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Glass May 19
the crystal faith you praise
is fractured with dysphoria
that two years from now you won't be able to distinguish my beauty
and we'll fall apart into
a open concept of bigger questions (hydroxide pause) and then my scenery
will be vivid and fluently spoken towards repeated
images and small - town secrets
of surprise but tomorrow isn't sunny,
the damage
has already begun

- G
For those who already don't know my poetry is published on Border Grey Magazine. Please Check it out! http://greybordersmagazine.jigsy.com/issues
Chrissy Ade Jun 2018
My lips have always craved the taste of danger.
Maybe it is because I don't know what's good for me
or I'm in love with the high I get from it
The high that takes me to the heavens,
surpassing the pillow-like clouds
resting against the azure canvas
I remember the taste so vividly,
I salivate at the thought of it
It's sweet like candy,
the sugary goodness
rushing inside my veins
delicately coating my tongue
bites between my teeth
explode into a thousand little pieces,
dancing inside my mouth
Your succulent lips pressed against mine,
remind me of the taste of summer strawberries,
juicy and tender with citrusy undertones
we're kissing like there's no tomorrow
Oh how I feel your lips part from mine, then touch
and part again the way the clouds greet the sky
Before a rainy afternoon
How can something so bad taste this good?
Oh I'm convinced your kisses are a drug
Nice to play with, but toxic to the mind
Kissing you must be equivalent to intoxication
shockwaves through my body,
the paralyzing euphoria
I don't think I could ever give you up
This addiction is taking control
Constructive Criticism is welcomed :)
Pat Broadbent Oct 2018
Planes streak across the wide October sky–
The sun is setting–
Contrails stream behind them,
glowing scars of the evening.

The highest ones, they exhale the day’s gold,
pure and sharp
like fields of August wheat,
dusty and late-summer charred.

Redder and lower ones hug the skyline,
No cloud to catch them,
Fall like meteorites,
the slow burn of a dwarf star

Memories never print so vividly,
slow burn sees fast death,
Reds, golds and what's between,
A brain is all catch-and-release


So afterwards what should be left of this?
Not but an umbra,
Impressionist beauty,

A mere relief of its source?


Beauty’s slow fade is not the tragedy,
–rather the reverse–
That we fade to beauty,
To never hold it in full.
Beauty and whatnot
Lizzy Feb 2016
I'm smarter than
Most people i know,
But i've been cursed
With the ability to
Feel.

I have a multitude of thoughts
Being triggered every second.
Each with their own
Unique emotion.

I feel each one vividly,
And with amazing depth
Creating a storm in my head
Impossible to ignore.

My storm of emotions
Grows so strong,
It prevents the simultaneous thoughts
From being articulated
Or understood.

I can confuse myself,
And break my own heart
Because of the complexity
Of my mind.
An astounding talent, really.

My dad says I'm smart,
Too smart for my own good.
And he's probably right.

What good is a brain,
When your heart makes all the decisions?
D Awanis Dec 2016
Nostalgia is a beautiful phenomenon
It's when life seemingly happier,
more adventurous, and less chaotic

People frequently romanticize and misplaced it
As a neverland, wonderland, you name it
More often than not, they think it's all they have left

As I grow older, I can see those fragment of memories
Vividly, so crystal clear that it almost feels real
But baby, nostalgia is a psychological illusion

So, come to your senses now
Recall this as a mantra
Breathe in, breathe out

He's not a history—he's a tragedy
She was going through the path she made.
She tried to handle those things in a right way.

But in this strange place,
in just one mistake,
 the dim covered her life.
She lost her way in a smoky haze.
This rosy life is not for her.
This rosy life turns darker.
Vividly faded.
Perfectly broken.
Shattered and gone away.
#Lost #Void #InDarkness #Vain
roseveltbaxley Nov 2018
Scars are like memories,
and tattoos.
when you fall, when your heart breaks,
and when your best friend turns her back on you.
it leaves scares that hurt every time you think about it.
it's a memory that will stuck
in your head.
it's in the past but it comes back and bites.
it's a tattoo because it's a memory
that hurts, but doesn't disappear.
It never does. When you see it so vividly,
you sometimes regret what led you
to the scar that is a memory
that leaves an imprint in
your life's history.

