Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
The Dybbuk Oct 2018
Breath the air in zeroes and ones,
Gather your forces and gather your guns,
Feel electricity flowing through you,
Paint oozing red from pulsating blue.
A network of neurons fuels violent vigor,
Process their fear and pull on the trigger.
Some of my poems are just really violent.
Mystic Ink Plus Sep 2018
What’s up?

I want to be like a star

Grant me that honor
To scribe you
Within the verse

Believe me
You will be
More than that star
You will know
Why the whole Universe
Revolves around us
With a new vigor

Can I proceed?

[She shook the head]
[Give it a try]
Genre: Romantic
Theme: Writing is being
Leydis Oct 2018
La sonrisa que llueve en mi alma,
así eres tú, alegrando mis días
y llenándolos de esperanza,
(Así eres tu).

Como el primor del cielo
forrándome en nubes
que transitan mi cuerpo,
algo así eres tú.

Como ladrillos que componen
mi apasionada fábrica, así eres tú,
brasero en mis días más fríos,
manantial refrescante de ilusión
en mis temporadas de calor,
así eres tú.

Semilla que germina de mi tierra,
Como agua, bautizando mi cosecha,
aceite que embalsama mi piel reseca
(así eres tú).

Como arena que se acuesta
con la última ola, así eres tú,
la paciente y dulce cuesta
del sol en mi panorama, así eres tú.  

Salmo que edifica mi espíritu,
ensalmando mis días de tristeza
y conjurándolos con tus bellas
e inolvidables caricias
Así eres tú.

¡Mi hombre perfectamente imperfecto!
Loma de mis anhelos,
vigor de mi boca refresca.
La calma cuando pienso en ti
en mi vieja mecedora.

Estar entre tus brazos es mi mejor sombra,
besarnos y abrazarnos sin descanso
debajo de aquel árbol de magnolia,
vestigios de amor en el suelo dejamos
cual árbol su bella flor nos va adornando.

Así eres tú, como un poema de Neruda,
que me conmueve y me transporta a la luna.
Como un verso que encontró su mejor metáfora,
Como la energía que logra traspasar las barreras físicas.

Así eres tú, mi rayo de sol en un día nublado.
Suspiro que alienta mi cuerpo y mi morada,
Aquella canción que de niña escuchaba,
ya soñando contigo y algún día cantártela.

Y si, ¡bendito Dios, que eres tú!

Nicholas Booth Nov 2018
I used to think apple were apples
     As long as they weren't oranges

Then I got wiser;
learned it isn't just a roll,
     It's  Kaiser

     And then you asked to play
Mcintosh? Oh, Macintosh

But I was a honey crisp       
And let's face it, you're a gala full o' ****

But I took a taste,
and with such haste
Then followed with vigor
making you feel bigger

But only at first,
with such intense thirst
   it's over now
     Thanks for playing? I guess

Take a bow
The first poem I wrote in a short series - processing an emotional set of circumstances I found myself in. The series took about 2 months to complete, although it still feels unfinished. Will be posting them as I work through their content.
Misheca Jun 2018
Contempt for the eyes that watch the twitch of the body, the spit that takes flight
From the mouth of those whose eyes
Look further than what meets the eye
Those who take no notice of the little irrelevant things but marvel at the great big.
Set before them. Taking on each challenge with vigor.  
Charging up to volunteer
Their bodies held together by the strength that hold them steady
Makes the whole.
Taking life by the reins.  
Steering their destiny
While the watchful eyes remain behind the blinds
Looking on in scorn and spewing judgement on those
Living the life they desire
The life the crave.  
Only their eyes see but the flesh does
Not feel.
Starved men left alone
Behind the blinds
Experiencing life with only their
But what happens when
They lose their sight.
Lose themselves
In the life of
Greater men.
Pearson Bolt Jun 3
some days it seems sorrow
stems like thorns beneath
the leaves of intellect. sun-starved petals
wilt for want of water, desperate
to slake their thirst on summer-showers.
the process of photosynthesis forestalled
by the ambivalence of the heavens.
hedge rows turn to labyrinths in the mind,
droughts sap the vigor that bleeds
from trees we planted like solemn columns
in this temple we call the human psyche.
a pestilence has settled in, a dank fog
that rankles our resolve and strips bark
like armor from the human spirit.
weeds rose from fecund soil, strangling
all that once grew here.
Of an auspicious nature
Promising and favorable
Always having an upbeat attitude
Showing strong will and quite capable
Looking up into the sky
In order to reach new heights
Focused, dedicated and determined
With such zeal and vigor to take flight
Sharde' Fultz Aug 2018
Quiet crickets.

