"vibrancy" poems
#*Let the evil within be annihilated
And grey be restored
Rejuvenated to vibrancy of colours of love
Dispersion of love and light
Through the prismatic heart
Every soul be washed anew
In colours of the rainbow in mirthful hues
Forgive and forget, past hurt
And in the beauty of love, regale
Let’s celebrate
Holi
The festival of colours, harbinger of spring*#
Mar 20, 2019
Mar 20, 2019 at 4:58 PM UTC
Your presence warms me daily
We flirt with anticipation
Of what's to come.
As you beam closer to me
I toss playful mists of eagerness.
Your caress drives me crazy
Every sense is heightened.
I arch towards you.
I am swelling with excitement
Raging wet with desire
Open to receive you.
You invade me
s l o w l y
Illuminating me to vibrancy
Of colorful ecstasy
Igniting golden fires
To radiate from me.
You drink my hues of your reflection
Returning each day
At sunset
For a time.
In those minutes
You are mine.
We are one
You are my Sun.
© Tina Thompson
Feb 28, 2012
Feb 28, 2012 at 12:10 PM UTC
Enveloped in a cloud of rain,
drenching spirit and soul.
Sunlight flickering through clouds ahead;
finally hope.
Leaving sadness behind at last,
my spirit longs to move in the sunlight of dance.
My body singing, rising to its newness,
twilight is turning bright with vibrancy ahead.
Praying the path will not turn
to the dark rainforest of gloom once more.
Can I believe in the light?
Can I believe in a future with hope?
Aug 26, 2012
Aug 26, 2012 at 9:26 AM UTC
Aegri Somnia Vana (Latin): a sick man's dreams; hallucinations
In the country of the blind,
the one eyed men are kings
So condemn what you don't understand
**C
O
N
S
U
M
E**
It's more alluring to feed the machine
**C
O
N
F
O
R
M**
Is your life the masterpiece you dreamt of painting?
From out of the depths,
Comes Father Time to devour your /follie de grandeur
Your blissful ignorance
Your wishful thinking
**O
B
E
Y**
It's all I can do to preserve a calm mind
Or try
But I'd rather play follow the leader
I'm plagued by my cognitive processes
It haunts me
And my inability to bring luminescence
to the infinite shadows swirling around me
Don't you know by now your essence of life
manifests in the vibrancy of your frequency?
Philosophy or logic
It's a Love > Fear dichotomy
Jun 27, 2013
Jun 27, 2013 at 7:56 AM UTC
walking through the woods i was surrounded by a plethora of golden bronze amber leaves tumbling in the wind sparkling with a star fire that evanesced from their jagged edges upon their descent. i stood entranced, mesmerized, utterly hypnotized by their glorious magnificence. i observed with intensity as a golden bronze amber leaf never having been attached to the majestic tree had no need to let go but gently released. feeling no trepidation it wholly lacked desire for manipulation to control the forces of the wind. i watched in awe and wonder realizing that it never disengaged from the tree knowing that separation is an illusion; it simply became the wind. whirling it shimmered in the autumn sun as it wafted with no need for reins allowing its destination to unfold. gingerly cascading it settled tenderly on the ground resting comfortably in ambivalence. i sensed it did not cringe when it was picked up by an unsuspecting boot but intuitively knew immediately that it was being carried and dropped off serendipitously at an auspicious location. i listened to it intently and drank in its essence as it simply lay in being not obsessing over what would happen consequent but sat in sheer stillness seemingly encompassing all totality. i was stunned to see that it lingered without judgment in undivided clarity for what wild synchronicity would come. it quenched its thirst in mystery while being completely at home in uncertainty. the golden bronze amber leaf seemed one with all that is while simultaneously retaining awareness of self-perception. as a gentle gust of wind coalesced with the beige fall sky it literally merged with the momentum enjoying the ride to its perfect destination. with delicacy it rested cozily in ambiguity whispering to me that heaven is a state and not a place. i vow surrender to black and white existence pledging fearlessly to climb higher creating life with vivid vibrancy adding golden bronze amber to my palette of colors with which i’ll paint.
