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Jasleen kalra Mar 2018
And if you are to love,
Love as the moon loves.
It doesn't steal the night,
It only unveils the beauty of the dark.

And if you are to love,
Love as the rain loves.
It doesn't wet the bodies,
It only washes the sad dirt of the souls.

And if you are to love,
Love as the wind loves.
It doesn't drift away,
It only cleanse you to the core by invading through each pore.

And if you are to love,
Love as the sun loves.
It doesn't radiates heat,
It only pours its warmth on you to enlighten your way.

And if you are to love,
Love as the star loves.
It doesn't delightfully twinkles,
It only reminds you that not even death can separate two hearts.

And so forth,
if you are to love
Love as the whole universe
& not just a part of it.
Addie Oct 2012
The darkness is lightened
By the stars in the sky
And I am not frightened
With you by my side

You hold my hand
As we lie in the grass
We talk about our favorite bands
And things from our past

We discuss the earth, moon, and sun
And the origins of life
We wonder why people use guns
And why there is so much strife

You stare into my eyes
Moonlight twinkles in yours
For a moment we are hypnotized
Then the rain starts to pour

Both of us laugh
We leap off the ground
The sky shows its wrath
And you twirl me around

With your hands on my waist
We enjoy the refreshing shower
I can feel our hearts race
And the world feels like ours
kt Aug 2014
Twinkle twinkle
Star above
Your star shined so brightly
beyond and above

Twinkle twinkle
Star above
I've never seen such glitter
with such a tither.

With such great beauty
above this beauty

One day your here
The next your there.

Twinkle twinkle
You sneeky star
I seen you move!
I seen you move!
With such great speed!
l seen you move!

Awe you where just a satalite?
Or maybe
just a delight!

Thanks for your twinkles!
Thanks for your lights!
Twinkles where great!
Twinkles where nice!
kt
zebra Dec 2018
come here with the jackknife
and see what I'm made of

i'm **** candy she said
taffy and blood
a steaming deli
doomed chicken of the sea
doll parts, splayed pomegranates
femurs left in a ******; wish bones
eviscerations to admire
peaches and cream sprinkles
skin like cold grey soap

barbed wire ******'s
spin like a toilet flushing
in spirographic squiggles
at the museum of modern art

video girl
video girl
video girl
like
butter flies flutter bye

dead movie star dancing
a matinee cyclops

everybody wants a glitter ****

shes a incandescent candy store
take a piece
take home in little bite size chunks
in a heart shaped pink box leaking red meat
enshrined crucifix; kosher

god is whatever is in your heart

i pray to modernism
to be saved
by *** death and resurrection
and a bigger ****
impregnation ghoul
like a solar ******* hero
*** heroine

a Bedouin and a Jew ******* each other off
in a New York City
Holiday Inn
while the Kabbalah and Koran read each other

I packed the suit case
with a yellow mucous colored rubber tube,
a razor and stockings
I don't know what ill do with it,
but ill think of something

God spins death
so why cant you; or are you to good for that
albeit a narrow construction
to carve my fate in such short order

ill get into my short short funeral skirt
and girly bobbles
ill go up and down on you like a yoyo

sea Venus foaming *******
til you flip me over
like a deli sandwich
and cut me in two
with a splatter of ketchup
on the blue plate special
while a huddling sabbath of *******,
in extra ******
groan like Pisgah turned to mulch
writing indigo shards suicide note
ending in
i don't mind
and precise instructions

please chew slowly
while I **** on your teeth
stuck rot
still kissing you
better bring a napkin and floss

you know I would get hot,
seeing my one way ticket next to your return one

wish we could
**** candy
pastel chew
blood bubblegum
melts in my mouth like
hissing fruity drops looping
that go down like squid
clawing its way back up
half chewed with that hurt look

you wont need a head stone
your feet will look good sticking out of the ground
with anklets
except upside down
your funeral; a foot kissing ritual
religion; follow dead feet, to paradise

head down
*** up
you know
the position of power

your the new aeon
grave stone arches with toe ring twinkles
rectitude striving
hot head buried in dirt
antagonizing worms
because your too hot to chew

a zombie ******
velvet tabernacle
smooth leg art
and pretty pointy toes
ascending
where glitter lights shine
pickle brine
green
in a
Promethean ******* ballet
phantasmagorias dark embrace

this is no ordinary love
dialog of paraphilias
surreal horror subversive
a poem about the non-rational sacred
untethered poetry
song of a shattered world


Across the spectrum of religious experiences—from the archaic and chthonic experience of sacred power to organized religion—surrealism arises in that elusive threshold between the sacred and the profane, between the illuminations and of everyday life and the more formal expressions of the sacred. The mysterious, contradictory nature of this liminal zone is embodied in surrealist literature and art: matter becomes metaphor; the ordinary object becomes extraordinary; and images evoke emotional disturbance and ambiguity rather than specific ideas. The ambivalent force of the surreal resists conventional rational categories of intellectual discourse. Behind its elusive potency of mood and charged associations lie the fundamental ambivalence and non rational power of the sacred.
—Celia Rabinovitch, Surrealism and the Sacred
“I cannot but remember such things were,
  And were most dear to me.”
  ‘Macbeth’

  [”That were most precious to me.”
  ‘Macbeth’, act iv, sc. 3.]


When slow Disease, with all her host of Pains,
Chills the warm tide, which flows along the veins;
When Health, affrighted, spreads her rosy wing,
And flies with every changing gale of spring;
Not to the aching frame alone confin’d,
Unyielding pangs assail the drooping mind:
What grisly forms, the spectre-train of woe,
Bid shuddering Nature shrink beneath the blow,
With Resignation wage relentless strife,
While Hope retires appall’d, and clings to life.
Yet less the pang when, through the tedious hour,
Remembrance sheds around her genial power,
Calls back the vanish’d days to rapture given,
When Love was bliss, and Beauty form’d our heaven;
Or, dear to youth, pourtrays each childish scene,
Those fairy bowers, where all in turn have been.
As when, through clouds that pour the summer storm,
The orb of day unveils his distant form,
Gilds with faint beams the crystal dews of rain
And dimly twinkles o’er the watery plain;
Thus, while the future dark and cheerless gleams,
The Sun of Memory, glowing through my dreams,
Though sunk the radiance of his former blaze,
To scenes far distant points his paler rays,
Still rules my senses with unbounded sway,
The past confounding with the present day.

Oft does my heart indulge the rising thought,
Which still recurs, unlook’d for and unsought;
My soul to Fancy’s fond suggestion yields,
And roams romantic o’er her airy fields.
Scenes of my youth, develop’d, crowd to view,
To which I long have bade a last adieu!
Seats of delight, inspiring youthful themes;
Friends lost to me, for aye, except in dreams;
Some, who in marble prematurely sleep,
Whose forms I now remember, but to weep;
Some, who yet urge the same scholastic course
Of early science, future fame the source;
Who, still contending in the studious race,
In quick rotation, fill the senior place!
These, with a thousand visions, now unite,
To dazzle, though they please, my aching sight.

