27 Recent Deviations
Featured: Barn Owl 2
InterludeI wish that nothing meant anything with my eyes closed.Interlude by TheLunaLily
The world vanishing might be a calming thing - am I now exposed?
All I am are night thoughts that lie waiting to speak all day in the deep,
And they battle to be heard above the sounds of the fan and the white noise that I need to sleep.
NeonNeon by jade-pandora
I am a smoke ring floating
upwards from your open mouth
whispering your poetry.
A tabletop is littered with
playing cards and tater chips,
soggy lip-rouged ciggie butts
from fiery redheads tipsy
with one too many vodka shots
to consummate a truckers' stop.
You ransomed me your miracles
the first time when you heard me sing
my favorite songs to you that night,
and semi-trucks downshift their loads
that flicker from the neon lights
alongside the old interstate.
Sculpture of The SuicideIf Augustus is right, then clap your hands,Sculpture of The Suicide by Sammur-amat
Though I beg of you,
Do not dismiss me with applause from the arena;
At the very least, do not cage the lions in my heart
Burn my flesh like a blasphemer of the gods
Because you are a fine puppeteer, beloved
With the way you've sown my mouth shut
And used my body to recite ancient monologues;
The audience falls silent
As their faces stand at attention with ears pricked up
Watching me as I argue against the sun
I am no better than a gladiator in lacking liberty-
Neither labeled human nor given a right to morals
Right hand to left foot;
I'm tied down to the bottom of my bones,
Living with the ghosts of never vanquishing memories
Rise up from my bones, avenging spirit;
May you find no shelter from the storm
Unable to seek solace, may you meet your demise--alone
Without a heart, panting in a poisoned, damned cavern
That for as long as you walk with the living,
Your shadows will haunt and scoff at you
This I pray, but alas!
The fleeting years slip
Lurking CobraI have to tell you the truth:Lurking Cobra by Sammur-amat
there's a cobra lurking just beneath the skin
and coiling through your veins.
"I love you" and "I'm sorry" and "Please, come home with me"
drip like poison from your fangs.
I know the weight of a lie, darling;
I search for the scent of others of my sex in every shadowed corner;
I regularly check your sock drawer for love letters and ring boxes,
for any sign that this isn't just another hunt for you,
but I know it's the hunger talking
when you whisper those things late at night.
The stitching on my heart is slowly unraveling,
All my clumped-up stuffing flows out of me dying to escape;
I lose myself in the beat of your heart
under my skin
and the sigh of my name
from your pouting lips...
but I don't remember leaving
That hickey on your chest.
Maybe that's the crazy me talking.
I've always heard them talk about the last threads of sanity;
You are pushing pins and buttons farther than they should be pushed.
How I can rearrange my face
Gentle CannibalWithout a breeze to soothe my body,Gentle Cannibal by jade-pandora
or salvage a mind
from the dripping tide of cicadas,
the midnight of summer begins to
lift its mantle from where you crouch,
and comes to honor me.
My gentle cannibal,
with eyes of hemorrhaging iris,
the jaundice of your nakedness,
translucent from the moon rings
your lips pulled as if in pain.
The fever of your touch traces
every rung of dappled trellis
from the faux shadings of a lunar day.
Give me my sweet plunder of ripe figs
as you bend me like a bow that will snap,
or have you already bitten me to the bone.
Catacombs!Catacombs where slumbering deadCatacombs! by Delice1941
Have slipped from life, emotions shed
Blistering dark where insects creep
Crypt will all its secrets keep.
Concrete world, doom laden grey
Remember occupants had their day
Marble guardian down through years
Stoic resolve shows no fear.
Blank eyes stare give nothing away
Silent wait 'til judgement day
Dust motes dance, display macabre
Sign of life? movement starved.
Tourists come, quickly leave
No place for life quickly perceived
Eager to join life's happy melee
Memories fade and so will we.
dragonflythe sting of the needledragonfly by Aatlein
i hear you calling
within my aurora womb
(where the water lily blooms)
blue winged, delicate
you hover and fly
DaddyDaddy is a hero.Daddy by C-Allagash
Whether it's night or day,
he comes in the right time
to keep monsters away.
Daddy is an athlete and a doctor.
