my love trying to turn down the heat. Erase time if I could, spreading around my pixie dust. I have to accept and love myself, what else is left. No, it's not time to shut down but heal. It's not stealing, it's soul survival. A revival of what's good rather than bad. Stand back...
I write quite a bit, but I rarely let anyone else read my work. Most of it is kind of dark, but this particular one is kind of positive. It's called Cycle.
Does it consume you
Nay. Fill you with vitality?
When the placid arms
of the vast mahogany
The unwithering flower you gave to me,
I was able to believe strongly enough in myself,
So I'm not afraid anymore...
I was happy meeting you,
And proud of our holding hands,
Even though we look up to different skies now,
See? I can walk on my own now...
I laugh more during sad...
are like sugar on my tongue or the way velvet feels to the tips of fingers
I can’t stop wanting or touching, lusting for your blood where rumors in the night feed me such a sweet desire
crying out for my soul to step closer, closer I hear the...
and sweet. I'd forgotten about it until I found it in my old book. This one is called Dreams.
She rests her weary soul,
on a pillow made of clouds.
Her dreams consume her tortured mind,
rendering her still.
The stars defend their weakened love
as she basks beneath the glow...
in beauty, like the night
Of cloudless climes and starry skies;
And all that's best of dark and bright
Meet in her aspect and her eyes;
Thus mellowed to that tender light
Which heaven to gaudy day denies.
One shade the more, one ray the less,
Had half impaired the nameless...
I will take you to museums, and parks, and monuments, and kiss you in every beautiful place, so that you can never go back to them without tasting me like blood in your mouth.
I will destroy you in the most beautiful way possible. And when I leave you will finally understand...
.. a woman ... how little a woman needs ...How little ....To pinned to his chest at times,Said -Honey, you're tiredAnd stroked her cheek lightly.How little should a woman!How much… .Attach a note with a flower in a couple of lines,To seeing a long journey,You long arms...
as a cloud
That floats on high o'er vales and hills,
When all at once I saw a crowd,
A host, of golden daffodils;
Beside the lake, beneath the trees,
Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.
Continuous as the stars that shine
And twinkle on the milky way,
They stretched in never...
when the cold wind blows the window,
I want to warm my frozen heart by replaying that summer.
Playing at the beach you were enjoying it!
The video of memories of we two, I am watching it all alone..
While you were a little shy, you whispered 'I love you'
Your face of liar...
Such a flower as May never bore;
But I said, ‘I’ve a pretty rose tree,’
And I passed the sweet flower o’er.
Then I went to my pretty rose tree,
To tend her by day and by night;
But my rose turned away with jealousy,
And her thorns were my only delight.
To see my heart and soul.
No lips but yours,
Pressed firmly to mine,
Soft, warm, intoxicating...
No hands but yours,
To hold tenderly in my own,
To feel them moving over my body,
Thrilling and arousing me to my core.
No arms but yours,
Holding me and pulling me
So close to you...
is a place in the heart that
will never be filled
and even during the
the greatest times
we will know it
we will know it
there is a place in the heart that
will never be filled
we will wait
in that space.
I sorta gave up on poetry a while ago, but for some reason I found my old poetry journal while I was cleaning up. I'm pretty shy when it comes to sharing my poetry sooo I've only really shared it with a few people....
Time Machine ????
I need to build a time machine to go back...
come to meas a bird.So I build you a bird house.Centuries agoyou taught me to sing you,with your throaty smudgeleaving the higher noted to melike sweet dark coffee and sweet creamwhere grit and the sublime collide.But in this life you are spirityou come to meas a birdso I build...
After a while you learn the subtle difference
between holding a hand and chaining a soul
and you learn that love doesn't mean leaning
and company doesn't always mean security.
And you begin to learn that kisses aren't contracts
and presents aren't promises
and you begin...
He creates powerfully romantic, sensual images that speak to being human, and our desire for romantic love. Beautiful!