IDA! blest spot, where Science holds her reign,
How joyous, once, I join’d thy youthful train!
Bright, in idea, gleams thy lofty spire,
Again, I mingle with thy playful quire;
Our tricks of mischief, every childish game,
Unchang’d by time or distance, seem the same;
Through winding paths, along the glade I trace
The social smile of every welcome face;
My wonted haunts, my scenes of joy or woe,
Each early boyish friend, or youthful foe,
Our feuds dissolv’d, but not my friendship past,—
I bless the former, and forgive the last.
Hours of my youth! when, nurtur’d in my breast,
To Love a stranger, Friendship made me blest,—
Friendship, the dear peculiar bond of youth,
When every artless ***** throbs with truth;
Untaught by worldly wisdom how to feign,
And check each impulse with prudential rein;
When, all we feel, our honest souls disclose,
In love to friends, in open hate to foes;
No varnish’d tales the lips of youth repeat,
No dear-bought knowledge purchased by deceit;
Hypocrisy, the gift of lengthen’d years,
Matured by age, the garb of Prudence wears:
When, now, the Boy is ripen’d into Man,
His careful Sire chalks forth some wary plan;
Instructs his Son from Candour’s path to shrink,
Smoothly to speak, and cautiously to think;
Still to assent, and never to deny—
A patron’s praise can well reward the lie:
And who, when Fortune’s warning voice is heard,
Would lose his opening prospects for a word?
Although, against that word, his heart rebel,
And Truth, indignant, all his ***** swell.

  Away with themes like this! not mine the task,
From flattering friends to tear the hateful mask;
Let keener bards delight in Satire’s sting,
My Fancy soars not on Detraction’s wing:
Once, and but once, she aim’d a deadly blow,
To hurl Defiance on a secret Foe;
But when that foe, from feeling or from shame,
The cause unknown, yet still to me the same,
Warn’d by some friendly hint, perchance, retir’d,
With this submission all her rage expired.
From dreaded pangs that feeble Foe to save,
She hush’d her young resentment, and forgave.
Or, if my Muse a Pedant’s portrait drew,
POMPOSUS’ virtues are but known to few:
I never fear’d the young usurper’s nod,
And he who wields must, sometimes, feel the rod.
If since on Granta’s failings, known to all
Who share the converse of a college hall,
She sometimes trifled in a lighter strain,
’Tis past, and thus she will not sin again:
Soon must her early song for ever cease,
And, all may rail, when I shall rest in peace.

  Here, first remember’d be the joyous band,
Who hail’d me chief, obedient to command;
Who join’d with me, in every boyish sport,
Their first adviser, and their last resort;
Nor shrunk beneath the upstart pedant’s frown,
Or all the sable glories of his gown;
Who, thus, transplanted from his father’s school,
Unfit to govern, ignorant of rule—
Succeeded him, whom all unite to praise,
The dear preceptor of my early days,
PROBUS, the pride of science, and the boast—
To IDA now, alas! for ever lost!
With him, for years, we search’d the classic page,
And fear’d the Master, though we lov’d the Sage:
Retir’d at last, his small yet peaceful seat
From learning’s labour is the blest retreat.
POMPOSUS fills his magisterial chair;
POMPOSUS governs,—but, my Muse, forbear:
Contempt, in silence, be the pedant’s lot,
His name and precepts be alike forgot;
No more his mention shall my verse degrade,—
To him my tribute is already paid.

  High, through those elms with hoary branches crown’d
Fair IDA’S bower adorns the landscape round;
There Science, from her favour’d seat, surveys
The vale where rural Nature claims her praise;
To her awhile resigns her youthful train,
Who move in joy, and dance along the plain;
In scatter’d groups, each favour’d haunt pursue,
Repeat old pastimes, and discover new;
Flush’d with his rays, beneath the noontide Sun,
In rival bands, between the wickets run,
Drive o’er the sward the ball with active force,
Or chase with nimble feet its rapid course.
But these with slower steps direct their way,
Where Brent’s cool waves in limpid currents stray,
While yonder few search out some green retreat,
And arbours shade them from the summer heat:
Others, again, a pert and lively crew,
Some rough and thoughtless stranger plac’d in view,
With frolic quaint their antic jests expose,
And tease the grumbling rustic as he goes;
Nor rest with this, but many a passing fray
Tradition treasures for a future day:
“’Twas here the gather’d swains for vengeance fought,
And here we earn’d the conquest dearly bought:
Here have we fled before superior might,
And here renew’d the wild tumultuous fight.”
While thus our souls with early passions swell,
In lingering tones resounds the distant bell;
Th’ allotted hour of daily sport is o’er,
And Learning beckons from her temple’s door.
No splendid tablets grace her simple hall,
But ruder records fill the dusky wall:
There, deeply carv’d, behold! each Tyro’s name
Secures its owner’s academic fame;
Here mingling view the names of Sire and Son,
The one long grav’d, the other just begun:
These shall survive alike when Son and Sire,
Beneath one common stroke of fate expire;
Perhaps, their last memorial these alone,
Denied, in death, a monumental stone,
Whilst to the gale in mournful cadence wave
The sighing weeds, that hide their nameless grave.
And, here, my name, and many an early friend’s,
Along the wall in lengthen’d line extends.
Though, still, our deeds amuse the youthful race,
Who tread our steps, and fill our former place,
Who young obeyed their lords in silent awe,
Whose nod commanded, and whose voice was law;
And now, in turn, possess the reins of power,
To rule, the little Tyrants of an hour;
Though sometimes, with the Tales of ancient day,
They pass the dreary Winter’s eve away;
“And, thus, our former rulers stemm’d the tide,
And, thus, they dealt the combat, side by side;
Just in this place, the mouldering walls they scaled,
Nor bolts, nor bars, against their strength avail’d;
Here PROBUS came, the rising fray to quell,
And, here, he falter’d forth his last farewell;
And, here, one night abroad they dared to roam,
While bold POMPOSUS bravely staid at home;”
While thus they speak, the hour must soon arrive,
When names of these, like ours, alone survive:
Yet a few years, one general wreck will whelm
The faint remembrance of our fairy realm.

  Dear honest race! though now we meet no more,
One last long look on what we were before—
Our first kind greetings, and our last adieu—
Drew tears from eyes unus’d to weep with you.
Through splendid circles, Fashion’s gaudy world,
Where Folly’s glaring standard waves unfurl’d,
I plung’d to drown in noise my fond regret,
And all I sought or hop’d was to forget:
Vain wish! if, chance, some well-remember’d face,
Some old companion of my early race,
Advanc’d to claim his friend with honest joy,
My eyes, my heart, proclaim’d me still a boy;
The glittering scene, the fluttering groups around,
Were quite forgotten when my friend was found;
The smiles of Beauty, (for, alas! I’ve known
What ’tis to bend before Love’s mighty throne;)
The smiles of Beauty, though those smiles were dear,
Could hardly charm me, when that friend was near:
My thoughts bewilder’d in the fond surprise,
The woods of IDA danc’d before my eyes;
I saw the sprightly wand’rers pour along,
I saw, and join’d again the joyous throng;
Panting, again I trac’d her lofty grove,
And Friendship’s feelings triumph’d over Love.

