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Traveler Dec 2019
Dreaming is for nights
Keeps us sleeping tight
Close your eyes
Don’t try an fight
Dream until it’s light

Can dreams really come true
Perhaps
We’ve all been fooled
Dreaming
Is an unconscious thing
Get on up
Or lay there lame

An enter dimension
Of doubtful rules
Go to bed late
And sleep until noon
Lay there lame
In serotonin stasis
Or get on up
And
Tie yer' laces!
Traveler Tim
Orchid T Aspen Dec 2019
I drag his
lungs
into a
loose blackness.
い い い い
They crumple
at the margins
as I bloat them
full of dust.
い い い い
I wash water on them
so that they
settle
like ink.
い い い い
His lungs can
breathe
on my paper,
unbroken.
Oh, ye little kitty-girl, kitty-girl, kitty-girl,
Oh, ye little kitty-girl, why do ye purr?
Ye, champagne and roses,
A bag full of poses,
Oh, ye little kitty-girl, that's why you purr!

Oh, ye little kitty-girl, kitty-girl, kitty-girl,
Oh, ye little kitty-girl, why do ye purr?
From London to Denver,
you're glowing my ember,
Oh, ye little kitty-girl, that's why you purr!

Oh, ye little kitty-girl, kitty-girl, kitty-girl,
Oh, ye little kitty-girl, why do ye purr?
I know that you're fluffy,
You're cute and you're puffy
Oh, ye little kitty-girl, that's why you purr!

Oh, ye little kitty-girl, kitty-girl, kitty-girl,
Oh, ye little kitty-girl, why do ye purr?
The sun is a-shining,
The silver a-lining,
Oh, ye little kitty-girl, that's why you purr!

Oh, ye little kitty-girl, kitty-girl, kitty-girl,  
Oh, ye little kitty-girl, why do ye purr?
The moon is a-gleaming
For you I’m now dreaming,
Oh, ye little kitty-girl, that's why you purr!

Oh, ye little kitty-girl, kitty-girl, kitty-girl,  
Oh, ye little kitty-girl, why do ye purr?
So, come ye, and take me
For you will not fake me,
Oh, ye little kitty-girl, that's why you purr!

Oh, ye little kitty-girl, kitty-girl, kitty-girl,
Oh, ye little kitty-girl, why do ye purr?
I love you, my kitten,
So put on your mitten,
Oh, ye little kitty-girl, that's why you purr!
The melody used for the poem was from an Austrian folk song, called "Oh, du lieber Augustin", presumably composed by a Viennese balladeer named Marx Augustin in 1679, though written documents date back to about 1800. The folk songs "The More We Get Together" and "Fat Turkeys" were all based on this song.
Sherry West Nov 2019
What do Splendid Saffron Sunflowers know
Of Suffering & Shaded Sorrow
Whose Shining, Gilded faces turning -
Greet the Sun King in the ‘Morrow?

One Thousand Ten Thousands abide in Green -
Hidden in Grasses tho’ still Seen -
Gently sway by Autumn’s Breeze
While Sailing ‘pon the Em’rald Seas.

Petals Gold, slightly curled
Spread their palms out - Unfurled -
Encircled Spheres, faces - Dark -
Gazing steadily, Embark

& closely Follow
The Royal path & the Swallow
Flutters, darts ‘twixt Stem & Leaf -
Lightly lingers, stays cooled Beneath.

Gossamer wings, of Pale & white
Silhouette ‘gainst blue & Bright
Pirouette in frantic Swirling rings
Whilst nearby Cricket chirping, Sings

Th’ Shining Orb arcs Azured expanse
Briefly rests, then Casts a Glance
At the Beloved Retinue
In their Crowns of Golden Hue.
krm Apr 2019
Grey wash of the sky, sleeping softly.
As I try to fall in love with the world in front of my eyes.
Drain plug of the Earth polluting bright hues,
That once lived;
There's a parasite underneath my skin, that floods me.
There's a marionette, bowing gracefully over my head,
In the cloudless space- it dawdles on empty intent,
My brain matter falls in puddle,
The acidic strain,
Reflecting a rainbow of thought
I can't obtain.
sad sonnet
annh Jan 2019
Blind man walking - heals through touch,
Carries coconut oil in an old jam jar,
Trusts in the magic which guides his hands,
To carry his dusty feet home.
Based loosely on my brief acquaintance with a traditional Fijian bobo (massage) practitioner and healer named Rupeni from the village of Vunivesi, Vanua Levu. Vinaka vaka levu, Rupeni! :)
Carrillo Dec 2018
Sacrificial semantics, cardiac romantics, bred into generational poetic descriptives
I am the result of ancestral language, yielding powerful Tenochca dynamics

Who scraped away the dust of the moon and bled tangerine into the sunrise
Blanketed by riveting time, my leaders soured through chaos and sculpted pantomime
An humble cry revealed craters in the sky and hailed reflections amongst the horizon

Who wielded away the iron of the sun and hemorrhaged into the darkness
A pulsating, heartless rhythm that distinguished an iron hand to honorable freedoms

Sacrificial semantics, cardiac romantics, bred into generational poetic descriptives
I am the result of ancestral language, yielding powerful Tenochca dynamics
Filomena Rocca Nov 2018
Solitary creature in the Wilderness
Scared of even those of your own Kind
Staying out of reach of those too Curious
Singing out at night your haunting Cry

Is there some great secret that you Know about
Try to keep the mystery you Must
Deep and sacred knowledge you would Show about
If only there were someone you could Trust

  Can I tame them? Should I try?
  Do they know the reason why
  I Felt as though my heart could break
  All for a common rose's sake

when Someone seems Unique in all the World to me
the Reason is the Time spent making Ties
for Only with the Heart can one the Truth perceive
Essential things are Hidden from the Eyes

  Have they tamed me? Did they try?
  Have they shown me the reason why
  I Felt as though my heart could break
  All for a common rose's sake

I Looked for wisdom but I found a Friend instead
Companionship I know was meant to Be
but Even so, all good things must soon Reach an End
my Dearest friend I will no longer See

  They have tamed me, them have I
  and Now I know the reason why
  I Felt as though my heart would break
  For Naught,
but my very own special Rose's sake

-for the Fox
Inspired by The Little Prince.
An absence reversed
Beheld
Belonging
Fuming lush greenery seemingly
Between the frothing
Soup and lather twinkling
Speaking
"Tradition may act dishonestly"
All and sundry
Trails along merrily
For traditionally
All is how it should be
Belonging to one and only.

Binding
A trade between the thin lines
A baking sheet made sprayed messy
Artists in threes
Shakers of mountains for invisible ease
The truth is simply
Things done traditionally
All-in consuming historically.

Flesh
Released
Is fresh
Relief
Hidden in the fabric's sleeve
A gaping passage of air and breeze
Racing electricity
Breathtaking silk from worms
And worms eaten by birds
Tradition
Sewing the dresses of Empress the third.
Halt
Her plea worth salt and sugar
Still
Like the skater's
Minted odour
Hope
Distances the valleys low dipped to the everlasted rivers
Where a time arrives for eternal celebration.
The embellishments of
Unwavered tradition.
© Teri Darlene Basallote Yeo
What is your tradition?
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