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Steph Portuguez Jan 2020
She persuaded the curvature of the seam. A dressmaking utterly agonizing, to reach the smoothness one must perceive, it has a regret with the difficulty of repetition of a trend.

Her foul purport carbonated the clear intent. But an impecable illustration did provide them with the warmth they intend.
The cycle lacked precision but their pliancy was a treasure so **** filled with her preciousness.


Velveted silk portrait embraces and confines a cause within a retrospective, a muse divides with a major uproar, one with the furor of nature uncontrolled.

The spell of glamor enchanted the failed dorks. They daydreamed fuzzy temptations to achieve their doomed ******. Of their antagonised exchange was born an incurable rage. The vexed source became cursedly recruitable for their loveable tremors, she had no knowledge of their cultivated adoration.

This will be our temple to our redemption and acceleration. It has consumed us all, encased conscious with translucent locked up doors.

The excitation has endure the incommensurable, the deluge did occur in the future. The scorn we throw to each other is acceptable if I desire to engorge her, it'll wear off your vile will, it'll grant me her savoury thrill.

Velveted silk portrait I beg you not to demise and ascend. We'll ravage the essence of your pure command, although, our adoration is the realest love spell.

I was snarling when I saw you embosom him, it felt like you were entering something delightful and never ******* ending. What was behind the blinds it wasn't supposed to be appreciated, we were always stood in a horizontal line and pulling harsh, all acts performed were a praying for your preference.

Velveted silk portrait, we encouraged you to revoke your beauteous den, to an addictive merriment. We'll howl with devotion to this new founding arts, her paint sparkled in the now dusky lane. A palace never menacing to our welcoming, an unfair entrance to the terribly but tender embodiment.

The gladness finally dragged us to our unfair refinement.
Harsh Jun 2015
I tell people that there are two kinds of days.

There will be days where you wake before the sun and roar out into the untouched day, pawing at the ground with a fierce conviction to take your day as you like it. These days, your very footsteps will shake the ground beneath you while your enemies run haphazardly, tripping over their own feet in order to avoid your fearsome self.

There will be days where your ears twitch at the slightest suggestion of confrontation and conflict, and you scurry about your day through the shadows. These days, your frantic heart can't take much of anything, and the vastness of the faraway horizon makes your limbs shudder and quake.

When your day falls into the former category, remember that even as you strut around with your lion-heart, there are timid mice who move hurriedly about your feet. Remember to watch your steps and mind your roars.

When your day is one of the latter, remember that lions aren't necessarily monsters, and know that their claws can be sheathed and their velveted paws can also comfort. They know nothing of soft steps and whispers.

Find comfort in the cacophony of roars and in the solemn silence of tail-twitches.
“Courage doesn't always roar. Sometimes courage is the quiet voice at the end of the day whispering, 'I will try again tomorrow.'” Mary Anne Radmacher



I'm not too happy with how this came out but I like the general idea of it.
Jemimah Sep 2013
all the while
the rain
was gently falling
& all the night
the stars
were simply peering
out from their
blankets
of velveted black
to watch me
surrender my thoughts
to the swirl of my
dreaming
~ "Good Night, My Friend" ~
luis r santos Feb 2016
The clarity of your breath lightens, inflames my lips of a thousand moonless nights.
I want to kiss you while Spring is here. I want anguish and ice to melt.
in my mind a kiss takes form. at first it flows with a murmur,
ferments and I feel a river with mighty waterfalls..
a river snaking through a jungle of sensations
with margins velveted by moss and blue grass..

ah, what a kiss!
Joel M Frye Mar 2016
sharp are the feelings
velveted in subtle sheaths
of songs and poems
Mike Hauser Mar 2017
I remember that night at the prom
And you with that green dress on
With me all velveted up
In my fancy tux

Our young hearts thought the song would last
Now all mine does is hum of the past
Forgetting the words
As life runs its course

Your parents up and packed you away
To the cold North where cars used to be made
Now a desolate town
The Japanese tore the dream down

And me in the meantime
Joined Uncle Sam to fight the good fight
I needed the space
To get away

I either came to or out of my senses
Called you up saying I can not do this
The entangled wedding vow
That somehow came about

So you went your way and I went mine
Over the static of the telephone line
I think it worked out for the best
For us and the rest

Now here we are years down the road
My mind suddenly deciding to unload
With that night at the prom
And you with that green dress on
Árainn Hawker May 2020
Marking time in the pauses,
Between communal breath;
She looks to me,
In turn,
Overrun by her most prodigious.

In this,
The great heading,
Healing,
Herding;
I want to call it out and shout about,
The end of this day’s businessmen.

May your forever children rest there,
Amidst this disconnection remade,
Learning to love again,
The hover fly magic,
The Ash bend,
The birch leaving,
The Ivy shine.

Making love in the desert,
With yet to be remembered friends;
Feeling as insignificant as all this vaulted,
Vaunted,
Velveted,
One ever-changling universe;
I look toward your savior and whisper:
Keep this peace in,
Or lose us forever,
Just as her sparrow-hawk eyes,
Turn on me and cry;
That to be lost is to be unbound.
Aminah Aleem Oct 27
Coating the contoured edges of my lips,
A small tilted corner,
reveals a smile.

Velveted swatches,
as each swipe of color,
brightens,
a whelved style.
A novice poet <3

— The End —