  Yet, why should I alone with such delight
Retrace the circuit of my former flight?
Is there no cause beyond the common claim,
Endear’d to all in childhood’s very name?
Ah! sure some stronger impulse vibrates here,
Which whispers friendship will be doubly dear
To one, who thus for kindred hearts must roam,
And seek abroad, the love denied at home.
Those hearts, dear IDA, have I found in thee,
A home, a world, a paradise to me.
Stern Death forbade my orphan youth to share
The tender guidance of a Father’s care;
Can Rank, or e’en a Guardian’s name supply
The love, which glistens in a Father’s eye?
For this, can Wealth, or Title’s sound atone,
Made, by a Parent’s early loss, my own?
What Brother springs a Brother’s love to seek?
What Sister’s gentle kiss has prest my cheek?
For me, how dull the vacant moments rise,
To no fond ***** link’d by kindred ties!
Oft, in the progress of some fleeting dream,
Fraternal smiles, collected round me seem;
While still the visions to my heart are prest,
The voice of Love will murmur in my rest:
I hear—I wake—and in the sound rejoice!
I hear again,—but, ah! no Brother’s voice.
A Hermit, ’midst of crowds, I fain must stray
Alone, though thousand pilgrims fill the way;
While these a thousand kindred wreaths entwine,
I cannot call one single blossom mine:
What then remains? in solitude to groan,
To mix in friendship, or to sigh alone?
Thus, must I cling to some endearing hand,
And none more dear, than IDA’S social band.

  Alonzo! best and dearest of my friends,
Thy name ennobles him, who thus commends:
From this fond tribute thou canst gain no praise;
The praise is his, who now that tribute pays.
Oh! in the promise of thy early youth,
If Hope anticipate the words of Truth!
Some loftier bard shall sing thy glorious name,
To build his own, upon thy deathless fame:
Friend of my heart, and foremost of the list
Of those with whom I lived supremely blest;
Oft have we drain’d the font of ancient lore,
Though drinking deeply, thirsting still the more;
Yet, when Confinement’s lingering hour was done,
Our sports, our studies, and our souls were one:
Together we impell’d the flying ball,
Together waited in our tutor’s hall;
Together join’d in cricket’s manly toil,
Or shar’d the produce of the river’s spoil;
Or plunging from the green declining shore,
Our pliant limbs the buoyant billows bore:
In every element, unchang’d, the same,
All, all that brothers should be, but the name.

  Nor, yet, are you forgot, my jocund Boy!
DAVUS, the harbinger of childish joy;
For ever foremost in the ranks of fun,
The laughing herald of the harmless pun;
Yet, with a breast of such materials made,
Anxious to please, of pleasing half afraid;
Candid and liberal, with a heart of steel
In Danger’s path, though not untaught to feel.
Still, I remember, in the factious strife,
The rustic’s musket aim’d against my life:
High pois’d in air the massy weapon hung,
A cry of horror burst from every tongue:
Whilst I, in combat with another foe,
Fought on, unconscious of th’ impending blow;
Your arm, brave Boy, arrested his career—
Forward you sprung, insensible to fear;
Disarm’d, and baffled by your conquering hand,
The grovelling Savage roll’d upon the sand:
An act like this, can simple thanks repay?
Or all the labours of a grateful lay?
Oh no! whene’er my breast forgets the deed,
That instant, DAVUS, it deserves to bleed.

  LYCUS! on me thy claims are justly great:
Thy milder virtues could my Muse relate,
To thee, alone, unrivall’d, would belong
The feeble efforts of my lengthen’d song.
Well canst thou boast, to lead in senates fit,
A Spartan firmness, with Athenian wit:
Though yet, in embryo, these perfections shine,
LYCUS! thy father’s fame will soon be thine.
Where Learning nurtures the superior mind,
What may we hope, from genius thus refin’d;
When Time, at length, matures thy growing years,
How wilt thou tower, above thy fellow peers!
Prudence and sense, a spirit bold and free,
With Honour’s soul, united beam in thee.

Shall fair EURYALUS, pass by unsung?
From ancient lineage, not unworthy, sprung:
What, though one sad dissension bade us part,
That name is yet embalm’d within my heart,
Yet, at the mention, does that heart rebound,
And palpitate, responsive to the sound;
Envy dissolved our ties, and not our will:
We once were friends,—I’ll think, we are so still.
A form unmatch’d in Nature’s partial mould,
A heart untainted, we, in thee, behold:
Yet, not the Senate’s thunder thou shall wield,
Nor seek for glory, in the tented field:
To minds of ruder texture, these be given—
Thy soul shall nearer soar its native heaven.
Haply, in polish’d courts might be thy seat,
But, that thy tongue could never forge deceit:
The courtier’s supple bow, and sneering smile,
The flow of compliment, the slippery wile,
Would make that breast, with indignation, burn,
And, all the glittering snares, to tempt thee, spurn.
Domestic happiness will stamp thy fate;
Sacred to love, unclouded e’er by hate;
The world admire thee, and thy friends adore;—
Ambition’s slave, alone, would toil for more.

  Now last, but nearest, of the social band,
See honest, open, generous CLEON stand;
With scarce one speck, to cloud the pleasing scene,
No vice degrades that purest soul serene.
On the same day, our studious race begun,
On the same day, our studious race was run;
Thus, side by side, we pass’d our first career,
Thus, side by side, we strove for many a year:
At last, concluded our scholastic life,
We neither conquer’d in the classic strife:
As Speakers, each supports an equal name,
And crowds allow to both a partial fame:
To soothe a youthful Rival’s early pride,
Though Cleon’s candour would the palm divide,
Yet Candour’s self compels me now to own,
Justice awards it to my Friend alone.

  Oh! Friends regretted, Scenes for ever dear,
Remembrance hails you with her warmest tear!
Drooping, she bends o’er pensive Fancy’s urn,
To trace the hours, which never can return;
Yet, with the retrospection loves to dwell,
And soothe the sorrows of her last farewell!
Yet greets the triumph of my boyish mind,
As infant laurels round my head were twin’d;
When PROBUS’ praise repaid my lyric song,
Or plac’d me higher in the studious throng;
Or when my first harangue receiv’d applause,
His sage instruction the primeval cause,
What gratitude, to him, my soul possest,
While hope of dawning honours fill’d my breast!
For all my humble fame, to him alone,
The praise is due, who made that fame my own.
Oh! could I soar above these feeble lays,
These young effusions of my early days,
To him my Muse her noblest strain would give,
The song might perish, but the theme might live.
Yet, why for him the needless verse essay?
His honour’d name requires no vain display:
By every son of grateful IDA blest,
It finds an ech
Kaloseira Nov 2014
Before I sleep, I glimpse at my star.

It twinkles under where my lashes are.

Only to whisper about who you are.

“He’s just a friend my dear” said the star.
Moons fall,
Eggshell snow,
Blurred illumination,
Dreary lights,
Twinkles disintegrate,
Blazed sparks fade,
Faint complexion,
Awkward tree,
Ornament shadows,
Fuses burn out,
Connection lost,
Spirit dies out,
Yuletide lie,
Imperfection.

My eyes are dark as Halloween night.

Suns shine,
White angel,
Luminous site,
Multicolored pigments,
Rosy cheeks glow,
Rays seep through,
Vivid hue,
Elegant she,
Majestic gleams,
Beams strike around,
Fascination found,
Neon dyes around,
Joyful cry,
Pulchritude.

