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"untangles" poems
Patiently he untangles the net Standing calmly Brazing the breeze On the dancing boat With an oar on its side Which is cooled by the Waters of the river.. The sun will set in an hour or so And he has to finish his catch Before the dusk And back to his hut Where his wife will Waiting eagerly To make the dinner With the fresh catch Another day Another catch The river but Remains the same Greeting the fishermen Who roam the river With their boats
0
Jul 12, 2015
Jul 12, 2015 at 1:31 PM UTC
The fisherman and his boat
i. if i could have back everything you took from me i wouldn't want it. ii. childhood wounds entangled, the little boy who loves the little girl. the silly child within me who thought you could revive her- willing to believe anything. iii. you did all you could to sink your teeth into my rotting skull, to brand your fingertips on my skin. iv. you are poisonous to all you touch, your hands rough with abuse, tongue laced with venom- every word another lie. v. i would rather die than carry your child. vi. there are now no living ties to my old life. i am not alone- i am free. vii. my new love holds my heart with utmost gentleness- hands as delicate as rain. he untangles us, strokes my hair cooks me breakfast wipes my tears viii. the little girl who you spit on lied to beat ***** silenced- she dances in the kitchen jumps on the bed paints a picture of a life unknown.
0
Aug 21, 2021
Aug 21, 2021 at 10:39 PM UTC
on taking power back
Anxiously awaiting atomic assimilation Basing me on belligerent and boorish bastardization Capsizing cargo with careful consideration as to Deciding which day is decay's destination Everyone embrace the elevated expiration Forget my face and follow fabrication Go to the gallows with grace and gravitation He will hold you and hinder alienation I, however, hold insignificance in interest Justifiable jackhammers jacking fighter jets Killing Californians who are kissing canvases Lying without laughing and lighting cigarettes My master makes me move my mundane mind Never knowing next to nothing with nothing else inside Overly offering operating override Practicing patiently pulling peoples' pride Quickly questioning quizzical quietness Rationalizing raging reinventions ridiculous Stapling this summer to my (still) sick subconscious Traveling tunnelers trading tides for tiredness Under the umbrella my undertow untangles Violently vibrating like varying violin angles Waiting with wandering whispers under the table Xylophonist x-rays, excruciating fables You yellow youngling, you who screams in my dreams Zebras zoom by every single night, it seems Let's chant my enchantments, the alliteration song! And untie your tongue So you don't take it wrong.
0
Feb 17, 2011
Feb 17, 2011 at 6:59 PM UTC
The Alliteration Song!
I get edgy sometimes- When I see knots- I freeze up. I get upset when I try to untangles them- Like earphones and other audio cords- Auxiliaries, usbs and inputs. I get frustrated- Easily with entanglement- I hate knots but. Our bodies could be a knot, that I wouldn't want to untangle.
0
May 20, 2014
May 20, 2014 at 8:16 PM UTC
We could be a knot
When she touches me, I feel her touching Herself, though she circles my shape into Oneness, I sometimes feel— detached Within those arms.                                      In her startled-fall To sleep, imperceptibly, she gathers The room from her haunting childhood.   Drawing the air and curling in waves— Her hair, as if she were weaving some kind Of shelter. When I touch her, it is with desire. My reach untangles the very dream Which took thirty five years of dull Existence to unmuddle— to imagine, My soul's other.                          Ten fingers envelop her body Like splits of lightning— rippling skyward From wholly, bone-dun-desert, floor and there, In that rose-journey of unbridled touch, The shock of thunder makes a mother Of the sky.                        When she breaks her water The blighted earth that was sung— given My name, becomes her light, awakening Child.
0
Jun 2, 2012
Jun 2, 2012 at 10:57 AM UTC
Touch
Go where the road untangles and unfurls by those cliff side views over those blue curls lit only by those high beams off those white pearls. Only sense of direction is the road ahead no going back just only forwards instead as going prevents drifting to the sea bed. The white sea foam crashes amongst the shore those high beams persist only for Salvadore the light bends around the corner then no more.