©2016 janetaylor
May 11, 2016
May 11, 2016 at 5:37 PM UTC
Our private bungalow
Leading to the private beach
On the Saronic Gulf
Turquoise water
The smell of pine trees
Chilled Champagne
No one else just us
Totally alone for five days
Mesmerised by the Sunio Sunset
The vibrancy of the Plaka
Danced to the early hours
Under the Island stars
Ate Moussaka and Baklava
We talked and talked
No phones
No net
Nothing, no one just us
We held hands
Like young lovers
We shared intimacies
Never done before
I believed your words
Your intimacy
Your need for me
Your desire
Your love
And then
In the darkness
Of our room
A Stranger
And the struggle began
I gave you my love
You took that trust
You tore me apart
Filled my head with all your lies
Abused my passion
To suit what you wanted
My life rearranged
You manipulated how I saw myself
How I saw others
You played with my feelings
You abused my anxieties
Made it hard to be with anyone else
You took my faith in life
A Stranger in the room
Sep 5, 2013
Sep 5, 2013 at 3:52 PM UTC
The great New York metropolitan
stretching its vibrancy
trafficking its wears.
Car horns combating in contemptuous arguments
habituated eardrums unwittingly pulsating
Great buildings upward; towering behemoths in grandiose splendor
This great asphalt jungle sprawling its electricity for blocks,
for miles
The jazz of the city continues the chanting; the sounds of bass and the blowing of the **** sax, the horn, the piano
and the drums drumming on its rhythmical beat
Beating hearts feeling the vibrancy; the shock waves of nuances echoing the great hustle
Multitude of voices singing praise to the different tongues;
vibrant in diverse rejoicing, the poetry of men and women
Metropolitans claiming the world condensing into small
blocks and listening to its RHAPSODY.
Aug 29, 2014
Aug 29, 2014 at 7:29 AM UTC
I am not in the business of being you
or him or her or they
we doesn't even really interest me.
you hated me within the first 20 minutes
like a shallow predator
experiencing virginal danger
you have the limbic system of a prey
obvious to anyone in touch with their senses.
you were threatened-
you cracked a joke and among
the robotic laughter and among
the generic thoughts
I stood back, blank-faced
a novel piece of art you haven't the ability
to muster up the courage to understand.
aloud, I said it wasn't funny
which I'm sure your emptiness already betrayed
in a booming, and terrifying fashion
*(I'm an intellectual sadist-
I get off watching you squirm)*
you know enough, that you have no basis
that the status quo is the stale stream you do nothing but soak in.
you're superficiality is so pervasive
that your thoughts are unfilled, plastic
discarded long ago by anyone with stamina
(you're a carbon-copy of a Xeroxed person)
looking the same as the others of your degenerate breed
with much less vibrancy than the original
and far less worth.
your boundaries have been in place for so long
passed down by
generations
of
generations
of
generations
great-great-granddaddy's barbed wire is the only thing protecting your prejudice.
you're not funny- you're scared
ashamed and lonesome.
ashamed of the person you wish you could be
but don't have the strength-or the guts
to morph into
lonesome because even yourself is someone you don't feel close to
you are so basically human.
I have no pity.
for you are no Muse.
Apr 24, 2013
Apr 24, 2013 at 10:07 AM UTC
Bursting cherries
remind me of
the vibrancy of your
curious lips
Juicy peaches
drippin' down your
chin; a memory
from years
before.
Sour lemons
perking you up,
for the hungry
kiss.
Oranges glisten as
they mimic
sundown in the
city.
Sunsets gleam
orange and yellow,
illuminating crowds of
individuals, morphing
everyone into
no-one.
Alone, you peak through;
standing with
intention and innocence
among the shadows and
empty bodies, admiring
Mother Nature's
harvest.
You stand there
looking as sweet as
a fig; as wild and ripe
as a strawberry,
just waiting
to get
eaten.
Just waiting for
me to
place my lips
so delicately around
the curve of your
ripened
body.