-rose.
Amanda Noel Aug 29
It's easy to be blinded by evilry when you can't perceive the scenery, or feel the air we breathe.
But the trees can vividly explain the majesty to those who seek to see.
Can you tell me what it means?
Really, what is the raven saying?
Robin Lemmen Oct 2018
Dim down the lights
This way you won't have to see me cry
Turn my body around
My eyes will tell you stories you can't bear to hear
And do ignore me in the morning
I am so dreadfully loud
But am I okay?
Are you alright?
Never again did those words fall
Dripping with honey
Sticky with longing
Down from your lips
To kiss my porcelain skin
Never again did you care
I remember so vividly
The turning of the tides
It came flooding, that Autumn rainfall
And all that was left for us to do
All we did
All we managed

Was drown.
Kewayne Wadley May 2018
And when I dream of you.
The pages turn.
Highlighting a million and one things.
All captivated by the sound we touched with our eyes.
Each played in beautiful melody.
I'd chase behind you.
Playing a symphony each time you'd smile.
Between the pause we were soft.
Supple.
Forgetting which one of us was sleeping.
Revealing all of our secrets.
You taught me how to sing.
Forgetting to move my mouth.
Each emotion thrown from my stomach.
When I dream of you,
I see all the colors.
So vividly played in beautiful color
Kathryn Irene Aug 2018
You gave so much
yet left too soon,

I took your love for granted
and now my goodbyes are
only my own.

I can still remember
our good times,
vividly and happily,
I loved that so much.

I walk in your steps and live
in your memory,
My heart not of sorrow
but of love.

My love for you that
never ceased.

- SkullsNBones
For my dog, Miss Tree
May you rest in peace ❤

From my instagram www.instagram.com/SkullsNB0nes
Hector Dec 2018
~

Weaved strands across fences flowering vividly

beyond these bounds I crudely built-

I need you, kindly ease my guilt

for living poorly and wasting time,

for loving far beyond my fears

and loving you regardless years

of dirt and grime.

I’ll let you go, another winter

will get me close, another spring

will bloom my dreams across constrains

and freely run through my veins

like love now flows a steady stream

of wants and dreams-

Forgive me, for loving you

with no intent to be whatever was

you wanted then, or may want now,

for seeking more than just today

or dreaming high beyond our truth, somehow,

I became blind to what it cost

to let it be, to let me stay-


-
H.O
December 2018

https://soundcloud.com/som-40/the-strands-we-weave
“We are all so much together, but we are all dying of loneliness.”
― Albert Schweitzer
Amber E Mar 2016
A blanket of warmth
Starry skies
An orange sunset
Crickets singing on summer nights
I’m alive again
All of my senses are awakened
Who is this girl that dreams so vividly
Lost in the dark places, remaining in the shadows
No one seems to be aware
That she’s long gone
A polished me
Chipper hellos
Cheery goodbyes
Are we all so blind
That we enjoy the illusion
And prefer the facade?
I’m thirsty for something more
For authenticity
Real words
Shocking humanity
Resting in the thoughts of those like me
Who see the world differently
Who are forced to grin and bear it
Before the ultimate surrender
By serendipity's sake,
There mine eyes beheld her
Grinning with serenity about the lake,
Peeking from just around the corner;

Ineffably with a novelty luster,
Treading about wishy-washy skies,
Epitomizing all her ethereal grandeur,
That felicity exuded about mine eyes.

Alas! Only to turn around as to behold,
Vividly behold such novelty pulchritude
About her gown and crown of gold,
Than when it didst dawn upon me:

"She was discreetly decamping yonder,
Leaving me a desolate, in a vale of pain,
Down the dumps & a lonesome wanderer
Wishing to catch a glance at her again!"
#Twilight #Pulchritude #Her.

#A repost of one of my older poems with a slight change of flow.
I wish I was in France right now
with that soft accordion singing in the background.
An oil canvas of the town
a slight warm breeze with a magenta and violet sky.
People.
walking around everywhere.
soft tones of everyone's voices from all around are swirling around me like an array of beautiful colors
I want to sit on one of those patios with the great view with you.
Sip our tea, talk for hours.
As long as it was with you.
I paint the love we share in my head like Picasso.
Its beautiful.
I wanna do everything with you.
I wish to stay at that apartment in Paris during the summer one day.
I could see myself with you, living.
I can picture it vividly like a photograph
clean, white, warm, open, and bright.
flawless
Everything is perfect with you.
Im in love with you
I need to be

