Rare words, Wildly Running Through those Full lips— Untimed The ones you Didn’t dare Open When trying To speak Your riveting Lies Rivers of sound Reverberating Through Silence, Flying arabesques Of the mind— In your dreams, So far away In that gloomy horizon Silent Words— Wildly pouring through Tearful Sights Soft mounds, Rare waters— Some eerie Arabesque Light The one you Wouldn’t dare Shed— While plotting Your riveting Lies Silent words Soothing waters— And ghostly Dreams of Might
W i t h h o p e,
they paint
their lucid
dreams
o f
y o n d e r
f e e
l i
n g
f l u i d ,
S p r e a d i n g
a r m s in
d r u n k e n
c o l o u r e d
s n o w
Unspoken fantasy—
melting into
a madman’s
f l o r i d
l a n d
s c a p e
Their heart,
f r o z e n , aged —
yet still moving to
the beat of this
f r e e
f l o w
*
W i t h h o p e,
they paint
their lucid
dreams
o f
y o n d e r
Naughtily stirring
the s o o t h i n g
c a l m n e s s
of s u c h
w o e
As, from afar,
they look
at this
f r e s h l y
p a i n t e d
l a n d
s c a p e ,
f e e
l i
n g
f l u i d ,
Their minds
a l i g h t
w i t h
d r u n k e n
c o l o u r e d
g l o w
By Secret Thoughts Within and Vintage Black I am so tired so very, very tired of not feeling comfortable within myself I am so weary so very, very weary of putting my heart back on the shelf Tired tired tired Weary weary weary Comfortable with nothing and weary with so little my shelf life (patience) expired and my honest thoughts are cracked and b r i t t l e Feelings in disguise, yet naked to my eyes tired of dried tears words stumbling in my mouth I’m comfortable with nothing I keep wearing this sad face, walking through my life feeling barely awake I am so tired so very, very tired of not feeling comfortable within myself I am so weary so very, very weary of putting my heart back on the shelf Tired tired tired Weary weary weary I open my eyes stifle a yawn allow my heart to take some chances Some friendly hugs Some cheeky words Some flirty engaging glances Still so tired, and so weary I am Yet I know, with a smile a verse a stream of thought, a nice coffee under the sun I’ll awaken from dreams and all I have lost and slowly but surely discover my heart's still beating— s o s t r o n g *Third piece I write with the lovely Secret Thoughts within - always great fun collaborating with her
Where is her tiny
Black dress?
The one
She wanted to
Wear that
E v e n i n g
A dress of
Fancy,
Bitter,
Sweet and
Dark-tinged
V e r s e
Prose-dyed,
Vague-styled,
But, still,
Written with
Her,
I n u n i s o n
Neither
Of them
Wanting
To die
A verse-less
D e a t h
For this,
They together
Caress,
An achingly
D a r k ,
— B o l d
B l a c k
— D y e d
D r e s s
— V e r s e
Fragments of deep verse
Washing ashore
Yet the lyrical tempest
Hasn’t even
S t a r t e d
In this rough and
slumbering,
Wetly dry and
Wicked,
Late summer
of slow
w o r d s
Wake
up,
W o r d S t o r m e r
Have you ever
dreamed of
such a late,
And furious,
Timeless,
Fateful,
Somber,
Fearsome,
Word
S t o r m ?
