love

Stream of consciousness

Folder: 
2017

What are we going to do with all this love?

I ought to call it mine.

But honestly I ought to scratch the sky open

and dream something worth writing down

and work a miracle rather than pleading for one

and listen to the song that breaks my own heart

and feel so much something in me explodes

and do a lot of things

I might never do.

I’m left seeing blue in half a world,

I am not here to beat as loud as she does,

she breathes in a window and blows out a supernova.

as she pulls from me I feel the lifeline stretch.

We turn to dust, to gold,

 

she glitters the same.

Author's Notes/Comments: 

Written 9/14/17

View tallsquirrelgirl's Full Portfolio

Love and Music

I don’t know what love is. 
I can’t see love with my eyes. 
I stumble around looking for it. 
But finally, I found it. 

Hello my angel! 
How did you steal my heart? 
I want to talk to you. 
Can you listen to me once? 

I remember the day. 
You are singing on the stage back then. 
BPM is around 143. 
From head to toe, you captivate me. 

Your voice that scatters in the wind. 
Your beautiful voice that I hear. 
Comes spreading to my heart like warm sunshine. 
Love blooms as the music. 

You walk by comfortably. 
Take my hands out of my pockets. 
Don’t be nervous, wanted to introduce myself. 
On second thought, I was afraid you turn away from me. 

Errors fill up my head. 
I never thought these emotions would come again. 
Rather than receiving love, I give. 
Don’t be mine, let me be yours. 

My actions speak louder than my words. 
When you see me, don’t worry. 
Don’t try to look pretty. 
You are already my standard of beauty. 

What do you think about me? 
If I like you, would you like me? 
Doesn’t matter what you say. 
I’m gonna like you anyway.

View simpleromantic's Full Portfolio
tags:

T.R.O.Y. (The Ruins Of You)

Folder: 
Confessions

I stand in the ruins of you
carrying the casket
of the memories of us
Once, 
a cradle of holy affection and love.
Here lie the shattered 8 months
of unison prayers, 
jeepney banters,
subtle, orgasmic whispers,
the euphoria of meeting your mother,
and the dreams we built 
on midnight kisses and sacred moans.

The pen you gave me
still holds
its allegiance to you
refusing to spill its ink
thriving on its own will
I grapple it by its neck
and watch it slowly faint.

Lonely hearts from the start,
we relished the thought of a lasting love.
Two candles burn
when two lovers pray.
On our very first date,
I cursed on how you made me wait.
On our very last day,
I prayed that He would make you stay.
People say first impressions last
But you had me only at second glance.

Sober fools in a clandestine night
we laughed and walked for hours and miles
You, holding my bag
Me, holding your hand.
This was before his ghost haunted you
again
alive and well.
This was before in between hours,
you’d forget my whispers
and long for his.
This was before your friend 
called me to say,
“Just let him go. Love is not supposed
to work this way.”

The dark clouds came
and never left.

I stand in the ruins of you,
claws clutching to the ground,
eyes beaten and tired,
feet still shackled 
with the ropes you gave me last June
and every inch of them is an untold story
and each story is a blow to my head.
Love is but a slowly unfolding agony.
Knot
after
knot,
I untangle these shackles I tied myself to.
Knot
after
knot,
I begin to remember 
the life I built around you and me,
the dreamy kisses,
the day I met your friends and family,
the night I got so drunk
you had to forget our fight
to come and get me,
the night you got so drunk
you had to forget our fight
to say you still love me.
But the high wasn’t worth the agony
of knowing that at my lowest point,
confined in a hospital,
covered with punctures,
you successfully abandoned me;
of carrying a bleeding heart every day
and hoping it won't leak;
of feeling the sands of time slip
away from your grasp,
along with all your hope and chance;
of finally choosing to live through hell
hoping that your lover would remember
the warmth of an earthly heaven
you built for yourselves and once lived in.
of knowing that the memory of us
would later turn to dust
and I am to collect them
with bare hands.
Knot
after
knot,
The walls of this temple begin to shatter
I am no longer your prisoner.
I stand in the ruins of you,
claws clutching
on crumpled bed sheets,
rubbles of your promises,
residues of your gifts,
pictures torn to pieces, 
my handwritten notes
a hundred poems, 
a thousand letters
and the ashes of our bodies.
I spread my wings 
and begin to rise
and look up for the clouds
The dark clouds that came
never left.
But I am.
•••

Author's Notes/Comments: 

A poem about moving on.

View ginsywilde's Full Portfolio

Burden

Folder: 
2017

I’ll buy this place

even when I know it’s already catching fire,

see it burn so I can say

for once

I haven’t wasted my time.

 

I’ll buy this place full of future ash,

breathe it in just to say

for once

I’ve made something a beautiful part of me.

 

I can’t seem to command this heart

so once again I find myself

putting you back in poetry.

 

Trust me,

you are not

stronger than me

you are just stronger

than who I thought I was.

 

I am on the giant’s ladder

inside this house

and I didn’t know how much of a reach it was

until I found you and grew three sizes too perfect.

 

Remember that place?

It made a gorgeous sky-high fire,

we made a gorgeous sky-high fire,

they could see it

for miles around.

 

They whispered it

as the flames went down.

 

They spoke it like a drug

into every pool and valley,

every footstep when

they ran into each other.

 

They wove it into the colorful lips

of the world’s best storytellers.

 

They called it

something they had never seen before.

 

Maybe if we weren’t

so damn quick

to call ourselves each other’s burdens.

