"vibrantly" poems
Pink-Haired Wildflower
I know you.
I see you.
everyday at least once
Your pedals are short
and cute
chopped off at the chin
Your clothes are loose
and indie
style, you wear so well
You walk so confidently
each stride your own.
You glitter shining vibrantly
like the stud in your nose.
You smile so easily
and laugh with no care in the world.
Pink-Haired Wildflower
do you know me?
do you see me?
each time I pass you on the way
I look at you
and try not to stare
your flowered beauty beholds me
I wonder what you think of me
This bent over gait
dark-circle-eyed
fool. I am
struggling to stay upright.
Can you see the weight on my shoulders?
The stress in my complexion?
my gnawed on nails and torn skin
Tell me, what do you see in my gaze?
I wish I possessed your confidence.
Your grace in billowed petals.
Your fragrance has a trail
that always circles back to me.
everyday I see you.
though I say nothing.
Whatever you are
I want you in a bouquet on my bedside table
as I lie there
trying not to cry
or die.
Let your rank beauty infect me
aromatic surround me.
Be mine.
Lay claim to me.
Show me your ways.
or at least learn my name
as if I knew yours
You're a stranger to me Pink-Haired Wildflower
last night your dyed your hair Blue
Oct 23, 2018
Oct 23, 2018 at 2:19 PM UTC
Don't "talk ***** to me.
I don't want that,
Not nonchalant naughty nouns,
Or violent verbs,
Or anxious adjectives.
I want to be drippingly adorned and intrigued,
By adjectives that ache and torment,
By verbs that are vibrantly vital and tantalize.
I want to be left longfully lusting after lambent language.
Nov 15, 2014
Nov 15, 2014 at 6:52 PM UTC
Like a peacocks feathers
I brightly and vibrantly show you how im feeling
Just in hopes that you might understand how I feel.
Bright blues and greens
I showcase my colors
All of my emotions
For we are one in the same
Fear my actions will go unanswered
But no doubt in my mind you will return the gesture
Flashes of pink and hints of purple
You call back
Your colors blinding my eyes and creating a masterpiece
Nothing but a couple of peacocks.
Nov 1, 2012
Nov 1, 2012 at 12:17 AM UTC
Listen to the machines meditate.
Touch their buttons and turn them on.
Plug into the charged thoughts
of your radio
statically in between stations,
or the electric fan
buzzing its soothing breeze,
humming vibrantly against your brain
like a relaxing massage from an absent soul.
Movements of the world outside masked
in a mechanical bubble of unnatural dreams.
Aug 7, 2014
Aug 7, 2014 at 3:53 AM UTC
Looking at this Rose,
“ya, it’s beautiful right?”
How can something so marvelous
grow in a world so frivolous?
Vibrantly blossoms just to wait out it’s days
Waiting To live out a purpose
other than to wither away
So many potential uses such as dates, marriages, deaths, and holidays
Except for this one Rose
Which got plucked
for no other relevancy
but to just wither away.
Sleep in Peace Jahseh
You left this world way too early but you have left much purpose for us other roses through your music and the way you were changing from your past mistakes. Thank you X
Jun 21, 2018
Jun 21, 2018 at 2:07 PM UTC
Right before the thunderstorm
Clouds of grey line the sky
The breezes stir even a little
And rustle through the tall, tall pines
Leaves are scattered on the ground
The scent of rain fills the air
The stifling hot summer day
All of a sudden cools off
The wind picks up
And the sky is black with rage
Green leaves and twigs and small branches
Are flying through the air
Lightening flashes vibrantly
And thunder follows right behind with a crash
That ear splitting "boom" makes me jump and cringe
Rain suddenly pours from the heavens
And it roars upon the roof
Raindrops wash the porch
Of any dust or summer dirt
The ground tries its best to drink the rain
Yet still leaves puddles all around
The sun shines and then fades again
And the sky turns blackish-bluer still
Until that familiar sound of thunder
Startles me and makes me frightened
Thunderstorms are dark, yet lovely
And scary, yet beautiful
I guess I like thunderstorms
But just am afraid of them
~Marian~
Jan 15, 2014
Jan 15, 2014 at 8:37 AM UTC
Seamstress sew me a line of word
Make it colourful,
Make it stand out,
She did it, the words weaved in and out
One over the other,
They flowed vibrantly,
She was a master at sewing word
Her pins were
Pencil
&
Pen
Woven with each, shades came out
Each told a story, a life of its own
Happiness
Darkness
Terror
&
Joy
What was asked, she would sew
Every stich was new in her mind
To sew a word profound,
All took time
Once stitched there was no going back,
It was complete
Colourful,
Dark,
The words woven in style
Like it or not,
Her woven words stitched to the page
This seamstress of ink and lead,
Now waiting to once again sew words
Upon a blank page...
