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Katelyn Billat Nov 2017
She took the joy.
She took him.
She killed me in the process.
My carcass decayed.
I was left for dead
But life began to make
Its way through me again.
Coneflowers sprouted from my ribcage.
Vines began to tangle up my spine.
Lilacs grew through my skull
I was alive again
with new strength and a
Bliss that came from within.
Marte Lindholm Feb 2018
Waiting for you
Starts a fire inside of me
I feel it in my heart
The pain induced by the flames
And they heat up
Making the blood in my veins
Start boiling
Slowly killing me

Still waiting
I feel the anxiety
Crawling up
My throat
Spreading its vines
Thickening
Soon choking me
Slowly killing me


The only thing
Left to do
Is to pray that
The fire inside of me
Will burn the crawling vines
To stop the unbearable choking
And I'll finally be able
To breathe again
What to do when everything feels like a mess and I stand in the middle, all tangled up
Em Oct 2018
Tripping over tangled feelings.
Darkness gripping at her heels during every step.
Vines of desperation wrapping tight enough to cut off circulation.
She doesn't remember a time without the strangling she constantly feels.
She only remembers the swelling of her wrists
only remembers the deep red tears that fall from her thighs.
All emotions swirl into one feeling.
Numbness.
If only she didn't have to rip her skin to feel again.
The darkness is gripping at her heels and refuses to release.
Which will get her first, a savior or the everlasting pit of numbness?
danna22081 Feb 19
It might be said:

He walked alone,
Through the woods of ancient roots,
Within endless shrubs of glistening-green stems,
And aging, decomposing fruits.

He ran along the maze of bushes,
As though escape was distant...
Concentration,
Expertise no longer consistent.

He tripped, stumbled,
Tumbled
Along the snakes of vines,
Which promised him care, comfort,
Contentment intertwined.

As the mouse was promised love by the cat,
Vines were no longer able to maintain their caution for the boy,
For he slipped through their bare, smoothed curls
Of stems, and dislocated his purpose for living.

He fell into the cave of confusion,
Psychological transfusion,  
No longer riveted by the significance in living,
And prior to anybody’s realisation,
Of his surreal, realistic, reality of life,
Took his own, upon individual discretion.
Mental Illnesses are not jokes. Many individuals have committed suicide, due to influences of their surrounding community, and wider society.
The witches heart is made of straw,
witches' heart is no heart at all.


The witch ideal a nature's fend,
her heart desires the human end.


The vines contort limb,
Lycurgus' gape.
as a punishment for,
man's unholy ****.

'
'
'
'
"Earth was once covered in water."
* *-Xenophanes* *

We are destroying nature radically from every angle.
Elioinai Sep 2018
Love is a living organism
for when it is healthy it grows
It slips it’s tendrils into the cracks and spaces of everything around it
It leaves no weakness unchanged
nothing touched by love remains the same



Love produces love
In all who accept the scent of it’s rosy flowers
Buds begin to form and open
A reliable test for love is this:
You are more and you know it
You are fuller and you feel it
You are beautiful and you sing it
If you become less
then what you have is not Love
Cné Aug 2017
The weary mind in turmoil writhes
and slumber will not come.
The moonlight seeps
like latticed withered vines.
I listen to my heartbeat,
in the silence like a drum,
And through my shuttered eyes....
see strange designs.
The night will not take me prisoner,
and bind me to restful sleep.
No dreams, or any respite,
no way, my soul to keep.
Groaning as I turn myself
to rest beleaguered pain,
I stretch to ease
my tortured back and sigh.
Then I fluff my pillow
to deactivate my speeding brain...
Rolling in the covers,
as my body sweats and strains,
seeking to lose myself,
discarding all, my pains

But my eyes are wide...
and still the question..."Why?"
Brains on hyperdrive
Vicki Kralapp Aug 2012
Swept up in your breeze lifting me to new heights.
Floating on a silken web back to earth, lost in wingless flight.  
Living in the moment, you’ve given me new eyes.
Riding high on a wave of ecstasy, coming alive in you.

Words elude me, running in circles to escape my lips.
Tears run with unfamiliar emotions,
washing away old scars of relationships past.
Souls unite as intertwining vines, becoming one in love.
All poems are copy written and soul property of Vicki Kralapp.
I
Through vines indeterminate
Red cherry eyes peeped,
And spied two forms,
Fleshy pink and brown
Trees, tangled at the roots,
kissing in the canopy.

II
The garden was our
Discotheque, the sullen
Moonlight reflected
On the Black Beauties,
Twisted black mirrors,
in the garden of joy.