Her eyes are bright as Christmas morning.
Adellebee Aug 2015
Spiny jellyfish
Tucked in her curves
Twinkles her tentacles
At the sun
Rising with the waves
That make her go every which way
To the east or to the west
She just goes with the flow
Letting the current pull her through
The oceans pressure and blow holes
Spineless jellyfish
Drifts through the waters,
To the left and to the right
And floats with the waves
In an endless sea of time
I cried as I saw pimples in her dimples
Encycling her two cheeks like ripples
She was the one that got all my respect
To her I gave my time, no day of neglect
She was always having my annual rose
And her smile, my only efficient dose

I wept as I saw pimples in her dimples
As big as the size of Alaboyun's *******
She was a blend of white-blue always
And tarried for common, countless days
In the earliest moments of our fight
My emotional cord was tough and tight

I cried as I saw pimples in her dimples
For no more were those fresh apples
Those fruity, pleasant things she faked
As if there was no debris to be raked
She was always appearing ten-over-ten
And no signs of going from men to men

I wept as I saw pimples in her dimples
For I taught we'd be best among couples
The soft fingers of her green flowers
Captivated me every twenty-four hours
Then the flowers had music and mellow
Their nectars today are in sweet sorrow

I cried as I saw pimples in her dimples
Encycling her two cheeks like ripples
Her folks called me a playing tool
And her best friend, a funny fool
I danced through her demanding soul
I almost got crippled by its ***-hole

Now I cried as I saw those two dimples
Molested by her open, plenty pimples
If I knew she went after many men
I would have left her there and then
Had I known she nurtured many wrinkles
I'd have gone before an eye twinkles.
This poem explains what you notice when a so-called well-behaved lover turns out to be an unscrupulous, wayward individual. Invariably, he or she must have been skillfully pretentious from the outset. #Pretence, #Immorality
SassyJ Mar 2016
Your stars glimmers
Belching, wrenching
Exposing my ethnic aura
A tape of heavenly bliss

The acoustic rhythm
Essentially subliminal
Satiably insatiable
Tracked traces covered

Your tree branching out
Railing through my bark
My bosoms blossoming
Tip-toe to my bareness

Your entirely arousing
A summation of beauty
A firefly to enlighten
Encased within to liven

A body I hold twinkles
Whistle magnetic presence
Sprinkle my mind to entwine
Assign your soul peacefully

A might, a light at sight
A whole in me,a one in you
Pluck, nip,smash,trap,stash
In dreamscapes and reality
Barry Comer Dec 2012
We turn around

and find  pinholes,

water streams of light,

from stars

who swallowed

and took our lives.



With sounds of snorts

and whiskered,

bully throats.



Whose heart

am I searching,

in this season of

hello goodbyes?



We look

upon them long

into night,

such twinkles,

of stars

that stole our loves -

their sweet

tender smiles.



Give back our dreamers.



Lend to us more - for years

into years.



2012 Barry Comer
petalsofhope Nov 2013
skies darker than midnight
eyes wider than owl
freshened grasses beneath us
splattered stars above us
let's gaze up
help them find their way to each other
link those twinkles into constellations
our fingers intertwined
as thoughts wander about
green pupils unseen

we're no longer nocturnal
feeling productive at 4am
Left Foot Poet Jun 2014
some times I believe,
not think,
but believe,
that there are indeed little figures in the grass,
brushing my ankles with tickles and laughs

sometimes in mid of velvet black,
can see them waving their six fingered hands
in front of the lights across the bay,
for the twinkles are different, their winkles,
semaphoric, euphoric, random but patterned

every know and every then,
could they be inside me,
inciting riots, sugar sharp pains,
in places where pain has no place purposed,
feel them lifting my-back-of-the-neck hairs,
at scary movies, making an ear itchy, why?

these elusives
are fairie godmothers,
personal angels,
hobgoblins,
shoulder sitters,
amusing muses
ear whisperers,
of new poem titles

sock stealers,
shoelace knoters,
giggling self-amusers,
ever present, ever invisible,
hat hiders, wet spot slider installers

you say you know them too?

cousins perhaps, for my elusives,
could not be here and there,
for they are:

as I write,
as I speak,
this very second
fluttering my eyelids,
those rascals,
to lay me down to sleep,
in cherishing tenderness me to keep
for they know too well,
sleep,
is an elusive of a different kind,
like peace of mind,
but they do their best,
to distract me unto rest
June 2014
SG Holter May 2015
Take pride.
Pride in the way your eyes
Shine with the
Light of your natural
Selflessness.

I saw what you
Did. How you left your
Own needs for
Later; feeding, lifting,
Holding others.

Take pride.
Within you dwell the
Twinkles; sparks; starlike
Glimmers that render
Unimaginable the

Act of taking
Two legs from
A beast and
Name it
Human.
Nylee Nov 2018
It is seasonal
limited time period
Your smile, his frown
My car, her scar
A small episode by far.


Tiny twinkles
Cloudy atmosphere
Pull push
Open and close the door
Then sit on the floor.


Tired
And rest
Blooming rose
And the bleeding thorns
Leaving the pieces torn.


All it begins
And ends
We live and die
Nothing remains
No entertainment.


Replaced fractions
Divided notions
Agreed and discarded
Lies filled in truth
Because life gives no proof.


Ten steps, eleven jumps
Crawling there
After a huge fall
In between few moments
A sad sentiment.


A vacant headspace
It came and went away
Nothing stays
Good bad ugly
All too early
A thought left
Distant.


Rough days
Cold nights
replaces warmth
tight shoulders
Stiff movements
Aching muscles.


The bitter taste
Sweetened in spring
And the autumn leaves
Winter is coming
The ages pass
Just like that
.
Ross Smyth Apr 2014
Nature is an orchestra
For everyone to enjoy
The leaves falling in time,
conducting the whistle
of the wind. Branches
groan a deep bass,
Birds peep high melodies
And the water twinkles till the end
Nature is a orchestra
For everyone to enjoy
Crystal Erickson Dec 2014
Alone I sigh, alone I cry
Alone my lonely feelings fly
And so I chose to be lonely no longer
When the winter wind blows chill my veins
I will no longer feel the pain
Shadows come and steal away
The breath I breathe in the light of day
I step through my window clear
The eyes that haven't shed a tear
Into my world I retreat
To the safety I create
The gentle breeze blows butterflies
Carrying the swallows song neatly to my ears
The fawn walks slowly at my side
Through the pink dreamscape of the cherry trees
The blossoms smile at me now and
bend their kiss to brush my cheek
The sun so warm and beautiful
Embraces me so tenderly
I find a place where I may rest
and ease my troubled heart
The velvet clover springs about
and cherry blossom confetti showers me
sparkles twinkles all around
If only I could stay right here
not face the world without
but I must open my eyes once more
and force them through this drought
I am strong, or am I weak?
The answer lies in me
As for you...
I'll just simply have to wait and see


© Crystal Erickson   4/25/08
Whenever I am sad or lonely or upset I delve into a fantasy world I create. A beautiful wondrous place of magic and emotion.  I try to record my images in writing since I can never take anyone there. If I had a shred of artistic talent I would paint my dreamscapes for all to enjoy.  I can not paint however so I try to write them down.
Im happy like a raindbow
which ends with a *** of gold
Im greatful like a raindbow
which is glad its colourfull
Im laughing like a rainbow
which is happy
Im joyful like a rainbow
having fun like the clouds
Im cheerfull like a rainbow
which twinkles in the sky
Im incredible like a rainbow
which lights up te sky
Im loving like a rainbow
which males your day
Im nice like a rainbow
because in a sight of happyness
Autumn Shayse Nov 2012
There are those that shine;
To a particular person,
A beacon of light in a sea of darkened faces.