0
May 9, 2021
May 9, 2021 at 1:58 AM UTC
High Beam Daydream
When she touches me, I feel her touching Herself, though she circles my shape into Oneness, I sometimes feel— detached Within those arms.                                      In her startled-fall To sleep, imperceptibly, she gathers The room from her vexing childhood.   Drawing the air and curling in waves— My hair, as if she were weaving some kind Of shelter. When I touch her, it is with desire. My reach untangles the very dream Which took thirty five years of dull Existence to unmuddle— to imagine, My soul's other.                          Ten fingers envelop her body Like splits of lightning— rippling skyward From wholly, bone-dun-desert, floor and there, In that rose-journey of unbridled touch, The shock of thunder makes a mother Of the sky.                        When she breaks her water The blighted earth that was sung— given My name, becomes her light, awakening Child.
0
Jul 16, 2013
Jul 16, 2013 at 12:17 PM UTC
Touch
hope leaves at midnight. desire is the flickering motel lamp. a couples' laughter spills through the cracked blinds, and echoes through hidden corners in forgotten places. this mischievous guest, desire, moves into loneliness. rivers of my soul, traces of the past, the places where small joys hide. rivers of my soul, bangs on walls, untangles memories laid to rest. but laughter fills my empty spaces. love runs wild, refuses to go dark. O, river of my soul.
0
Oct 9, 2025
Oct 9, 2025 at 10:12 PM UTC
Run Wild, Run Deep
The rushing wind grabs her hair untangles the braids ribbons whirl away free to wander jerks at the leaves branches unclothed trees shiver left to face the rushing wind alone.
0
Oct 31, 2014
Oct 31, 2014 at 8:30 PM UTC
RUSHING WIND
Pay attention Hear the voices reconnect? The traffic dies down simultaneously The summer entwines and untangles The skies reach out The dandelions bloom Feel the subtle changes Purity is raining
0
Mar 29, 2012
Mar 29, 2012 at 8:25 PM UTC
Changes
(... she plays with words) ~ like wind she plays with words, shaped sand upon the beach; building castles to the sky, where tide her walls can't breach. the combinations countless, she untangles any stumbling lines; in tapestry-flowing fountains, her words to us, our sip of wine. with nary but her hands she crafts, poetry 'neath the noonday sun; ceasing not except to watch, a seabird as it tends its song. in subtleties she stirs, her adjectives like riffs; nuanced dance in every verb, a song that rises 'cross the drifts. words that rivet every reader. lines that wile a way with rhymes; stanzas frame a photograph, her free verse plays along in time. combers rendered speechless, marvel her poetic ways; high as terns can fly she reaches, as with every term she plays. her muse in song delights in ev'ry crashing wave she's heard; her phrasing light takes winged flight, like wind she plays with words. on sands that ripple 'long the shore, like conductor's arms at final score; **crescendo builds... she stands ***** then fades to black when sun has set. ~ *post script. today she was my morning muse... a delightfully brilliant poet who knows how to play with words in a most riveting way!  i only just found her beautiful.work.  please allow me to introduce you to Chelsea Rae in these lines:  http://hellopoetry.com/poem/1861530/shine-your-love/*
0
Jan 25, 2017
Jan 25, 2017 at 8:27 PM UTC
like wind
Unhinge your jaw and shut your eyes because the best things in life are simply felt, and you’ll feel it everywhere if you’re doing it right. A spark of electricity will ignite where your tongues dance and it will sizzle through your teeth and down your throat, lighting fires where you didn’t think could burn. Curl your toes and knot your fingers into her hair like it is your lifeline. Weld yourselves together, crawl into each other. Run your tongue along hers until everything tastes like ‘we’. Don’t forget to breathe; share the air until it’s gone and all you have left to survive on is each other’s souls. And whatever you do, don’t stop kissing her. If you do, your lips will lose all meaning because their only purpose now is to taste hers. Your eyes will open and the world will seem a little grayer As your soul untangles itself from hers. Your tongue will become a defibrillator, trying to revive the moment, trying to recreate the electricity only you two can make.
