"vibrance" poems
Lovers entered a forbidden forest bower,
And as they stalked that range, with eyes glazed,
She offered up her hind. Now, with doe eyes,
Deep as his, deep in arousal's sleep, heels fell,
As he knocked and pulled her dark honey hair
And whispered, surrender, into wanting ears,
Softly he drove his hunting command, homing
To his huntress.
Her body braced, yet bade, with heat and vibrance.
Ruthlessly, he ****** his arrow deeper and then
Once more and then again. She bucked fiercely
And defiant, goading his prodding lance ever more
Ever longer, and parting the pink lines of her white
Rose, he was, and once again, Prince to the dark
Dominion of her quarters.
In the middle of this carnal match they paused.
And looking into the forest beyond they saw
A yearling fawn, a feral Goddess, grazing still,
Bathing in a vale, virginal, wholly unmoved
By their act of venery, lustfully playing, in the innocent
Leaves. It was as if they were among her kin, a gentle
Doe and a noble stag. From that moment on
The human hunters did not speak.
Falling, again, rolling eyes were deep in arousal's sleep.
Her back was a crescent moon pocked and wet with dew.
He could feel her heart beating in time with his piercing
Prong, her arching back glistened in the suns spittle
As it broke through the dark and vernal ceiling wood.
In the final shot her quivering buck lowered and broke
And a sound not heard, made a scene, a sweet murmuring
Shuddered and sank onto the floor of the forest leaves
With her tale, taken and told, her breathless breath,
Her nostrils cold and her heated and lanced openings
Dripping, draining; here was a New World’s beginning.
Sated, solemn and softly quaking, his woman sweetly laid,
And now, doomed with her doe eyes, two lovers, fated, made;
She glowed, divine, like the rolling brook that mellowed
Slow, in the vine-dark and golden forest stable,
In Artemis’s wood.
Jun 15, 2012
Jun 15, 2012 at 1:33 PM UTC
I pop a pomegranate seed.
It bleeds,
Delicate fuchsia delight,
Mineral scented, warm, bright,
Full of nectar and promise
(now wasted)
I pop another one,
In a soft cove on my arm-
A slight dip between two veins -
And watch the blushing drop
Edge closer to my elbow. Stop.
A third time,
With the fury of fear
Tiptoeing listlessly in my mind,
Like raindrops on a rooftop.
It is sweet, and ******
A waste of time but an act of god
Nonetheless.
I crave the sound and texture of it,
So a fourth time comes around.
By now, the citrus is overpowering
But I keep going,
For the sake of purity,
For the sake of the shock of vibrance
On deathly pale skin.
When my arm is covered in juice,
I give up.
There's no sense in envying the wasted.
Scarlet sticks.
Jul 25, 2018
Jul 25, 2018 at 3:53 PM UTC
the sophiatown i live in:
is a place i call home
is where i come to from work
is a place riddled with crime
is where i'm proud to be from
is a place being renovated
is where i'm not far from means
is a place that gets frustrated
by the westbury fiends
the sophiatown i read about:
is a place void of silence
is where bra hugh got his trumpet
is a place full of vibrance
is where miriam caught hold of it
is a place that was razed
is where a new place was born
is a place that couldn't be fazed
by the lines that were drawn
the sophiatown i love:
is a place that i live in
is where i've chosen to stay
is a place that i read about
is where that won't go away
is a place that's still here
is where apartheid escaped
is a place made austere
by the forces it shaped
the sophiatown that inspires me:
is very triumphant
is very intact
so what was your reason
for doing that
Dec 8, 2015
Dec 8, 2015 at 6:26 PM UTC
Something about women
in red dresses...
A vibrance, a radiance
an essence of vitality
basking bright youth
beyond all age.
The lines rendered
whether curved or slender,
sleek and elegant,
one with the material
one with the color.