Sep 2, 2018
Sep 2, 2018 at 9:48 PM UTC
Fireworks!
In such a razzle dazzle fireworks flash and bash in vibrancy,
In a spectral aura of contorted colours,
Stars sparkling, noisily highlighting the sky,
Release the Gods of chaos, as on the sparks they fly,
Amid a colour scheme supreme, a total fascination,
In an argument inopportune as fireworks hit home,
In a firework of a love-struck soul my body is vibrating,
Travel on a firework fly beyond the moon,
For on a pyrotechnic dream, embark beyond those stars,
Saw rowdy fireworks the day I met you,
Still seeing them now, those flashes,
For in my heart those fireworks are popping still,
Wish I could ride upon a rocket to be with you today,
Make the fireworks flash in procession,
Let the marching band play on!
By ladylivvi1
© 2013 ladylivvi1 (All rights reserved)
Aug 20, 2013
Aug 20, 2013 at 7:34 PM UTC
we both had two different painting styles. he was into calligraphy, the bold and gentle strokes of black ink on white paper; i was into watercolor, the translucent colors slowly spreading to a gradient on a Canson. we were two painters with brush styles of stark contrasts.
three objects. a flower arrangement, an antique vase and grecian sculpture. we were asked to pick the most eye-catching one out of the three, paint it in our of style of representation. and so we began.
him: what will you be painting?
me: i can't tell, you might judge me for it.
him: alright, but promise me you'll show it to me once you're done.
me: okay. same to you too, then.
hours passed, and while i often discreetly glimpsed at him, he caught my eye sometimes and would make funny faces or just softly smiled at me. i could not deny that my hands were shaking as i dunked my brushes into the watercolor jar and continued to finish my painting.
him: i'm finally done. this is a masterpiece.
me: i believe it's the same for me too.
him: should we count down as we turn our boards to each other?
me: nothing better than a surprise of what's the most beautiful thing out of all the objects before us.
we flipped our boards to each other's viewpoint, and we were both shocked to be looking at ourselves, a painting of ourselves, one done by the other. he painted me in black and white, a figure-ground influenced painting, strong in lines, simplicity in its finest state, rendering me bare and raw. i painted him in pale colors, a positive reflection of him lighting up life, and soft shadings to give depth to the meaning of his existence.
after knowing this and scrutinizing our works, his cheeks turned pink as the pink on my palette, while i covered my eyes with my hair as dark as his ink. we burst out laughing and blushing at the fact that the most beautiful object before our eyes was each other.
sometimes, i wonder if he's my muse, the art or the artist. and i felt like a watercolor jar at that exact moment, as if brushes soaked with different colors were being dipped into me all at once, the tint, hue and vibrancy bleeding into the clear liquid, getting murky. it was like those colors are my emotions, and with every emotion mixing, my thoughts get murky. i guess this is how it feels to be in love with all forms of art at once.
Apr 15, 2016
Apr 15, 2016 at 12:58 PM UTC
I remember you.
Sweet, seventeen you
brand new scruffy beard
and black gym shorts
kissing me on the couch
when my parents weren't home.
Sweet, seventeen you
with those same bright eyes
and citric smile that stung the taste buds
on my tongue.
Sweet, seventeen you
drowned in sheer dumb luck and cheap Captain Morgan
(or whatever ***** it is you like to drink.)
Sweet, seventeen you
with callused hands, dirt stuck in the worry lines
and nails bit down to the bone.
Sweet, seventeen you
pushing my hair out of my face with those same ***** hands,
same reliant arms,
same crooked-tooth smile.
Sweet, seventeen you
with scared knuckles and a bare chest
just begging someone with the same youth
and vibrancy
to kiss it until the leather wore out
until the venom was ******
so you could stay sweet,
seventeen you
forever.
