Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
In lonely moments
I stroll the waning memories
when love pure smiled blissfully
deep within a fawning heart

a wistful melody arises untainted
like a steaming enslaved passion
                         breathlessly released

         ­                          evident
                    as the pressed and dried flowers
          cuddled between life's ardent petaled pages,
                         bookmarks of the heart

                         traces of the wild bouquets
                         that often soothingly caress’d
                         the energizing tingles  
                         inflaming a tantalizing touch

                         the yearning  empty voids
                         feverishly undressed,
                         traced in the hidden sands
                         of unexplored oceans..
                         though time and distance
make the bereft heart grow helplessly fonder,
memories fade softly as the summer breeze befalls,
                         as gentle feather’d touch
                         the evanescent sunset afterglow
                         where the earth and sky align
                         the dimming of the day

         loving can heal
the poet’s bleeding words,
loving can mend your soul ―

                         the perennial dawning of an
                         unpromised new day
                         will someday come again

        bequeathed like the bluebird’s mirthful song
to bring forth nascent wild flowers’ blossoming petals
              flourishing in the meadow of my heart

                 *Someone you used to know
© March 2017
Thank you for reading
CK Baker Mar 5
Pilsner cap switch blade
tie dye and piccolo
greasers and freaks
with platform feet
muscling in
on the bow legged hoofer
Bursey Hill Tram

Diamond tuft console
mullets n' ****
angels and saints
appropriately trimmed
as 3 mile wreaks havoc
on the nickers and
fighters of penn

Bangers and home boys
hookahs and sheiks
hostile geeks
breaking knuckles and jaws
on the caners and skinners
who are locked
and grinding the root

Desert boot foothills
boardwalk jeans
rainbows and sea fairs
and psychedelic dreams
(the platinum queens
jamming it hard
on the jade room floor)

8 tracks
and fender packs
the hottest summer days
psychedelic haze
center hall, graffiti scrawl
(sinister yet refined!)
covering the subtle
yet striking third ****

Brunswick cues
and red man chew
350 blocks
(on a solid Chevy - stock)
monkeys and beatles
and laugh in scenes
pastel dreams
from the long and coveted
velvet scroll
Robin Lemmen Jun 24
Your technicolor emotions turn into watered-down versions when the alcohol seeps into your veins. Creating watercolor paint, and with that, you craft me images of a world unframed. Sculpting beauty from hope and wonders you found on the floor.
Perspective lost to the consumption of liquid courage. Making way for actions unrestrained. A little too much. A little too lost. A little too loosely letting your tongue take charge. Amplified by longing. Tainted by the ever-growing ghost of tomorrow.
You will not remember when morning comes. The art you drew in lazy circles around my weary body. The daunting fables you wrote me into. Left to be nothing more than simple fever dreams to reminisce over.
ryn Jul 2014
Wild stallion live free
Galloping unbound
Always you flee
Never chained to your ground

Wild stallion how swiftly you fly
Over distances and plains
How courageous you try
Hide your aches and pains

Wild stallion your hooves beat the earth
With fierce determination
Let loose and be rid of your girth
Be free from trepidation

Wild stallion covet your solitude
Embrace the run in silence
Your formidable strides of fortitude
Bound forth with repentance

Wild stallion I see you there
Mane billowing as you thundered across
Grounds fly beneath you without a care
Running without remorse, gliding without loss

Wild stallion I was once like you
Soaring to the ends on unrestrained wings
A life that is now but an echo; a faint pathetic hue
A life that is now filled with broken things

Wild stallion keep on running free
Keep galloping and know no bounds
You're free, no need to flee
Outrun the chains, leave them as faint indiscernible sounds

Wild stallion how I envy you
As you canter, your coat gleam in the light
See me as you always do
Just a reflection who has ceased to fight
False Poets Aug 2014
the quality of quantity is unmerciful,
prodigious production of
wine improperly aged,
pours soiled drops
spilled without craft,
care or taste,
poured too quick to be
nothing more than
less than waste

born in reckless unrestrained
than every thought a golden gift,
bestowed upon the masses,
droppeth like the harshest hurricane rains,
gives no moisture sustenance to the world,
only floods and lays waste in dazed hazes

blesses none but the one who
cannot but cant,
measures his own demeanor in the mirror,
unsuspecting the mirror mirrors
the ides of ego,
seeds of self destruction

the throned monarch
who giveth
but does not take,
thinking the king he is,
his own best,
even better than his creator
and tho he carvo's his retno critiques
upon the brows of his subjects,
he cares not,
for it boring brings
more mastubatory page views
his addition of success,
his edition of self congratulatory
of writs and snits,
which adds up to a whole lot of

but you may put you pen down now,
for the world needs only
need one poet,
and it ain't me,
and it certainly ain't

For Crumble
Ira Desmond May 2017
We have many ideals,
but we do not seem to have idealists anymore.