May 24, 2014
May 24, 2014 at 7:18 PM UTC
Warm summer blooms from the cold spring
When rain falls and snow melts
Flower petals show off their life and vibrance
Roses don't care for November
While the orchids dream of summer nights
Few violets will have memory of winter
Yet I will remember them all of my life
May 14, 2016
May 14, 2016 at 10:29 PM UTC
It was one of those days
when nothing else seemed to matter
but him and me.
We strolled around campus
with his hand in mine,
guiding me through the heat.
"Hold on," he interrupted. "Have you ever
written a piece about me?"
"Yes." *I have written
a thousand pieces for you,* I thought.
"I'd like to read one.
Why haven't you shown me any?"
I shrugged.
*Because none of them
do your vibrance justice*.
Apr 28, 2016
Apr 28, 2016 at 2:32 PM UTC
midnight dark
is my true love’s kiss
of clove and citrus scented
cradled in the subtle
woven voices
of the conspiratorial night wind
soft as the silver-blue
edges of light
cast from nocturnal lanterns
sharing in silent thunder
secrets held in coffers
of crimson jade
blazing with the vibrance
of constellations
blown before celestial storms
full as skyward Luna
rounded and buxom
heavy with desire
veiling my worldly sight
so her truth can pierce me
blinding me
that I may see
Mar 8, 2023
Mar 8, 2023 at 11:25 PM UTC
the sun has that certain haze
as if it were the dead of Summer
and heat radiated through the air
but
this is a tease a reminder of those days
because indeed the air is fresh
and sharp as it should be in Winter
at the seaside a roaring song and dance
those distant waves appear as a range
the ridges of a desert mountain top
and
silhouetted at depths with the vibrance
of sunset hues bringing shade to the wild
while preparing for the cool of night
the reflections are shorter now
and I lose sight of that glowing orb
as far off clouds take shape to dip
then
colors shift to violet, navy and maroon
leaving a bruise to bumps in the night
and dream of an August day by the sea
Jan 21, 2022
Jan 21, 2022 at 9:40 PM UTC
Damsels of distress,
Wings of vivid crests.
All elegant in a romance.
Spin my Fairy.
Tilt your head.
Sprinkle fairy dust,
To ressurect the dead.
The dead who don't dance.
Who stand in awe of your crest.
Spin my Fairy,
Recruit the rest.
Vivid streams,
Violet strings.
Strung on thy lute of play.
Spin my Fairy,
Sing your song.
Of Vibrance.
Of Honor.
Of love.
Spin now,
Your wings beautifully carved.
As a monarch or a sprite.
You give life to the crowd.
Elegance above Royalty.
Love above Lust.
Play your reverend strings.
Of Story Springs.
Spin my Fairy,
Flare those vivid wings.
You are the final act.
Praise your Lute of Rings.
Sep 4, 2014
Sep 4, 2014 at 8:23 AM UTC
I felt its power,
And it's resonance,
Vibrance.
It's eerie dissonance
Came forward, closer,
Wavering,
Twisting my heaving heart.
Jul 9, 2014
Jul 9, 2014 at 4:27 PM UTC
.
Lovers entered a forbidden forest bower,
And as they stalked that range, with eyes glazed,
She offered up her hind. Now, with doe eyes,
Deep as his, deep in arousal's sleep, heels fell,
As he knocked and pulled her dark honey hair
And whispered, surrender, into wanting ears,
Softly he drove his hunting command, homing
To his huntress.
Her body braced, yet bade, with heat and vibrance.
Ruthlessly, he ****** his arrow deeper and then
Once more and then again. She bucked fiercely
And defiant, goading his prodding lance ever more
Ever longer, and parting the pink lines of her white
Rose, he was, and once again, Prince to the dark
Dominion of her quarters.
In the middle of this carnal match they paused.
And looking into the forest beyond they saw
A yearling fawn, a feral Goddess, grazing still,
Bathing in a vale, virginal, wholly unmoved
By their act of venery, lustfully playing, in the innocent
Leaves. It was as if they were among her kin, a gentle
Doe and a noble stag. From that moment on
The human hunters did not speak.
Falling, again, rolling eyes were deep in arousal's sleep.
Her back was a crescent moon pocked and wet with dew.