Those shining ones:
Beautiful,
Vivacious,
perfect?
An idealistic attraction

But, spare a thought,
For those who do not shine:
But instead,
Merely glimmer,
flicker,
perhaps even twinkle

Why is it, they are brushed aside?
Forgotten,
Because they aren't as beautiful, vivacious,
They're not perfect.

In attempt to reach the one that shines -
We push past endless possibilities,
Countless glimmers,
Ceaseless flickers,
Abundant twinkles.
erm yeah,  being second best ***** and I wanted to try and explain that
mk Feb 2016
i always thought stars were meant to be
the biggest and the brightest
but my eyes have opened and i'm seeing now
all sorts of new shapes and sizes
the round ones and the tall ones
the ones with color and those who are pale
stars seem to be around me
stars seem to be everywhere
the night sky it covers up
the stars that hide in the corners
but every now and then their light shines through
and shine the way for you
millions of miles their twinkles fly
through and through the darkest sky
they find a little place in your heart
and remind you of all the little stars
lurking in the shadows
making their own little life
they're no less than the others,
they've got their own shine
they dance and they play
and they cherish the day
they learn and they grow,
always eager to know
the star isn't determined by how big it's size
the star isn't limited to the twinkle in it's eyes

a star is a star
no matter how tiny
a star is a star
no matter how shiny
a star is a star
because it believes
a star is a star
because it tries to succeed
in its own simple way
making a difference
one moment; then the next
*you are a star
don't you forget
written for someone very close to my heart: you'll always be my star
~ dad said she'd be famous ~

"...a doctor
or diva
like lena horne,"
he said

he'd been doing odd day jobs
and driving cabs deep into the night
through  these mean city streets
since ella's debut
at the apollo

and his smile
grew wider than
jackie o's
reservoir in central park
when this bouncing baby girl
made her grand debut
into his world

the dimples on her
cherub caramel cheeks
were irresistibly pinchable

and those twinkling eyes
knew she'd be spoiled infinitely
like a fruit-fly in a box
of rotten apples

~ reality check ~

....if you look closely
you might still see one dimple;
but the twinkles departed
back in '75

....and the burns
on her fingertips
and blistered lips

....and the bones....
jutting  like the bones
of refugees and anorexics

....missing flesh

...and the tracks
on her forearms
and filthy jeans

.....and the eyes....
shifting like the eyes
of senators and thieves

....telling lies

.....and the rotting corpse
in a black garbage bag
in fresh kills

multiple choices removed
from the doctor
and diva of daddy's dreams

hijacked by dream-killers:
smack
      crack
  and addiction


~ P (Pablo)
(8/1/2013)
She's lace and confetti
With stars in her twinkles
A bright morning sunlight
Where smiling nose wrinkles
Perpetually moving
A bird and a flower
Now growing, now stretching
With all of her power
A tomboy, a lady
Whom nobody heckles
Until someone mentions
Those cute little freckles
She lives in her world
The star playing softball
At times sharing secrets
With kitty and her doll
But few in this world
Can know her so well
As I, sworn to secret
By her radiant spell
She's sometimes the thief
Just playing her part
Unknowing, each day
She steals in my heart
So one day tomorrow
Like roses, will bloom
With joy and with sorrow
Will leave with her groom
But come that tomorrow
Whenever it may
Forever in my heart
Forever she'll stay.

J. Sandy
me gs Nov 2013
I've learned a lot of things in my 16 years
I've learned quadratic equations,
Parts of speech,
Ohm's Law

But I've also learned
That patience is key,
It's the little things that matter,
And that you should stop and smell the roses

But none of that compares to these things:
Nothing shines quite as bright as your eyes,
Nothing twinkles as much as your smile,
And nothing,
Nothing
Hurts as much as not having you

Considering how smart I am,
I'm pretty stupid, huh?

me.gs
Sum It Aug 2014
I have seen the night
I have seen the day
I have seen butterflies over flowers
for nectars and for pollens
I have seen fireflies over moon
for heaven and for solace
But I have never seen this
what I see today
Candles and Sunflowers

I am in a field of green
over a top of hill, lovely
under the black with twinkles,
now and then.
and there are candles all around
and there are sunflowers
dancing and swaying with mountain breezes
and I am here, not astonished at all
I smile at everything
because the candle burns all my existence
and my memories sway slowly
memories of time when I have been sunflower
and i forgot sun would come back
but my desperation told me candles can do better
and I was not wrong
No sun can replace the candle
That have ignited and waxed my love
I do not desire sun any more
When you are here
bluestarfall Jan 2015
She is the lady on the road.

She is a mother, a sister, a colleague, a bird, a lassie, a damsel.
She is the lady on the road.

She spreads love and enriches kindness in the society,
She is the crux of an organization, and the fundamental principles.
She is the lady on the road.

She twinkles with the stars and shimmers with the moon,
She scampers with her pets and hops like a frog,
She is not a nomad, but a faithful keeper.
She is the lady on the road.

She wears short skirts,
She wears tight tops,
She doesn't encourage the flirts,
She neither abominates the leering of cops.
She is the lady on the road.

She holds a honourable reputation,
She forms the base of ethical standards,
She buries the grudges and resolves the dissension,
She consolidates herself and maintains her fettle,
She is the epitome of cheerful disposition.
She is the lady on the road.

She ignores the catcalls,
She endures the torture and prevails her morale,
She is a monument unshakable, and a stone unbreakable,
She dumps her burdens and enlightens her destiny,
She protects her dignity and negotiates with denunciation,
She does no harm, but deals with it.
She is the lady on the road, ..the seventh wonder of the world.
The women of a country are the colors of your flag.
Jonny Angel Jan 2014
We just woke up
near a river in Winnipeg.
I swear
she's following me in my dreams,
she knows I'm a sinner.

We locked ourselves
in suspended animation,
me on top,
strictly missionary,
kissing her like no tomorrow,
fully engaged in her **** spirit.

She is definitely God's creation,
his alignment of the planets
allowed us to circumvent
the natural order.

I attacked her from every angle,
the sound of her moistness
& our glorious movements
were louder than
the gurgling waters
outside our tent.

It seemed like hours,
but in a matter of minutes,
our dams burst
in an explosion
unrivaled in this hemisphere.

I have no fear of ghosts now,
her stunning apparition
can awaken me anytime
to break me, to feel
my warm waters flow.

Lord knows she's listening
from the stars above,
twinkling her magic
& receiving cascading
pleasure from me.
H J St Jul 2012
What am I thinking about on these hot summer days
besides your cool, coy, cheerful gaze.
Oh, I'm moving forward but still pondering on
of your sparkle in the distant northwest horizon.
I'm thinking of those twinkles in your smile
that travel 1000s of fiber optic online miles.

I'm saddened to read your goodbye... and see you go
You, and your online profile... that is... this thoughtfulbeau.
I'll miss your Hi!, Hey!, Yah!, Yeah!... and your full smile
your patience for my replies... and willingness to stay online awhile.
I'll miss your  attempts to banter... and our brief chats
your witty answers... and allergic opinion about cats.