We have droves of problem solvers,
but we do not seem to have solutions anymore.

We have endless media discourse,
but we do not seem to have dialogue anymore.

We have unrestrained capitalism,
but we do not seem to have money anymore.

We have innumerable drugs,
but we do not seem to have treatment anymore.

We have scores of Baby Boomers,
but we do not seem to have elders anymore.

We have unlimited vacation days,
but we do not seem to have days off anymore.

We have incalculable amounts of information,
but we do not seem to have facts anymore.

We have regular, established elections,
but we do not seem to have elected officials anymore.

We have America,
but we do not seem to have a nation anymore.
ELK Jul 2018
Everything sings of beauty
Building and swelling into something
and free
Enchanting melodies pierce the fabric of
and thought
Provoking a creation entirely new
What once was twists and morphs into
what will be
Lies built so carefully unravel
revealing the ugly
The truth that sets fire to the soul
And breaths life into the once aching
-Esther L. Krenzin-
SassyJ Aug 2018
The world revolves and I can't hold it’s pace
neither roll around the unending cycles
may be it is the grey hues polluting my growth
or this age that is fiercely catching up with me

The sun rises and there I lay watching it rays
numbed, unwanted, determined and yet focused
such days I just wish for a lover's touch
I long for that unending lullaby uncorrupt

Sometimes the silence in the pain cascades
It trickles in droplets settling on the morning dew
and I wish to follow its pace, lay in the calm want
be carefree and unrestrained from emotions

I wish I could feel the rhythm of another heart
declare the green sheen of the unfolding leaves
as we lay counting the stars and making starts
laughing aimlessly as the joy surfaces unearthed

But all I see is the hurt of what love bears
the ones who held my soul close are strangers
unable to feel my innate palpable rhythms
fading on and on to a distanced and unmerged shore
Lonely days
haley Jan 31
My lover's eyes glow as the morning sun-
That peaks its head above the evergreens
And yet shine on as daylight comes undone
And still, persist within my nightly dreams.

My lover's hands are delicate as snow-
That twirls onto the fields with ne’er a sound
And every bit as graceful are her toes
That bear her lovely shape across the ground

My lover's lips are red as hungry fire
That dance across my skin with every kiss
And warm my chest with unrestrained desire
That leaves me in a breathless state of bliss

But when she speaks, her lips no longer pursed
All that her beauty’s done is soon reversed.
Lucius Furius Aug 2017

"Oh, Dad," cried my son,
with the huge, unrestrained sobs of a five-year-old,
"Justin Borley knocked me down. <sob>
He kicked me <sob>
and called me a loser <sob>
because we lost the game."

"Does it hurt badly? Where does it hurt?
Let me give you a hug....
Justin Borley is a bad, mean boy.
A few children are like that....
I will speak with his parents....
You must not be; you must always be kind....
Though you can defend yourself."

"What does that mean?"

"You can knock his leg or arm if he tries to hit you....
There will be many, many other games....
Some you will lose,
but most, I think, you will win.
You will be a champion!".

"What kind of champion?"

"I don't know.... A baseball champion,
a chess champion, a chemist....
You're smart and strong.... You will be a winner!"


"Oh, Daddy," cried my daughter,
with the heartfelt sobs of a sixteen-year-old,
"I loved him so much,
I wanted him so much,
and now he's gone.
I'll never find anyone else to love;
I might as well be dead."

"My darling, you are so beautiful and smart,
so pretty and graceful and spirited....
The boys who love you will be as countless as the stars,
as many as the sands on the shores of Lake Michigan....

"You are like a cherry tree,
putting forth its first few delicate blossoms,
which have been blackened by a hard, late frost.
We are sad, but know --
we feel in our hearts --
that this strong young tree will grow,
that its blossoms and fruits will be many....

"I know it's hard for you to believe,
but you will find other boys to love --
not the same as him --
nothing is ever the same --
but, in their own ways, equally perfect."