He could feel her heart beating in time with his piercing
Prong, her arching back glistened in the suns spittle
As it broke through the dark and vernal ceiling wood.
In the final shot her quivering buck lowered and broke
And a sound not heard, made a scene, a sweet murmuring
Shuddered and sank onto the floor of the forest leaves
With her tale, taken and told, her breathless breath,
Her nostrils cold and her heated and lanced openings
Dripping, draining; here was a New World’s beginning.
Sated, solemn and softly quaking, his woman sweetly laid,
And now, doomed with her doe eyes, two lovers, fated, made;
She glowed, divine, like the rolling brook that mellowed
Slow, in the vine-dark and golden forest stable,
In Artemis’s wood.
.
May 3, 2018
May 3, 2018 at 2:50 PM UTC
The letters of your name
Matches with the ones engraved
in my beautiful nightsky
The words you speak
Are like calming music that
gently soothes my wounded heart
Out of thousands of promises I've heard
I will choose to listen to yours
and count on it
Like how summer days are full of
vibrance and hope
But if time comes and darkness
filled my galaxy
Meet me in our rendezvous
and see me waiting for you
"Can you please walk me home?"
Perhaps, be my home.
Feb 24, 2019
Feb 24, 2019 at 12:36 PM UTC
Abundant With Life The River Stretches Its Body,
Bending And Winding Around The Earth's *****
Cormorants Swim Happily-Their Wings Tucked,
Diving Into The Clear Water As My Warming Soul
Embeds Itself Into The Folds Upon Her Surface,
Fish Swim In Schools Among The Weeds While
Gators Quietly Lurk In The Darkened Shadows,
Herons Stare Deep Into The River; Spying A Meal,
I Felt So Alive, So Free Over The Turqouise Water,
Jungle Like Trees Waved To Me As I Floated By,
Kayaking Really Soothes The Soul, I Realized
Lifting My Paddle Out Of The Water Then Back In,
Maliable The Water Beneath Me Swirled Between,
Nothingness, And Nobody, Here And Now,
Old And Ancient, Spiraling Where Secrets Are Kept,
Plunging Into Her A Slight Drizzle Disturbed The
Quiet Calm That Lapped Upon Her Cheeks As The
Rain Grew Heavier, While The Sky Broke In Two,
Silent My Kayak Drifted, Following The Currents,
Tugging Me Through The Almost Blinding Rains,
Under The Rolling Droplets My Skin Grew Cold,
Vibrance Of The Water Below Then Warmed My Core,
While I Drifted Back To Shore I Awaited For The
Xenophobic World To Come Back Into My Life,
Yelling Loud To The Heavens My Soul Spoke Of A Wish,
Zealous The World Should Be, Great Spirit,
Take Them To The River
Jul 3, 2013
Jul 3, 2013 at 3:19 PM UTC
*
**some memories preserved
for special one, some reserved
for long, some freezed
with time, some released
some memories' fragrance
yet infused in the ambience
when they cross the mind
the life gets new vibrance**
*
Nov 23, 2018
Nov 23, 2018 at 3:51 AM UTC
I once felt like words gave me power
Like they gave my quiet shell of a self a leg to stand on
Now I feel like I have none left to speak, to write
I've been drained of verbs and left broken -- immobile
My adjectives fall soft and simple, even the deaf don't pretend to hear
It's strange
Being so far removed from the one you called yourself
I don't know what there is left for me to say
It's like being a young musician on stage
And people have slowly stopped cheering as they realized
You have no more tunes left to play
Yet I've stood frozen, stuck, despite myself
I'm waiting for them to come back
The words
The crowds
The self that I used to know
That I thought I did know
I haven't a clue to where they've left, to where they'll go
But I hope that they find it
The messages they seek
I can no longer provide them
My inkwell bone dry
My spirit missing it's former vibrance, now dully meek
They once called me wicked
I thought it ironically sweet
That for someone so bitter
Many worshiped me
Sep 27, 2018
Sep 27, 2018 at 10:59 PM UTC
Gray. The gray walls. The gray desk. The gray chair.