Quiet light of moon

Quiet cars along the road
--Go'n be home soon

Quiet AC on too late
Quiet humming charger in the outlet
Quiet bathroom 'cross the hall, water dripping from the faucet

Quiet floors while set'ling in
You're too old for all that whinin'
Quiet creatures awake before the sun
The signals when it's shinin'

Quiet indistinguishable shadow still yet so foreboding
Oh, you're just a pile of clothes that I never got to folding

Quiet drafty window singing with such vigor and such soul
Catch a chill from that night air
Might catch a runny nose

Quiet thoughts-that handsome stranger, worries, deadlines, dreams, 'n stuff
Quiet bedtime playlist streaming
Clearly you were'nt good enough

Quiet poem bursting from me my
Admonition of defeat

quiet quiet.

too much quiet-

quiet, would you let me sleep?

2:46am 8.30.18
As the sand and the stars
That we are born from
Seep away from our skins,
And stain the sheets we sleep within,

staining them blue, and gold, and silver,
And all of the colours
of the galaxies
That we’ve seen

We embrace to call them back.
And you wrap your shine over mine as
The infinite flows back into
Us coalescing into one finite universe.

Larger, more beautiful,
More full of life and love and vigor
Than any we have ever seen before.  
That my love, is for you and you alone.
Deb Jones Oct 2018
I was at my first meeting
with a facility Director.
I would be starting an audit
right after the meeting with her.
There was a little brown and white dog with lots of hair.
And very distinctive black eyebrows like Groucho Marx.
He rolled into the office
with a ball under his tummy.
Very cute.
The Director told me
he was the facility’s mascot.
His name was George.  
Even though my associate
was with me,
George seemed to prefer me.
He nosed the ball towards me.
I took it and rolled it across the room.
George ran to get it
and brought it back to me.
By straddling it and walking it to me.
The Director said he could do that all day.
I rolled it once more.
I ignored George
when he came back with the ball.
I explained to the Director what our role would be in the facility.
Mostly educational...
I felt George sniffing and licking my bare leg.
I looked down and George looked back at me suggestively.
And seemed to grin.
I turned my attention back to the meeting...
George started ******* my leg.
Looking up at me with adoration.
I reached down while still talking
and maintaining my composure,
tried to pull George off my leg.
He tried to take my fingers off with a snarl.
The Director picked up George and saying “Bad Dog” she placed him
on a chair behind her.
He looked at me and licked his lips.
We continued our conversation.
About 30 secs later my leg
was being molested again
with even more vigor.
And wanton disregard for anyone listening, he started to moan.
The Director seemed to get upset.
She yelled his name.
In complete mutiny he just ****** faster.
She picked him up.
I asked if he could be taken out of the room and the door closed.
She said no,
because the dog needed to learn the rules.
My associate’s shoulders were held
very rigid, holding back her laughter.
George was placed right back on the chair.
As soon as the Director sat back down George flipped over
and gave me a look at his “package”
And wiggled his brows again.
This time including a definite canine grin. The gleam in his eyes was pure lust.
I knew he wasn’t done yet.
At this point I, who was supposed
to be running the meeting,
was totally preoccupied
with the little *****.
I gave him my most menacing look.
He seemed to find it arousing.
His eyes made a promise
that I refused to give in to.
George the molester put his head
down on his paws and with limpid eyes watched me without blinking.  
I finally began to participate in the conversation.
My legs and feet tucked under the chair
I was sitting in.
George got off the chair and crept
toward me, almost on his belly.
He got to my side and  disappeared under the desk I was sitting in front of.  
That was ok.
I felt my legs were safe.
Without warning I felt his tongue
gently licking my ankles.  
He had obviously decided
that foreplay was needed.
I tried to ignore it
but he was rolling his tongue
around my ankles seductively
with a couple of swipes up my leg.
I kicked him and saw the Director wince.
I gave up and gave a leg to George.
The little *******.
I never went to that facility again.
I assigned it to an associate
and she never had problems with George.
People at my office sent me photos of dogs posed suggestively.
A lot of dogs.
Delilah Summers Nov 2018
A piece of art
Lavish of affection
You were there for my first breath and keep me breathing
When the afflictions take over my liveliness, you've rejuvenated my vigor
Your charisma brings color to the canvas of life
Red; Passionate, ambitious, determined
Orange; Encouraging
Yellow; Optimistic, intellectual
Green; Growth, balance
Blue; Trust, peace
Indigo; intuitive, idealistic, structured
Violet; imaginative, Self-aware
Each stroke of color makes a clear path for me to be reassured, buoyant, to flourish, be tranquil, clairvoyant, and whimsical in every small step I take
I will be successful because the art in you has painted me that way
The beauty in you has made me beautiful.
Steven Cole Jul 27
In the basking warmth of the day
Or the friendly coolness of night
I hear the chorus from musicians
Hidden in their habitations
Away from plain sight
A keen buzzing, rustling
And rattling
A long vibration that sounds like
It's not useless chatter
But an inviting call that will scatter
Throughout the woods and hills
Underneath the radiant infinity of sunshine
Dancing in the wind
Or in the mysterious moon lit darkness
Unbounded and undisciplined
The lively tenors awake my senses
A grandeur display that quickly dispenses
Vigor and vitality
Throughout my very bones
Propelling my spirit upwards
In a resonating tone
#Nature's call
DP Schott Jan 27
I Am The Lonely One.
Too Scared to Make The Leap.
Too Charred And Disfigured To Near The Flaming heat.