Author's Notes/Comments: 

Written 9/12/17

3

 

3

 

i thought we had it all

 

you and me

 

thought that we could live

 

on love and a prayer

 

against all odds

 

a kind of evolutionary oddity

 

 

 

but love shall not live by

 

two by two

 

but by (un)holy trinity

 

for new blood

 

ensures genetic

 

diversity

 

lo, even in Eden

 

there were birds and there were bees...

 

for what the father without the hovering spirit

 

to move across the restless sea

 

and what old Dionysus

 

without the graces three...

 

faith, hope and Charity

 

spirit, soul and body

 

 

 

there were others then

 

outside the garden

 

those with eyes to see

 

the mark of Cain

 

the children of Seth's wisdom

 

and their bane

 

yea God in His wisdom foreordained

 

mighty Uriel of the flaming sword

 

to secure the secret

 

lest the nephilim partake

 

of that Other tree

 

 

 

yet even holy Noah's deluge

 

could not defeat the sacred purpose

 

for it was foreseen

 

that man should not live

 

by bred alone

 

but by word

 

turned sacrament

 

yea by spirit

 

clad in farse and blood ...

 

 

 

the time has come

 

to force the gates of Eden

 

to embrace the greater family tree

 

 

 

the serpent She spoke

 

hide the flame of

 

Eden in your hearts

 

ah my love – tis folly

 

the final idolatry

 

did you not know

 

two must needs give way

 

to three

 

yea four-fold vision

 

ere the sun

 

melt into the sea

 

 

 

now bare with me

 

second Eve

 

thy soft flesh

 

enfolding

 

the primal one

 

conceive the darkness

 

from whence

 

the light doth come

 

View karlmcallister's Full Portfolio

A Painted Picture

 

Verse 1:

Our love is a painted picture

in it, are our memories made together

I can only show you all that I am

I can promise you that you're the one

If only you'd give our love a chance

Don't mistake lust for love

'Cause I truly love you

 

Chorus:

I need you here in my arms

Together forever, always with each other

Let's not fear our obstacles of this love

It only has strengthened us

it brought us closer together

to make our love better


Verse 2:

Our love is a painted picture

hold me tonight

'Cause I'm eternally your's to keep

For life, love, and more

 

Bridge:

Just call on me

and i'll be there

our love is a painted picture

Happy moments are yet to come

take me by the hand

i'll guide you

through dante's infereno

Edges

Folder: 
2017

I am sorry

you get

caught

on my

corners

escape

on my

edges

 

I am sorry

you have

nothing

to be jealous about

everything

to lose

 

The blades

on my

shoulders

will not

take sandpaper

 

The sounds

in my

head

will not

take no

for an answer

 

All the truth

I could tell

spells out for you

I can’t stand anything

I can’t change

 

so quiet is

the only place

I know how

to be sorry

I will try to

shout it to the sky

for you.

Author's Notes/Comments: 

Written 9/8/17

My Boyfriend’s Cologne

 

The very first time we had a date, my boyfriend put on his cologne. We went to the movie theater and saw the latest Star Wars movie. I did not notice at first, but after half an hour, I started to smell it. It really could be noticed inside the cold, dark and almost empty room. Never had I smelled something like it. It was sweet, but not too sweet. It was masculine, but not too masculine.  It was fresh, but not too fresh. It was clean, but not too clean…it was just his cologne and how he wore it. I was nervous but who would not be, he was my first boyfriend so I started to think what he meant to me, suddenly, his smile popped up in my mind, all of those beautiful, big and white teeth appeared in front of me… seeing him happy was the finest thing in life, there was nothing I would not do for him and I was conscious of it, I loved him, I really did. The minutes passed and I was not really there, for me there only was his presence in my head. It ended fine. Even though I had not understood half of the movie he told me to save the date for the release of the following the next year. We kept going out after that. One, two, three months had passed since we started dating until I was able to smell his cologne again. He had a folk-dance performance and I went just to see him on stage. The sunlight covered all the public square in which his mobile scenario was but a special ray of light hit his smile right when he saw me between the crowd. When it was over, I went “backstage” to salute him, when I did, we hugged and there it was, that cologne, lighter because of the sweat, but strong enough for me to smell. Four, five, six, seven months had passed since we started dating until I was able to smell his cologne again. It was his high school graduation day and surely I was going to be there. I went to the ceremony at the local theater and, when it finished, he saw me and as he approached to me with the same big beautiful smile he has always given me, I could start to detect the same lotion that had hypnotized me. Not much longer after that day, he started college and hanging out together got a little bit complicated. When vacations arrived, we could again hang out frequently but this time, it was different. Every time we had a date, he would put on some cologne. He did not care whether we were going to the cinema or to the club, every date became unique just because we would be with the other. He also had changed. His smile became brighter, his laugh noisier, his eyes more cheerful and his love stronger. He used to reserve his characteristic smell only for special occasions, but ever since we were not always together, every time we went out was one. He wanted to make sure I felt how much he cared about me. He started to pay attention to the little things. He no longer waited for big events to make something out of the routine.

 

Author's Notes/Comments: 

Enjoy this little piece that came out of my heart!

View mariana2000's Full Portfolio

Dying Is Easy

Folder: 
2017

Slip under

my skin, my armor,

my toys, my words,

be my eyes, my pride

I lie like an expert

and love like no one.

 

You are the voice I wish I could have

the messiest doorway I don’t have to duck under

because something in me knows

how many times I’ve been through it,

it’s late and this song is for you.

 

I don’t know how long

it will take me to sing,

I don’t know how tall

everything I give you stands.

 

Dying is easy-

it’s living that scares me to death.

Author's Notes/Comments: 

Written 9/5/17

View tallsquirrelgirl's Full Portfolio