I woke up.
I woke up one day
and everything was different,
Finally there was colour again.
-
I could see silver in the clouds,
Emerald in the grass,
Topaz painted across the mountains on the horizon.
Sapphire in the sky and obsidian amongst the stars.
I was alive again.
-
This time I'll be better,
My armour thicker,
My wits sharper,
My fists unscathed,
My tongue poisonous,
like the biblical snake upon the ear of eve.
I am born again,
I'll run each day,
Train each day.
I'll eat only the finer foods,
For nutrition and not taste.
All the while my mind will be honed, sharpened like a ****** blade.
Chemistry, biology, physics, mathematics.
I'll lay the stepping stones towards Valhalla,
My path towards the übermensch.
N.H.
Aug 4, 2013
Aug 4, 2013 at 9:55 PM UTC
The forgotten gem among the precious
Your love is too dark for a child
Also precious
Yet pure like a diamond
Diamonds are so common
Garnet, you are rich
Richer than most in quality
Perhaps a banker or lawyer would remember you
But no, sapphires are rich
Richer than dull gold, not rich enough I say
You reach new depths, Garry
Like an ocean trench filled with the remains of the unknown's lunch
Not as deep as the amethyst, apparently
That is spiritually charged and better for the soul
Your violence is a stain, but I say it is a warning
Garnish, you lack value
Topaz is the quality they seek
The eye of the sun, so bright
Too bright
The eye of Jupiter is too much, I say enough
Oh Garnet
Forget Ruby, your sister
Forget Emerald, your opposite
Forget Opal, all in one, the God of the gems
You are Alfred the Great, so great, yet forgotten
Mar 16, 2016
Mar 16, 2016 at 4:31 PM UTC
the green and waxy confusion is your cape and covering
topaz wings strum and flutter,
branches snap
beast and bug
geranium and dogwood
woodear spore and wolfsbane
flower and firm hedge
all wear goosebumps:
the whole army of generation, the waft and release
ready to conceive, to love and make root
to spill and ****
daylight, moonlight
well-fed and hungry
west and further west
a brush against your thigh flattens you
climbs your spine like a curse
robes you in purpose
to be and be alone
there you are: croucher, scuttler,
position known only to yourself
subclade of womankind
treasure in your soul
(in purses and pouches;
taking in, taking in)
it is private here and musty
you own your hands, your knees,
the dirt under them both,
the roots beneath that,
everything on the wind and below the blue sky
everything dark, and everything light:
kingdom of your own discovery
shroud and mountain and cache of mystery.
A door far away slides open
an echo of busy house, busy bones on the air.
Something in the oven.
Something in the heart.
What is the voice calling?
Who wants you home, child?
And if home is a warm meal, a bed,
a bath, a glass of milk,
a known touch,
then do you own your skin?
Aren't you small and lonely?
You are not.
Jul 28, 2018
Jul 28, 2018 at 5:05 PM UTC
Liquid eyes of topaz blue
Pierce the soul through the heavens
Leaving the heart enveloped
In joyous embrace
May 27, 2010
May 27, 2010 at 4:17 AM UTC
Your rubies lips
Your aquamarine eyes
Your topaz hair
Your diamond skin
Just you are all precious gemstone
Jun 12, 2015
Jun 12, 2015 at 12:41 PM UTC
I imagine I can write about
war—that god and man
have contrasted to the
continually shading
topaz of bodies being
crystallized.
stoic,
tangled planets overhead—
circling as my eyes
fill with infinity-pools.
your edges
fall off when I
look up into space to
see you without
seeing you.
Jul 3, 2017
Jul 3, 2017 at 2:52 PM UTC
*The passionate propensity
of waxing moons' passages,
I crave your poetry
as the air I breathe,
vital spirit aches within intention
hungering the blissed taste
of essential Neruda -
midst the significance of
rose and topaz
arrows of wildflowers,
whence your own scripted
inclinations unfurl
searing 'neath my flesh,
rendering me speechless
'tween ***** sighs
I surrender in the exhale
of a thousand blazing suns*
Jul 6, 2015
Jul 6, 2015 at 7:12 AM UTC
Today I have followed the strange Damselfly,
Down to all ponds on my father’s marshland,
Not to live the blissful Waldensianism like Thoreau,
But to come down unto discovery of wonders
Readily displayed in the ****** manners of the damselfly
Sub-dragonfly that was conveniently called damselfly,
It is dark and white in pearly texture,
Like the Palmyrene Queen dear Zenobia,
Damselfly move as a pair on every time
A female and a male like a musical duet,
The Female has a lock on the ******
As the males does; tight lock on the sheath,
Keeping safe its ***** away from robbers,
The female damselfly has key to unlock
The cryptic lock system on the ***** sheath
Of the garlanded male damsel fly,
The male damselfly too has the key
That can only unlock the cryptic lock system,
On the ****** of the female damselfly,
Their lock and key functions within,
The specific species of the damselflies,
All this evolved to block out the thieves
The predating dragonflies of other species,
Intending to steal *** with the damselfly
With no other reason but to darwinize the damselfly,
Willie Topaz Mcgonall is the damselfly with Male lock
Billie Burroughs ghost is a dragonfly minus any key
African poetry is the damselflies with female poetic lock
Both have keys on each other’s custody of culture.
Sep 24, 2014
Sep 24, 2014 at 5:33 AM UTC
.
Her fine hands gentle
With lithe and spiny fingers
Of bone and fin.
Her eyes are opal,
Essence of emerald and topaz,
A hoard of treasure.
Her hair is sea gathering
And dances in the blue currents
Deadly as the sea snake.
Her skin is coral,
Made of mineral and sorcery,
A fatal beacon.
Her lips are urchin,
Set in a whirlpool of face,
A spiral of doom.
Her voice is dream,
Rocking the lost wrecked ships,
Ground into sand.
Her long tail is fable
Of paradise, beyond faraway seas,
Cyclones and waves.
.
Apr 26, 2019
Apr 26, 2019 at 8:22 PM UTC