0
Dec 16, 2015
Dec 16, 2015 at 11:38 PM UTC
How to Kiss
the roaring wind whistles a polar me, opposing freely, a hushful respite, inside today, silent me. sitting in dreams, stuck in sleeping bags, the night before, before the morning snagged, my lucid want, my lucid haunt. outside, the wind and sun, blow fiercely through, the dead dried leaves, the dusty dung, brown, unsung, chaos flying, above the roof, around the fence, at pasture’s hooves, one last breath spent. again here lie, the dreams that drift, the dreams that die, sounding out February's cry, singing her last goodbye. while the trance settles, and untangles, and I, sitting quiet, witnessing the bendy brambles. ~Lana Maree Haas
0
Mar 6, 2016
Mar 6, 2016 at 9:13 PM UTC
The Bendy Brambles
You were once that someone Who always puts a different color to my days, Who paints a smile on my weary face, Who revives my soul with your warm touch, And untangles me from my own knots. You were once that someone Who always pulls me for a dance when I just wanted to stare, Who blossoms in winter when no one would even dare, Who hums to a sad melody and makes it just right, And fights my monsters when I would just resort to a flight. You were once that someone. Yes, you were once that only one. But where in the world are you now? Are you still in my world somehow? When the only one that saves you Leaves you battling alone and unarmed, Will you still try to fight with just a cold bare hand, Or just let go of it all, up to the very last strand? You were once that someone. How I wish you're still that only one. But what a healing heart could only do now Is to finally let go of what has come and gone.
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Dec 18, 2018
Dec 18, 2018 at 3:16 AM UTC
You Were Once That Someone
When she touches me, I feel her touching Herself, though she circles my shape into Oneness, I sometimes feel— detached Within those arms.                                      In her startled-fall To sleep, imperceptibly, she gathers The room from her vexing childhood.   Drawing the air and curling in waves— My hair, as if she were weaving some kind Of shelter. When I touch her, it is with desire. My reach untangles the very dream Which took thirty five years of dull Existence to unmuddle— to imagine, My soul's other.                          Ten fingers envelop her body Like splits of lightning— rippling skyward From wholly, bone-dun-desert, floor and there, In that rose-journey of unbridled touch, The shock of thunder makes a mother Of the sky.                        When she breaks her water The blighted earth that was sung— given My name, becomes her light, awakening Child.
0
Dec 1, 2013
Dec 1, 2013 at 6:45 PM UTC
Touch
The patter of an early evening rainstorm awakens her and she untangles her sweaty limbs from those of her lover. The sun has begun to set; the thrill of adventure calls to her once more. He begins to stir, awoken by her chaotic movements; And lazily admires her beauty as she sifts through mounds of overdue laundry, still smelling of suntan lotion and chlorine, in search of the perfect shirt. She’s late, as always, She can hear her friends are outside in the car - blasting throwbacks and spilling drinks as the laugh and scream for her to hurry. They fly through the night - windows open letting the cool breeze filter the air thick of smoke and jubilance All too eager to reach their destination; moon children growing restless under the stars. The ocean calls her home and its salty air clears her mind as flames shoot out of the fire, crackling and popping in the midnight sky. Cheers are heard as bottles are passed; pulling her head back out of the clouds. Champagne to welcome the sunrise, whiskey to bid summer adieu. Daylight begins to break - she takes one last drag of her cigarette and turns to go. He’s still sleeping when she arrives, this time she’s more careful not to wake him when she leaves. The morning dew on bare feet remind her it’s time to move on - the mountains are calling her name and to them she would roam; it was always temporary, changing with the seasons. But to him - she tasted like skittles, and she smelled like summer; one he would never forget.
0
Sep 21, 2017
Sep 21, 2017 at 4:31 AM UTC
call of the wild
The patter of an early evening rainstorm awakens her and she untangles her sweaty limbs from those of her lover. The sun has begun to set; the thrill of adventure calls to her once more. He begins to stir, awoken by her chaotic movements; And lazily admires her beauty as she sifts through mounds of overdue laundry, still smelling of suntan lotion and chlorine, in search of the perfect shirt. She’s late, as always, She can hear her friends are outside in the car - blasting throwbacks and spilling drinks as the laugh and scream for her to hurry. They fly through the night - windows open letting the cool breeze filter the air thick of smoke and jubilance All too eager to reach their destination; moon children growing restless under the stars. The ocean calls her home and its salty air clears her mind as flames shoot out of the fire, crackling and popping in the midnight sky. Cheers are heard as bottles are passed; pulling her head back out of the clouds. Champagne to welcome the sunrise, whiskey to bid summer adieu. Daylight begins to break - she takes one last drag of her cigarette and turns to go. He’s still sleeping when she arrives, this time she’s more careful not to wake him when she leaves. The morning dew on bare feet remind her it’s time to move on - the mountains are calling her name and to them she would roam; it was always temporary, changing with the seasons. But to him - she tasted like skittles, and she smelled like summer; one he would never forget.