Even the gray teacher stares back at me.
I look outside to only find myself in company with
The trees. The green, vibrant, and lush buds of the trees..
Oh, how I’m intoxicated by its beauty.
I keep staring out the pain window glass..I am in the tree,
Touching the velvet buds, looking down at the purple, pink and Yellow roses and daises budding.
Nothing gray can be found here!
I am snapped out of my day dream by the gray paper and gray Pencil landing on my desk. The gray voice saying you have
A gray amount of time. It’s wrong…It’s wrong! It is
ALL wrong! What is heaven to hell, like gray to nature?
I long for freedom, color, and vibrance…not gray bars!
A jail cell! That is what it is!
Substance!
I need substance to sustain me or I will feel empty!
Time is ticking..the buds are turning..my life will
Soon be consumed by gray but I won’t let it! Break
Those gray bars holding you in this cell and just a
Touch upon those green buds…that new life…will
Make all the difference. I can not be put in this reality.
I live in my fantasy. I want to be free with the yellow
Sunshine raining on me. Back in my daydream..but
Now it is bitter-sweet you see. More! I want more
Than gray! I want to feel chills run down my spine as I
Touch the supple leaves of the willow trees and the buds
Of the daises.
The sunshine is pouring on me and I am
Just about to reach out and glide my fingers
Along the smooth branches…until I am snapped
Back into a reality.
I see gray. The teacher calls another gray amount
Of time. My paper is blank, but my mind is not.
It’s time to slump back into my gray world you see,
Because my Fantasy can’t last forever. Only until
The day I am resurrected when the final bells ring
Freeing me from society will the gray Melt away.
The gray teacher carries on and on...but I look back
Outside you see,
And I don’t feel so empty.
Jul 22, 2013
Jul 22, 2013 at 10:30 AM UTC
Holding down a button
Until everything turns
Black as pitch
Is just like clutching
Someone's throat
Until they can't
Move another inch.
So much life and vibrance
Flashes across this screen,
Yet it seems to tear
happiness apart
At its fragile seams.
Technology is quick,
It's capabilities are ample,
Yet my mind has gone slow
From ingesting only samples.
As such,
It is time for me to quickly depart,
For using you has made me
Everything but
Smart.
Oct 9, 2017
Oct 9, 2017 at 7:45 PM UTC
i remember it like it was yesterday, which i have to say is strange, because i have trouble remembering everything else. i remember you were sitting in front of me and i was terrified, palms sweating, eyes watering. i was truly scared if you, or rather of myself. a little part of me hated you too. you looked so, self-righteous sitting in your rolling chair, with you perfect posture and your clicky pen. when you started to ask me question i ignored you. id been shacked up in my head for so long i forgot how to talk to people. anyways, my head was comfortable, familiar. i had a bed full of memories and a closet full of monsters. i had drawers full of hopes (i never opened them of course), but they were there, it was nice to know they were there.
my favourite possession in my mind however, was a little glass jar on my nightstand. it looks empty at first glance, but the harder you look the more you see. there are colours, like rays of light, they swirl around and hit each other, a vibrant crimson color. theres a green in there to, if you saw it you'd swear mother nature put it there herself. theres also a blue, its the largest of all the swirls. it looks royal and dark, beautiful.
theres also a yellow. but its different, not in its beauty or vibrance, but in its location . it isn't in the jar. the yellow swirls around the edge of the glass. occasionally bumping into it almost as if it wants in, but theres no way for it.
i remember holding back, never telling you that because i thought you'd think i was crazy. so i didn't say a thing. but man do i remember that jar. that room. i remember the colours, their saturation, how they moved. i remember the monsters beating on the closet door looking for a way out. i remember the bed of sweet memories. but im sorry, i don't remember more important thing, like how to feel. i truly am.