Wake
up,
W o r d S t o r m e r
Sedimented stanzas
Washing ashore
Yet the lyrical tempest
Hasn’t even
S t a r t e d
Far removed
from Self,
Far removed
From Other,
Far removed
from
Poets—
Far removed—
Smothered
In this rough,
slumbering,
Wetly dry and
Wicked,
Late summer
Of slow
w o r d s
Wake
up,
P o e m S t o r m e r
We haven’t met In real life I’ve barely seen Your framed P r o f i l e Yet your words Illuminate My path Your empath Soul My spirit L i g h t e n s This soft Bright verse All weaved in P u r p l e A wickedly Magnetic rhymer Wielding words With infinite poetic N o u s A great Wing poetess A gifted lyricist— And a better F r i e n d This soft Bright verse All weaved in P u r p l e I gift you back This free- Spirited Scripted, T e r s e , Mild-waved Wild-rhymed But honestly, Faithfully, D e e p l y , All purple, Waved, and Soulfully Written V e r s e T h e s e P u r p l e W a v e s
A g e n t p r o v o c a t r i c e she tried t o b e a n d p r i c k e d b y t h o r n y — p o e m s these fingers, n o w, b a r e r h y m e s c a n ' t s r b l c i b e * y e t s h e 's a d i l e t t a n t e — at a m b i g u i t y she d i t h e r s * t h i s g l a r i n g s u n e m b a l m i n g l i g h t will b a t h e her f r a i l y e t r h y t h m i c m i g h t * she y e a r n s , once m o r e, t o d i v e i n , s i m w blue - b i r t h i n g v e r s e i n l u s c i o u s i n k * t h i s g l a r i n g s u n e m b a l m i n g l i g h t will b a t h e her f r a i l y e t r h y t h m i c m i g h t * A g e n t p r o v o c a t r i c e she t r i e d t o b e and d i t h e r d i d and d i t h e r w i l l * u n d e r n e w l i g h t a b a r e b l u e b o l d , free v e r s e — t a k e s f t l h i g * A g e n t p r o v o c a t r i c e g o t n e a r l y k i l l e d , b u t b i r d of m i g h t — r e b o r n she found h e r * and d i t h e r d i d and d i t h e r w i l l these fingers, n o w , b a r e r h y m e s d o s r b l c i b e * r e b o r n and full of m i g h t i n i n k she t h r i v e s in i n k she s w i m s * A g e n t p r o v o c a t r i c e she tried t o b e yet s h e ' s a d i l e t t a n t e — at a m b i g u i t y she d i t h e r s
these days
i feel too mild
to grasp life with
a mordacious bite
i lose my pencils easily
and i permanently
misplace my pens
and pads
my words end up
stored away
in fridges,
where i’d rarely
look,
Alas!
lest I turn
ravenous
with
rhyming
lust
my lazy verses,
in arrears,
they become
tears of
m
o
d
e
r
o
b
goodbye
steam lettering
on a hot bathroom
M
i r
r o
r r
o r
r i
M
By Amber @Diosraw & Vintage Black We nursed those pixelated lilies back to WordPress life Time travelling the technicolor cyberspace Birthing new data nova blossoming ripples The way our readers would love them to sway and rhyme Forever poetically entwined like old 'net souls, Smelling them, after one hell of a poet hard day's night Those petals never smelled so beautiful, their aroma, yet untouched Frozen in the liquid space of virtual landscapes Traceable as textured blogging stanzas Scented like miniature screen snowdrops, with concealing yet revealing online veils and, O frail and pixelated lilies, interstellar. * * * For this “virtual eco-poetry” (own coinage :p) piece, I bounced ideas back and forth with Amber @Diosraw. Amber’s got a site with hundreds of resources on multiple topics - ranging from yoga, eastern spirituality, science, tech, alternative media, and many more.
I die A thousand Deaths, And cry A thousand Tears Inky drops Become Soft crease— On coarse skin, Renewed Fears I write This very Poem To tattoo it On your Skin White ink Is so translucent— Such a Slight, Poetic Sin I die A thousand Deaths, And cry A thousand Tears If only I’d read this On my palm— To get prepared For life’s exam But fact is, History Tells me, You can’t Read Between Inked lines I die A thousand Deaths, And cry A thousand Tears Profound verse, Quenching Thirst For life— Would tell You about Poetic Strive You die A thousand Deaths, And cry A thousand Tears Some dark Drop Stains, Soft, Wrinkled Skin On book Unwritten, Dark, And stark, And torn, And loud, And Magic, Start. And Feared. So. White. Teared.