with you.
written in thoughts of you
JS CARIE Dec 2018
When you come to my thoughts
You are none other than the billowy embodiment of a reminiscent memory
and also a current everlasting longing
You are the memory of a being or idea
one can feel and remember vividly
but can not zero in on,
for you are the intangible
the winding wind
You are those spiraling twines that place intermittent along grapevines
You are the ancient scrolls from wise days before paperback
You are the spin in the reaching center of a handcrafted wreath
And within all these
individualities and collective,
Lies your scent comprised of multiple scents
You are the mighty togetherness
Your arrival to earth escaping from birth  
gave these words to the minds of the kind
You are the winding wind who spins and twines, wreathes and scrolls who lands from time to time and when you do drop for a spell
This location of harboring landfall
is a day of new tradition,
the first step you take on new land on that new day
Becomes the origin of a new holiday
In my thoughts you are the mortar of the earth
Intangible love
Kj Apr 2017
my life is becoming a series of unfinished poems
there's one about the time
we walked home drunk
and kissed in the snow
I remember it so vividly
and there's one about the time you slept over
and how you held my hand
when you thought i was sleeping
but these poems are unfinished
likely because you and i
are unfinished business-
or rather, unofficial, unlabeled, I'm unsure-
I don't even know what we are
And I want to ask,
but then i remember that i am supposed to be the cool girl
the girl who does not care about what we are doing
and doesn't like labels
the girl who says "yes come over and drink"
but doesn't worry about what she'll confess when drunk
the girl who is okay with making out
but just calling this friends
the girl who doesn't ask questions
because she doesn't care about answers
but i am young and i am not the cool girl
i have never been the cool girl
questions to me are spaces to write answers
answers that i want to know
that i want to learn
that i want to hear
so please
just tell what this is. what we are.
i don't know why this seems to be so hard
Francie Lynch Dec 2017
You've heard this tale
A thousand times,
Take one more spin,
This version's mine.
And this telling tale
Is its first time.
My theme is fitting,
The message sublime,
For the Season of giving,
And gifting one's time.

For my first Christmas
I was three,
But the warmth on that night
Never cooled,
And indeed,
It was
A cold Christmas Eve.

We stuck branches of pine
In a bucket of sand,
That's the snapshot I've got
Of our Christrmas tree then.
Here's the memory that Eve
Of a lad of three,
Yet this story is true,
It's a family heirloom.

We weren't many then,
There was Mammy and Daddy
And six children, soon seven.
Daddy was an Operator
Of cranes and loaders
Dirt packers and graders.
He was working North,
Far North,
Manning a dozer,
Distant from family
Near the Quebec border.
That's where he was
Days before,
When his pant-leg caught fire,
When the diesel was spilled.

We were only three months
In our chosen homeland,
It was 1958,
And fresh from Ireland.

No way to get to him,
Nor him to get home,
No car,  no friends yet,
Little money, no phone.
Yet somebody knew
We were out on our own.

And the snow started falling,
It was Christmas Eve,
I stood at the window,
Saw the snow fill the trees.
I was still and staring,
At what I don't know,
But I remember quite vividly
All that I saw.

Like a scene from a movie
Starring Barry or Bing,
A fire-engine red no-top
Stopped and parked with high beams,
Highlighting the snow,
On that Christmas Eve.

A big man in a red suit
Slid off of the trunk,
Literally carrying a sack,
And calling, **! **!
The family joined me
At the window to see
The big man's helpers
Carry a big Christmas Tree.

When they entered the house
Kevin, Sean, Gerald and I,
Cowered and crouched
Behind the second-hand couch.
We must have resembled
Three monkeys plus me;
I hadn't a clue,
I was dumb-founded and three.

In through the front door
They clattered and sang,
Unloading their boxes
Of food, clothes and toys,
*****, bats and dolls
For two girls and four boys;
And I'm sure there was something
For the coming bundle of joy.

I don't remember their departure,
Or where he went,
But they called Merry Christmas
And left all else unsaid.

Mammy understood
Some good persons had called,
Who'd heard of our plight
And couldn't be calmed
Til they knew for certain
We'd some peace in our storm.

So, that's my first Christmas,
Since then this my creed:
The gift of giving
Isn't under the Tree
.
Ivan Lopez Jul 2018
In a veracious
Set of vividly words
I vicariously state

That you may fervently
admonish these
simplistic sentences

For within my complex
disguises of words
It alludes to this fact.
I just want to scream
and thats, that!
We try to hide our emotions out of courtesy for others. We try to understand them, our emotions that is. We give them complicated diagnosis when in reality all they want to do is air out. May you have fun saying this out loud as I did writing it down.
Nico Julleza Oct 2017
Pretty Pictures; as you are embracing me
Lost in an earthly mood of tranquility
Evident than the shadows fusing my feet
Obscure like pretty lies melodically
Pretty Pictures; sailing, forever will be

Rhapsodize; vividly crossing in my mind
A face of cherubim winged up the sky
Cascading through visions abrupt
A star shoots afar than any distant eye
Longing endless of her passionate touch

We are novels, with so much stories to tell
Red laces, stamps of gold, a lush lullaby
I was the house you painted white
Agitate the deepest hues, then we'd fly
Midnight kisses, Dawn and trade goodbyes

Blithe; for we need nothing to pretend
The clearest blue water, a heaven's scent
To the grass wading courteously
Cloud nine's hanging then lifts my feet
Showering up above washing all anxieties

Pretty pictures; like ribbons untangled
A touch of silk as my heart would lilt
Inner feelings frolic then they'd tremble
For in you the excitement is always a thrill
From the simplest to a goddess divine
Pretty Pictures; moments as you were mine
#Pretty #Pictures #Love #Deep #Sansatuion #Eternal

(NCJ)POETRYProductions. ©2017
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