When he plays rugby with me,
he brings me band-aids.
for my skinned knees.
Daddy is lovely.
Mummy is always in a rush.
But he always finds time
to make her smile... or blush.
Dad is my example.
He shows me what's right or wrong.
He's patient and nice,
yet so firm and strong.
Other fathers read stories
when it's time to sleep.
Mine reads the ones.
he's written especially for me.
I just want him to know
what he means to me.
Daddy, you're the best father ever,
and you'll always be.
18/10/2014 - 10h2218/10/2014 - 10h2218/10/2014 - 10h22 by fi-l
Y a-t-il quelque chose de pire que le changement ?
J’aimerais que la Terre se fige, que les mers se caillent, mais les bateaux qui nous ramènent saumons, pétoncles, thons, homards et caviar s’embourberaient dans une eau chamallow, les terres assoiffées se scléroseraient comme du béton, pour former des allées de pavés moroses dont le décor végétal serait argileux, la brisure au noyau prête à rompre.
N’y a-t-il pas deux secondes où l’on peut contempler l’horizon, sans compter sur le fatalisme de la grande fuite du temps que nul plombier ne sait tenir sous écrou ?
L’idée de changer moi-même, pris de force dans ce grand magnétisme, me fout la chair de poule et me donne l’envie de demeurer bêtement dans le noir, les volets fermés où l’on lirait de l’extérieur un certain “closed”, à la façon des
Mal du PaysLes terres sont nues, les collines couvertesMal du Pays by ThyPoetSorcerer
de peaux brutes tannées presque blanc
& on a emporté l’atmosphère en lui coupant
le souffle - comme une bougie dans le noir.
Sols de nuit fredonnent leurs berceuses,
des oiseaux se perchent tête en bas
sous les cèdres
& le moment est enfin
venu quand mon ombre s'est enfuie avec
Arylide (Precession)[Alternate version (English with French postlude) follows]Arylide (Precession) by ThyPoetSorcerer
& jours de bois flotté auront transmué en promesses défaiillantes,
sèches sur place—des roses fanées sur l’ancien rebord de marbre,
attendant patiemment les vents de tempêtes pour se laisser éclater,
leurs échelles translucides infusant l'air avec le parfum rouillé qui étaient
les marées dans mon sang & la saumure de mes prières les plus calmes.
& ce qui reste, doit toujours graviter ardemment vers l’argon-arylide
de ton sillage—obstinée à te rattraper—sans jamais s’y rendre.
By then your argon-arylide lips will have set
several thousand times in the west, skinning
Venu’s belt skywide, letting in Shadow-Earth’s
dark caress, if only to annihilate the last trace
of our beautiful, tragic romance.
* * *
decemberist dreamingpurple rings over the hillsdecemberist dreaming by silvernium
so noticed at the close
of the solstice long day
now the sun has set
and the dark hangs higher
blackened hills below
tell of where the days
have been and above us
the unavoidable truth
as ginsberg said
I am a ripple on the wave
she told me how we can
and so I did saying I am
angry! waves rolled and
crashed saying punch me
putting my fist through calm
I found a mirror of depth
and I asked how can something
so beautiful smash into
huts and living things draining
back into calm
as if you need to ask said
the mirror of thought
when all parts of the ocean
consist of water
on the beach lotus flowers
growing in sand
now this is impossible
and I am dreaming wide awake
good red wine a poetry book
and the moon over the sea
I have fallen out of love
with love itself
the lesson of repeatable
and replaceable I know
and I choose my empty
hands knowing water
will always run through
until my night is purple
at the dusk of the solstice
they are still sitting
on the sof
I Took To Howling With YouI was shy at first, timid in my dealings,I Took To Howling With You by vespera
I laced the trap against my throat,
sang sparing, tip-toed
around your poems.
The tone, the slow vibrating
from the shoots of my shoulders
to the gleam of polished talons,
it purred around inside me.
Oh the song, Coyote,
the same resigned call, it
paled before you, swallowed down its insides,
I took your little hand in my big hand,
flew out towards Crow, and for a while
My Love, there were poems
and the world was enough.
I took to howling with you,
down from the branches, safe
womb of the tree, I spread
dirt between my toes, sang happy,
sang the song of free,
your wild howl, your musk,
I lost the language for
the pain of bird calling.