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35
i’ve tangled with a lot of bodies after we ended. i’ve knotted myself with different hearts pretentiously knowing that this pain i’ve felt could be mended. i’ve scrambled those ties in my hands and how easy it was for me to un-knot them. one knot comes in, after a few days, weeks, or sometimes but not often, months, slowly it detangles itself and i leave untangled, unbroken, as if nothing went past these lines on my heart, my body, my lips, like it didn’t happen at all. i thought those messy tangles i put myself into would be as hard as when we had to untangle ourselves — or just me, i guess — from the oh so short but very sweet time we’ve had together. but, i was wrong. i wasn’t left untangled, i wasn’t unbroken. i still had a little not, tied in between my heart, body, and lips, which i try so hard not to notice by putting myself out there, messing my own lines up till i catch someone who ends up letting go afterwards. to you, we’ve already part ways, to me, you barely left. i wish you could untangle this knot you left. i wish you could mess with mine again, and probably leave a bigger knot — so obvious that i’d give up trying to fix it. i wish to see how your soft hands would carefully untie, over then under then pull and stretch, this knot and maybe i could finally figure out that it was so easy that i didn’t even need your help. but you’re gone. and i have to accept that. it’ll take time before this untangles by itself so i’ll just let it be for awhile. and when someone does come not only to tie their heart with mine, but also untangle what you had left behind, then i’ll be fine, and know that now’s my time.
0
Sep 8, 2018
Sep 8, 2018 at 10:36 AM UTC
knots/tangles
i’ve tangled with a lot of bodies after we ended. i’ve knotted myself with different hearts pretentiously knowing that this pain i’ve felt could be mended. i’ve scrambled those ties in my hands and how easy it was for me to un-knot them. one knot comes in, after a few days, weeks, or sometimes but not often, months, slowly it detangles itself and i leave untangled, unbroken, as if nothing went past these lines on my heart, my body, my lips, like it didn’t happen at all. i thought those messy tangles i put myself into would be as hard as when we had to untangle ourselves — or just me, i guess — from the oh so short but very sweet time we’ve had together. but, i was wrong. i wasn’t left untangled, i wasn’t unbroken. i still had a little not, tied in between my heart, body, and lips, which i try so hard not to notice by putting myself out there, messing my own lines up till i catch someone who ends up letting go afterwards. to you, we’ve already part ways, to me, you barely left. i wish you could untangle this knot you left. i wish you could mess with mine again, and probably leave a bigger knot — so obvious that i’d give up trying to fix it. i wish to see how your soft hands would carefully untie, over then under then pull and stretch, this knot and maybe i could finally figure out that it was so easy that i didn’t even need your help. but you’re gone. and i have to accept that. it’ll take time before this untangles by itself so i’ll just let it be for awhile. and when someone does come not only to tie their heart with mine, but also untangle what you had left behind, then i’ll be fine, and know that now’s my time.
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25
they clutch and roll, ignoring the sand creeping into their clothes, they kiss, full of fire, and he reaches for her pants, tugs at the waistband. envisions of a capsized ship, artefacts sinking to the bottom of the ocean, trailing an SOS of bubbles that never make it to the surface. an anchor settling into a bed of mud, tangled in seaweed. she untangles herself from him, and walks away.