A Lonely Place Gazing At This Flame , Knowing It Can Open The Door To A Lost Vigor For Life.

That Spirit Of Love.
Oh To Ignite The Joy, That Love Of Life
To Make That Vault  into This Beautiful Flame
To Once Again Revel In The joy Of Love.

I'm The Lonely One
On The Sideline, Indecision Plaguing My Mind.
Disunion and Cognitive Oppositions,
Love Is Surely What I Desire.
Safety For Heart And Soul
Paramount, Practical Postures For A Creature So Tortured By This Flame

I Am The Lonely One
Too Scared To Leap
Too Charred And Disfigured to revel in This  Flame And Heat
I Dare Not Gaze At This Crystal Flame Lest I jump In and
Revel once more, no, no, no, Dancing With This Flame Is A Much Too Precariously Dangerous Proposition.  I will Never Be Branded again,  Emotionally ***** Again. Unfortunately For Me,  My Answer Lies Here...

I Am The Lonely One
Benjamin Fox Oct 7
We are complimentary
We are insulting
We are rudimentary
We are revolting
We are miraculous
We are confounding
We are innocuous
We are astounding
We are one
We are flailing
We are done
We are bailing
We are lowly
We are heightened
We are holy
We are frightened
We are faceless
We are growing
We are raceless
We are sowing
We are lost
We are divided
We are tossed
We are excited
We are grasping
We are the storm
We are collapsing
We are the norm
We are running late
We are no longer listening
We are tempting fate
We are the impositioning
We are lowly
We are wanting
We are fully
We are daunting
We are broken teeth
We are masking body odors
We are gone beneath
We are DNA decoders
We are reaching
We are so dire
We are teaching
We are on fire
We are enduring
We are missed
We are recurring
We are kissed
We are stretching
We are contracted
We are fetching
We are enacted
We are contemporary
We are old
We are extemporary
We are cold
We are heavy with debt
We are reluctant to rise
We are sullen and wet
We are hand hidden sighs
We are inebriated
We are over influenced
We are abbreviated
We are flowing confluence
We are pristine
We are flawed
We are foreseen
We are awed
We are the profound
We are small
We are glory bound
We are all
We are bruised and bleeding
We are pictures of health
We are procured and pleading
We are questioning wealth
We are the upright
We are the vim and the vigor
We are the uptight
We are the pull of the trigger
We are beautiful creatures
We are too proud
We are the full length features
We are too loud
We are complicated
We are fulfilled
We are implicated
We are milk spilled
We are forever spinning
We are gracious hosts
We are sometimes winning
We are gray toned ghosts
We are the parts
We are made for war
We are the arts
We are what's in store
We are trampled under
We are risen from ashes
We are torn asunder
We are beneath the thrashes
We are found in the reeds
We are lost in translation
We are the other's needs
We are beyond any nation
We are all children inside
We are going somewhere
We are rivers we've cried
We are learning to share
We are unrealized potential
We are heart beaten blood bags
We are raining torrential
We are dead soldier's dog tags
We are layers upon layers
We are more than our covers
We are unsung soothsayers
We are unconstrained lovers
We are wrinkles in time
We are the cunning younger
We are sprinkles of rhyme
We are a stunning hunger
We are each of us wandering
We are broke or bending
We are patiently pondering