"Oh, Dad," cried my son,
with the quiet sobs of a 33-year-old,
"Is this all there is: we're born, we live, we die;
our children are born, they live, they die....
How dispiriting, how terrifying ...
that this universe should be
devoid of meaning and empathy.
We walk on a cold treadmill,
day after day, year after year,
millennium after millennium....
Why suffer this torment?
Why not step down?
Why not just get off?"

"Some could answer with words about
a 'kind and loving God'....
I can't.

"Fifteen billion years ago, the universe grew in seconds
from a pinhead to a radius of a trillion miles.
The supernovae, nuclear furnaces, forged the elements.
One hundred thousand years ago, **** sapiens emerged
     in Africa.

“Your body is made up of those elements,
contains actual genes from that first **** sapiens....

"You say life's a torment.
Sometimes it is.
But I say
for every ounce of suffering
there is, in time,
an equal, exactly counterbalancing,
experience of joy.
You can play your part in this gigantic pageant,
this extravaganza of joy-sorrow --
or not.
But never doubt that your mother and I love you.
You can walk out into the sunlight,
you can smell the rose-blossoms, newly-opened,
you can let your finger be grabbed by the hand --
the incredibly tiny hand -- of a baby --
or not...."
Hear Lucius/Jerry read the poem: .
This poem is part of the Scraps of Faith collection of poems ( )
Graff1980 Sep 2018
A spark
heart reserved
burns for at token
it has not yet earned.

The dove
by the dust
starts at the sound
of us,
and goes
shooting up.

is the fiercest passion
unfettered by reason,
it is to live
in reactions.

I touch her skin.
My fingers gently move
across her curving collarbone.
With impassioned wit
I extoll
the virtues of
unrestrained lust.

Our thoughts burn bright
pushing us on
towards a scorching light
of devious delights.
It incites chaos
bringing destruction in its wake.

Though happiness reigns
for years and days
others feel a deep pain,
feel betrayed
or grieve the loss
of those they loved
who ran off.
Mugerwa Muzamil Mar 2018
All along my unconscious
has been consumed by your
beauty which is below
the threshold of my wakefulness

Yet I crave it

You're not of classical beauty
but such a timeless white Lily
whose pureness grasps the mind
And radiates Its light to the orbits

For its adoration, essence is not
in form but in the method
Your quirkiness captures
my infinite imagination

You keenly read the mapping
of my unrestrained tears
Your pureness lies in innocence
Mine in experience

A kind of beauty
Amy Oct 18
Exactly where i want to be.
Where your callused fingers
tracing down my spine
and teasing up again.
whispering behind me ***** things you yearn to do with me.
i begin to tremble and whimper in your arms
Excitement soaring
Our breaths become pants and ragged
We become one
both born from the same passionate fiery souls
Like wild fire
Uncontrollable, unrestrained passion surrounds us
our souls burning with deep desire
Creating our own version of heaven.
Devon Brock Oct 27
It is not inconceivable
some smeared and blind thing,
like hail or perhaps some top spun
cue ball, maybe some blunt
beaked bird wary of our passage,
or a bullying stone,
unchaperoned in a spiraling sandbox,
or a slap to the back of the head
by the swift palm of a correcting mother
for some thoughtless remark -
a child's tongue unrestrained...

A child's tongue unrestrained,
naive, precessed, tethered
and dragged, star-eyed and still
reeling because I said "hell"
in Hecht's men's department
on a Thursday, because I didn't
want peas, because I wanted
pudding and said "hell"
and she smacked me,
just stiff enough to tilt the axis,
just enough to shake loose the leaves,
freeze those vanilla puddings.
Yes, that must be the reason for winter,
the start and wobble of all things northern,
cold-shocked by the sun's glancing blows.
Dr Peter Lim Dec 2018
I thought then
at the journey's beginning
a new world was beckoning-- never knew
it would be grief and pain at the returning

for a greyer, more fragmented man
I had become--more desolate and disillusioned
there was no Arcadia but the barren wilderness there
I couldn't breathe for want of air----imprisoned

in alienated time and a landscape
never had any mortal ever imagined
the stream had turned dry, every tree had died
the faces of hills and mountains were scarred-- unrestrained

blew the recently-burnt ashes from nowhere
prolonged and hurtful they stayed in my eyes
I began with the dreams of rosy youth
returned with the death of a lost paradise
Dr Peter Lim Jan 17
The steel-clad walls of the past
have been demolished once for all
pages of old books have been torn
and thrown into the fire---this is a new dawn and call-

the self shall no longer live
in chains nor fettered by blameful time
its garden is replanted with fresh flowers
weeds have been uprooted and the future outcome

shall reward the resurrected heart
ah, how wondrous, inspiring and precious
every living moment is -- bursting with unrestrained song
every breath drawn in is a feeling miraculous

if I were destined to die on the morrow it would be
a blessing still with your every embrace and kiss
love, the taste of love and all its glorious splendour
I would have inherited for eternity--nothing else would I ever miss.
* replacing SELF
Tyler Feb 24
Lovers do come and lovers do go,
Presence be fleeting before they disappear,
Through the beats of my heart's to and fro,
And I dream dreams of Hemingway and Shakespeare.
Dreams which I find no likeness when I wake,
Dreams that are better to be forgotten for my own sake.