Aug 13, 2014
Aug 13, 2014 at 11:57 AM UTC
How vibrantly she lives,
always moving, always walking,
dancing, spinning, frolicking;
a smile for strangers, a kiss for friends;
a touch on your shoulder, a tinkling laugh;
her soul shines in her face wherever she goes;
How vibrantly she loves.
Dec 11, 2014
Dec 11, 2014 at 2:10 AM UTC
That tapestry,
Red, Black, Gold
A Celtic Circle--
silently bearing witness
to the proceedings
of that smoky room:
The aquariums--one with
the large eel who seemed
to barely fit the tank
that took up half the wall;
and the smaller, vibrantly
colored fish in the
aquarium with the eggshell
colored coral.
The remixed music played
at a comfortable volume,
by the DJ we knew
so well, together;
as many times
it hardly seemed like
he was working at all,
as he just sat down and
talked to us, for hours.
Looking through
those over-sized books of
old advertisements,
and explanations of
historical artwork;
discussing the contents
with strangers,
who became friends
in the process.
Smoke billowed, enveloping
the atmosphere and filling it
with the smell of many spice
racks, pleasantly rolled in a
shell of a soft breeze
flowing from the oscillating fan.
The smell of joy,
of a relaxed sense of mutual
understanding; that it was okay
not to say a word, because the
atmosphere did the talking
for us.
We just enjoyed sitting
on those red pleather couches
that your **** sank back into,
not allowing my feet to touch
the floor; so they often just
dangled, legs swinging
to the tempo of the music.
As I took a hit
of the hookah,
I manipulated the smoke
into O's, puckering
my lips, trying not
to laugh as you
gazed at me in a
shy sense of wonder.
That face always made you
want to kiss me.
Feb 5, 2012
Feb 5, 2012 at 3:38 AM UTC
A student of the crowded breeze.
On a whim Raise like the dandelions' seed,
Vibrantly dissent like, in fall, trees' leaves.
An apostle of purpose beyond what one sees for the unknown is nothing and possibility.
Our lessons are on the topic of practical whimsy, in their way; the wind that cools your face also fans a flame and guides the rain.
The Sensei go by many names, I know them from the roles they play:
Boreas shepherds my turmoil,
A tempest;
senseless, cold and violent as if without vision only vengeance.
Notus shows my passion;
A gust to an ember on dry land,
Unreasonable, unpredictable and destructive without a plan.
Zephyr entices my love;
A subtle intimate current for dance,
The beauty of birds and bees flying from flower to flower and branch to branch.
Eurus reflects my way;
A flurry that moves the sand.
The removal of sediment,
the return to foundation born from action mixed with patience.
They can only guide me
I can ride the winds of the odyssey or resign to the winds of dreams
but I know
I Am
A student of the breeze.
Aug 14, 2018
Aug 14, 2018 at 5:04 PM UTC
Someone asked me my favorite color.
All I could think to answer, was that
pink and orange mixture that radiates
from the sun a half hour after 7
in the beginning of October,
reflecting vibrantly in her hazel eyes,
while her fingers are entwined with mine
and the faint smell of her perfume
blends with the Autumn smell
of mowed grass and bonfires.
Nov 19, 2014
Nov 19, 2014 at 3:17 PM UTC
I’ve been watching the seasons change
from this lonely little bus stop shelter.
Waiting in limbo,
as the leaves turn from an animated green,
to the frost bitten crunch
of once was.
The landscapes danced dynamically before.
Trees swayed blissfully
over the vibrantly brushstroked canvas;
yet now they stand still.
Motionless.
Paralysed, like a Polaroid picture.
But in this time of waiting;
my momentary detention of movement;
a suspension of my heart’s desires.
I’ve observed as the scenery
turns to the deceased.
The dead.
The diminished.
And returns back
to the living
as it always does
and always will
eventually.
Jan 24, 2019
Jan 24, 2019 at 3:56 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 was just 16, nothing as it seemed, wasting days away, living in a dream.
Hands clasped tight, long walks through the night, the look in her eyes, I knew I had chosen right.
Took her in the field, kissin, coppin feels, decided it was time, oh god it was so real,
The rain beating down, clothes scattered around, and there under that old pine, tangled naked on the ground..
Her body rose and fell, and the aroma of her smell, the way she climbed on top, and rode me straight to hell,
The heat was raw intensity, and the scratches left on the back on me, juices flowing fluently.. I see it still so vibrantly.
