~🌱🏖🍁❄️~ seasons
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~ Lapis Lazuli ~
I was swallowed by Nuit
like the scarlet sun at dusk.
This body ripe and wet,
I went headfirst
from my barge alone.
Her throat was death,
and I was death.
There was no word spoken
in her belly
and nothing heard.
I passed through
her long and starry legs
to untouched lilies on my Nile dawn.
Its waters were not so cold
as I’d left them.
I floated hot and naked on that new day
and lived between two screams.
An astrologer asked me
if I make lists.
I wondered if a poem is a list.
But she told me I should make them
and don’t,
so poems must be lists.
I wondered what it would be like
if nature was clever.
I would have nothing sacred left.
Silence was taken from me,
and now they’ve come for solitude.
Where can astrologers be alone?
I flinched when she left
at the old lie
that there’s a way things are supposed to be.
I’ve tried to forget that lie,
but it dug thick and purple scars.
Where was hope before they healed?
I was swallowed by Nuit.
There were none with me
in that thoughtless night.
And only stars between the stars.
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“bird watching”
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What It Takes
Heros are rare born
For people cannot save
What they cannot grasp
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khushiyaan
#poetry #poets #poetsoftumbr #writers #writerscommunity #writersofindia #artists #artistsofindia #illustrations #drawing
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A parity of incisive integration Our seasonal Penthouse congregation Membership closed for only two Inextricable annual interlude Ignited in unison of sunset flames ~ Reflections peeking into lovers pane Rays harshly splayed Through weathered windows In risen heat The highest abandoned corner to cheat Sweet salty sweat beads Swelling thicker in suns warm seeds The golden powers circular eye Favors their entwined grind A kind pause of the firey blinding ball Before sucked into the horizons call A smirking blink Mr. Sunshine Takes a glimpse Rhythmic glides tied eyes paired we're one subliminal Bodied aiding what life has taken Atop the squeaky unstable floors We rise and fall wanting more Distant cranes, construction clangs Topping to soar condos higher Than we could ever afford Slipping in our moisture We sped rapidly into a mutual Frozen hault ~ Our voices roared ~ Loud construction, easily ignored... We catch our breath Share an American Spirit slowly down... The sun has now set~ We begin again This round under moonbeams demand As our bare flesh colorfully lit Reflections of rainbow tunnels Glittering rotations Reminders of historical Impressionist ~ ©2017 LynnHTerry Photo and poem #photography #poetry #poems #romance #writing #poemphotos #skinnyblynnonthestreet @lynnterryskinnyb @indigopoets @poetry @vasilinaorlova @poetsandwriters @poetsoftumbr @poets
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~ Haven ~
Has a forest ever let me down?
Never on its leafy ground.
An ounce of trust on any man
ever leaked out of his hand.
But sycamore and water fowl
and hemlock creek and gusty owl,
dawn to dusk and still to sound,
not once has ever let me down.
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~ Bacillota ~
“Do not ask God for anything,”
the middle sister said,
sitting on her seat like she might spring
from it and fly,
like a word and not a woman sat there.
A sharp and sudden word
like ‘no,’ or ‘do,’ or ‘go,’ or ‘shoo!’
She said nothing after
but did not blink.
“Pray if you want to,”
the older sister spoke,
and she was at her sink
standing. Standing at her sink,
rubbing dishes with her hands
because her hands were cold
and the water warm.
She could ask God for anything.
And she did.
The house hushed and paper peeled.
Their sister – their younger sister – was
a smile on their walls. Only.
And her name tossed in the air, only
like petals fall and fade.
They looked to their Easter portrait
when Christ was raised on Mother’s yard
when they still went to church
but never wondered about God.
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