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Rupert Jan 24
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.
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
Just as seasons change, so will how we feel.
once privileged Oct 2014
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?
Marla Apr 12
Sparks of light
Emerge from the void
And encircle themselves
Around a phosphorescent nucleus.

Colors, green and purple,
Shine through the hues of watery darkness
As the traces and trails
Glow vibrantly in the black of it all.

Organisms and antimatter
Flow around each other
Suggesting a relationship of unity.

O to touch such forbidden beauty!
To hold it in my pale hands-
It's enough to make one cry
Tears of radiation
In a sea full of death's water.
melissa rose Jan 14
I was recently told
from a credible source
that a famous band wrote a song
about a difficult time in my life
it’s not from the album Dark Horse
but it is a song filled with judgment
defining me as selfish and weak
no love given for my struggles and strife
or painful journey down the Long Road
at first this left me
feeling less than and meek
but then I realized we are not defined
by the perceptions of others
even famous rockstars don’t
have the authority to diminish
our vibrantly true colours
so if someone you trusted
is telling dramatic stories about you
remember the only way
they get power
is Because Of You.
1/14/19 true story
he was always
wanting, waiting
to take this walk with me

back turned at the edge of the woods
I called to him, said I was coming

and when I arrived at his side
our feet synced and tongues entwined
in stride, aligned and winding along
this colloidal ladder of a path
inside vines climbing into curls

we were so green

verdant bloom mouthing heartbeats
in synchronic lightstreams

remember when
we stepped into the clearing
where treetops parted for the sky
we both looked up, then laid down
inside the other's mind
neither push nor pull
but stilled

by backlit rhythmic ribs
arising and ebbing harmonic
bathing in the shores of soul
they dive deeper, you know...

it didn't matter
when the rains came
because you stayed with me
even though you bemoaned
the falling wet charcoal
I tousled your ashen hair
and listened

then I straddled you
and spoke of rainbow spectrums
visible only
after the clouds cry

and you
you let me
crawl inside your ear
with whispers of black-lined blissings

and in that instant
the sky vibrantly bowed
arcing prismatic across rays
bestowing halos on us both
imperfect beings
perfectly seeing
Olivia Daniels Oct 2018
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
   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
For this girl I see literally every day. I've never talked to her, only seen her around campus. Today she came to my work... I have this weird feeling of connection to her
Isaac Aug 2018
When honour awakes,
ordinary things become vibrantly alive for you.
Written 21 August 2018
Viola Feb 20
I remember walking on crunching leaves and the sun shining violently through the trees. The light creating a twinkling in your eyes flickering vibrantly in the confines of my fading memory.
Everything was golden, gloriously golden in that moment.
Now, the decay is setting in on my once ambient vision.
I can still hear us singing, we could be heroes, if just for a day.
venn Oct 2018
Dear Newborn,

Hi, hello.


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
in the very 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 fished out of the land

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,
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
Sam Gerochi Jul 13
I was intrigued by her. Keeping me occupied for days and nights. She created an overall impression that is both distracting and alluring. Her body and adornment that dazzled my eyes and fashion that made me idealized the most. There's a tremulous presence, her manner and nonchalant air. Her voice, so innocent, and sweet, and lull. Her hair, so vibrantly ****, and her eyes, so tender, so bright and fiery, melt my heart, and makes burn. She has an intoxicating charm with an acid wit. A mixed qualities.
Oh, what a cruel temptress! What am I supposed to do? I have no choice. Just look-look! How can one not be transfixed by such shimmering luminance? Sure, I am aware of the dangers that awaits, yet still allowing myself ready to set and sail, submitting to her sonorous voice, willingly bound to dash myself upon the rocks, with unalloyed ease and delight.
True beauty is so rare that when you encounter it-in nature, in art, in people - it breaks your heart a little. True beauty stops us in our tracks, we catch our breath, we are still.
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.
Boreas- the north wind in Greek mythology associated with the storms
zephyr- the west wind associated with spring
Notus- the south wind associated with crop destruction (end of autumn)
Eurus-the east wind the associated with opposing Noctus and autum bounty

looking for a new muse to learn new things about myself through someone true to themselves
Bob B Dec 2018
THIS poem is number 800
Of poems I've "published" on various sites.
You might golf, play tennis or paint;
Of me they merely say, "He writes."

Eight hundred poems are a lot
Of poems if you are keeping score.
But bear in mind that poets out there
Have written hundreds or thousands more.

Writing can become a passion--
Something that grasps your innermost being,
That vibrantly exposes your heart
When you try to express what you're seeing.

My approach is sometimes light-hearted
And playful if I am in the mood;
And yet I can be quite serious
And muse on something or ponder or brood.

I often write poems that tell a story.
Call them unsophisticated
If you wish, but frankly I say
Sophistication is overrated.

After observing the world around me,
I sit down and roll up my sleeves
To write, often focusing on
Some of my most annoying pet peeves,

Hypocrisy being ONE of them.
Oh, the slimy hypocrites ooze
Flagrant chicanery, fraud, and pretense,
And every day they're in the news.

Some say, "Leave no turn unstoned."
No, wait: I mean "stone unturned."
And no, you can't please everybody;
That's an important lesson I've learned.

If you've read all 800 poems,
I've taken up a lot of your time.
I hope you've found the journey worthwhile--
This journey through my verses in rhyme.

But if poetry's NOT your thing,
Do not worry; I understand.
You'll receive no criticism,
No reproof, no reprimand.

Therefore, if you've read this far,
Celebrate along with me
This little challenge. Raise your glass
And drink a toast to poetry!

-by Bob B (12-27-18)
Gods1son Sep 2018
Is this what it means to be broken...
You wanna let it all out in a cry
But your well of tears is dry
You just wanna be by yourself
But you are scared of yourself
Emotions are like...
If you look on the bright side of life
Emotions could flip to...
           ­                                   Happily
                      ­                        Cheerfully
                              ­                Vibrantly
                                       ­       Strenghty

See the best in the worst things!
Poetemkin Jun 28
Hereby you may know a blessed man:
He will not live after philosophies contrived by despisers of God.
He will not march for ungodly causes.
He will not lift up his voice with impugners God's righteousness.

He will be a lover of the Word of God.
He will ever be found within it's pages
It will ever be found in the thoughts of his heart.

You will see this man blossom vibrantly like a well-watered tree.
His foliage will be verdant and his fruit plentiful and timely.

Behold the end of the ungodly man:
When the harvest is sifted they shall vanish away with the wind.
Their cause will be known for its vanity.
They will not be found in assembly of the just.

The just man walks paths that are intimate to God;
but those who hate God must walk the paths of death.
Jenna Apr 24
It keeps blinding me                                
  not the pain                                                      
    no­t the jealousy                                                  
      not the shame
        not the depression

                               It's the Love.

So bright it burns
No longer a fleeting feeling
Just a passionate sizzle
As it protests against my skin
Adding a different kind of hue
Described as feminine colors
Some men hate it so

Twinkling with a glare,
  not the face
    not the torso
      not the hands
        not the legs

                               It's the Eyes.

Dark as day swallowing the light
Greedy for more color
In wait, it becomes a game
It glares with determination
Reflecting its true desires
Blissfully unaware of another's intent
In hope it finds purchase of more value

Beating down with persistence,
  not the brain
    not the stomach
      not the lungs
        not the intestines

                             It's the Heart.

True inner beauty
is what captures the most
Relative to time and space
It may grow weary with years
Though it will never distinguish its heat
Pulsing vibrantly every single second
Divulging upon raw emotion and vision
Feeling a love craze.

— The End —