III
O, to again be mov'd
By your heirloom lips,
I'd give it all, the earth,
the sun, and the water.
A sacrifice: my Homesteads,
for a home.

IV
Soil runs dry.
The sun scorches.
Plagues run rampant.
We burn, we are sacked
and pillaged, and destroyed.
Roma, Roma, Roma.

V.
Maybe the rain,
Or sweet shade,
Or gentle sun,
Or simply the need
To be so defiantly
alive, will bring us again,
And I will drink you up again,  
Brandywine.
Cné Sep 2017
Beauty is in the eye of the beholder. This becomes more evident as we grow older. What we once may have thought was a work of art, now because of age has fallen apart. When we started out we might have looked like a Michelangelo, but in the end I fear that we shall all become Picasso's.

Written by James M Vines
James wrote this little rhyme for me. And I had to share!
Thank you, James!
Caloris Nov 2018
Veiling streaks on hill and yard
o shroud the yearn of coldest heart.
Low fog does densely cloud in shame
that you and I could feel the same.

Igniting hope within the grey
shall raise the shooting eye
Onward the light; be bold yet humble!
this might be more than mere a stumble.

New radiant warmth beneath the canopy
gives promise of the sweetest progeny.
Velvet hands to touch and feel,
let this desire be our seal!

Early storm comes as monsoon
as if the branches were to prune.
Ends you and me too soon.
This poem is an analogy of vineyards and love.
Autumn Daze Jan 2016
That song you wrote
is still on replay mode
It used to make me special
to leave, you did cause you said shall.

I wish you didn't have to
though you said it is for me too
I never want you to leave
because to you I want to live.

The lines of that song,
oh what happened wrong
can't we just relive the lines
and grow together like vines.

I want to hear you sing that song you composed
as long as I live but why does everyone oppose?
© Cassandra Cereza
012516

follow Cassandra Cereza
Matt Jursin Nov 2010
They say that there's a mathematical equation that explains everything in life.

But I say that not even physics bears an explanation for...the guidelines of attraction.
Our primal reactions are multiplied by...the highlights of passion.

These laws of love that linger like a lanterns lost illumination...
Like the campfire light on a clear night, leaves coals of culmination.

Sweat beads lead to bare threads and bare bodies.
And oh my, how bare bodies lead to imaginations running wild.

Cold winds inspire warm kisses and close skin.
Sincere actions aren't sins.

Bodies wound in union, formed by light and tightly bound.
Together, these twisted vines ******* the hardest ground...
Together, harmonic souls produce passionate sounds.
Yet, still somehow, love gets lost more than love gets found.

This equation is unending...like numbers off lips that kiss the air.
Body language spoken...Our physical bonds equal eternity and pi squared.
And you know that every moment that we share is nothing short of...molecular love for the masses...
Now held captive by gravity and magnetism...

See, the last full moon marked retrograde...and if the moon affects the tide of the ocean...and our bodies are roughly 75% water...can we assume that this is the only body powerful enough to keep ours apart?

This gravity...
This pull...
It's pulling me apart...so let me pull you closer, stop pushing me away!
Hold on tight, dont let these planets drift away into a dark rift of decay.

Let your love lap upon this solid stone like a river riffles smooth sandbars into hills of higher ground.

Because baby, without your water on my beach...
I'm nothing but a desert, dry and deserted.
Love, the drug.
Vines can reacheth up to the sky
Supp'rt'd by the sturdy pine
Given the chance to groweth and thrive
Curl and twist'd up rough skinn'd oaks
To seeth the w'rld through eyes up high
Unreachable but f'r those deep, stout roots
Anon finally able to floweth'r and fruit
Climbing up by the crackling bark
On the backs of the pines and belly of the oaks
@LadyRavenhill
2018 rewrite of 2016 poem
Starting a collection of just my Shakespearean poetry called
W'rds of a Nimble-Footed Mistress. check it out on my profile as I add more, I have so many still to post. Who knows, maybe I will finally publish something?
King Panda Aug 2017
god meets
mystic: the
swing of winter
and lakes frozen
over.

god meets
Judeo-Christian sinner
whose eyes sought
lead along the lake’s
shore.

heavy.
heavy.

god meets sin:
a welding of
metallic vines and
out of tune music.

god meets underwater
Vulcan as he swallows
a laugh. gasoline
tops the lid
of the lake.