Nov 15, 2011
Nov 15, 2011 at 6:13 PM UTC
in the light of pure adolescence;
we see.
and in the air of willful disobedience;
we breathe.
our actions fuel off of the energy
of the violent sunsets.
and we find our individual tranquility
in the nights in which we wander.
not only do we wander, but we wonder.
the playful range of shades the sky possesses
makes us wonder and wander.
looking past on the identities
we were told to portray,
we create our own full of
vibrancy and reason.
this identity gives us a powerful passion
that thrives off of the rays of the sun.
a passion that gives us the motivation to
continue on this messy road of colors.
to continue on our ephemeral yet indelible
adventures throughout the course of life.
Dec 3, 2017
Dec 3, 2017 at 1:37 PM UTC
My life I would give up for you.
Sweet baby.
I would stand in front of a dashing car for you.
My life not as precious as yours.
Why I hear the reader say?
And to you I shall respond.
I need not ponder my decision.
As you are less than one.
And you are innocent and beautiful.
Your life will seem like it's eternal.
As children never realise that all are doomed to die.
Childhood is thrilling.
You have the fizz of sparkling wine.
Within the mind of curiosity.
Your limbs so young and flexible.
You'll maybe enjoy playing football or cricket.
Dancing like the child you are, you do that now with mummy's support.
Or whatever you should fancy, as your persona develops.
Breathe in the scent of evening flowers.
Maybe night scented Jasmine.
You will remember that.
Almost, cos I said you would.
I know I always do.
I also love the smell of the tiger lilies'. As the colours of their tango vibrancy, tickles my nose.
And flatter my eyes with the itching and tears, as my hay fever bites.
(c) Liv
Oct 24, 2014
Oct 24, 2014 at 3:47 PM UTC
Vibrant waters
Flowing with life
Every drop an elixir
Deserts of feelings
Let’s take a plunge
Rejuvenate our soul
Drenched with vibrancy
Ablution of negativity
Taking a deep breath
Under the water
There’s another world
Vibrant waters
Shall water the paradise
Flowers shall bloom
Of hope and gratitude
Mar 12, 2015
Mar 12, 2015 at 7:18 AM UTC
She's high fashion on a budget,
capturing the world from her own angles.
Watercolor stains on anything she touches,
but vibrancy is not for her.
Her voice is the texture of heavy-duty paper,
and something about her seems littered in floral,
But she is too industrial for that to make sense,
as the city breaths her in and out.
Jan 16, 2019
Jan 16, 2019 at 10:59 PM UTC
I saw a gigantic tree.
Uprooted and on its side.
The great roots forming a mane for the snarling ringed face on the stump.
But the fallen beast is taken, it’s husk a Home.
A vibrancy of weevils, ladybugs, frog hoppers, Cockchaffers that’s skittering, scattered like a smashed ant farm.
Around its base were prehistoric ferns,
Curled and scaled like sand lizards’ tales.
Reminiscing the demise of the tyrannosaur.
When dust clouds darkened the sun which warmed their claws.
The skittering skinks, slow worms and other small lizards, who need far less to survive, then feasted upon the monsters’ flesh and found a home in its bone structured palace.
As whale sinks,
Distorted into a globster of its former self,
It hits the sea bed hard in oil-Black darkness.
The hagfish burrow, starved for millennia.
Brutally tearing at the befallen banquet.
Mouths used to scraps choking on steak.
Getting their guts knitted as they squirm over each other to grasp some sashimi.
Dripping saliva as if we’re sweat in the ruckus.
Yeti crab pinch, as do isopods
But get only mucus insulting their jaws.
And they thought they helped to cut up the portions.
Soon all that is left is a skeleton.
Hanging in a museum for future generations to see.
Once again, dust gathers, from bombed out sand.
Erupting in the air as giants hit the ground.
We may soon again see darkness fall.
As the rayiys is skinned.
But no tears are shed.
We all cheer none the less.
Aug 2, 2018
Aug 2, 2018 at 6:07 AM UTC
✿⊰✲⊱✿
The hallway has teal arches with
high grecian columns, each with
gilded gold grapes and vines
entwined, kissed by the light of the
several crystal chandeliers.
With enormous paintings on the
pale blue walls - several key
moments captured and framed,
and age in no way diminished it's
strokes and vibrancy.