Beauty still unmatched, oh my god what a catch, took over a year for me to get her on her back
But ohh was it ever worth the ride, I still smile inside, whenever I close me eyes
Still lights a fire inside..
Hard to believe it was both our first time, but I knew it was she was so tight inside, tangled, naked slip n slide.. My god that girl knew how to ride.
Mar 18, 2016
Mar 18, 2016 at 8:46 PM UTC
What songs shall find new life within me
When the darkness softly embraces the sky
As the sun runs it course into the ocean
While like a master painter he fills my eyes
With the beauty of another very lovely sunset
Whose spiritual rhythms softly soothe my soul
While massaging my heart with his tender caress
Leaving on its walls many sweet memories of gold
He brings my heart within to dance vibrantly
Full of his love's most radiant lasting kiss
Joyfully reminding me when tomorrow comes
I will be filled once again with its loveliness
Which he spent the night away from me preparing
The most breathtaking scene one can ever find
So when I open my eyes to greet the new dawning
I will be embraced lovingly by a treasure divine.
Dec 31, 2014
Dec 31, 2014 at 7:54 PM UTC
The glowing jacinth sun was just beginning its descent,
casting long, flittering shadows on horse and rider alike.
Although the horse was young, he walked
with an air of importance,
like a racer entering the track.
As the playful breeze rustled the viridian leaves,
his muscles tensed.
He perked up like a toy soldier,
watching the purpling sky with wary eyes,
the amaranthine clouds reflected in those deep sable orbs.
As he trotted about like a fairy,
his russet coat shone vibrantly in the setting sun,
a body of twinkling rubies set in amber.
The sprite padded softly on the ground
with the delicate nature of a hummingbird,
he had a stride like a river of sweet milk and honey.
The chestnut dreamer skipped across the ground
like notes across a page,
his song light and airy.
he tiptoed and pirouetted,
his three pearly stockings dancing
like the melodious keys of a piano.
Her cinnabar savior bounded over the fences
like a prancing stag,
and his dainty ears pricked forward
as his chocolate-brown eyes fixed on the obstacle ahead.
As he jumped, he lit up with a bravery
that could have been felt all throughout the arena.
Had the two not been alone,
the entrancing sight would have been easily able to charm his way
into the hearts of even the stoniest of onlookers.
With a gleeful snort,
the sunny gelding seemed to fill the air
with good-natured laughter.
The rider reached down to give him a pat,
and he brightened at her touch,
the pet like a kiss on his glossy ginger neck.
And as the last of the daylight filtered away
into the velvety mazarine sky,
his neck stretched down and his walk slowed.
Satisfied with their ride, the two made their way back inside,
surrounding by the growing darkness.
Oct 30, 2013
Oct 30, 2013 at 9:42 AM UTC
The Mendacity of Beauty, Marvels of the Mundane
<1/1/2023 10:38 PM>
commissioned by Pradip^
<>
A special carnet permits the day,
though day itself unremarkable,
permissioning of a thousand,
even, tens of ten thousand
grasping new love poems
all mundane, all marvelous
an aborning of odes re the
vastness of sea, sandy sky,
multifarious penumbras of hewn hues,
vibrantly diverse, still, requiring the
expanse and pretense of “new”
adjectives and metaphoric
in combos recalculating
precisely, it’s the enormity,
of the difficulty of verbal capture
upon tablet of these natural treasures,
once, more, yet again, but in somehow in a new-never
quite-before conceptional~postulation-realization
I sojourn amidst both man made and natural beauty,
provoking, invoking, a steady stream of potable knowledgeables, performing as a hand-written-thank-you-note for the grace, the imagination of their mishmash existences addressed only to
“whom it may truly concern…”
I’m eager to confess that the poetry inherent in the
mundane, requiring not-so-easy mining, a sales taxing
innovation to capture the subtlety of less visible flecks of gold, that present a rarer challenge to the poet’s senses where glory abides in pyrite pebbles strewn and trod upon by most indifferently,
*ah, write of the marvel of the mundane,
**** dare you!*
<>
^Pradip: “writing of the mundane is mandatory for me…”
Aug 12 2022
Jul 1, 2023
Jul 1, 2023 at 11:10 AM UTC
Let me explore you
Let me adore you
I wish to hear.
I wish to care.
You're a novelty
Better than any.
Stories untold.
Let memories unfold
Give me the chance
Let our minds dance
You won't regret
Don't you worry
Here you're safe
Let me know you
Let me comfort you
You're blooming
So vibrantly
The sun shine
Staring back at you
Open up to me.
Give yourself the chance
Let's share tears
We'll never forget.
I wish to care
Do you dare?