Sigh. . . .
With your goodbye and turning off the dating light
I could choose to wallow in my own spite.
I feel the loss but not rejected or hurt
I'm filled with positive regard and a connective comfort.
Such as nectar turns into honey by a bee...
you sweetened my besotted feelings into endearing bounty.
So it feels right
knowing your heart
has found its light.

A local love
who hears your voice
respects your choice
and hopefully fits
like a warm glove.

So keep your lights bright
to keep each other warm
through the cool and comforting
Portland nights.

Peace out... ;o)
Written and posted in 2012 w/ a 2018 grammar edit.
Aditya Shankar Feb 2014
I sit down in front of this piece of paper, pen in hand, the wind through my hair and a single dim light’s reflection in my glasses. I close my eyes, tired of repeatedly trying and failing to write an article. I wearily rub my eyelids and sit still for a while.
And that’s when I see him.

He stands against the backdrop of a waterfall, the green grass gently caressing his bare feet as he walks slowly towards the calm, turquoise lake. A sudden whiff of tulips assails my sense of smell as he walks into the water, his composed steps mirroring the complacence of the cool blue he walks into. He wades in till he is waist deep; birds chirp in the distance, trees sway in the wind and everything the sunlight touches melts into a golden brilliance.

As he walks in, ripples branch out from his torso, tattooing themselves upon the surface of the water. They move forward with him, each with a colour that merges into a thousand new hues as two of them meet. I stand there watching in stupefaction; he does not acknowledge my presence as he continues to walk forward, his eyes fixed upon the blue-gold sky over us.

All of a sudden, he climbs out of the lake and begins to hurriedly hunt around, muttering to himself
‘It has to be here somewhere.’ He darts off between the trees, with the raw agility of a young impala. As he continues to fly over the many shrubs and roots in his way, I chase behind him panting and puffing as the entire forest falls behind in a blur of green and brown. And then we hear it, the scream tears through the woods and the sky explodes into a whirlpool of colour; he turns back and looks at me, his eyes wide with horror and disbelief. I skid to a halt before him and I realize that we had reached the outcrop of a cliff. I turn to him, my back to the massive drop from the bluff, a quizzical look in my eyes as I find myself unable to articulate the words in my mind. He puts his hands on my shoulders, the fear etched deep in his wide eyes. And he pushes me off the cliff.

The air whistles past my ears as I fall to the ground; it seems like an eternity has passed before I finally rest my head on the hard ground beneath me. Every bone in my body feels like I have walked headfirst into a moving train, I gingerly raise myself off the cold floor to see him standing over me. He raises a finger to his lips, signalling me to follow him. We walk forward cautiously, the fear of an unknown disturbance still hanging heavy over us. We walk through an open field of wild grass, the pale silver stalks dancing in the breeze as the moonlight lit up our path. He doesn’t say anything to me; I walk alongside his shadow as his shadow. We come to a clearing with a single tree standing proud in the middle of a vast expanse of nothing. He gestures to the tree, we make our way there with haste. I walk into the cool shade of a massive oak and collapse under its mighty protection. He walks around the tree and returns with a figure in his arms. Next to my tired form he lays her down, a look of gentle calm upon his hard features. The moonlight dances upon her face and her shallow breath rattles through the night. Her stormy grey eyes lie wide open as she continues to struggle against an unknown force so as to keep breathing. He stands at a distance, silently watching the two of us on the ground; one battling for her life and the other silent and still like the great oak tree above us. Her lips part slightly, a single droplet of light rises upwards into his palm and she falls into a silent stupor. He gazes at the pinpoint of white in his hand, bringing it slowly to his mouth. I watch on as he proceeds to swallow it, confused about the events transpiring before my eyes. He throws his head back and looks up to the pitch black sky and a million tiny lights wink back at him in response. His eyes open wide, his jaw falls low and a burst of brilliant white light breaks through his tall, proud form. I see the mouth move, I hear him speak a few moments later. The voice rings loud in my ears, resonating from everywhere and nowhere and he says to me, “The path you seek is straight ahead. Do not deviate from the road and you should be fine.”

My head falls back against the firm bark of the oak as I witness my guide disappear into thin air with no evidence of him ever having existed. My eyes close of their own will and I embrace the comforting darkness of slumber enveloping my mind.

My eyes fly awake as a sharp ray of light dispels my drowsiness. I wake up to find myself looking towards a convoluted, winding path leading into the woods. Against my will, I find myself rising and walking down the dusty road. I try to hum to myself, no sound greets me. I try to dart into the woods, but something brings me back to the same path no matter which direction I turn. The sun beats down hard upon my head, and in the distance I hear the faraway call of an eagle. Resigned to my current fate, I walk forward taking in all that I see around me. The sunlight dances between the shadows of the twisted trees, the brown floor beneath my feet gradually begins to evolve into a lush green lawn and the air I take deep, calm breaths of is painted with the scent of rain. I brush aside a shrub and stop in my tracks as I take in the view before me.

I stand before an ocean. The sand twinkles against my eyes, giving me a psychedelic glimpse of a million pinpoints of colour every time I blink. The tide rolls against the shore lazily as the sunlight bounces off the surface of the water. The sky lies mirrored before my feet and my toes play with the fine grains as I walk onto the beach. I sit against the onslaught of the slow tide and feel the refreshing spray of water upon my tired form. The sun begins to drop gently from the sky, retiring to his home beneath the vast expanse of water. I watch the sunset, I watch as the sky is painted by the whims and fancies of the final rays of sunlight as they herald the appearance of a single crescent sliver of silver hanging delicately in the sky, casting a dim white light on me. An ethereal breeze gushes past me, and I find myself obsessed by an urge to enter the water. I stand up, the waves breaking around my ankles as I walk into the water with an oddly familiar slow, composed gait. I walk forward calmly, the waves breaking against my torso as I begin to feel the ground sink below me. I let the ocean cradle me; I surrender myself to the mercy of the sea as she carries me in her lap. All emotion begins to wash away from me; I do not feel the familiar wave of fear as wave after wave crashes over my head, pushing me down beneath the surface of the water. I feel no panic as I take in the water in deep gulps, I feel nothing but a calm of certainty as I feel the ocean filling up my lungs. I smile and close my eyes as I begin to plummet down under depths. I embrace the vast nothingness that spreads out before me and fall unconscious.

A blinding pain flashes behind my eyes, as I gasp and sputter to find myself on a jet black rock, sprawled out like an empty carcass. I look around, unable to find my bearings, and my eyes fall upon a massive, emerald green pillar. It stands on the shore, firm and unmoving even as the ocean tries desperately to push it off its pedestal. I lift myself off the rock with difficulty and force my sore feet to stumble towards the pillar. I fall at its base, every bone in my body feeling like a deadweight. I rest my head against my arm, panting and coughing when I feel a hand upon my shoulder. I look up to see a small boy smiling down at me with an odd benevolence, the light of ages of wisdom alive in his eyes. He puts his hand to the pillar, and I watch in awe as it begins to crumble to a vibrant green ash. I look at him in plain bewilderment, and though he chuckles silently, I hear his deep, rumbling voice in my head. “You have nothing to fear from me, I am merely here to deliver to you what you have been looking for all this time.” I hear his voice tell me. He walks over to the shimmering green pile of dust and pulls out a piece of paper. He places his hand on my head, clasps the paper in my hand and smiles. I see his small head throw my face into shadow as he blocks the sunlight falling on my face, and I sit still, relishing the cool shade.