god meets the
fire that wicks the surface
until the body bubbles.
Mohamed Nasir Jul 2018
To ill is scourge hazard of modern man;
The way of life which tricked you leaves you weak.
Before it pounced, prevent you must! You can,
Your visions blur, your limbs cut, your times bleak.
Avoid refined sweetness pure, you should know,
The more you love to eat the more you crave;
Your sweet tongue urged pleasures deals a cruel blow,
The more you indulge, closer be your grave.
This sickness gradual erosion of health,
Like shrinking pools merciless sun would drain.
A diabetic's woe: no amount of wealth,
Could stop the vines that binds and break the chain.
Without remedy and won't heal for good,
So sweat, please monitor intake of food.
Tom Spencer Oct 2018
pulling back the covers
dimming the lights

an owl calls
from the holly tree

just outside
of my window

the garden below
has grown beyond my control

weeds sprout vines tangle
in the summer squirrels gnaw

on the green holly berries
littering the courtyard

with half-eaten haws
in the spring mockingbirds

gorge on the bright red fruit
their florid songs

celebrating
light sky life sun leaf air

closing my eyes
I think back through the decades

to when I planted the tree
it was a time of hope

a time when we dared dream
of a world without

mortal enemies
when you could imagine

shaded islands of calm
hidden coves immune to rancor

now look at us
heads down lost hurtling

stumbling
under a trance

we have turned on one other
distracted by those

who grab wealth and power
under the cover of night

confused by the constant
trumpeting and alarms

blind to what we share
we retreat

into the darkness
of our fears

Tom Spencer © 2018
Vicki Kralapp Aug 2012
Impressionist colors rising out of chocolate brown,
stretching chartreuse necks upwards.
Intertwining vines clutching each other in a desperate rhapsody of life,
all waiting to display their Creators’ palette of pure color.

Orchid and yellow chalices hold the morning dew
as all are christened in jeweled morning light.
With blue and white snow you carpet the ground
blanketing hillsides with hope of Monet.

Orange tongues of fire licking up towards the sun
while jade blades battle as new growth crowds in.
Blossoms hang full with a living harvest of yellow,
awaiting transport to another.

Stalks of dried grasses stirred by the August wind,
dancing to the rhythm of the warm stirring breeze.  
Summer now ebbing away in aged colors muted with brown,
returning to the muddied ground once again.
All poems are copy written and soul property of Vicki Kralapp.
M Solav Sep 2018
Oh it's all hanging threads,
Hanging ligaments with drops of red:
Vines without poles - flesh without bones.

Events roll out in scarlatine flashes:
Eyes in crowd flap down their eyelashes
And in silence the suspense grows strong;

The bricks are set, the façade is over,
But from within, the house still lacks a structure:
One penetrates rooms without walls.

A memory from the depth is brought up,
A storyline used to link so many dispersed dots:
Leaves are flying free as the childhood tree rots...

Oh it's all hanging threads
Hanging sources, hanging roots:
Scars over the sun revolving in loops.

And the conduit narrows down,
Leaks a single bolt of light to glow:
An empty room as throne and crown

And a thorn, pain escaping death,
A frown of estrangement in the face
Of all that's known - what's most unknown.

Spectators stare deceptively
While promises of relief are spared;
They too are suspended in the air...

Oh it's all hanging threads
Hanging loose, hanging dead;
Waiting for the artisan to ease the noose.
Written in October 2017.
Arianna Feb 23
I.

The rainbow erupts,
Spilling the decadence of Seasons
In colors and curves
Over crystalline cloth

Banquet hall turns to vineyard
Grapevines spiraling up the pillars

In the finest brush strokes
Of fingers teasing the air

Touching

Crushing

Sun-ripened flesh

Of rose-petal nails
Peeling through layers
Digging fossilized sediment
From beneath amber-painted faces:

Brushing the leaves from your brow,
I gaze into the Earth,
Feeling down the vines
To the roots of your tree.

Gently, peeling away the dead bark,
Biting your sunset-colored heart

Rising, filling, falling

Lapping at the nectar welling up
From your veins.



II.

Salt turns to sweetness
Where les fruits de la mer merge
Avec ceux de la terre:

Mango skins and dolphin fins,
Mermaid tails and lion shins
Tangle with emerald vines,

Somersaulting in the tides

Our forms brush
Between Land and Sea,

Our lines cross
'Twixt shadow-dappled waves
Where the murmuring forest°
Harbors cherry blossom glades
Behind nettle screens and nectarine trees.


My heart quickens,
Listening
As the breath swells into a roar
Reverberating from your core:

"How does the forest whisper?"

Wine runs red
From the pomegranates at my breast...


III.

Inhaling pear blossoms from your chest,
Fingers caper down your spine
Caressing sunflowers and blueberries,

Knees nestled
Among the lavender in your thighs.