We are never ending...
We are never ending...
We are never ending...
Pauper of Prose Aug 2018
Internal winds that wail with might
A sudden outpour of downpour
Distress accelerating
Into regions physical and mental
Untangling its hair of horrors
So that miniature hells hail
And free will and free thought,
Take the brunt of the damage
Now paralysis is peppered over all
But with one sneeze vigor is awakened
So see all is interlinked
For natural disaster
And natural remedy
Are naturally destined to occur
Agony. seemingly everlasting, allows the muse to come and through the curls of her hair my fingers run.
Whit Howland Jul 20
Today I'm on an even keel
because today

I'm reminded of the time

a breezy sunny day

I saw my  nieces sail
out on San Francisco Bay

they among others
in a junior regatta

playfully braving
wind and white caps
chopping at their hull

and heeling as they
fought the elements
a fight

they would come to lose

but the boat did not sink
and neither did they

their bodies buoyed
like their spirits

and they returned to port
wet ruddy and
full of vigor

ready to sail again

Whit Howland © 2019
Inspired by the paintings of Winslow Homer
He had returned to Hongseong, still robust,
he had returned to care for his ailing brother,
and he walked up the strand of grey
toward Hongju High School, the soccer field
stubbled-green, to his left, still much the same.
2070? Was it 2070 already? Students streaming out
wore similar uniforms, students fresh
as the summer wind expressing a highway
of floating dandelion seeds. His wife passed away
two years before and his two sons worked abroad,
phoning twice, maybe three times a year.
There'd been no explosions, no grand griefs for years.
It had been a convenient marriage, quiet tenderness
blanketing husband and wife now and again,
with Chuseok coming around every year,
with outings and road trips punctuating every year,
with family life, its turmoils, laughter, keeping up
appearances now bubbling forth as so many dreams...

And now he was here, by the soccer field, students
streaming by... He recalled himself, his friends
running in the field, himself swept up in anticipation,
kicking the ball within the thrall of anticipation...
He was going to make a mark in his field
and the school would remember he once studied here.
He'd travel worldwide, invited to conferences,
invited to deliver lectures throughout all of Europe,
and maybe he'd settle in America.
The old man walked on, passed the soccer field, toward
the pink-petalled tree that he hoped was there,
his hope fulfilled. The space underneath flared
with the memory of her whom he wooed and loved,
whom he loved well after circumstances
had parted them cities away.

And the school hallways - how they glowed with her image,
how reddened they were with her laughter...
How deliciously sad her image stood alone...
How strange it seemed that he then anticipated
finer, fiercer loves than his pretty stepping stone.
How many sleepless nights had he slogged it out,
the examinations ******* him...
How many were the anxieties, worries
pressing in upon him...
Yet how strangely faint
and shadowy the memory had become -
and almost quaint.
Even his wife's youthful image, her imagined glow,
the glow of his feelings then, had become
a faded cloth,
his quarrels with his two sons, at times explosive,
more faded patterns on the cloth...