I open my eyes in front of this piece of paper, pen in hand, the wind through my hair and a single dim light’s reflection in my glasses. And on the paper, I see this article.
Well, this is my first post here. And I know that its "Hello POETRY" and this is not a poem, but whatever floats my boat, right? :P
Marie-Chantal Oct 2014
It's an animal beastly thing wrapped up warm in stigmas headlines daydreams sleepdreams ice cream headspin. pain.
Sirens call in my upper chest or my abdomen, maybe. a ****** sea. fish of mens' hooks eels and seaweed wound around aorta blood pumping mind squeezing toes cracking new blister dried fluid. cracks and flakes a flushing cycle, not over the **** yet.
salty eyes heavy chest silver parcels unending quest not shiny particles. Head spin crack of dawn hey look the moon is gone. observed the craters they were my neighbours a hole in my heart like the one......
Don't play mean i try and try green bean carrot pencil brush pen, still here? Run! too hard. Curdling scream turns sour on my tastebuds my tongue has been dissatisfied. Add it to the list! lately I know these things should not have been acknowledged. Bed. No. Kitchen work? Yes. Hurts me through and through and I know it's because it is me and it cannot be handled but it settled in the pit of my stomach and it made itself a happy home. I HATE IT.

BLOOD:
juice
gore
cruor
claret
hemoglobin
sanguine fluid
clot
plasma
vital fluid


why would I ever use blood?

Porous salt bruises help mind chooses slugs and moths but i want insects like ladybird bees. Keep me weak and feed me lies because not once did you see me you only looked right past me. how does it feel, little peach, to be dishing out bowls of dinky lies. i ate it you were trusted you were good there's just so many people coming.

when the moon rises and the sky twinkles lights about you its easy to be sad but its time for you to *blossom
A total stream of consciousness. It is utterly lacking in another y structure or logical punctuation/capitalisation. I'd love to hear some feedback
Pepper Dove May 2017
Abused
by the torturous Suns heat
That beats
and burns
my fragile bare feet
Short distance, now miles to come
with dried up lungs
from unforgiving Sun
Twinkles of first starlight,
a warning to hide
for cowerdly Sun,
the Moon is to arise
Wrapping its blanket of energy
gently around what yearns
for the nocturnal healer
to soothe Earth from it's burns
murari sinha Sep 2010

observing the ardent eagerness of the wind
it is clearly understood
that nascent pollens are overflowing
the niche of her heart  

in response to the signals of the river
she keeps on ringing
all long the month of earth-quakes

the bench of the rail-station
wants to hug her

the medicine-counter of the ***-end of the day
beckons her with the hand to come nearer

in the assembly-hall for musical demonstration
adorned with ash-trays
going on the rehearsal of her dancing and singing

she also distributes some life
to the meticulous dressing
of the magnolia

2.
let the swimming pool be fully absorbed  
with its dark-room

when the feather of your fore-finger
becomes green

the merchant of venice
will leave his business of photo-coping machine
to start walking directly
in search of new earnings

evening sets in
on the boiler of the delta

putting on yellow-dress comes
the water-vessel of the paper-balloon

there is no singing bird
shivering with cold
in the fold of the dear bed-sheet  

it is possible that the boldness of the metro-railway
may give some wood of tamarisk
on the expanded palms  

yet oh the western page of night
do tell today
why so much tamed polythene
are here in our cohabitation

3.
after so many days
published in the wind
painted in wings
the recent heart’s desire
of the doors and windows

they have rolled up their fairy-tales
from the ignorant drawing-room that wanted
to set her mind to the hill slanting downward

they did not want to know
how much rheumatism is there
in the hands and legs of the bark
to whom is delegated
the control of the mason-made bus-journey

sleep hugs the eye-lids of the rivers

though there is no postage-stamp
within the reaching-point

then what magic is there
in the hill slanting downward

why the wall does not learn
how to swim like a fish

truly it is he from whom
those negligible moments of man-ism
itch for blue candle-stand

4.
the ***-appeal of the telephone
and the bugle of the carnies-breaking ****-crows
are all harmonised seamlessly

the noon in the blood
is flowing along the river

all the dialogues are covered
with misspelling of men and women

the tailors want to increase life
cutting rightly the walking of clothes

after the vanishing of collyrium
from the eyes
there is not a single being
in the relief-camps

as far as the eyes can travel
i can notice in the ear-lob of the village-boats
the water-colour of fire-flies
twinkles

then let an agreement be signed
with the defence ministry
on the right
to enter into private bathroom

5.
in the air
on which flowers are engraved
the union of the betel leaves are making their outposts
anew

before the calling of the next pine-woods
you all the butterflies do take on board the tram
to go to the south-pole

is it well to incline so much
towards the tv-screen

who can say
the waves of the terracotta
would never make revolution

i’ve sent some full-moons of winter
and some water-bodies
into the holes of the handkerchief

the lacking of the colours
may kindly be excused

the birds that are blind from their birth
has been singing till now
the songs of the cave-civilisation

there is no question any where
this eclipsed-valley is adorned
with the answers only

6.
i am to be blown off on the first bombardment
then it is to be flown
in the crowd of  fire-flies
on the bushes of the scented-lemons

and it is to see the memory race of the grown-up girls

it is to see more
that after the opening of the sluice gates
one by one  
how the gathering in the hindu hotels
increases
by leaps and bounds

the pores of the skin of the body
whose hoods are open
and who are running up
along the spiral route
that leads to the top of the mountain

their child
due to late-marriage
now only knows
how to move on all fours

7.
under the table-glass
i  unfold the life-chronicle of one lakh year

and in the olive-cabinet
all the applications for living

from the monsoon-noon to the winter-afternoon
the lines you draw on the parchment

none of them is so condensed
as to touch the palms of a sailor  

from the numerable timber-joists
come down the swarms of personal white ants

no spring seems to become corporeal
without the spell of misunderstandings  

so of late
besides the dry statistics
with the cough
comes out grey thermometer

prickly-heats spread over the whole body  

the sticks of young antenna
shake off their wings

behind the bath-scene
lies the succulent hailstorm

8.
there is no lovely add
yet the market-value of your headache
is going up day by day

all the noon send her mad
the intellectual kisses
the coos

or is it the running about of the tennis-ball

so much pop-corns are flying out
from the draw-well

or that sound of foot-steps
in the north-east

may be
that is of some brown horses
or some horse-drawn perambulators

when the moon spreads out the platinum
does it judge the recipients

thus the bin-leaves can ring
from head to foot

it unfurls an incorrigible right-angle
in the early-evening

the troop with armours
open a shop of ******
beside the vainglory of the lake
In summer's heat and mid-time of the day
To rest my limbs upon a bed I lay,
One window shut, the other open stood,
Which gave such light, as twinkles in a wood,
Like twilight glimpse at setting of the sun,
Or night being past, and yet not day begun.
Such light to shamefast maidens must be shown,
Where they must sport, and seem to be unknown.
Then came Corinna in a long loose gown,
Her white neck hid with tresses hanging down:
Resembling fair Semiramis going to bed
Or Layis of a thousand wooers sped.
I snatched her gown, being thin, the harm was small,
Yet strived she to be covered there withal.
And striving thus as one that would be chaste,
Betrayed herself, and yeilded at the last.
Stark naked as she stood before mine eye,
Not one wen in her body could I spy.
What arms and shoulders did I touch and see,
How apt her ******* were to be pressed by me.
How smooth a belly under her waist saw I?
How large a leg, and what a ***** thigh?
To leave the rest, all liked me passing well,
I clinged her naked body, down she fell,
Judge you the rest, being tired she bade me kiss,
Jove sent me more such afternoons as this.
Nishu Mathur Sep 2016
Yoke smiles
And twinkles from the eyes
Blend them together
Whisk, whisk, whisk
Till it all bubbles to
A perfect frothy fluffiness -