0
Feb 10, 2014
Feb 10, 2014 at 8:29 PM UTC
tangled
When she touches me, I feel her touching Herself, though she circles my shape into Oneness, I sometimes feel— detached Within those arms.                                      In her startled-fall To sleep, imperceptibly, she gathers The room from her vexing childhood.   Drawing the air and curling in waves— My hair, as if she were weaving some kind Of shelter. When I touch her, it is with desire. My reach untangles the very dream Which took thirty five years of dull Existence to unmuddle— to imagine, My soul's other.                          Ten fingers envelop her body Like splits of lightning— rippling skyward From wholly, bone-dun-desert, floor and there, In that rose-journey of unbridled touch, The shock of thunder makes a mother Of the sky.                        When she breaks her water The blighted earth that was sung— given My name, becomes her light, awakening Child.
0
Sep 3, 2014
Sep 3, 2014 at 1:44 PM UTC
Touch
When she touches me, I feel her touching Herself, though she circles my shape into Oneness, I sometimes feel— detached Within those arms.                                      In her startled-fall To sleep, imperceptibly, she gathers The room from her vexing childhood.   Drawing the air and curling in waves— My hair, as if she were weaving some kind Of shelter. When I touch her, it is with desire. My reach untangles the very dream Which took thirty five years of dull Existence to unmuddle— to imagine, My soul's other.                          Ten fingers envelop her body Like splits of lightning— rippling skyward From wholly, bone-dun-desert, floor and there, In that rose-journey of unbridled touch, The shock of thunder makes a mother Of the sky.                        When she breaks her water The blighted earth that was sung— given My name, becomes her light, awakening Child.
0
Feb 20, 2015
Feb 20, 2015 at 10:30 PM UTC
Touch
we have a thing a living thing we don’t know what else to call it it’s unlike any living thing that life did ever posit it surfaced on a liquid night our heads were swimming in the stars and once back down on solid ground the thing was sleeping at our feet now it tails us everywhere hides inside a gaze feeds on time, heaving hips, musings on a page it grows; glows invisibly with each ******** sigh untangles every simple thought a human could desimplify we're told the thing is ours to keep can’t be robbed or gifted can’t be sheltered, nonetheless from hungry eyes from destiny I woke up this morning. the thing is nowhere to be found
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Oct 2, 2018
Oct 2, 2018 at 11:34 AM UTC
what a Thing
She wakes up every day with a telescopic sweater person staring at her face. The smoke filled room is foggy and reminiscent of a dreary London afternoon, Sunlight slowly filters through a screenless glass pane that lies behind the dusty wooden panels that protect her from the blinding light. The dust dances effortlessly through the streaks of filtered sun as if they were a couple which have danced this dance many times before. With a heavy thump the whimsy of dancing dust is taken away as the reality of chaos sets in. In a flurry of blond hair and the ever present feeling of fleeting time she reluctantly untangles herself from the rainbow colored cloak that protects her from the scowling faces that await beyond the fortress door. "Five more minutes." she whispered to herself in an effort to remain within silence. Entangled in her rainbow she threw her head back upon her misshapen pillow chasing the dream she will never be able to finish. The pleasant ones that whisk her away from telescopic sweater people and scowling faces. She rather dream of dancing dust.
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Feb 14, 2014
Feb 14, 2014 at 3:25 AM UTC
Dream a Little Dream
Morning rises over Philadelphia and cracks the sky; untangles legs once intertwined. Sun beams pierce through the window, Revealing two bodies withdrawn to distant sides of the hotel bed, The night spent chest to chest will forever be kept in the dark.