Yet what had moved him here - what intimation
had been stirred in the soccer field's grass,
in the tree's pink petals? What was it about her,
his first flame evoking the marriage
of sadness and delight that eluded the blur?
Though the desks were different, though the hallway walls
and classrooms had different colors sewn,
a different melody rippling from a xylophone,
something of hers remained, a freshness
encompassing the pink petals, field's green,
a freshness whose face spoke of what's serene.
When he held her hand or ran in the field,
though his thoughts had sometimes taken him far afield,
few habits had hardened. He was still a soul
that like the wind passing through the grass and tree
was simply itself, not committed to a goal,
though the mind was a weaver of countless themes,
his mind prone to a rainbow of dreams.
She had moved him deeply: when they were together,
being was strung to being - being glowed -
youthful vigor, moments savored, possibility
shimmering, woven wonderfully together...

Twilight was coming on, spreading throughout the school,
its net reaching the soccer field and tree.
The old man began descending the strand of grey.
As he walked farther and farther away,
passing the street where she once had lived,
passing the multi-colored, blinking score
of PC rooms, singing rooms, and many a store,
habitual thoughts coalesced, clustered again;
he was back with his familiar self again,
the one he knew well for over fifteen years...
The indelible mark not made in his field,
the conferences imagined became the themes,
vibrant ones once again of unrealized dreams.
Still, he was well off, had been served plates enough
of recognition, respect and esteem.
And he was happy to see his brother again -
after more than ten years seeing him again -
happy to help, try to help a brother pull through
whose circumstances bore a darker hue.
Hongseong is a county in South Korea. "Chuseok" is the Korean equivalent of Thanksgiving.
Yenson Mar 4
With the magical banner held high
invoking the crocodile rain of oppression by elites
of greed by leeches and bacteria, amoebas and suckers
oh come all come one, join our revolution against dark powers

Oh.. who in rightful mind could refuse
off she went to hear hot propaganda of those high and mighty folks
who took food from baby's mouth  and live likes kings in our homes
fed in Le Cordon Bleu a'la Rouge with lashings of aspic fabrications

Without hesitation she swallowed all up,
I'm in and I am an Activist show me the culprit, what can I do
all for one, one for all, that parasite deserves miseries and doom
Easy comrade sister, get to know him and help us do his head in  

It's a sport for us that elitist blood sucker
just get under his skin for us, let's play his mind and infest his head
report back to us, inner knowledge is power and we're fighting a war
comrade sister, our hot Activist marched forth on with vim and vigor

comrade sister wholly followed her brief
though soon saw things weren't as the revolutionaries  presented
conflicted and confused she felt pity for a rare icon held in gallows
but the majority carries the vote and all is fair in love and red war

At her cost and with a wretched heart she gave her all
did as she was told and played her part as a true comrade in line
Solidarity she give to the fight, was mean and nasty as demanded
It's them or us they say and see comrades I give my services to you

No medals for Comrade sister, no epaulette yet earned
rather at her cost her privacy invaded and smears throws at her
tales of dark deeds and loose morals hung on her in dark corners
yet that poor heroine fought and gave so much blood for the cause

where is the honour amongst thieves and knaves
she did all that was required of her
told the lies she was made to tell and played the game as taught
stood at the barricades and ****** her guilt and conscience
yet they still don't trust her for paranoia rules them all
Payton Patterson Jul 2018
The world is a scary place,
But only if you let it scare you
Clench your fists,
Widen your stance
And roar with
As much vigor
As you can manage.

                                 (p.p) 9/23 4:07pm
T R S Jan 17
While digging in my garden I wish that I would find
The hilt of an old dagger and an old ration rind
I wish I had the vigor to feel all the burdened dead
But I don't wish the destiny of those that ride the river red.
Sleep has been a sluggish pixie and the moon a constant Patheon
Of Twilight Sirens. I am lulled into molasses eyes and am never sane.
Only a  ghost in my sheleton. A malingering cocoon
in the shape of a perpetual Snow White Crane.
I garden the grove of Midnights inner thy
and valiantly persist. I lay siege where I lay down my arms to suffer peace - as merely a mirage of luminous Tchotchkes and stolen kisses from Abyssal Lips.

Under wrong stars, I roam the Halls of UnTime. I go on my way where looming is sprinting into stagnations embrace
with all the vigor of Hermes. Floating in the hall is like surfing a dark gods wave. An undulating fog
of prodigious oblique.  in haste.
I am a Time Machine that writes poetry
and may never finish my Tea.
Earl Grey.