Heat some love
And tender words
Add fruit of human kindness
Mix, mix, mix
Some rinds of laughter
Blend it all well, in folds

Cup this
Into lightly buttered hands
Of giving

Then warm the heart
And put it in to bake

See happiness rise to a perfect gold

A simple recipe - the soufflé of life

Crisp outside
Molten and soft happiness within
ioan pearce Mar 2010
the thief entered the window
then filled his pants with poo
voice came from the darkness
" twinkles watching you"

panic in his viens
unsure what to do
yet again the warning words
" twinkle's watching you"

trembling hand that shone a torch
then sighed with much relief
the parrot in a corner said....
" hello, my name is kieth"

what silly ******* named you that?
the robber mocked the bird
kieth the talking parrot?
the daftest thing i've heard

"the same man with a rottwweiler"
"that bit off someones nose"
"he's very good at creeping"
" his name is twinkle toes"
Tru Baker Apr 2013
You
You are like a hot cup of coffee on December mornings.
An ice-cold shower in the middle of july.
You are rain tapping out secret messages on my window, whispering untold stories of our future on an island not known to man.
I am going to love you as fiercely as ocean winds that rip through the clouds like tigers' teeth and bear claws.
Like wolves making midnight wishes on amber moons that resonate across the sky that twinkles like movie-star smiles and shake every last tree in the forest.
Lost for words Sep 2010
Your sunlight wakes me with a gentle glow
Lifting me from the sleep below
Your omnipresent blue twinkles serenely
While your beauty overwhelms obscenely
Each street a new promise of adventures new
And distant islands known to few
Your water so powerful cleanses all
Sweeping under bridges so tall
The mystery of your Eastern delight
Keeps me with you every night
Smoky, silky, rich and heady
Always waiting, always ready
I rely on you to lift my frown
And you have never let me down
Cacophany of noise, your urban voice
Embodied by life and love and choice
Towers on which a thousand summers have shone
Here long  before me and long after I've gone
Five times a day you sing out your chorus
Reminder I share you with each grubby tourist
But underneath this ancient dome
I know you are mine; my City, my home
O pleasant eventide!
    Clouds on the western side
Grow gray and grayer, hiding the warm sun:
The bees and birds, their happy labors done,
    Seek their close nests and bide.

    Screened in the leafy wood
    The stock-doves sit and brood:
The very squirrel leaps from bough to bough
But lazily; pauses; and settles now
    Where once he stored his food.

    One by one the flowers close,
    Lily and dewy rose
Shutting their tender petals from the moon:
The grasshoppers are still; but not so soon
    Are still the noisy crows.

    The dormouse squats and eats
    Choice little dainty bits
Beneath the spreading roots of a broad lime;
Nibbling his fill he stops from time to time
    And listens where he sits.

    From far the lowings come
    Of cattle driven home:
From farther still the wind brings fitfully
The vast continual murmur of the sea,
    Now loud, now almost dumb.

    The gnats whirl in the air,
    The evening gnats; and there
The owl opes broad his eyes and wings to sail
For prey; the bat wakes; and the shell-less snail
    Comes forth, clammy and bare.

    Hark! that's the nightingale,
    Telling the self-same tale
Her song told when this ancient earth was young:
So echoes answered when her song was sung
    In the first wooded vale.

    We call it love and pain
    The passion of her strain;
And yet we little understand or know:
Why should it not be rather joy that so
    Throbs in each throbbing vein?

    In separate herds the deer
    Lie; here the bucks, and here
The does, and by its mother sleeps the fawn:
Through all the hours of night until the dawn
    They sleep, forgetting fear.

    The hare sleeps where it lies,
    With wary half-closed eyes;
The **** has ceased to crow, the hen to cluck:
Only the fox is out, some heedless duck
    Or chicken to surprise.

    Remote, each single star
    Comes out, till there they are
All shining brightly: how the dews fall damp!
While close at hand the glow-worm lights her lamp
    Or twinkles from afar.

    But evening now is done
    As much as if the sun
Day-giving had arisen in the east:
For night has come; and the great calm has ceased,
    The quiet sands have run.
When the warm sun, that brings
Seed-time and harvest, has returned again,
’Tis sweet to visit the still wood, where springs
      The first flower of the plain.

      I love the season well,
When forest glades are teeming with bright forms,
Nor dark and many-folded clouds foretell
      The coming-on of storms.

      From the earth’s loosened mould
The sapling draws its sustenance, and thrives;
Though stricken to the heart with winter’s cold,
      The drooping tree revives.

      The softly-warbled song
Comes from the pleasant woods, and colored wings
Glance quick in the bright sun, that moves along
      The forest openings.

      When the bright sunset fills
The silver woods with light, the green ***** throws
Its shadows in the hollows of the hills,
      And wide the upland glows.

      And when the eve is born,
In the blue lake the sky, o’er-reaching far,
Is hollowed out, and the moon dips her horn,
      And twinkles many a star.

      Inverted in the tide,
Stand the gray rocks, and trembling shadows throw,
And the fair trees look over, side by side,
      And see themselves below.

      Sweet April!—many a thought
Is wedded unto thee, as hearts are wed;
Nor shall they fail, till, to its autumn brought,
      Life’s golden fruit is shed.
Morgan Ella Jan 2011
Once upon a midnight, dreary,

Top Hattie twinkles, lipstick smeary,

...spinning girls like Mischief Managed all glittery on the ball room floor,

I was taken, most completely.

...Batting lashes indiscreetly.

D'lilac lips that pouted sweetly, a Circus Girl that knew the score.

I pinched myself, could i be dreaming?

Of this Nymph, this Empress gleaming?

was her Diva charm misleading? Shoe Addicted Troubadour.

A Siren in Styletto thrilled me,

Abracadabra wish fulfilled me,

......Medusa eyes that drew, yet stilled me- Retro-Futuristic roar.

Like an Airborn Unicorn descending,

advanced upon me unpretending.

my heart of Dragon Scales extending for this Cupcake Thief I'd cover for.

"Mirror Mirror" she whispered, smirking.

Countessa Fluorescent had caught me lurking,

and sent my Great Pink Planet jerking, Cosmopopping, Centrifuchia war.

My Beautiful Rocket was set to swinging,

No She Didn't hear the ringing

in my ears the Twilight singing, to the Limest Criminal on the floor.

— The End —