Exploring the crevices of your roots,
Plucking wild grapes and olives
And avocados
From your hollows,
You ripple with Life
Flowing from below
The surface,
Feasting on your Essence
Butterflies kiss you with your sweetness:

"Do you not taste the Sunshine
coursing through you,

shivering in the warmth
of Turquoise?

I'm surprised
you never noticed
the flecks of Springtime
in your eyes...
"


IV.

Tearing figs from hips, I

C  R  U  S  H

Roses in my fists

Dripping perfume
Over your neck

My teeth become fangs

Ripping
every          
last  
            thorn


Out

Where they've pricked your skin,
Scattering ravished

P
                 E
                               T    
                   A
                           L
                              S

In the dark spaces
Between your ribs

Listening, listening...

Licking clovers and honey
Over your raspberry-scarred wrists.


V.

Seafoam champagne
Glistens in the trail of my tongue
Tracing rivers over the desert
Spilling its golden embrace
From the mystery of your smile

Wreathed in laurel, hazelnut, acorn, and ivy

Winding vines
Tighter and
Tighter

Borders vanish behind starry mists,
they slip...


Elemental perfection
Of Earth and Sea
Made gentle by moonlight:

"Enough, enough,
I am enough!
"

We drift
On the edge of two worlds;
No sound pierces
The rush of water and schism of land.

We tumble,
We drown,

Our colors bleed together...


VI.

... gushing brilliant bordeaux
Over the tattered tablecloth.

"Drink deeply, for the cup
Runneth over!
"

Starving muscles
Revive at the sensation
Of violet plums
Bursting with the sound of a kiss
Between blackberry-stained lips

Planting almonds and strawberries
On pollinating tongue-tips —

Quoth the Bee to the Hummingbird:

"Open your heart!"


Quoth She to He:

"I will unfold my wings
That you may kiss every inch of me...
"
A collaboration with Crown Shyness. :-) You can read Part I here:

https://hellopoetry.com/poem/3014184/banquet-i-sushi/

Haha, my segment trailed away into space, following no cohesive thread whatsoever, but perhaps you can imagine the words trickling down your chin like the juice of your favorite fruit.

° = ;-)
paige v Jan 2015
covered by thorns and hidden by vines
but you’re still attracted to the light
that reflects from my broken sides
you want to swim alone tonight
but I know you’d let me hold you down
Velvet rose petals and shattered glass don't mix but still you’ll love me anyway
despite the scars I've left on you
you’d lay with me
on dead grass
and let me point out your fading colors
you’ll excuse my relentless attempts
to bury you under ground.
“you're destructive
and reflective,
I see myself in you”
As my ridges rip you to shreds you stay with me,
a ****** mess and a lonely swimmer,
another garden destroyed
with wasted raindrop tears
Arianna Dec 2018
Breathing deeply
Of the heat
Rising
In tidal rushes
From the velvet of
Your skin
Cascading
Over mine,
Entireties
Enveloping
Melting, us together,
Suspended in this
Pulsing plane
Of pleasure and pain,
As
The warmth of wine
Hits the blood
Wherein
La chaleur de nous-mêmes
Indistinguishable

HEART

Reunites
Inside-outside­
At once,
At one
In a carnal


SYMPOSIUM


Pomegranate cheeks
Pressed, rouge
Into wine,
Flowing
Ambrosia
Of sweat,
Honey,
And the Hunger
Of



TIME



Grapes bursting
Forth from vines
Of bordeaux kisses
Devoured,
Plucked ravenously
With tongues,
Flowing
In leaf-winged abundance
Over humming, desiring
Stomachs
Bursting with
Crimson cabernet
And the drunkenness of roses,
Blooming scarlet
And savage
Between thighs, and
Strewn back
Up the ripening
Raspberry vines
Now entwining,
All-compelling,
.
.
.
.
                                               T                                                       
                    R                                                  

A                         ­         I          
                              N                  M  ­  
N                                                
                     G.....         R
                    S                              ­                          
                     O
                                                     F                                                          ­  
               .
               .
               .
               .
Between skins,
Garlands
Of laurel caresses
Woven
‘Round necks,
Braided through shady
Willow tresses
By rose-stained
Fingertips
Hovering

D
O
W
N

To alight
Upon strawberry lips:
Inhaling
Hymns
From the depths beneath them:
Lush,
Flowing
Harmonies of


FEELING


Echoing,
As the tambourines
Chime louder
In breaths
Amidst the swaying
Of hips and

IMMOLATING

Free of form,
The dance



REVERBERATING



In the ardor
Of souls bared
Whole.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=i4qePY2Wdss
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