With the Soul of a
Frozen Agog.
corazon Mar 17
Long, glossed umber hair.
Sharp angled brows defined in the center.
An everlasting smile complimented
By full rose lips
And a blinding smile.
Ashen skin that radiates in the summer sun.
However, it’s her eyes that traps you.
Captivating cesious glances that sparkle in my direction.
Jewels of azure that brighten when
She answers the professor’s questions
with an unrelenting vigor of jubilant passion.
Her infectious personality,
her overwhelming intellect,
emphasizes her beauty perfectly.
That girl from that writing class.
Here is where I cringe in the cradle,
Here are all the creatures fornicating on my back,
Black figurines working black to black
In this vignette I pray for a sudden urge to stay
To steady a vessel
Towards better days

The midnight shoreline makes a ****** edge in my mind
That black world of fornication is my clothing,
My nothing,
To her I am a black figurine
I spin stories in the night
Dark magic sparks from my fingers
Still alive with youth and vigor

I stare into the wall
Solid, banal
And I hope I get bored of it
It's just a poem about how in general,
We fear the unknown world living on our backs
But we are also a part of that unknown world for others

This can offer positive or negative consequences

Or neutral!
Omnis Atrum Mar 18
The words were never able to escape my throat
while I stared at you in awe at each restaurant
and let them be drowned out by the clinking of silverware
and the endless spewing of nervous verbiage.
But between the span of weeks that you spent away
convincing the government agents of your accuracy,
I drug broken chains attached at each of my wrists
that left a trail through the sands as I visited my goddess.
You never saw the anchor that they were attached to before you appeared
or how the whirlpool drug me under and left me gasping,
but your tenderness shattered what was left of the memory
and started to heal the splinters left by the shipwreck.
I believe she heard the metal links colliding with one another
and she was by my side before I could summon her,
but with one glance she knew something was amiss
she tilted her head and whispered “What is it child?”.

The words were barely able to escape my throat
as I gazed over her and sighed “I love her more than mountains”.
The waves tumbled and crashed with vigor
as the winds struggled to carry the heaviness of the utterance.
Her silence begged an explanation for what was heard
and so I began a faulty attempt to provide clarity,
each word passed through lips trembling with fear
and was drowned out by the storm so no others would hear.
"I have encountered majestic mountains many times
but there is no surface on any that has carried her warmth,
there are none that have made me desire so greatly
or any that have provided the happiness she causes effortlessly.
They have not moved me to rethink eternities
or caused me to reconsider my path in this world,
they lack the capacity to understand me as the ever-shifting waters do
and their beauties combined do not compare.".

A single knowing tear escaped her eye and collided with the waters
causing time to run as slowly as the moment before the first explosion
the same moment that birthed Father Time himself
and she took my hand and carried me on a journey to change my mind.
She brought me to each mountain on the body of Tella Mater
silently hoping that one of them would change my mind,
I cannot explain the beauty that they held, but still I shook my head
and she started to understand what was meant in those few words.
I do not know who she consorted with for permission to leave her stead
but we became astronauts and sailed through endless darkness,
until we crash landed on ground covered in red, powdered rust
and looked upwards at the most majestic mountain we had encountered.
There was a hope in her eyes as I stared at it with contemplation
but it dimmed and she sighed as I shook my head yet again,
I could feel the heaviness that was exhaled in that sigh
as if she held a secret that she could not yet share with me.

We escaped from that world and into another immediately
neither she nor I were aware of how we traveled there,
but we stood on solid nothingness at the intersection of oblivion and eternity
with a mountain before us whose peak could never be reached.
Without hesitation she fell to her knees and beckoned me to follow
she trembled as she searched for words to explain where we were,
but when I did not fall to my knees or disavow my statement
a wind fell off the mountain that spoke every language and none.
“What will soon pass you have caused yourself.
The mountains possess an endurance that your love will not.”.
Then we found ourselves at the same shoreline where we began
with the rattling of broken chains scraping across the sand.
In that moment I knew the words you spoke would come
though I was not aware that they would assault my ears so quickly,
perhaps I should hold my tongue now as I should have held it then,
but the universe already knows that I loved you more than mountains.
Next page