Oct 27, 2014
Oct 27, 2014 at 8:44 AM UTC
I lay still as if I were a breathing corps.
My heartbeat reminds me I still live.
My mind wanders aimlessly;
It drifts in and out of the borders of valid conception,
and withers to its content.
Am I alive,
or waking from a prolonged dream?
These thoughts contradict my understanding of this world.
They break the grips of my reality,
and plunge me into the unknown.
Although the notion tinges a world of fear.
My perspective shifts;
My consciousnesses fades away
and is vibrantly replaced
by a wave of blissful euphoria.
This is a strange existence.
Time is irregular;
It means nothing here.
Days seem like seconds;
minutes seem like weeks.
O' to what a mishap,
a folly happenstance,
a fringe to conventionality.
To who or what pleasure
do I owe?
Part of me wishes to leave this place.
Albeit a part wishes to remain.
I am in love with this realm,
yet I know there is somewhere else
that I must be.
So now I set sail
to find the world that I came from;
with a pleasant gift from the one I left.
I look upon an old existence,
with new eyes.
Dec 5, 2012
Dec 5, 2012 at 12:55 AM UTC
Juicy persimmon of the color spectrum,
you wait, as paint, for the right brush
to give you an imaginary life.
Live it up! Dance in all your glowing
intensity! Ultramarine now offers you
cooling shade, and a respite from all
that you so vibrantly are.
Sep 6, 2015
Sep 6, 2015 at 6:38 PM UTC
Dear Newborn,
Hi, hello.
Welcome.
I hope you’re enjoying your stay here on planet Earth.
I’m sure the drive in was a little difficult, a little painful,
perhaps a little ****** (or a lot ******
like moving from the darkest cavern to the brightest….
well, place. Area. Location.
I can’t think of anything superbly bright right now.
Oh, oh, I know.
It’s like living your whole life floating
at the far reaches of outer space and then
catapulting directly into the sun.
Great analogy.
Regardless, welcome.
I said I hope you enjoy your stay,
the key word being hope, because, well,
you may not enjoy it.
In fact, it’s guaranteed that there are parts of life
that will be near-torturous,
that will make you wish you had never been brought
into this world.
But with that also comes moments of happiness
unlike anything you will ever experience,
intense joy that makes you feel as though
you’re weightless once again,
floating out in space with no restraints,
no boundaries, just peace.
The good will be great,
and the bad will be horrible,
and sometimes the good will be good
and the bad will be just bad,
it all depends on the day.
A word of advice: treasure the time you have.
You won’t understand why this is important until you're older,
but do it anyway.
Life fades just as quickly as it is brought to fruition,
and there are people on this Earth you will want to treasure
like they are the finest gold ever to be panned out of any river.
There will be moments like this, too,
moments you wish would never fade,
and they will fade,
but never let them escape your memory,
and seek to make more of those moments every day,
even when happiness seems like an impossible dream.
Life is the most difficult journey you will ever go on,
but has the possibility of being the most rewarding, as well.
Allow the pain to be felt just as vibrantly as the happiness.
Never stifle your emotions.
Never limit others.
Never forget where you came from.
Never stop dreaming,
But never allow yourself to be tied down by those dreams, either.
Be free,
do what makes you happy,
be compassionate,
travel,
drink and make merry
(once you're legally allowed to, mind you),
and just be.
Exist to the great capacity you possibly can,
and die knowing you lived
Wishing you the greatest of luck,
A young dreamer
Oct 6, 2018
Oct 6, 2018 at 3:47 PM UTC
Stare at the universe for a little while, you’ll see
Something resembling you and me: a quite sobbing vacuity
Draining all pellucid stars of luster and bravery.
I won’t be home for the rest of my life, hard as it is to take in,
Something went missing in what never was
That all the timbers strip away at the passing years
In anger and patience that slapped me in the face
When I said I’d never be happy again. My pockets are full
Of icy penance for crimes distance and apathy revealed.
Shimmer do the walks ways in the missing parts of the night sky
Shaped, somehow, by you and every blazing heart
Is a comet to earth: ******* vibrantly a poorly strung bandage.
And every light to cross the concourse of hopeless prophesy
And my constructs of relative suffering, an oil-light suicide.
History is always-already the behest of malignancy, but it’s sweet
The protection as I’ve weaponized every interaction to be,
We could have been cause-and-effect and danced like
Idols, gods, and fools in the sky of our experience, but
The God of Small Things, I, bear down on dis-eases rejection.
Like surgery, the tiny cells bereft of the cause of blood, the cause
Of complaint, can do nothing but new hearts reject.
Nov 11, 2014
Nov 11, 2014 at 12:16 AM UTC