Jan 29, 2018
Jan 29, 2018 at 11:22 AM UTC
You think you love them and so you give
Body and spirit and this mystical soul
You open your arms and your ***** and your
Defenses are disarmed
For this is living and this is life and this is transcendence
You think I love this person and so you unshackle
Unfettered you give and the spirit is lifted
The drugs of *** and love and temporary commitment
Mix in your arterial pathways changing you for the better?
It is beyond anything else and is chased with much vigor
What else is there you wonder?
Chasing the high that makes you feel accepted and connected
and finally alive.
Sure it ends and the withdrawal is miserable
But who cares when life is lived so vibrantly?
Who says the price is not worth the pleasure?
Apr 1, 2014
Apr 1, 2014 at 9:04 AM UTC
I move through the woods in ritual
The trees have shed their leaves like
Third sons and eldest daughters,
They cling bravely until the wind uncurls their hands
and bears them away from home.
A scavenger, I search them out, hold them between finger and thumb,
Their last embrace.
Sometimes I will pluck a fading life from a branch,
melded amber and crimson,
the dregs of sun in their veins,
offered in the last vibrance of summer’s heat.
At home, I press them between pages,
tiny spells of weight and gravity
cast to keep their color.
I know this magic,
Autumn and I are kindred in this,
Our eyes are the same soft green and sepia of hiraeth
cradles of remembrance,
nets always cast back into memory.
Like all memories
There are a thousand useless,
The umber of old blood, trodden underfoot,
the seconds that dripped by unmarked.
But we hold the fragile, happy few,
High upon a shelf
the glowing phosphorus of laughter
The currant red of a last kiss
Returned to and returned to
Like an unanswered prayer.
Oct 9, 2021
Oct 9, 2021 at 7:09 PM UTC
My night, my day, my darkest black and highest noon.
My dawn, my dusk, my brightly shining sun and moon.
To a life once comprised of only black and white; you brought such vibrance, such colour, such saturated light.
So caring, so thoughtful, such generosity of spirit.
To me - you see - its clear; your essence is exquisite.
Never mind skin - this is soul-deep beauty - one that shines from deep within, one that I love absolutely.
Your shining eyes, your smiling face, how we get lost for hours in sweet embrace.
How when the beat of life demands it, and with barely a sideways glance, you'll take my hand and we will rise and dance and dance and dance.
My nights are bright, my days are lifted, my eyes alight at this new life gifted.
And it's down to you my graceful swan, and all you are and do.
And for this - with all my heart...
Thank you
Apr 19, 2014
Apr 19, 2014 at 12:35 PM UTC
She was sewn from a stream
of significant disasters,
but she has taken charge of the tide.
Directing the course of the storm,
she became one with the fiercest gyre.
The lightning, the moment
through the raging sea,
the season of her storm is done.
The smell of the after-rain,
the calmness of the shores mended the remnants.
A rainbow of colors and vibrance, the abundance of black clouds is gone.
The beautiful sky,
a magical release
from these painful bonds.
Courage and kindness,
gratitude and strength,
the real treasures are now found.
Jun 11, 2022
Jun 11, 2022 at 7:15 PM UTC
One memory
Would endure everything
Always coming back like the bounding footprints left beneath each drop of rain
And that is
The smell of her hair in the morning air
The stringiness and collective song
The shortness of breath
The vibrance of wave
And all at the length of a violin's strings born long
Torn is such a memory of song
Between fondness and regret
Mar 17, 2019
Mar 17, 2019 at 12:58 PM UTC
to the girl
whose golden heart
was never tarnished
despite the afflictions
the world allowed her
to experience somehow;
♡ — i hope your heart stays the same
and will always be aflame
for the things you love doing
because dear, you are amazing.
to the girl
whose illustrious mind
was never obscured
even if she was aching;
♡ — i hope you realize
that you are impressively splendid
more than any could ever poetize
and that your feelings are valid.
to the girl
whose beautiful soul
never stopped blooming
like flowers in the spring
despite the adversities
she has encountered;
♡ — everything you do
is always appreciated;
and your existence
is a tremendous blessing
and adds vibrance
to this somber world.
Oct 12, 2018
Oct 12, 2018 at 11:55 AM UTC