✿⊰✲⊱✿
I remember many times where
I had visited Paul and I
walked around his home,
telling me of his ancestors
achievements with a smile or a
frown on his face. "We can all
learn things from the past," he said
sadly. "And there's always things
done that we are not proud of. I
only want Luciuscemi to thrive."
"With you as King, I have no doubt
it will." I said with a smile and Paul
felt a little better.
✿⊰✲⊱✿
My feet continue to follow the
red carpet to the ball room as me
and my ladies pass many Luciuscemian
guards, all standing tall, lined up yet
all so courteous and friendly; dressed
in yellow military outfits, with red
shoulder capes. When I come upon the
end hall to the entrance of the ballroom,
I cannot help but gasp. Alive with so many
people in so many colours.
✿⊰✲⊱✿
I could see the dining hall in the far back;
lines of tables covered in coloured silks
and with many dishes: sweet, sour and
savoury, meats and vegetables, grilled fish,
glazed ham, veggie rolls and many
fine imported wines, fresh teas and
many more. Large ice sculptures of lions
and suns stand vigilant as the servants serve,
people laugh, eat and talk. Some walked out
to the balcony, some watch others dance;
long and short, this ballroom is an orchestra
for my soul.
Aug 25, 2018
Aug 25, 2018 at 6:11 PM UTC
CRIMSON
Colors explode
As the sumac stands sentinel over the ebbing rays of the sun
Shepherding away Niibin to make room for Dagwaagin
Standing, alone, in a sea of green
Sumac heralds the changing season
And like an artistic wild fire
Is the first in what will become a palette of chromatic vibrancy
Sensing the subtle change
Mother deer, her two fawns and yearling
Meandering through the sumac grove
Make haste of the fading green buffet
Mother Bear and her cubs, now a year stronger and wiser
Gorge on honey and berries as they ready for their winter's sleep
Red-Winged Blackbirds, Robins and Sandhill Cranes congregate en masse
Hummingbird drinks the final drops of nectar
In anticipation of their journey south
In advance...of the returning white Biboon blanket
The clock of Mother Earth is precise
And the natural world follows her timely rhythms
As southerly and westerly winds shift to the north
Eagle soars high above...the yet unfrozen river
Vivid foliage slowly falls to the forest floor
Creating an intricate insulating tapestry for those below
In the meadow, swaying in the wind, stands a solitary Daisy
It's single yellow petal defying the departure of longer days
Harvest moon shimmers through bare branches
Dancing, tapping in rhythmic fashion, upon a quiet window
Stirring Misigami from her reverie
Outside her window, a lone black figure, a Lobo, like her
Acknowledges her presence, blurring the lines of consciousness
Signifying that dreams do come true
And that through the change of seasons
We grow
We become stronger
Wiser
And are given the true gift...of forever being...
...Hopeful
(c) 2013 Shawn White Eagle
Sep 14, 2013
Sep 14, 2013 at 6:31 PM UTC
"Dreams" he said, "I want you to write about your dreams"
I watched his expression full face, talk with his usual infectious vibrancy...
candle flickering, between belly laughs, raw unscripted stories, uncensored truth and the feeling of complete freedom to be human, his pouring over the brim life experiences..dripped from his fingertips as he spoke with his hands.
I'm Lucky. I thought. As I sat there, sinking into his words and gentle loving soul.
Just to simply know him, to hear of his adventures, heartbreaks, falls and climb to the top of life's list of goals and successes.
So I meditated on this writing assignment...for weeks.
I've written of Love, Loss, Heartache and Regrets.
But Dreams...I've yet to fall into ink drenching grains of paper and be completely free of the ever ticking time...to do just that... Dream.
Apr 9, 2016
Apr 9, 2016 at 4:30 PM UTC
Oh my love, you are so youthful,
And you are so beautiful.
Oh my love, you are so exotic,
And you are so energetic.
Oh my love, you are so pretty,
And you are such a cutie.
Marrying you will do good,
Let me be finally blessed.
Sep 23, 2019
Sep 23, 2019 at 4:01 AM UTC