*** forma dilapsus amor

Indeed indeed there has been time for dreams
Dreams of the deeds and feats of you and me
Dreams of figments that tear me apart at the seams
Dreams of the fanciful and redeeming “we”
But dreams are ****** to remain mere dreams
Cursed with the promise of pyrite’s gleams

*** forma dilapsus amor

A thousand little words left unsaid,
A thousand petty fears unrestrained,
That coalesce into a half empty bed,
Which may leave while I stay chained.
Dreaming of faceless figures; whoever they may be,
I do not think that they may dream of me.

*** forma dilapsus amor

They surely dream of such pretty things
Of love and fate; not lust and chance  
Of handsome men and diamond rings
Of futures past our temporary dalliance
Never turning to any thought of me
Fantastical loves but never one given in reality

*** forma dilapsus amor

Tired lines are painted across my forehead,
Tattoos fade to grey, losing shape and matter,
Body aching and waiting in a half empty bed,
Ears ringing as old dreams now collapse and shatter.
No sounds of cries nor hushed prayers
Save my own, that fill the cold desolate air.

*** forma dilapsus amor
SassyJ Nov 2018
Reality strikes like a gong
stories foretold and whispers take turns
such a wild-fire unrestrained
spreading in empty cases
across the unheard sounds
within the pressure of their minds

Sometimes, time just makes it right
and the sound of the rain
slowly sweeps the prejudiced remarks
as their gestures are suffocated
in the remnants of their insinuations
across my inhabited alacrity

In the whispers of my dreams
I felt their creeping shadows
those words filled with judgement
apprehended inside unreformed reasons
across the many eyes that I see
logged with unmovable and manic chaos
I have no time to judge or change anyone. Take off your own logs first....***
So went to a party with a onesie and slept under a table.... What’s your problem? I am not into Gucci
SassyJ Aug 2018
In dreams again we lacked the words
those that reach deep within our hearts
those that only our eyes could follow
to the gentle flowing ever-giving springs

You sat with me by the glowing sunlight
where the rays were radiant and warm
we locked in the fervour of the day
and got lost under the raging waters

I have always wanted to make you a story
where you would follow me uninhibited
as the horses gallop in the open fields
unrestrained and freed to ponder

In chaos the fire burn deep in our eyes
as we stare each other eyes trying
prying the depths of our wounded hearts
as the meaning of this frame is apparent

Come here and lay in my bed as we do
opening doors of unknown adventures
as no physical eyes would offer me more
ohh...see the nakedness of the bestowed beauty
Seriously in love with my muse, the unseen, the unknown
Vish Sep 24
these eyes have cried an ocean of tears,
this heart has endured hurt in the form of daggers and swords,
this mouth has kept an eternity of words unspoken,
these ears have heard things that can’t be forgotten,
this body has fought wars that are yet to be won
but this phoenix will rise from the ashes,
unshaken and unbroken,
like the heat of the sun that’s ever burning,
warming everything it touches,
the phoenix will be unrestrained,
and effervescent
whatever you’re going through, you will get through it
i love you
James Newman Sep 14
life is a true work of art
apart from it’s imperfections
its mystique never lessens
The touch of the wind on my skin
reminds me to search for clarity
in moment’s of uncertainty
watching sunbeams dance
around whirling leaves
clouds floating like unrestrained dreams
I finally come back to an time
when I wasn’t afraid to fly among them
take this paint brush named ambition
and create new canvas titled redemption
life is an work of art, absurd and abstract
but we can only see the beauty of it
in light of that fact.
tell me what you think
D Letwixt Oct 2018
Like stones at the bottom of a river
Black and molded by the running water

The stones cannot understand the great undulating liquid above them
Crashing and pounding against the bank

Soon that powerful unrestrained energy settles to a languid flow
Tapering off slowly
Until the river dries
And the stones crack in the hot sun.
Next page