Place your hands upon me
like a big tent preacher
and with a whisper
heal all that aches
Put your lips upon my forehead
and glance your eyes
to the sky...
Brel"I Wish For You To Be You"I wish for you dreams which never end,and the furious desire to achieve some of them.I wish for you to love what must be lovedand forget what must be forgotten.I wish you passions.I wish you silences.I wish for you birdsong upon awakeningand the...
diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth
Then took the other, and just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim,
Because it was grassy and wanted...
me down in history
With your bitter, twisted lies,
You may trod me in the very dirt
But still, like dust, I’ll rise.
Does my sassiness upset you?
Why are you beset with gloom?
‘Cause I walk like I’ve got oil wells
Pumping in my living room.
Just like moons and like suns...
Silent and starving, I prowl through the streets.
Bread does not nourish me, dawn disrupts me, all day.
I hunt for the liquid measure of your steps.
I hunger for your sleek laugh,
your hands, the color of a savage harvest,
hunger for the pale stones of your...
I also love poetry - discussing it, writing it, analysing it... I'd love to chat about poetry in general, not really one for 'hey!!! Look at me! Look at my lovely lingo! Aren't I a literary genius?!' which I've seen on so many forums... not that I wouldn't share my own stuff...
Dhool chehre pe thi, Aur hum aaina saaf karte rahe
Hum samander ki tarha chup hain kay hum jaantay hain
hum agar sabar na kartay tu qayamat kartay
main such kahoon gaan aur phir bhi haar jaaon gaan
wo jhoot kahe gi aur phir bhi lajawa kar de gi
Who made the swan, and the black bear?
Who made the grasshopper?
This grasshopper, I mean-
the one who has flung herself out of the grass,
the one who is eating sugar out of my hand,
who is moving her jaws back and forth instead of up and down-
who is gazing around with...
Is love found in holding hands?
In quiet whispers?
In looks shared across a crowded room?
Is love shared in notes?
Is love felt with a quickening pulse?
A feeling of loss in her absence?
A longing to see but a glimpse of her?
Is love heard through...
so near but yet we can't reach them
pain crosses my heart, tightening it
as the rain lifts, the light gathers and I think of you
no one knows where they're going it's just being decided by the wind
surpass the darkness and head towards the future, I want to escort you
just shells,but the voice of the sea,the Moon and Sun reflected,the hands of the waterrushing to touch, rushingto pull me close and tell mestories of love and bitterness.I’ve collected the play and cryof gulls and doves and pelicans,the crawl of crabs, footprintsand hearts...
And the white rose breathes of love;O the red rose is a falcon,And the white rose is a dove.But I send you a cream-white rosebudWith a flush on its petal tips;For the love that is purest and sweetestHas a kiss of desire on the lips.
You know how this is:
if I look
at the crystal moon, at the red branch
of the slow autumn at my window,
if I touch
near the fire
the impalpable ash
or the wrinkled body of the log,
everything carries me to you,
as if everything that exists,
aromas, light, metals...
entrust my greeting through the wind for you
In spruce shoots, at the end of reverie
When i convey my love with full of prose
Only for you..
I admit that i’m not very dare
To state what my hearts screaming even only in my dream
Then i just write these burning coals in my...
I know I'm talking straight.
I can hear my words echoing in my head
They are words....Complete sentences
Not proper grammer of course
But they are sentences that make sense to me when I think about what to say and we'll they sound correct in my mind as I say them.
invitation, the note inscribed on the palm of my hand by the fire of living. Don’t jump up and shout, “Yes, this is what I want! Let’s do it!” Just stand up quietly and dance with me.
Show me how you follow your deepest desires,
spiraling down into the ache within...
i like my body when it is with your
body. It is so quite a new thing.
Muscles better and nerves more.
i like your body. i like what it does,
i like its hows. i like to feel the spine
of your body and its bones, and the trembling
-firm-smooth ness and which i will
again and again...