Do you remember when we realized
Crow would no longer sing
her crooning songs beside us, trill
through a night among us?
She had gone, no longer writing
poems for coyotes or exlovers,
no longer touching out for a girl
beyond the mountain,
and we were suddenly alone, Love,
you and I, alone to sing, to warble,
October Full MoonYour blood-red fruit in the sky let my soul flow,October Full Moon by Malintra-Shadowmoon
You draw me slowly to yearning distances,
And while the crows’ croaks echo on foggy fields,
I travel to the stars, full of nostalgia.
The wind in the willows whistles with sorrowful flute tune,
And while I follow you to the destinations of our dreams,
I cast a glance at the scenery full of fruits.
From the depth of the earth, song and whisper raise.
Our love was already gone before it began.
I could only search but I never found you.
The sand of the hourglass vanished between our hands,
I had to get over the unavoidable farewell.
The gossamers of past dreams
Cover my thoughts like a web.
They make the brown-colored leafless trees shake
As well as my walk.
October full moon, take me with you on the journey.
Help me to fly to the other side of summer.
In a magical, eternal way
You and I will walk together under the fresh green leaves.
leaving in silenceexhausted by your continually expanding identity crisisleaving in silence by introverted-ghost
i lie, briefly abandoned,
alongside your personal railway.
eagerly waiting for your mass to thunder past,
all i want now is your dust in my eyes & the long,
hard angle of your jaw hidden by the shadow of a juniper tree.
Laisse venirJe m'époumone bien silencieusementLaisse venir by Bernalzboob
Un parapluie à la main mais pas de pluie
Je vide mon sac bien soigneusement
Des mots à la bouche mais pas de souffle
La dernière goutte de miel s'évapore dessus le lit
Lécher des plaques de sucre ne suffit plus
De minuscules poèmes n'y survivent plus
Il faut croire certains jours les lumières s'éteignent
Et c'est tout
albatrosseseverything has been so very blue
of late. love seems like a new
thing the first time. I have been
pondering albatrosses. the great
beauty of life is what you simply
cannot put words to. they dance
around each other perfecting their
steps and narrowing their choices.
knowing that the one you never
could quite believe in actually does
live and breathe is the miracle.
they cross vast distances and oceans
with little effort. when they are
gone your distances are blue. the sky
and oceans are nothing to this. to
scream into the universe for the loss
of such love with all you have takes
all you were and all you are.
I tell Sophie
in love with
(out the window)
with a white
we cannot see
(in the office)
here we talk
(my white space)
today's entryhe asks
if we (poets)
are a kind of diary
I bought Nurofen
and a six pack of beer
look straight into the voidlook straight
into the void
do not think
about not looking
do not think
as white noise
fades to silence
from far shores(1)
it is a place
where mist meets
water and water
it is a place
we drift to
and from self
we drew lines
in the sand
leaving our own
before the sea
washes the face
of our landscape
it is a light
when all is
a storm and
make of this
whatever you see
I see hills and mist
they shroud each other
like we shroud each other
and we reflect into
our inner worlds
just as they hold their
images to the water
looming, floating over
a wave holds
of the next
and the last
holds that one
and of self
and into other
above the lands
the airy depths
below and from
night of the big moonI didn't pack a poetry book
for the trip
I had a message from North Island
look at that moon!
and there was moon
hanging over the hill
from South Island I messaged back
about the moon hanging over that hill
recently North Island was given another name
and South Island too
but tonight let us have no names
you are you and I am me
and our family spans too many places
this wonderful old sky orb
can be seen here and there and home
and hearts are still close when far
what are those new Island names? In time,
we will know them in time
but it is things without time,
these things are what I want us to know
and you don't have to like poetry,
I see poets all the time,
look at the moon!
the poet says. my heart is full;
books unpacked and unrequired
as the moon sinks to the hill.
haiku on passing awayillness
you were whiter
- peace now, love
the nectarines are still hard
they will be sweet
- you should have waited
untoldcan I tell you about
cherry blossoms? no.
my heart just breaks again
over there nowon the other side
of a broken heart
you understand cracks
how they divide
what was whole
a chasm is
we aren't ready
for that kind
it is easier
to be wrapped
than to be broken