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Mar 26, 2015
Mar 26, 2015 at 3:17 PM UTC
Hotel beds (pt. 2)
Lesson one: give your heart to someone who gives theirs back. And hell she'll give you her heart on her sleeve, with a magic that allows you to conceive, real love, the kind that others dream of, the kind you look above and wish upon a star for, everything you wanted, she'll give you more. Lesson two: find eyes that embody a maze that you could get lost in for days. And as you gaze at each other, you are no longer dazed by anxieties and caution signs because she reads through the lines and untangles and unwinds knots others have left behind. Lesson three: lust is not love but when you find both, grab them tight. Because for the first time in your life you'll feel as though you got something right and as you see her in sight and she sets you alight with just one look, take note of the tattered heart she willingly took, the time she gave up to read into and not judge by the cover of your book. Lesson four: always hold the door but never hold back. Hold the door for opportunity and unity in a way you could never construe existed, because within moments she'll have your eyes misted, your vision twisted, into the future, you see yourselves sharing, and those walls that she's tearing down will form new foundations for you to find your own ground. Lesson five: tell her everyday how beautiful you think she is. Because with every day that passes, through each lens of her glasses she'll develop a tainted view and this time it's up to you to offer her your eyes, to help her see and realise, her beauty inside. Inside the body you adore, the woman you'd do anything for. Lesson six: love is meant to last. So run her a bath, fill up her glass, do the dishes, commend her wishes, lay her fears to rest as she curls into your chest, calm the wars in her mind, undo and unwind with the love that you find in a fountain overflowing with her name, show her your game, not now but for forever, that whatever the weather, you will be there, show her you care and if you tried you couldn't care any more, tell her every day what you're grateful for. Lesson seven: draw a line under the faults your find for she is only human too, let her know you love her through and through. Lesson eight: show her. Kiss her, hold her, brush your fingers through her hair and stare into her eyes, as they sparkle and shine as the milk and honey on her lips and yours become entwined. For her make time, all the time in the world, because only once, will you find this girl, this lady, the one that you'll say, made you into the person you always wanted to be, who gave you eyes to see, only once will you find this lady, who will set you free, allow you to be all that you can be, and you shall do the same for her too, only once do you find the other half of you.
0
Dec 7, 2014
Dec 7, 2014 at 6:22 PM UTC
Eight lessons in love
Lesson one: give your heart to someone who gives theirs back. And hell she'll give you her heart on her sleeve, with a magic that allows you to conceive, real love, the kind that others dream of, the kind you look above and wish upon a star for, everything you wanted, she'll give you more. Lesson two: find eyes that embody a maze that you could get lost in for days. And as you gaze at each other, you are no longer dazed by anxieties and caution signs because she reads through the lines and untangles and unwinds knots others have left behind. Lesson three: lust is not love but when you find both, grab them tight. Because for the first time in your life you'll feel as though you got something right and as you see her in sight and she sets you alight with just one look, take note of the tattered heart she willingly took, the time she gave up to read into and not judge by the cover of your book. Lesson four: always hold the door but never hold back. Hold the door for opportunity and unity in a way you could never construe existed, because within moments she'll have your eyes misted, your vision twisted, into the future, you see yourselves sharing, and those walls that she's tearing down will form new foundations for you to find your own ground. Lesson five: tell her everyday how beautiful you think she is. Because with every day that passes, through each lens of her glasses she'll develop a tainted view and this time it's up to you to offer her your eyes, to help her see and realise, her beauty inside. Inside the body you adore, the woman you'd do anything for. Lesson six: love is meant to last. So run her a bath, fill up her glass, do the dishes, commend her wishes, lay her fears to rest as she curls into your chest, calm the wars in her mind, undo and unwind with the love that you find in a fountain overflowing with her name, show her your game, not now but for forever, that whatever the weather, you will be there, show her you care and if you tried you couldn't care any more, tell her every day what you're grateful for. Lesson seven: draw a line under the faults your find for she is only human too, let her know you love her through and through. Lesson eight: show her. Kiss her, hold her, brush your fingers through her hair and stare into her eyes, as they sparkle and shine as the milk and honey on her lips and yours become entwined. For her make time, all the time in the world, because only once, will you find this girl, this lady, the one that you'll say, made you into the person you always wanted to be, who gave you eyes to see, only once will you find this lady, who will set you free, allow you to be all that you can be, and you shall do the same for her too, only once do you find the other half of you.
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8
Winter nights bring waves of memories Alone with my thoughts He said he is sorry and misses me bad Words tie perception into confused knots Truly wish I had nimble fingers To untie them, see clear Cursing as truth untangles Weaves a portrait of all I fear There is always a catch, a hamartia A flaw in every human's design As clique as this next line may be Love can be cruel, so unfairly blind I try to avoid reminiscing over the past Though the memories were so precious before Shaking hands with no control cling still Just when I think my mind is free my heart offers more
0
Sep 17, 2018
Sep 17, 2018 at 4:13 PM UTC
Nimble Fingers