that I made.
It's called 'A Rose On Concrete.' Tell me what you think!
"Dreams are nothing but absurd
That's what they choose to believe,
Oho! They must have never heard
About the rose that grew on the concrete,
Why do they choose to be blind
When the truth is there to see...
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...
you; To learn how you are; Love you as you are.
My tactic is to talk to you; And listen to you; And construct with words an indestructible bridge
My tactic is to stay in your memory, I don't know how
Nor with what pretext But stay within you
My tactic is to be honest And...
backs,cradled in a forest glade. there we will point out things we see and acknowledge those things we do not. in solitude we take in the wisdom offered in each other and take in the hum of the forest... Phoebe Wahl
"I'm passionate about poetry because I'm an oceanic person, meaning, I love what's underlying. I love the conversation that isn't just verbal. I love the shadowed mystery and waves and underground. If I had to choose one thing to read for the rest of my days, give me poetry as to...
an embarrassed schoolboy once they were greeted by the kiss of autumn, and winter .
Autumn was so mysterious I'd spend forever wondering when I'd catch her on a warm, day or a cold day .
And winter gave me a chill that made it almost easy to write her off as cold blooded...
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...
mind;bathing me in sweet acronyms,traced upon curve in calligraphywhile whispering in prose our dreamsand...he'd dip his quill; inking upon my skin,noun's and verb's I'd absorb into my heartthen...my poet, whispers again sweepingme off my feet in syllabic count;taking control of...
by Samuel Taylor Coleridge --
'Tis midnight, but small thoughts have I of sleep:
Full seldom may my friend such vigils keep!
Visit her, gentle Sleep! with wings of healing,
And may this storm be but a mountain-birth,
May all the stars hang bright above her...
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...
I do not grudge
My two strong sons that I have seen go out
To break their strength and die, they and a few,
In bloody protest for a glorious thing,
They shall be spoken of among their people,
The generations shall remember them,
And call them blessed;
But I will speak...
that send letters
back to England three centuries ago,
no postage stamps that make letters
travel back until the grave hasn’t been dug yet,
and John Donne stands looking out the window,
it is just beginning to rain this April morning,
and the birds are falling into the trees...
dark days of autumn rain are beautiful as days can be ; she loves the bare, the withered trees; she walks the sodden pasture lane. Her pleasure will not let me stay. She talks and I am fain to list; she's glad the birds are gone away, she's glad her simple worst grey is silver...
It doesn't interest me what you do for a living. I want to know what you ache for and if you dare to dream of meeting your heart's longing.
It doesn't interest me how old you are. I want to know if you will risk looking like a fool for love, for your dream, for the adventure of...
“I want to see you.Know your voice.Recognize you when youfirst come 'round the corner.Sense your scent when I come into a room you've just left.Know the lift of your heel,the glide of your foot.Become familiar with the way you purse your lipsthen let them part, just the...
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...
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...
There is a pleasure in the pathless woods,
There is rapture on the lonely shore,
There is society, where none intrudes,
By the deep sea, and music in it's roar:
I love not man the less, but Nature more,
From these our interviews, in which I steal,
From all I may be, and...
Let it drain you of your all. Let it cling to your back and weigh you down into eventual nothingness. Let it kill you and let it devour your remains. For all things will kill you, both slowly and fastly, but it's better to be killed by a lover....Charles Bulsowski
ager aur jeetay rehtay , yahe intezar hota
tere waday pe jiay hum,to ye jaan jhoot jana
kay khushi se mar na jatay, ager aitbar hota
koi mere dil se pooche, tere teer e neem kash ko
ye khalish kahan se hoti, jo jigar kay paar hota
ye kahan ki dosti hai kay banay hain...
and every women you've ever loved, every lie you've ever told and whatever it is that keeps you up at night. Every mouth you've punched in, all the blood you have tasted, come with every enemy you've ever made , all the family you've ever buried and every dirty thing you've ever...
ways you might like to think so, she did not have hair that dripped gold, her eyes were not the color of the cold sea , her smile was crooked and bent, her lips were chapped and thin. She did not have a gentle laugh nor did she speak humble thoughts but a she was beautiful in...
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...
after many years
of hard work and a long voyage
you stand in the centre of your room,
house, half acre, square mile, island, country
knowing at last how you got there,
and say I own this,
is the same moment when the trees unloose
there soft arms from around you,
the birds take...
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...
porque estás como ausente,
y me oyes desde lejos, y mi voz no te toca.
Parece que los ojos se te hubieran volado
y parece que un beso te cerrara la boca.
Como todas las cosas están llenas de mi alma
emerges de las cosas, llena del alma mía.
Mariposa de sueño, te...
to quotes, to writing, to art because we desperately do not want to be alone. We want to know we aren't going crazy and someone else out there knows exactly how you're feeling. We want someone to explain the things we cant... m.h.
A shearsman of sorts. The day was green.
They said, "You have a blue guitar,
You do not play things as they are."
The man replied, "Things as they are
Are changed upon the blue guitar."
And they said then, "But play, you must,
A tune beyond us, yet ourselves,
A tune upon...
if you were salt-rose, or topaz, or the arrow of carnations the fire shoots off. I love you as certain dark things are to be loved, in secret, between the shadow and the soul. I love you as the plant that never blooms but carries in itself the light of hidden flowers, thanks to...
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...
it's funny how hello is always accompanied with goodbye it's funny how good memories can start to make you cry it's funny how forever never seems to last it's funny how much you'd lose if you forgot about your past it's funny how “friends” can just...